AN: Welcome back. Hope you enjoy. Also, Fleamont is a ridiculous name and I can't believe it's canon. I can barely take it seriously. More world-building, less action.

Fleamont Potter knew something was wrong. It was that odd feeling in his gut that something just wasn't right. An instinct that saved his life many times before during the War.

He was an old man now. When he fought in the Great War over thirty years ago, he was a much younger man. Powerful, young, a full head of hair, he was once one of the most feared wizards in all of the magical world. One of the infamous five who stood beside Dumbledore during that final push into the depths of Germany, staving off the elite soldiers of Grindelwald long enough so Albus could finish the war.

And by God did they succeed.

He had almost died today.

It was such an average day. The temperature was a bit chillier than he was normally comfortable with. Diagon Alley was busy, but not too crowded. Nothing to suggest today would be any different than any other day.

Then the world exploded.

It was like a light switch. One second he was walking down the street with his lovely wife, Euphemia. The next, he was thirty years in the past, reliving an artillery barrage in a small coastal village in France.

The aftermath of the Great War was difficult to adjust to.

Battle fatigue they called it. Soldiers who never really stopped fighting the war. Real or imagined.

Fleamont was grateful it wasn't called a disorder. Well, not yet at least.

However; it almost got him, and his wife killed.

That Death Eater never should have got the drop on him. He'd survived ambushes that left no survivors but himself. Fought and killed wizards' others were far too afraid to face. He was better than that.

He was better than that.

The cruciatus curse was something Fleamont never wanted to experience again. His mind was detached as the torture curse caused his aged body to scream and convulse violently.

He was going to die. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. He would never be able to see his boy again. To continue to watch James grow up into the man he knew he'd be proud of. Whom he was already so very proud of. To maybe one day hold his grandchildren in his arms. To kiss his wife one last time…

And then the curse stopped.

With blurry, tear ridden eyes, the old man glanced up at the Death Eater torturing him and was shocked to see the man impaled by a massive wooden spike.

Fleamont barely had time to grab onto his unconscious wife, before a magical pull on his navel sent the old soldier flying backward through the air, his unknown savior summoning him and his wife away from the Death Eaters.

The old veteran twisted his body underneath his wife's, determined to protect his wife the best he could.

It was all for naught, however, as a petite red-headed woman waved her wand and gently lowered the couple to the ground.

Fleamont laid on his side, gasping for breath as he watched the battle between one man and over a dozen Death Eaters.

It was brutal.

It was a fight straight out of the War.

There was no mercy in the lone defender's actions, every movement was made with purpose and experience. Efficiency. The man was the shining example of it.

But he wasn't perfect. It wasn't obvious to the untrained eye, but the Unspeakable wasn't used to fighting alone. The way he moved, as if he was in an unseen formation, the way he hesitated to defend as if he was used to someone else protecting his back.

This was a man unused to fighting alone.

"Effie my love, are you alright?" asked Fleamont, his shaking hand wiping the blood from his beloved's eyes.

"Monty?" whispered his wife, the former Black moaning in pain.

"I'm right here my love..." cooed Fleamont softly, as he tucked a stray black strand of hair behind his wife's ear.

"T-that woman," hissed Euphemia in pain. "Help her..."

Fleamont glanced backward at the young red-headed woman from earlier, who was frantically casting, trying to bring down the anti-apparation and portkey wards covering the alley.

"Of course my love," acknowledged Fleamont, as he struggled to his feet. Moving next to the younger woman, the wizened wizard gave a nod of appreciation before lifting his wand and began muttering the counter curse for the offending wards.

Fleamont's eyes widened as he saw the lone Unspeakable take a curse to the side and go flying through a shop window. A presence beside him brought his attention to his wife, a determined expression on her face as she brought her wand out and began to chant alongside her husband.

He could feel it. The life debt that connected the House of Potter to this unknown savior.

The ancient magic gently reminding the Lord Potter, that he owed his life to the man.

Fleamont may not have had the reflexes and speed of his youth, but what he did still have was power.

Although he never could figure out how Dumbledore seemed so much more powerful with age though. The ol' bearded bastard.

But it was his carefully cultivated power that allowed him to finally push the wards to their breaking point until the satisfying snap caused the telltale magical backlash of a fallen ward.

The old veteran sighed in relief as a full complement of Aurors popped into existence, with his old friend Albus Dumbledore at their head.

As the dark lord fled, Fleamont grasped his wife's hand and made their way to their tired savior.

The man, and it was obvious by the Unspeakable's body definition that it was at the very least, a well-built man; sat alone on the side of the alley. The man's arms rested gently on his thighs, while he took slow measured breaths.

A nasty cut bisected the man's arm, dark red blood oozing from the wound.

"Umm excuse me?" his wife chirped awkwardly, as they moved next to the resting Unspeakable.

"You're bleeding," pointed out his wife to the Unspeakable.

The man jerked as if just realizing his injury.

"Ahhh," said the Unspeakable tiredly. "Thanks..."

Fleamont raised a brow as he moved closer to the Unspeakable, examining the man's injured arm. He doubted the Unspeakable realized his voice changing charm failed, as the tired sounding voice of a young man emanated from his concealing hood.

"We owe you our lives my friend," said Fleamont, as he used an old battlefield charm to knit the man's arm back together.

"I understand your position as an Unspeakable means I'll be unable to properly thank you. However..."

Fleamont cast an ancient family spell on his family ring, creating a smaller duplicate with the House of Potter family sigil engraved onto it.

"This will mark you as a friend of the family. If you are ever in need of assistance, the House of Potter is your ally."

The old veteran couldn't help but notice the Unspeakable's subtle flinch at the name Potter.

"I-uuhh-there is no need for that Lord Potter," stammered the injured man defensively.

Fleamont narrowed his eyes, "Nonsense my friend, we owe you our lives. It is the least we can do."

The Lord Potter grasped the other man's forearm, and forcefully placed the ring into the Unspeakable's bloody hand.

What he didn't expect was for the ring of friendship to flare magically and transform itself into the bulky form of the Potter Head of Household ring. The very same ring that graced his finger for the past thirty years.

Fleamont gasped in shock at the implications. Only someone of Potter blood could become Lord of the household, and never in recorded history had there been two Lords at the same time.

"How?-

"Ohh shite," flinched the Unspeakable as he pushed himself back and away from the Potters, before apparating away rapidly.

Fleamont stared at the spot where the Unspeakable disappeared from dumbfounded, before turning to his equally surprised wife.

"I believe a trip to the magical registry is in order my dear..." muttered Fleamont, his hand twisting the ring around his finger, "Apparently the family tree is not as endangered as I once believed."

Two Lord Potters.

The world as he knew it was changing. Fleamont was just grateful he was still alive to see it.

"Oh shit, bugger me in the fucking arsehole, goddamn fucking fuck!" Harry growled as he apparated into the relative safety of his room at the Three Broomsticks.

Harry was so screwed.

Lord Fleamont Potter, Head of the Potter family and also his paternal grandfather, had just accidentally appointed his future grandson as the second Lord Potter.

The Unspeakable winced as a sharp pain exploded from his side, probably some broken ribs there.

The part-time waiter tossed aside his tattered cloak and examined his injured side.

Harry hissed in pain as he ran his experienced fingers over his ribs. Definitely broken. Thankfully there weren't any puncture wounds in his chest, no shortness of breath, or any other indicator of a tension pneumothorax. Dropping a needle decompression on yourself was not fun by any definition of the word. Instead, it was just a myriad of dark angry bruises stretching across his body and minor lacerations of various lengths and depth.

Grabbing a flask filled with skele-grow, Harry hesitated before downing the nasty concoction. The wizard massaged his temples as he tried to stomach the horrid tasting healing potion. Magical medicine had its perks compared to its muggle counterpart, but tragically, taste was not one of them.

Harry had never heard of two Lords at the same time. When he traveled backward through time, his Head of House Rings signifying him as Lord Potter and maybe Black hadn't traveled back with him. He'd assumed having two Lords of the same house was impossible.

There were supposed to be rules. Inherent magical laws that could not be broken. There were certain quirks of magic that could not be explained or understood. It was just truth. That's what he had learned, what he was taught.

And apparently, it was wrong. Bloody fantastic.

Would the same thing happen if Harry met with the current Lord Black? Harry shuddered at the political fallout that would occur.

Hell, Harry didn't know how his grandfather would react either. The man had been dead long before he'd ever been born. An attack on Diagon Alley during the first wizarding war had sent him and his grandmother into a coma. Dragon pox at St. Mungo's had finished the job soon thereafter.

Oh. Well then.

Harry opened up his dresser and grabbed a mostly empty bottle of whiskey and drained it. The comforting burn of alcohol settling into his stomach.

His grandparents were alive. Harry had caught glimpses of his mother and father since he traveled back in time. He even served his mother at the Three Broomsticks not too long ago. But it was hard to associate the younger versions of his parents with the people who died twenty-eight years ago on that fateful Halloween.

They felt more like distant younger cousins. Family, but not a big part of his life.

His grandparents, however... It wasn't until Harry was in his twenties that he started to hear the stories surrounding his grandparents. War heroes. Not just war heroes but War Heroes. Fighters in a conflict that spanned continents. As a modern-day soldier of sorts, Harry had the utmost respect for the Old Guard. People always talked about how Dumbledore ended the war when he defeated Grindelwald. His grandparents were part of the infamous five that made Dumbledore's victory possible.

And he just saved their lives.

Harry took deep calming breaths, his chest heaving with every exhale.

He could work with this. His little jaunt backward through time may have been unintentional. But he was goddamn Harry Potter!

Thirty years in the past? No problem. He'd just have to improvise.

Despite no longer having the political power he held in the future as Lord of House Potter and as the Man-Who-Conquered, Harry still had a variety of options available to him.

The Hogwarts/Hogsmeade Defense Force was led by the lovely Amelia Bones. A competent woman, who was intent on rooting out the corruption in the Auror ranks. She was skilled and at the very least, someone Harry could go to for help.

There was also the Unspeakables to consider. He may not command the same respect as he did in the future, but he knew Nicholas like few did. If things got too hot running solo, he could count on at least some backup.

And of course, there was Dumbledore. Harry loved the old man like a grandfather, but this wasn't the same man who looked after him as a schoolboy.

Granted, looking back Dumbledore could've done a lot better than he had, but at least he tried. It wasn't his fault he was so damn old. Nicholas was the same. Well-meaning, but out of touch.

Harry made a mental note to not live that long. Best to die in a blaze of glory. But if worse came to worse, Harry was sure the Order of Phoenix would come to his assistance. Maybe. Hopefully.

Harry sighed and stared at the empty bottle of whiskey morosely. Life was so much easier drunk.

Too bad there was work to be done.

Amelia hadn't seen Harry since the attack. It had been a week since the lone Unspeakable held off a dozen Death Eaters and forced the dark lord to flee. Or at least, that's what the ministry propaganda machine was publishing, crediting a brave ministry official with the defense of Diagon Alley.

Minister Bagnold's ratings have never been higher. A complicated ministry defense plan brought to fruition by one of the ministry's top operatives. Utter bollocks of course, but the people loved it.

To hear the wizarding world talk about it, Harry had single-handedly defeated the dark lord's army and beat Voldemort in a broom race.

Sometimes people's delusions frightened the Auror.

Harry had been quite amazing though. She'd never seen anything like it. The man fought with a predatory grace that was unlike anything she had ever witnessed. It was almost as if the part-time waiter had been fighting his entire life.

He reminded her of her older brother Edgar. The two had a confidence born of heroic deeds and terrible battles. Where her brother exuded a quiet strength the few times he visited, Harry gave off a roguish confidence that never quite crossed into arrogance.

And now she couldn't find him.

Harry was unique. Amelia was never one for social interaction. At Hogwarts, she'd been focused on becoming an Auror. As a Hufflepuff, she was the prime example of a hard worker. No time for anything but her goal. As an Auror, she was dedicated to becoming the best. Short term goals led to long term success. Socialization was a distraction.

Then she responded to an attack at the Hogs Head. A Death Eater raid where the only casualties were Death Eaters? She'd expected a squad of off duty Aurors or a team of hitwizards when she walked into the bar.

Definitely not an intoxicated wizard with a charming smile.

An Unspeakable.

Not many knew of the two types of Unspeakables working in the Department of Mysteries. There was the Research and Development section, where the wizarding world's best and brightest worked on the mysteries of magic itself. And then there were the Field Operatives.

You didn't choose them, they chose you. The deadliest fighters the wizarding world had to offer. To even be offered a position in their ranks was an acknowledgment of your skill.

Amelia had initially dismissed the idea of becoming an Unspeakable. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had always been her goal. Department propaganda and interbranch biases had always painted the mysterious department in a negative light. Sure, they were talented, but did they really deserve the best equipment and better pay? When was the last time they were relevant? The Aurors were the true backbone of the ministry, the spooks don't even show their faces. How could you trust someone like that? She'd heard it all and then some.

Harry the Unspeakable. He wasn't anything like what she expected an Unspeakable to be. Maybe a younger Alastor Moody, paranoid and trigger happy. Not a charismatic wizard who enjoyed joking around and embarrassing her and could also wipe the floor with her in a matter of seconds.

And after the display at Diagon Alley? He could probably challenge the majority of the Auror corps and come out on top.

Amelia winced as a wizard bumped into her as she walked her patrol through Hogsmeade.

The witch froze briefly before adrenaline took over as the telltale sense of magical energy enveloped her senses. She was midturn, her wand was already out of her holster when a voice suddenly cut her off.

"Don't react, it's me, Harry," came a miniature voice suddenly in her ear, "I don't know if you are being watched yet, so just listen and act naturally."

The petite Auror's eyes widened in shock at the familiar voice of Hogsmeade's resident Unspeakable.

Amelia stuffed her hands into her cloak and took a series of calming breaths. Once her heart rate had seemed to settle, she carefully continued her march around the snow-covered village.

"So first off, how's it going love? Been a bit busy, haven't had time to talk. Rosie thinks I'm off visiting family in Romania. Which makes me wonder if I really do have family there... Knowing my luck, it's definitely a possibility..."

Amelia rolled her eyes at the ramblings of her friend. To think she was worried about the Unspeakable.

"Anyway, so I've been doing some digging, you were right about the corruption in the Auror corps," said the static ridden voice in her ear. "It's harder to find someone who isn't dirty, to be honest. Gawain Robards. You know of him? One cough for yes. Two for no."

The petite Auror wrapped her cloak around her closer and quietly coughed once.

Gawain Robards. An up and coming Auror Captain, the man was known for having friends in high places.

"Good. The man's no Death Eater, but he's more than willing to turn a blind eye for some of their gold."

Amelia sneered at the thought.

"Yeah, definitely an arsehole," quipped the quiet voice in her ear, "You'll find a folder hidden underneath your desk back at the department. Everything you need to take the bastard down. He's not the biggest fish in the pond, but I figured we could start a bit small. Get you some political clout by busting some of the lesser players first, before we start cleaning house entirely."

The pretty redhead gave a small nod as thanks as she trudged through the snow.

"Well it's been fun talking with you Amy," said Harry. "But I gotta run darling."

"Wait!" hissed Amelia freezing in her tracks.

"Ohh?"

Amelia glanced at her surroundings before muttering quietly, "When will I see you again?"

There was a noticeable pause, where Amelia just knew Harry had a shit-eating grin.

"Awww... I missed you too!" chirped Harry in her ear. "I've got places to break into and things to steal tonight, but tomorrow at the Hog's Head? Say, seven?"

Amelia coughed once in agreement.

"It's a date!" chuckled Harry, "Until next time..."

The low buzzing noise in her ear disappeared as she stood alone underneath the full moon. Amelia was glad Harry was doing okay. After he'd disappeared…

Amelia wrapped her coat tighter around her frame. No matter. There was no time for what-ifs. Time to see what Harry dredged up on that corrupt ass Robards.

"Nicky, my boy, I need your help," asked Harry as he sat on the Head Unspeakable's desk.

"Bah!" grunted the Immortal Alchemist as he swung an oversized scroll at the younger man's head, "Stop calling me that damn it!

"Well, you still won't let me call you Dad... I need to call you something y'know!" said Harry, ducking underneath another savage swipe from the old man.

"You are the most infuriating Unspeakable I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Do you have any idea how much work your little spat in Diagon Alley has caused me?" bemoaned the older man, "I swear I've hadn't had to interact with this many nosy people since the House Elf Rebellions. Which reminds me."

The immortal alchemist rustled through his desk drawers before tossing a silver plaque at Harry.

"There you go, one Order of Merlin Second Class, awarded for services rendered. Made out to the 'Hero of Diagon Alley.' Stupid title you got there," said Nicholas, his face scrunched up in distaste. "Sounds like a shite geometry joke if you ask me..."

Harry turned the plaque over in his hand before shrugging and stuffing it in his pocket.

"So about that favor Dad..."

"I swear to Merlin, I'll adopt you into the family just so I can disown you."

Harry snorted in amusement, "I need to borrow one of your operatives. Miss Valkyrie to be exact."

Nicholas raised an ancient brow, "And why exactly should I lend you… Of all people… One of my agents?"

"You wanted me to impart some knowledge to your troops correct? Think of it as an educational field trip on future magical burglary with yours truly. Also, I need to steal some stuff from a certain school..."

"And why Agent Valkyrie specifically?"

Harry shrugged, "She's feisty. Also, a woman. Not being sexist mind you, but job I got in mind needs a woman's touch. Literally. As in I physically need a woman's touch, or I'm screwed. Have I mentioned I'm not sexist? Very tolerant us future folk. Kind of. Well, not really. But I am. Honestly!"

Nicholas let loose a tired sigh at Harry's antics, shaking his head with a minute amount of amusement. "I'll need more details than that. Despite the amount of leeway I have granted you thus far, I would be remiss in my responsibilities to simply allow you free reign without oversight."

Harry nodded in understanding, "There's a Class One dark artifact currently unsecured at Hogwarts. My intentions are to secure and destroy the artifact as quickly as possible, with the least amount of attention. The politics with destroying this artifact through conventional means would make the task nearly impossible."

"And what is this artifact?"

"Ravenclaw's Diadem."

"Indeed? Young Rowena's Diadem has been cursed you say?" questioned the Immortal, a lone hand running absentmindedly through his coarse white beard. "A pity. You are capable of destroying the Diadem?"

"Yes sir."

"Interesting."

Harry stood silently in front of the infamous alchemist as the locked eyes with the younger wizard.

A familiar presence brushed against his mental defenses, it's touch ancient and powerful. Harry grit his teeth reluctantly before allowing the old man peripheral access. If there was one branch of magic the younger Unspeakable did not enjoy, it was the mind arts. To allow a foreign presence into the sanctuary of his mind went against every survival instinct the wizard had gained over his lifetime.

However; he was a professional. And if there was any one person he could trust in the year nineteen seventy-eight to enter his mindscape, it would be his past and future mentor. Harry knew the alchemist like few this century did. If letting the ancient wizard access allowed him to start building trust and rapport with the older Unspeakable than it was a discomfort he was willing to endure.

The metaphysical walls in his mental defenses opened wide, allowing the old man access. Nicholas's touch was light and relatively unobtrusive as it circled around his claims.

A brief memory of Ravenclaw's Diadem flashed across his memory, the dark presence it exuded still as vivid as the last time he saw it.

Harry was surprised as the alchemist stopped abruptly at the image and rapidly exited his mind. Despite allowing Flamel access to his mindscape, the old man had only done a superficial scan to verify the truth of his claim. It was an unprecedented display of trust that Harry had not been expecting.

"Fine. She's all yours. Bring her back in one piece please?"

Harry grinned, "I appreciate it, sir."

The immortal shook his head before picking up an old rotary phone and dialing carefully.

"Agent Valkyrie. Report to my office immediately. That is all."

Nicholas looked back up at the younger Unspeakable, "Don't make me regret this."

Harry nodded, serious for once, "Yes sir."

The younger Unspeakable chuckled softly as Agent Valkyrie burst into Nicholas's office, quickly moving to the position of attention.

"At ease," waved Nicholas, causing the woman to immediately move into a relaxed position. "Damn it boy, this is how you're supposed to act. Show a little respect."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Whatever you say, Father..."

Nicholas growled as the manuscript he threw at the younger Unspeakable missed.

"Agent Valkyrie," said the Head Unspeakable, ignoring Harry. "I'm placing you under the direct command of Agent..."

Nicholas glanced contemplatively at Harry.

"Smith!" chirped Harry.

"Agent... Ares."

"Lame.." came the grumbled mutterings of the newly christened Ares.

"He will be your commanding officer for the time being. Is that understood?"

The woman hesitated before nodding, "Yes sir."

"Excellent. Agent Ares will brief you on your mission. Dismissed."

Harry gave Valkyrie his best charming smile, only to be ignored as the woman stalked angrily out of Nicholas's office.

The immortal smirked at Harry, "Have fun boy... And remember. You asked for her."

Harry gave a nonchalant shrug before pushing out of the old man's office into the dark hallway of the Department of Mysteries.

Standing outside was Agent Valkyrie, her body language exuding hate and discontent.

"Sir," acknowledged Valkyrie, the word spat out like a dirty curse.

Harry raised his hands in surrender, "Listen, Valerie. I think we got off on the wrong foot. You tried to kidnap me with your little friends, and I took you hostage. And kicked your arse. Twice."

Despite her face being concealed by her hood, Harry could just feel the power of Valkyrie's death glare.

"What I'm trying to say is..." Harry tried another charming smile, "Peace?"

The female Unspeakable stood there blankly, her entire body rigid with barely contained anger, before exhaling deeply.

"What is our mission, sir?"

Harry grinned, "Feel like a Hogwarts visit?"

"What the hell are we doing? Why are we here?" hissed Agent Valkyrie, the female Unspeakable crouched behind Harry as the two crept through the darkened halls of Hogwarts.

"You know," whispered Harry as he peered around a corner, before moving stealthily into the hallway. "I don't think you really understand the mechanics of a stealth mission, do you?"

"Please," Harry could just feel the sarcasm dripping from the woman's lips in that single statement. "We're covered in so many stealth charms I doubt Merlin himself could track us. And our internal comms mean we can communicate without being heard."

Harry rolled his eyes before speaking over the communication charm connecting the two, "Well I know that... But complacency kills and all that bollocks..."

Harry moved up to an unassuming statue and poked it softly in the stomach. The gentle hiss of releasing air sounded as the statue of the way, revealing a hidden passage.

"And how the hell do you know of all these hidden passageways? We must have gone through at least six!"

Harry grinned, although his mirth was hidden by his charmed hood, "Your Hogwarts days must have been boring ehh?"

Valkyrie snorted before muttering under her breath, "Twenty galleons you were a bloody Gryffindor..."

Harry traced his hand over the brick and mortar passageway until his fingers caught on a smooth piece of metal.

"Alright, this is where you come in Valerie," quipped Harry as he cast a quick Lumos, illuminating the corridor.

"It's Valkyrie," hissed the female Unspeakable.

"Uhh huh, you got it, Valentine," said Harry, waving off the women's complaints. "I need you to kiss this for me, please and thank you."

Harry pointed at the innocuous-looking strip of metal, before motioning to his companion.

The female Unspeakable glanced at the wall before looking back at Harry.

"You're joking..." deadpanned Agent Valkyrie.

Harry shook his head, "Nope. This is Salazar Slytherin's work. The man was a bit of a pervert, most of his secret passageways require a female's touch to work and an odd bit of magic dictates they have to be relatively attractive. Drove my best mate's girl batty when she wasn't deemed worthy. Ranted for days about sexist pigs."

Harry reminisced fondly on the summer after he killed Voldemort. Just him, Ron, and Hermione, exploring the secrets of Hogwarts.

"So Valerie," continued Harry, shaking off the fond memories, "Think you're good enough for ol' Salazar Slytherin?"

Harry was glad he was out of arm's reach. Something about Valerie told the experienced Unspeakable bad things would happen if he was any closer.

"Speak of this to anyone and I'll gut you like a pig," growled the woman, jabbing a finger angrily at Harry before moving in front of the small piece of metal.

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender.

The female Unspeakable tilted her head to the side and leaned into the charmed metal.

Nothing happened.

"Did you try giving it a little tongue?"

Agent Valkyrie's wand shot out of its holster pointed directly at Harry, a snarl on the woman's lips.

"Whoops, there we go..." quipped Harry, as the wall suddenly decided to shift out of the way, revealing the darkened interior of the infamous Hogwarts Library.

"Well, what do you know..." said Harry as he slipped into the library, "If you ever travel back in time, you should look Salazar up. I think he'd be interested..."

"Keep talking and even your dear ol' dad won't find your corpse..."

Harry snickered. Harry couldn't wait to see the old man's face when he realized his Unspeakables thought Harry was his son.

The male Unspeakable glanced around the restricted section of the library before stopping directly in front of a small hidden carving of a snake, etched directly into an ancient bookcase.

"So..." drawled Harry slowly, turning towards his companion, "This is where your secrecy oaths come into play. Okay? Not a word of this."

Harry turned back towards the innocent-looking carving before hissing in parseltongue.

The wooden snake perked up in interest before nodding slowly, revealing a small hidden compartment.

"You're a Parselmouth?" asked Valkyrie, her shocked tone evident in her voice.

Reaching into the newly revealed compartment, Harry pulled out an ancient-looking dagger, its blade no longer than his outstretched palm, and tucked it into his belt.

"Technically? No. Not anymore," quipped Harry as he tapped twice on the bookshelf, closing the hidden compartment.

"Not anymore?"

"Long story short, had the ability my whole life. Got hit with a nasty piece of dark magic, and poof! No more snake charming... I still remember a few words here and there, but for the most part, it's all gone."

The female Unspeakable cocked her head to the side before asking doubtfully, "What kind of dark magic takes away your ability to speak to snakes?"

Harry paused, glancing back at his companion, "The kind that kills you. Guess some magical talents don't follow you from the grave. I'll take being alive over being a Parselmouth any day."

The time traveler ducked back into the hidden passage, motioning for Valkyrie to follow.

"One last stop and we're good Valerie," said Harry as he crept through the dark passages that bisected Hogwarts. "To the seventh floor!"

Valkyrie followed carefully behind Harry as the carefully made their way up through Hogwarts.

"What's so special about that dagger?" asked the woman curiously as the pair crept up an empty stairwell.

"Bit of a dark history," said Harry, patting the hilt of the dagger softly, "Forged from a Basilisk tooth by Salazar Slytherin himself, it was passed down to one of his favorite students after the boy prevented an assassination on the bastard. Long story short, flash forward a few years and Rowena Ravenclaw sent the man to fetch her wayward daughter. Things got ugly, the man killed the girl, killed himself, and thus was born the Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron."

Valkyrie stared at the dagger hanging from Harry's hip, "Not a story I've ever heard at Hogwarts."

Harry shrugged, "It's all very tragic. Ancient history of course, but sad, nonetheless. What I really needed it for..."

A wooden door blinked into existence before slowly opening, revealing a massive room full of broken trinkets and forgotten valuables.

Harry flipped the dagger in the air, catching it carefully by the grip, "Is the Basilisk venom Salazar's dagger is infused with."

"So what are we looking for?" asked Valkyrie as she stepped deliberately over a fallen cabinet.

"You know the story of Ravenclaw's lost diadem right? Well, it's definitely lost..." Harry waved his arm motioning at the room, "Lost somewhere in this bloody room..."

"Why does looking for some old relic dictate a stealth mission? Couldn't we've done this without sneaking into Hogwarts?"

Harry paused, stroking his jaw contemplatively, "Well I guess that would've been easier..."

Valkyrie rolled her eyes, too tired to get mad at her idiot boss.

"Although it would've been awkward when I destroyed a priceless artifact for no apparent reason..."

Valkyrie froze, "What?"

"The diadem. Our mission here is to locate and destroy the artifact at all costs. This is a Level One Priority. We don't leave until the threat is neutralized."

The normal joking tone of Harry was replaced with cold-hearted steel, his deadly seriousness leaving no room for argument.

"Understood."

"Speak of the devil..." quipped Harry, pointing at a mangy looking diadem resting on top of a broken mannequin.

"That's Ravenclaw's diadem?" asked Valkyrie disbelievingly.

"Yup," replied Harry, hefting his newly acquired basilisk dagger in the air. "So... You want to stab it, or should I?"

For sixth year Slytherin Lucinda Talkalot, her duties as a Hogwarts Prefect was amongst her least liked. A good student, ambitious as they come, she accepted her posting as Hogwarts Prefect with the grace and elegance worthy of her blood. But it was Quidditch that was her true passion. Finally promoted to the illustrious position of Quidditch Captain her head swam with plays and techniques and all things quidditch.

As fun as a career in politics sounded, and it sounded absolutely dreadful, the young witch had her sights set on professional quidditch.

To play on the National Team and bring home eternal glory? That was the dream.

Lucinda had just started to get bored when an ear-shattering explosion filled the previously empty corridor she had been patrolling. She scrambled backward as she tripped and fell on her rear, a door bursting open in front of her filling the hallway with an unearthly roar.

A body came flying out of the newly appeared door and bounced off the castle wall, where it came to a rest moaning in pain.

"Oww. That fucking hurt," growled the cloaked figure, before dragging itself to its feet. The figure rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. "I knew I should've just used Fiendfyre..."

The witch stared in shock as a massive arm made up of broken furniture and trash shot out of the open door and grabbed the cloaked figure by the torso.

"Ahh bugger me."

The arm pulled back violently, bringing the cloaked figure flying back into the open doorway.

Lucinda stared with wide eyes before creeping slowly towards the open door.

The rumbling sounds of explosions and a woman cursing echoed out of the previously hidden room.

The witch yelped in fright, narrowly avoiding the cabinet that came flying out of the room. She froze at the sight before her.

A massive titan-like behemoth made up of broken furniture and debris was attempting to smash two cloaked figures, one of which was wielding a burning flame whip, while the other rained explosive curses on the creature.

The horrified Slytherin flinched as another explosion rocked the area.

"Go for its jugular Valerie!"

"It doesn't have a throat, you idiot!"

"Hit it in its filing cabinet then!"

"I am never working with you again!"

"File it with HR! In the meantime, help me kill this blasted thing!"

AN: I appreciate the patience. Updates will be monthly give or take a few weeks. I'm currently 7 months into a 2.5 yearish reclass (new job training) and there will be periods where I'm gone for up to 10 weeks at a time. Things ramped up post-holiday leave, so that's on me. Not too much different in this chapter, this was mostly just cleaning it up and small changes from the original. Future chapters should have more significant changes. I'm trying to build a stockpile of new chapters and not dump everything I have as I finish it. In other news, my delete, R, and C buttons on my keyboard take multiple times to register for about an hour and then magically start working just fine. It's been driving me insane. Been writing the newest chapters on my phone out of frustration, so that's fun. Besides that, I appreciate the sheer amount of feedback I've been getting from you guys. The constructive criticism has been on point and it definitely influenced how I've written the newer chapters. Once again, love it or hate it. I appreciate your time and your thoughts. Cheers.

Edited 05July2020