DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NOT AND WILL NOT EVER HAVE A SEX CHANGE, AND THEREFORE I AM NOT JOANNE KATHLEEN ROWLING, AND DO NOT IN FACT HOLD OWNERSHIP OVER HARRY POTTER OR ANYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH IT.

Ok, so I am aware that it has almost been a month, sorry bout that. Was on holiday, and the place we were at had no internet.

We broke 1000 favs and follows and 50,000 views by the way, which I find completely insane. I wrote this with no expectations of anyone reading or liking it, so it's really incredible seeing all of the positive responses. I hope you can bear my non-existent upload schedule.

Anyway, heres the new chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't be sure to call me an awful writer in the comments.

ENJOY NERDS!

Chapter 6: Lycaon

27th August 1995, 08:22pm

Gwythian, Cornwall, England.

The night was pitch black, the type of absolute dark that could almost be tasted or ran through your fingers. The only light came from the more determined rays of moonlight that made their way through the thick cloud cover, which highlighted a lone figure crouched upon a sole hill that rose above the rest above the rest of the forest surrounding it, as if in defiance of any limiting factors of elevation that constrained its brethren.

"Bollocks," the lone figure said gruffly into the night, the ancient trees surrounding him accepting the bad language without complaint. He stood from where he had been studying a single footprint, the last one of a long line that came from somewhere within the forest to the south. He stood with a sigh and looked around him, his wand twirling around long, slender fingers as he did so. Piercing grey eyes studied the surroundings one last time before he sighed again then twisted and disappeared with nary a whisper of sound.

Harry smiled tiredly when he felt the presence of his wards wash over him, the feeling making him feel safe as it always did. Moody would have approved, the house was probably on a level with Gringotts with the amount of obscure protective wards around it, some of which hadn't even been invented yet. He had no doubt that Voldemort or Dumbledore themselves would be some of the few able to break through, along with some of the more talented curse-breakers currently floating around and maybe some Goblins, but even then they would be sitting there for a long time doing so. He had almost magically exhausted himself when he had set them up, making them as strong possible.

The new house he had bought was a detached one this time. Payment for a few of the investments he had made and the remnants of the two Basilisks had come through and that, coupled with his new family's already respectable pile of gold, had enabled him to buy a nice two bedroom bungalow in Cornwall in a small seaside town called Gwythian. He had never even seen the sea during his time at the Dursleys, Hogwarts had been too far inland and the war had never taken him to the coast. As a consequence he had never caught a glimpse of the ocean until he was in his twenties. When he had finally laid his eyes on the deep blue, he had immediately fallen in love with it. It had always calmed him down when he came back from particularly brutal missions and now he even used the image of it to calm his thoughts when using occlumency.

"Good evening, Toady," he said, leaning forward to look into a glass tank, where a particularly ugly green toad with pink spots was sitting. He tapped on the glass to get its attention and it began screaming at him in ugly, wet croaks, although Harry still found the noise far more pleasant than the ones it made previously. He smiled and chucked in another pile of spiders, "dinner time, Toady, eat up," he said sweetly, then laughed and got back up, continuing his path down the corridor.

He walked into the laundry room and chucked his muddy boots, combat trousers and jacket into a basket where they began to be washed by invisible hands. He grimaced as he peeled his sweaty t-shirt off of him, he had been trying to find Greyback's pack in eastern Germany but the bastard was as slippery as he was brutal. It wasn't pleasant to find out that Greyback actually possessed a shred of intelligence, he hadn't known of it last time as he had never had to fight or kill the werewolf directly. From what he heard Ron and Neville had managed to defeat the guy at the final battle. He supposed he had been the one who had ended up leading the werewolf portion of Voldemort's army, so it made sense in a way. His intention behind finding them was to try and eliminate them before they became a threat to Britain, thereby depriving Riddle of one of the most feared components of his future army. He was doing it for personal reasons as well however. The scars that he had given Bill had never faded, being of a dark nature, and Lavender Brown had been killed in the final battle by the pack, along with many more.

And of course, Remus Lupin's life had been ruined almost from birth by the man. That alone signed his death warrant.

Harry dragged himself into the bathroom and to wash himself free of the dirt and cold, turning the shower up to scalding temperatures and scrubbing himself until he emerged red and raw. He got dressed into a pair of soft jeans and a basilisk-hide lined knee length overcoat and apparated away to a place that he had been getting food at nearly every night recently in the small wizarding enclave in Dundee.

He arrived at the ancient cobbled apparition point and strode out of the circular area into the commune of Dundee, the second oldest commune on the isle. The buildings lining either side of the road were squat and the foundations were dug into the ground slightly, as if they were hunching their backs against the harsh northern winds of eastern Scotland.

He quickly made his way to the place he was seeking, another low roofed building that was spilling warm light into the street. He opened the heavy oak door and was immediately assaulted by the low level chatter and noise of the customers of the Merlin's Staff Inn, which was predictably the source of many a joke.

He moved through the room to his customary table in the corner, but as he got closer he started to slow down until he stopped. From the direction of the table he could feel the presence of someone very powerful, the feel of the mystery mage's magic seemed to fill the room now that he was focusing on it, and he wondered how nobody else was noticing it. He looked to try and spy out the source of the aura, but every time he tried to look his eyes seemed to slide over the area like it was repellent to sight.

Harry knew the signature signs of a notice-me-not.

Frowning, he looked around then discreetly drew his wand and manipulated the protective circle to allow himself into the ward, which was surprisingly easy considering the obvious strength of the mage that he felt before him.

There were very few in Britain with such a large magical core, but Harry couldn't imagine Voldemort sitting in a cozy inn in Dundee, which left very few people who it could be...

The person was sitting with their back to him, apparently unconcerned about the breach in their wards. As he rounded the table and got a look at who it was he had to suppress a sigh. The long white beard was all the confirmation he needed. Evidently, Tonks had talked about him at an Order meeting.

'Fuck.'

Albus Dumbledore looked up from his steak and chips with a kindly smile and gestured to the seat opposite him, "ah, just the man I was hoping to see, would you grant an old man the honour of a conversation and a slice of your time?"

Harry had to try very hard not to show any emotion at the sight of the man who had been like a grandfather to him, the first authority figure who had shown any kind of care for a boy starved of it. This was the second person that he had met that he had seen in death, the first being Tonks. That had been weird enough, and he hadn't even known her that well before.

But he had spent hours in the headmaster's office talking about his personal problems and the war. He had shared things with Dumbledore that he hadn't shared with anyone else in his life. Harry knew that the headmaster had his faults, in his opinion he was far too passive and didn't take action enough, the Calf of Man incident being a prime example. His tendency to give second chances was a moral that he could respect, but not one he shared. He had found that the decision to give second chances was, as with all things, situational. Sometimes, when some were given a second chance, it was only another opportunity for them to do the same shit again, only sometimes worse. In his experience you had to judge if someone would actually repent before you let them off, and people rarely changed. No, normally it was better just to kill them.

Dumbledore also had a tendency to hold his secrets close to his chest to the point that it would get people killed, something which had personally happened to him, even if he hadn't stayed that way for long. When he had been younger he had despised the headmaster for keeping the secret of the horcrux in his head from him and not saving him from every potential life-threatening situation at Hogwarts. As he got older, however, his reasons began to thaw under the ministrations of time and began to sound more and more childish to him. No matter how powerful he was and how wise he seemed, Dumbledore was not infallible, and could not be everywhere at once. He, like every man, had his faults. Fortunately, in Dumbledore's case, his faults were vastly outweighed by his better traits.

He didn't hesitate for long, but he knew it was long enough that Dumbledore already had several theories as to why, "of course headmaster Dumbledore," he said respectfully as he inclined his head, careful to keep his voice and face free from any discernible emotion. He sat in the seat indicated and cocked an eyebrow at the wizened old man, not willing to be the one to start the conversation.

Dumbledore didn't seem fussed by his lack of speech, and finished off his meal before wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin and smiled genially at him. "You seem most adept with wards my boy, if you were able to bypass my own."

Harry scowled, "yes, I suppose I am, however I doubt that that is a coincidence that it was so easy to do so."

Dumbledore chuckled and leant forward, his fingers steepled and his elbows on the table, "indeed, you are a hard man to find Mr Slate, it was only by chance that my good friend Roran Gaylehall described a man of your description eating at this delightful establishment. You must forgive me for my little test, I was curious if you would… notice it, so to speak." His eyes twinkled at his joke.

Harry's other eyebrow joined the first at Dumbledore's straight forward admittance that he had been looking for him. From what he could remember he had always been far more discreet than that. "And just why were you looking for me, headmaster Dumbledore? From what I've heard you are a busy man, what with all of those titles you hold."

"That is true, and it is as my responsibility as the headmaster that is the reason for me wanting a conversation with you today," he replied, his eyes twinkling.

'Please say that this isn't going where I think it's going.'

"You see, I seem to have found myself in a rather aggravating predicament Mr Slate," he continued, "I was unable to find a teacher this year for the defence against the dark arts position, as I have for many years now, and I had to resort to asking for a teacher from the Ministry. They provided a teacher, but days ago she mysteriously disappeared, leaving me once again with nobody to fill the position." He looked at Harry with a small smile on his face and a look on his face that suggested he knew that he had something to do with it, and didn't mind.

It was while he was looking at Harry like that that he felt the whisper of a tendril of legilimency brush against his mental shields. Not a full attack, just enough to read surface thoughts and intentions. Harry frowned and batted it away with nary a thought, very used to legilimency attacks after years of fighting dark mages who thought they were special because they learnt the mental art.

He saw Dumbledore wince slightly, confirming he was the one behind the attack, not that Harry was surprised at that. He had always suspected the old man of leglilimising people to get hold of information he shouldn't have been able to. He was almost tempted to draw his wand and hex the bastard for daring to try, he valued his mind greatly and didn't appreciate people trying to read it, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. Also, if the two of them were to duel Harry had no doubt that it would probably level a building or five around them.

He glared at him, "please refrain from trying to mind-rape me in the future headmaster, I shan't be as gentle with banishing the next probe you send my way." His wand had found its way into his hands through basic instinct, and he could feel his magic roiling violently underneath his skin despite his better intentions.

Dumbledore smiled at him like he hadn't just committed an offence that carried multiple years in Azkaban, "ah, I see you are skilled at occlumency as well, you are learned indeed Mr Slate," he nodded slowly and peered at him approvingly over half-moon glasses, as if Harry had just scored top marks in a transfiguration quiz, "yes, I believe you will be perfect for what I have in mind."

'Does he know how creepy that sounds?' He probably did. He had always had a weird sense of humour.

Harry sighed in resignation, his anger disappearing like a leaf in a gust of wind, "and what exactly did you have in mind Albus? Get to the fucking point."

He didn't show any visible reaction to the use of his first name but a quirk of the lips that suggested he was amused, "well, to 'get to the point,' as you put it so delicately, I believe that you would be a good fit for the position."

He had half expected it, but it surprised him nonetheless. The DADA position was the most infamous in Britain. Hogwarts was not the only school in the country, but it was the only one that people really took seriously. To get a position there as a teacher in arguably the most important subject at the school was a big deal, there was a reason Lockhart had grabbed the opportunity with both perfectly manicured hands. As the position was freed every year the mystery of who would be the next DADA teacher was always a hot topic to the general public, and the person chosen would inevitably be posted in all of the papers. Harry had always wondered what Dumbledore had bribed Remus with to take the position, the man had hated it.

He hadn't taught anyone since the DA in fifth year, or next term depending on how you looked at it. But now that he thought about it, there was probably no-one in the world currently who knew more about defence against the dark arts than he did. It had been his job after all, just not in a teaching role. Not that Dumbledore knew that.

He had been sitting there silently for a few seconds while he processed what the headmaster was asking of him. Dumbledore was sitting there in his magenta robes, looking entirely unfazed if he said yes or no.

"Why me?" He finally asked.

"Well..." Dumbledore seemed to consider the question for a second, but Harry knew that in reality he was most likely choosing what to tell him and what to omit from his response, "from what I've seen and been told, you are a competent wizard who is well versed in magic. There is also your encounter with Burke to consider, you are well known for it through the papers and I believe hiring you, someone who defended against dark arts and survived, would send a good message," his eyes twinkled again, and Harry mentally braced himself on instinct, "you know, some are looking at you as a symbol of resistance, despite appearances, not all of the wizarding population are idiots, and many have ascertained what happened that night, I have seen more than one poster with your face on it in windows and I hear tales of them strews across the walls of the dorm rooms of the female population of Hogwarts." Harry mentally catalogued the twinkle as psychological warfare in his mindscape.

He grimaced. That was far too reminiscent of his time as Harry Potter for comfort. He had held the desprate hope that as Harrison Slate perhaps he could fly under the radar, but here he was, sitting in front of perhaps the most recognisable face in all of the magical world after having his own pretty mug splashed all across the papers after not even a month of belly-flopping into this new world. It seemed that his tendency to stick his head into the path of the nearest blasting hex had followed him though the fields of time along with his other abilities. He had always thought that Potter luck was a real, hereditary thing and this was just proof.

'It's not all bad, Potter, some of those seventh years...' a familiar voice said suggestively in his head.

'Fuck off Seamus.'

He really needed to stop having conversations with people that didn't exist in his head.

'Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn't a good sign, Harry.' Another voice chimed reprimanded in his mind.

'Fuck off Hermione.'

"Yes, and I'm sure that the fact that the board of Governors wouldn't look further than 'pureblood' on my profile before they sign off on it had nothing to do with it," Harry said dryly, ignoring the last part as best he could.

"I may have included that pertinent bit of information nearer to the top half of the report, yes," Dumbledore said, sounding distinctly amused.

Harry snorted and began drumming his fingers on the table with nervous energy, sitting in the near vicinity of the magical powerhouse that was Albus Dumbledore with his aura flaring was enough to make anyone slightly twitchy. The feeling was oppressive. "Aren't you fussed that I was home-schooled? I didn't even attend your precious school, none of us Slates have." But Harry Potter had.

"Schooling is not a problem, you're O. and N.E. were admirable," Dumbledore said offhandedly, waving a hand in dismissal of Harry's objection, "far better than the previous applicant's were," a small frown turned the lines adorning his forehead downwards in what seemed to be mild disgust, "I believe she scored a Poor in defence against the dark arts," he said, sounding disapproving but somehow still polite about the blatant insult.

"Not a big fan of Dolores Dumbledore?" Harry quipped, "I'm sure she would be devastated to hear the news."

"I'm sure she would, that is if she is still capable of feeling such things," sounding uncharacteristically uncaring for someone that always advocated for second chances, Harry wondered if he had found someone above the wizened mage's forgiveness other than Tom Riddle. If it was anyone, he thought that Dolores Umbridge was probably a good candidate.

He scowled.

'Bitch.'

He inwardly thought of her current amphibian state and fought down a smirk, instantly feeling better.

Harry hummed, neither confirming nor denying the indirect question, instead considering the earlier proposal. He had not foreseen this happening when he had got rid of Umbridge, but he supposed it made sense from Dumbledore's point of view. Those who weren't stupid would have come to the same conclusion that Harry and most likely Dumbledore had, that Burke was a death eater in training and was sent to kill him. Hiring him to teach the children would send a message out there that he was opposing the death eaters through educational means and indirectly undermine Fudge as well, as it had probably been that fat prick who had got him into Azkaban in the first place. Harry also knew what Dumbledore had left unsaid however. The manipulative old bastard was most likely attempting to keep him close so he could keep an eye on him. Harry was, from his perspective, new to the wizarding scene and therefore pliable to the beliefs of the Order of The Phoenix, and had already shown his competency in high stress situations. This meeting was almost definitely to judge whether he was fit for the Order as well as to offer him the DADA position. That was probably what the legilimency probe was for.

He wouldn't be able to hunt down the horcruxes or Voldemort's followers as well from Hogwarts, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up. One of the horcruxes was at the ancient school after all. They could wait, the bloody things weren't going anywhere.

Plus, he would be in a position of power over Draco Malfoy.

'Well, I think that's a good enough reason,' he thought, inwardly cackling at the thought of some good old revenge for the ponce's actions in his school years.

He shrugged, "sure, I'll do it."

He could hunt the others down in his spare time.

Dumbledore beamed, "brilliant, I am so glad you agreed, I must say that I was beginning to become desperate."

Harry cocked his head, "that's it? Don't you need to interview me or anything? I could be completely incompetent for all you know." He knew he was far from it, but it had to be said. He was beginning to understand how a spastic like Lockhart had been hired.

"As I said, your test scores were good, an O in defence against the dark arts is an admirable feat, especially considering you did not go to Hogwarts," well, there was the subtle rebuke to Harrison's dead parents that he had been waiting for. Dumbledore suddenly fixed his eyes on his again, looking far, far sharper than they had moments before, the normally soft blue irises hardening into something akin to a hawk watching a mouse, "you showed your competency by noticing a ward that shouldn't be noticeable, but most importantly, the way you observe your surroundings is telling. You are looking for threats at all time, your wand is always close to hand in that handy holster of yours, even this table that you choose to sit in is a good vantage point over the entryways of the room," he gestured around himself expansively while still looking into Harry's own eyes, who hadn't moved a muscle, "and yet, you do not seem fearful of such danger entering said room. You, my boy, have all the characteristics of a man of war, although how that came to be, I have not the faintest idea. And this was all but confirmed in the memory that I was shown, you were composed for the whole event, and defended against dark arts with little hesitation or fear, and didn't resort to using the dark arts themselves to do so. The last two points are my main reasons for my attempt at hiring you."

Of course he would pick up on that. The man had served in two wars of his own in his long life and more than likely knew noticed what he was doing as soon as he saw him. Dumbledore himself did the same as him, although Harry noticed he did it far more discreetly. He reminded himself that the man before him had been a soldier himself, once. Like him in a way, but the war Dumbledore had fought in had been far less twisted, far less knives in the back from dark corners.

"When at war headmaster, I find it advisable to always be aware of those around you, I'm sure you understand," Harry said, leaning back in his chair.

Dumbledore looked surprised, but not dismissive, "you believe we are at war?"

'You have no idea what's to come, Albus,' or maybe he did, it had always been hard to tell what the headmaster did and did not know.

"Perhaps not right now, although after having my house burnt down and my life threatened two times, all by people in the same uniform, I would not be surprised if there is one on the way," Harry said with a grim smile.

"I was aware that you believed Voldemort to be back once more, I did not know that you thought this as well," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair in a similar manner, his hands now clasped on his lap.

Harry's grimace tightened, he wasn't sure if he liked Nymphadora reporting everything he was saying to the Order, the idiots were likely to fuck something up with it somehow, "I see you have been talking to Tonks, I was not aware that the two of you knew each other," actually, he had no clue who Tonks did or didn't know, but he enjoyed making the old man uncomfortable.

To Dumbledore's credit, he showed no visible sign of panic, instead replying smoothly, "Nymphadora was a favourite student of mine when she was in school, as a transfiguration master, naturally, her ability intrigued me, and we kept in contact after school and have the odd conversation when we happen to bump into each other."

A little bit of an over explanation, but other than that it was an ok lie, Harry thought. Probably a 9/10 on his Slytherin scale of deception.

He gave Dumbledore a doubtful look, enjoying making the old man be on the receiving end of the scrutiny for once, but eventually decided to get back onto the main subject, "and you're so certain that I will be hired? I can think of a few who would want to block my hiring to the school if they by some miracle look past my blood status."

Dumbledore shook his head, "the headmaster has the ultimate say in hiring a new teacher, it is merely a formality for the board of governors to approve of the selection. If they are unhappy with the choice, the most they can do is be a nuisance and block other proposals I put their way out of spite."

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Harry wouldn't like people like Lucius Malfoy having anything to do with choices at the school, but he thought that perhaps if some vetting was done before some of his teachers had been hired some disasters could have potentially been avoided. He found it ironic that if Malfoy had been in charge of the hiring process he might have actually had less attempts on his life by DADA professors.

"But it's jinxed right? Can I just be on a one year contract so I can avoid being forced out of the position forcefully?" Harry asked. He was reasonably sure that would negate Riddle's curse, he didn't want some esoteric curse fucking him over.

Dumbledore smiled, "my boy, I think that if you had gone to Hogwarts you would have been a Slytherin..."

'Almost.'

"…We can arrange for you to be on a one year contract, however if you happen to somehow manage to break the curse I'm sure we can manage for you to be rehired." Harry thought he could probably break the curse if he wanted to, he was reasonably sure that the it was tied to the diadem horcrux in the castle. It took some serious power and negative intent for something to fuck with an entire subject for so long, it was probably one of the few magical objects that could actually do such a thing. It would also explain why Dumbledore had never been able to break it, Harry was fairly sure that Dumbledore had never found the Room of Requirement.

After he had destroyed the diadem in the war there had never been a problem with the position, however that could have been attributed to either Dumbledore's or Riddle's death as well. He was also very interested in an academic sense. however much of a bastard Riddle was he was a truly brilliant wizard, and creating such a long lasting jinx on such a vague concept was an incredible feat of magic for his age at the time.

"Alright," Harry said, then realisation hit him like a rampaging troll and he groaned, tilting his head back and clutching his forehead, "Hecate's ass, I only have five days to create a whole syllabus for the brats."

"Yes, I'm certain you will do an admirable job," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're going to have a great time watching me toil from your golden throne," Harry snarked. He sighed, "at least tell me the pay is good," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Thirty galleons a month, I think you will find it more than adequate," Dumbledore said, looking amused at his accusation but not denying it like the bastard he was.

He had no need of money, he was already stupid rich from the basilisk carcasses, and money from some of the completely unfair investments he had made was beginning to roll in, but he was still impressed with the pay.

"More than enough," Harry replied, absently wondering how Hogwarts even made any money. He assumed it was from the Ministry through the board of directors. He looked around him, suddenly hungry and felt that the wards were still up, "if that's sorted could you lower the wards? Believe it or not, I didn't come here job searching," Harry said, eyeing a roast turkey that had been set on a table across the room.

Dumbledore nodded and drew his wand to dispel the notice-me-not. As soon as Harry felt the ward fall he turned and called over a waitress that looked surprised to see them there, and even more so when she saw the headmaster and a man that had been spread all across the papers recently casually sitting together. Harry irritably waited for her to stop fan-girling over the old man so he could order his food. As soon as he finished he continued staring at where the wand had been stowed up a loose magenta sleeve.

That was his.

"That's an interesting wand you have there headmaster," Harry commented idly, "how many know what it actually is?"

A slight widening of the eyes was the only indication that he was taken aback by Harry's statement, "you know of the tale behind this wand?" He asked, answering Harry's question with his own as he so often did.

"Yes, the tale of the three brothers," Harry said, unconsciously licking his top lip, "it has always interested me how truths can be hidden in stories." He was still staring at where the wand was. He wondered if its blood trail had finally ended with him and it had been destroyed, or if it was still lying under a layer of blood coated sand in Algeria, waiting to be found by its next master.

"How did you come to know of such a thing? It took me and my… partner, many years to even find a hint of where it was located," Dumbledore looked even more surprised now, which Harry was having more and more fun doing.

Harry tore his eyes away from the wand and looked back at the headmaster's bright blue eyes, aware that he was probably appearing slightly obsessed. But he couldn't help it. That wand had been by his side for decades, it was his. Ever since he had wrenched the elder wand from Voldemort's cold dead hands it had stayed by his side and saved his ass more times than he could count. Oh, he still loved his holly and phoenix feather wand, but even that he owed to the elder wand, given that it had repaired his old wand. The elder wand had always just felt more… right in his hands than his previous ever had. He had never liked to think about why, it was probably for the same reason Thestrals loved him, the same reason his patronus and fiendfyre took on the form of the skeletal horse, the same reason his magic seemed to sing in belonging in areas where there had been death.

"I am curious by nature headmaster, and when you travel the world as I have it is inevitable that you find the consequences of its existence as you move from place to place. Mass murders, feats of magic that shouldn't be possible, it leaves a trail. Mostly bodies, but a trail nonetheless." It was a half-truth, on missions where he had to go to dark places to find some of the more elusive and darker bounties he had stumbled across pieces of magic that could only be explained by the existence of the elder wand. Some had been used as weapons against him, which was ironic as said weapons were always destroyed by the wand that created them.

There was a heavy pause, both of them thinking on the various atrocities that the wand had caused, well, at least that was what Harry was thinking about. What Dumbledore was thinking was normally several steps ahead of everyone else, "I must ask that you not reveal this to anyone else, Harrison," Dumbledore said solemnly, "if word were to get to certain people I have no doubt that the aforementioned trail of bodies would continue, although not by my own hands, but by the hands of those who desire it. There are those who would commit horrendous acts for such power, I find it attracts the worst and corrupts the best."

"But you are above such corruption?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"I would like to think so," he replied, raising the wand to inspect it, "although I have no doubt that I, as any other man, am susceptible of falling for the trappings of power. It is in our nature, after all."

'Like that fucking ring.' Harry was going to enjoy killing that particular horcrux. Maybe if it hadn't lured in the headmaster the war could have been over far quicker. Harry intended to find out.

He was prevented from answering by his food arriving, a steak with a nice beer from one of the German distilleries.

"I shall be off then, as you said I am a busy man," he stood, his eyes twinkling, "I shall owl you the details of the petition in due haste." And with that he twisted and apparated silently straight out of the inn before Harry could even formulate a response through the steak in his mouth.

"Fuckin show off," Harry grumbled, ignoring that he tended to do the exact same thing but far more dramatically.

"Was that Albus Dumbledore?" an awe filled voice asked from next to him.

Harry looked up from his meal and scowled at the man, who was gazing worshipfully at where Albus-of-the-many-names had just been, "no, it was fucking Voldemort, who else do you think wears pink fucking robes?"

-oOo-

Dumbledore arrived into his own office back at the school and moved to sink into his chair, thinking on the meeting he had just had with the mysterious Harrison Slate. Instruments whirred and clinked around him as he pondered on his newest staff member, intense blue eyes staring into places unseen as he considered his options.

The boy was powerful. Very powerful. Albus thought that he was at least as magically powerful as himself, possibly more. He had been keeping his aura suppressed, but he could still feel the power simmering underneath when he had attempted to read the boys thoughts and it had risen. It suggested he was in tune with his magic in a way that most couldn't manage for many decades, but this boy was in his early twenties, it shouldn't have been possible. It was rare that people were able to sense auras at all.

Albus never thought that he would see the day where there were three magical titans in one country, himself, Tom and now this new man, Harrison Slate. All from different generations. He had no doubt that Harry would one day join their ranks as well, making them four. He could feel the child magic grow steadily every day.

Without a doubt, he would be important in the oncoming conflict, of that Albus was certain. It was why he had chosen to keep the boy close, he couldn't have Tom taking away such a valuable asset for the Light before his potential was proven. Although Albus had a feeling that Harrison could probably defend himself if it came to that, evidenced by the Burke incident. The secondary goal had been to try and bring the newcomer to his side and bring him around to the beliefs of the Order, but it seemed that that had taken care of itself. The boy had shown admirable amounts of logic and from what little he had been able to gleam before he was thrust from his mind, he was willing to fight.

The third goal had been to procure a good teacher, (which, now he reflected on it, probably wasn't the best order for a headmaster to be thinking in, but alas, they were at war. Corners would have to be cut). The boy was young, but Albus had a feeling that he would be an adequate teacher. At least better than a choice few other teachers that he had hired to teach the art. He chuckled. Maybe this year Harry could go a full three terms without an attempt on his life by his DADA professor.

The occlumency had been another surprise. Nymphadora had warned him after the meeting that she suspected he knew at least some rudimentary occlumency, and he had listened, but he hadn't truly believed it. Occlumency was an extraordinarily hard piece of magic to learn, and as such not many bothered with it, as there were even fewer legilimens in the world, and there were amulets for protection against the mind arts. But the walls around Slate's mind had been among the strongest he had ever seen, rivalling even Serverus' own, and he had been ejected from the area seemingly without effort. He rubbed his forehead. It hadn't been a gentle ejection either. He wondered why Harrison had bothered to go through the trouble of learning the art. He was young, so he must have been learning it from at least the age of 19.

And then he had gone and revealed that he knew exactly what the wand that he owned was. Albus had been openly carrying it ever since his duel with Gallert, not fearing anybody recognising the legendary wand due to the general public belief that it was just that, a legend. A story.

Sometimes he wished it was as well.

He supposed it would have happened eventually, and at least the first to do so was someone that he believed would keep it's existence and owner a secret. The way the boy had looked at it had been slightly concerning however. He had looked almost possessive, as if he had stolen it from him.

All in all, they boy was a mystery.

He plucked a lemon drop from his bowl and popped it into his mouth, smiling in anticipation at the challenge.

He had always enjoyed puzzles.

-oOo-

With a violent stab Harry inked the last full stop on the end of the last sentence as if it had personally insulted him, then looked over the small stack of parchment that was his syllabus for the first to seventh years. He hadn't done any writing for many years, his previous job not exactly requiring the stuff. He sighed and leant back into the sofa he had been hunched over on.

It had been really fucking boring, but now it was done, and just in time as well. Term started the next day.

'Fucking Dumbledore and his shitty hiring practices.'

He looked over the beautiful view of the sun setting over the top of the cliff in front of his house, soft orange light caressing his front lawn. He needed some boredom reliever, he had never been good at sitting still for long amounts of time, if he he did so for too long he normally ended up blowing something up out of sheer boredom.

'Hmm, some werewolf hunting would be nice.'

Grinning in satisfaction at the idea, Harry stood and unhooked the basilisk hide overcoat he had worn when he met Dumbledore from a coat stand. He changed from the old man slippers he had been lounging about the house with into some tan leather combat boots and some dragon-hide cargo trousers, along with all of the weapons that he wanted with him if he actually ever found the bastards.

He gave one last look in the mirror to check he had everything he needed and make sure he looked sufficiently badass, then took the he portkey had made from a spoon in his kitchen and disappearedwith a crack.

An hour later he was making his through a patch of forest in north eastern Germany, where he had managed to track the pack down to the general area. They were doing an admirable job of covering their trail, however with a group as large of theirs they were bound to leave some trails behind, and all of that could be picked up by a charm Harry had over his eyes that highlighted where humans had trodden. They had a slightly amusing tendency to piss against the side of tall objects such as trees like dogs, which made tracking them fairly easy.

It appeared that Greyback had already begun shepherding his forces towards England. Harry hadn't been aware that they had mobilized so early last time, and he wondered if that was his fault, if his presence in the world had already wrought such a change. In the end, he decided it didn't really matter. Harrison Slate surviving that fateful August night had probably already changed the course of everyone future and his past beyond recognition already. The butterfly effect was real, and every single move he made was a snowflake that resulted in an eventual avalanche.

He paused mid stride when he heard a piercing scream echo through the forest, causing all of the birds in the area startle and fly away in a cacophony of panicked fluttering. He peered into the pitch black surrounding him, attempting to see if there was any threat nearby him, and snapped off a homenum revilio with far more power than necessary, lighting up the forest in a wide radius. It revealed a mass of distant blue glows that indicated a human one to waste time, Harry started forward again, making his way purposefully at a light jog to where he had heard the noise, making sure not to trip and break his ankles on the roots snaking their way across the forest floor. As he did so he caught a glimpse of the moon through the prickly foliage of the spruce trees surrounding him, and noticed that it was almost at full, only a hairsbreadth away. He cursed colourfully, he hadn't been paying attention, too busy thinking on his new situation at Hogwarts. The wolves would be stronger than usual tonight, only slightly less than they were on a full moon. Not quiet enough to make them transform, but enough to make them unnaturally fast and violent.

'If Dumbledore's ass backwards hiring methods get me killed I'm going to haunt his wrinkled behind for the rest of time.'

He didn't stop, thought. Even if he wasn't Harry Potter any more, he still had a saving people thing. Low hanging, sharp branches whipped at his face as chest and bushed were trampled as he dashed through the forest like a deer smacked on the arse.

The trees finally parted to reveal a clearing with a lone house in the centre that had smoke curling up through the tiles, the flickering orange light shining through one of the windows hinting that a fire had been started inside. Just beyond the treeline surrounding the property Harry sensed an extremely rudimentary set of wards. From what Harry could sense it was just enough to keep any muggles from entering, from what he could tell from the shoddy work it was supposed to keep wizards away as well, but they were poorly crafted and it took him no effort whatever to trick them into thinking he was already inside and part of the scheme.

After he had finished fooling the wards and crept to a large tree to oversee the area around the house the source of the piercing scream was revealed to him. A large, older looking woman was being held by the arms by two huge brutes of men, looking uncomprehendingly at a mass of blood and muscle that took Harry a few seconds to identify as human, or what had once been human. From the size of the pile it was an adult, most likely her husband. Harry's eyes darkened.

'Monsters.'

The woman started gabbling franticly in German and struggling in the iron grip of the two holding her when she sighted two more men emerge from the now smoking house with the limp form of a smaller sandy haired figure held in their grip. Harry growled low in his throat in irritation. He knew exactly what was planned for that child. Grey eyes flashed in the black.

"Bitte, nicht mein Enkelkind, ich werde alles tun! Bitte!" The woman cried out to her unforgiving audience. Harry didn't know much German, but the pleading tone and the desperate tears were enough to guess that she was begging for the kids life.

"We'll bite the small one tomorrow, should be enough to turn him then, if he survives it," a voice growled authoritatively. The source of the voice was a man significantly more muscled than the others whop was hunched over a chunk of meat. The light from the fire reflected off of the blood running from his mouth over his chin and through his beard. Harry couldn't tell if it was human or not, but wouldn't be surprised either way. Fenrir had given in fully to his wolf long ago, along with the rest of his pack. "muggles are always more delicate. Just kill the bitch, her moaning is starting to piss me off," he said, tearing a smaller chunk from the meat he was holding. He was obviously the alpha in the pack, as all the others didn't question his words, instead moving to carry out his orders immediately.

'That's my queue, I think.'

Before they could slit the still screaming woman's throat with a jagged blade Harry summoned her and then the child to him, their paths to him making the ones holding them fall over as their legs were taken out from under them. Harry bound them both in ropes and put them under the strongest temporary ward he could so they wouldn't so anything stupid, like run through a forest from a pack of pissed off werewolves. They wouldn't get very far.

"Wizard!" A werewolf growled in warning to the rest of the group.

"No shit genius," Harry snarked, turning back to them, "I'm sure they thought that these two just jumped really far." He looked around the group of werewolves sat around the fire, now he was closer, he could see there were roughly fifteen of the bloody things, and all were looking at him like he looked at treacle tart.

'Slightly more than I anticipated,' Harry thought. He had thought that Greyback would split his pack up to make their path through Germany less obvious, but evidently he was mistaken. They were only missing a few of their eventual number, no doubt the ones that had come to them once they arrived in the UK.

"Leave now wizard, and we will let you live, the child belongs to us," Greyback said, standing from where he had been sitting on a downed tree trunk. He was an intimidating sight, nearly 7ft of pure muscle with blood running from his mouth, down his chin and making its through his chest in rivulets of red.

"Somehow, I doubt that." Harry said dryly, "no, I think I will stay right where I am. That child will not be infected, you know as well as I do that infecting a muggle is almost a death sentence for them," Harry replied, his tone flat. He was pleased, however, that none of them had appeared to recognise him. He hadn't bothered with a concealment charm this time, werewolves had the tendency to fight until either their target or all of their number was dead. Either he left this clearing the only one alive or he would die, negating the use for a disguise. His gloved hands were empty and spread on either side of his thighs. He could hear the muffled shouts from behind him as he placed himself between the pack and the remainders of the family.

Greyback grinned, showing off the bits of meat and gristle in-between his red stained teeth. "I was hoping you'd say that," he crowed smugly, "more meat for the rest of us, Nadal, take care of our intruder," he said dismissively, sitting back down to watch the show. Harry's left hand moved to a holster on his thigh and gripped the object within.

"Gladly," the black haired man that had warned the others said in a gravelly voice that cracked with misuse whilst he eyed Harry predatorily, which he returned with a raised eyebrow. His hands were already red with blood, presumably from the pile of what used to be a human next to the house. He began to stalk towards Harry, wolfish in the way he seemed to lope with his shoulders hunched, as if he had four legs instead of two. "Foolish little wizard," he laughed, "you don't even have a wand, what are you going to do to me without one of your precious little sticks?" The group behind him laughed at the utterly shit joke and Harry remained rooted to the spot, his stance firm, "wizards," he snorted, "so arrogant. Did you really think you could best a were-"

The first bullet caught him in the stomach from around 10 paces, just enough so Harry could be sure he wouldn't miss. The second went through his chest, where the heart was, cutting off the man's cries of pain before he could even get into it.

'One…'

Immediately the camp descended into roars of fury as they saw what they thought would be a spot of easy entertainment turn on its head violently, resulting in the death of one of their number. Harry didn't hesitate. He turned the desert eagle he had drawn from his left holster on the group camped around the fire and began unloading it into them as they rose, the buck from the hand cannon jolting his shoulder painfully even as he used his metamorphmagus abilities to build the strength in the appendage. It was unpleasant, but the thing was one of the few weapons that had the stopping power to pierce a werewolf's hide, even with the silver bullets he had crafted. One bullet entered through the face of the woman nearest to him, entering savagely through her cheekbone and taking nearly half of her face off. Two hit the man behind her in the chest and killed him instantly along with his friend, both toppled over, the momentum from standing up causing them to fall forwards and begin roasting in the fire, which hissed indignantly at the new material being added to it.

'Two, three…'

Two was all he managed before they were all on their feet and advancing on him, their speed enhanced by the closeness to the full moon. There were about 25 metres between them and him, and as they ran towards him now in a pack of twelve, Harry drew the second Deagle from his right holster and began firing indiscriminately at them, the force from the two monstrous .50 cals actually forcing him to take a few steps back and making his palms numb, even through the padded leather gloves he wore.

They dodged the shots with inhuman speed, but these were bullets, not spells, they were faster and smaller, harder to see. Some more were hit as Harry fought to remain accurate against the violent recoil of the cold steel pistols. He saw one catch a bullet in the stomach, another in the jaw and a third in the shoulder. All were downed, two laying still and one writhing in pain, apparently taking it's time to die.

'Four, five, six...'

He dropped the left gun to the ground when he heard it click, the chamber empty, and swapped the one in his other hand to take its place, finally palming his wand in his right as the first werewolf, a woman with lank brown hair and narrowed black eyes, drew near. He leant back from the swipe of her sharpened nails, almost cutting his nose from his face, then he stood straight again, yanked down her right arm, placed the barrel of the gun firmly into the fleshy part under her chin, and pulled the trigger. He twisted away as the top of her head exploded like a pumpkin dropped off a balcony, showering the surrounding area with blood and bits of skull and brain. He clenched his jaw and continued his spin, rotating fully back to dig his wand into the belly of the seventh kill and blast her away from him point blank, she took out a few of them but the one behind her jumped over it. Harry sent off a powerful cutter, which the werewolf dodged easily with a graceful spin, only to catch a bullet in the neck after he finished the rotation.

'Seven, eight...'

He pulled the trigger to kill the next, only to hear it click and fail for the second time. Cursing, he instead threw it at the next one up, clocking him hard in the face. The bald and heavily scarred man just shook it off with a shake of his head and an annoyed grunt as if he had been hit by a Puffskein and not a 2kg piece of metal and continued his sprint at Harry. He leapt into the air, lips pulled back in a snarl to revealed sharpened teeth that Harry mocked for the full millisecond he could for looking completely stupid and being entirely over the top. In the next millisecond he fell backwards, using the movement to bend and draw a very sharp silver dirk from a holster on the outside of his calf with the hand he had dropped the gun with. The man couldn't stop his momentum and slid onto the blade chest first. Harry could feel the edge of the blade grind against ribs as it was driven through under the force of the man's own weight. He braced his back against the ground as the now wide-eyed and slack jawed man slid down the length of the short blade, hands clasped uselessly around it as if that would make it go. Harry stared into his bulging eyes and watched as the light went out in them.

"Nine," he snarled.

Harry strained to hold the body above him with his left as with his right he tightened his hold on his wand and jabbed it into the ground over his shoulder then banished it away, causing him and his skewered friend to shoot back up to their feet. As soon as he was standing again he felt the impact of a spell hit the body he was still holding in front of him, a cutter from the looks of it. Even if he hadn't had his meat shield in front of him, the spell most likely wouldn't have been powerful enough to get past his personal wards. Harry looked over the shoulder to see that one of them had drawn a wand and was sending curses at him while the other five were spread on either side of him, approaching slowly all at the same time. Much better than what they had been doing previously, which was coming at him one at a time so he could kill them all in the same way.

Harry looked into the blank eyes of the man impaled on his blade, "looks like they've smartened up baldie, I think it's time you went on a little adventure," he stabbed his wand into the man's stomach and banished him as hard as he could, sending him careening to the short man waving his wand and generally making an arse of himself. Harry could understand why the wards had been so abysmal now. Really, how was it even possible to fuck up a blasting hex? The spell was one word and a jab. He made a mental note to emphasise on this in his upcoming lessons. No student of his would end up like this fucker.

The body took out the man's legs with and with a high pitched yelp he fell to the floor, the wand falling from his grip. Harry had to work hard not to roll his eyes even the remaining five began to run at him. The first lesson any mage learns is don't drop your sodding wand. Well, maybe the second after hold the stick by the thick end.

"May as well be a fucking muggle," Harry said derisively, dropping the dirk in front of him and banishing it in the same motion with a flick of his wand. Years of practice aiming with his steel javelins had made him very accurate with banishing things, and this time was no different. The dirk sang a sharp song as it spun and hissed to the downed man and took him in the side as he attempted to crawl to his feet, burying itself up the hand guard in-between the man's ribs.

'Ten...'

He didn't hesitate or make any speech to the remaining five. He could say some movie worthy shit like 'I'll give you one last chance to run bucko,' or some such rubbish, but Harry had stopped giving chances long ago. In place of philanthropy he opened a pouch on his belt and focused all of his intent on a single charm.

The effect was immediate, bodies, trees and dirt around them were torn once more as the bullets that lay inside flew from their resting places in response to his summons, leaving a very strange exit wound in some cases. Twenty or so bullets responded, the desert eagle not having a very large magazine. From the pouch Harry had opened though, around thirty very sharp, flat, six pointed stars emerged and coalesced in front of him. A few of the bullets grazed the five remaining werewolves as they drew closer, drawing pained growls from their mouths. Harry pulled his wand to his chest and the mass of silver, dripping with blood from their previous victims, grouped together into a tight ball in front of him.

A few seemed to see through their bloodlust and skidded to a halt, looking slightly hesitant through the madness that clouded their minds, perhaps recognising the threat that Harry's improvised weapon posed. But the other three kept going, blind, animal desire for violence turning their reasoning into something maybe only a shade away from insanity.

"Cover yourself!" One shouted, the warning far too late to be of any help to the three others, who were already far too close.

When they drew to around five paces away Harry slashed his wand from the left to the right, and the ball exploded. The two who had started to slow had just enough time to shield their face, but the other three weren't as lucky. The silver shurikens peppered them, at least five pieces entering various parts of their bodies like a shotgun. One was taken care of immediately, a taller black man with a long silver scar down the side of his face catching a bullet straight through the throat and several shurikens in his stomach, chest and legs. It was far from a gentle death.

'Eleven...'

The other two kept on coming, although one was faster than the other having had the luck not to have his kneecap turned to dust by a bullet. As he stumbled and began to reach for him Harry transfigured the earth and made it hold the wolf as he done for Travers. The man began to struggle immediately, and cracks began to show in his earthen shackles, but Harry was already animating the tree that was looming over himself and the two he had saved. Gnarled wooden arms reached down and wrapped their arms around the man and drew him over Harry's head, hugging the struggling man into itself and wrapping him in more and more branches to keep him imprisoned in its leafy embrace. He snarled and began writhing uselessly, but Harry had already turned his attention to the remaining three.

'Hehe, tree hugger.'

The one who had taken silver to the knee was still crawling towards him, his face contorted in hate and pain. Harry sighed and summoned all of the silver to him again, drawing pained screams from both in front and behind him. This time he formed it into a wide, thin arc around five feet long made from all of the loose pieces. He flicked his wand and scythe-like bladed arced around to the right, sliced across in front of him and decapitated the man where he had knelt.

'Twelve...'

He looked up at the remaining two and kicked aside the head that had rolled to his feet. He began to walk forwards, his blade coming up to hover beside him, the blade now stained with red. He stepped onto the headless body and walked over it, raising an eyebrow at the pair.

They ran.

Harry laughed.

"Fetch doggie!" He shouted gleefully, and began sending individual pieces of silver at the one on the right as he continued to saunter towards them. His target was downed on the third, which struck him through the back of his head in the soft spot just above the neck.

'Thirteen...'

He performed a complex transfiguration and formed the rest into a spear and took aim carefully, carefully judging the distance between him and the last woman, who was highlighted by the campfire that she had ran past.

Aaaaand right about… there.

"Slate shoots..." he announced like in a football game. He swung his wand over his head in a wide arc and launched it at a blistering pace. It passed just above the fire, wrapping the flames around itself. It hit her in the lower back as she ran away, passing straight through to emerge from her stomach and hitting a tree in front with a muffled thump, quivering in place. His target took a couple more stumbled steps then fell to the cold, harsh ground, "… AND SLATE SCORES! THAT'S FOURTEEN POINTS FOR ENGLAND!" He yelled triumphantly, throwing up his hands in the air in celebration, the cheers of his audience loud in his ears.

He chuckled and flicked his wand lazily, making the tree throw the man ensconced inside it over to him, which caused him to bounce across the ground a few times and slide before he came to a rest a few paces away. Harry summoned then banished the dirk into his chest, killing the already almost unconscious man instantly without hesitation.

'Fifteen.' He thought in a sing song voice.

He gazed around at the carnage, the only sound he could hear the loud badump-badump-badump of his heart in his ears. His gaze landed on the only silhouette still moving in front of the fire.

'And then there was one.'

"Hello Fenrir," he said as he stood over the infamous pack alpha and mass murderer. He was still bare chested, so it was relatively easy to see where the bullet had entered even in the darkness of the night. It had hit the meat of his shoulder, not a place where any vitals were, but where the bullet had come back out definitely had done some serious damage, its path having gone through his whole chest and come out under his left armpit. It was honestly a miracle he was still alive. He had been one of the ones hit in the initial rush, the only one who hadn't died instantly.

"Wizard," he growled, "when I find out who you are boy, I will find you and rip that pretty little head from your shoulders and fuck the hole, do you understand? The dark lord-"

"Fenrir, Fenrir," Harry admonished as if he was scolding a child, "first of all, that's fucking disgusting, second of all, you seem to be labouring under the delusion that you will leave this place alive," he said, waggling his finger rebukingly. Greyback's face contorted in rage, and he lunged at Harry, his potentially lethal wound apparently forgotten.

"Ah ah!" Harry rebuked, sending a spear through the open wound where the bullet had entered, pinning him back to the floor, "none of that, you see I need you to remain still for this, so be a good dog and sit," he said, wandlessly conjuring a rolled up newspaper and bopping him on the head. He wasn't sure of Greyback heard him over the sounds of his own howls of agony, but he didn't really give a shit.

As Greyback lay pinned to the ground Harry wandlessly summoned one of the guns from where had dropped it and caught it by the grip with a satisfying clap. With his other hand he dug into his jacket pocket and withdrew a silver bullet with a single word etched into it. He cocked back the pistol and loaded the bullet straight into the chamber.

"You see dear wolfie," he continued, the slide stop making a nice click as it moved back into place. He hefted it and grinned down at Greyback, "I have a bullet with your name on it."

He pinned one of the monsters arms down, which was probably only possible due to the severe loss of blood, and jammed the barrel into his mouth roughly. Greyback's other hand scrabbled uselessly against the tough skin of his jacket and the cannibal spluttered incoherent words past the barrel of the gun as Harry leant in, his grey eyes sparkling.

"Remus John Lupin," he growled. He saw the comprehension settle in Greyback's eyes after a few moments.

His grin grew wider.

"I see you understand."

The blast from the gun was muffled somewhat as it was let off at the back of his mouth, but it was still loud enough to scatter the braver birds who hadn't already fled at the previous noise. The flash lit up the small clearing for a moment, highlighting the single kneeling figure in the centre of fifteen dead bodies.

He drew the gun from Greyback's mouth and looked around at the carnage, grimacing when the smell of burning corpse reached his senses. Scowling at two and three, who were still lying face first in the fire, he flicked his wand and dragged them out of it. The sound of the melted meat on the face of the corpses sizzling against the damp grass filled the now silent clearing for a few seconds before it settled. Harry looked up into the cloud filled sky and let out a long breath, then grinned.

'Fifteen, a new record, not so bad if I do say so myself.' This was by far the largest pack he had ever had to wipe out. As a worker for the ICW, werewolf packs were one of the more common bounties, and normally they were around six to eight in number. Fifteen… fifteen was a lot of werewolves. Too many for most.

He supposed he could have just waltzed in, AK'd all of them and then tried to get out before the aurors arrived, but on top of that just being really boring, he didn't really like using the curse, even when he had had clearance to do so. It was a handy thing, but it had a tendency to corrupt the best of men, and Harry was far from a good man.

Harry rolled his shoulders and let out a tired sigh. It hadn't been that draining magically, but physically it had put his new body through its paces. His shoulders in particular felt like they had been hit by one of Madam Pomfrey's infamously strong numbing charms.

Shouts from behind him brought him back to the present, and he looked over his shoulder to see the struggling forms of his two innocents, who had thankfully not been harmed in the chaos. With all the shit that had been flying around, it was a minor miracle in Harry's estimation. He placed the gun he was holding in a holster after very carefully wiping off the saliva on it, then summoned and did the same for the other, grimacing at the amount of blood on both.

He approached them and noticed that it had only been the woman shouting, the boy was still passed out. 'Probably for the best,' he thought grimly, looking at the corpses strewn around him. As he walked back he picked up the wand the man had dropped. Willow and Phoenix feather, a loyal and delicate wand that would most likely be good at charms and warding. Almost definitely stolen from some poor sod somewhere in Germany. It's loyalty was probably another reason why the wards had been so flimsy, but he didn't have much faith in the previous owner either. He pocketed it, another wand to add to his new collection.

He applied a translation charm with his own wand and approached the woman, untying both her and the boy with a flick and vanishing the vomit with another flick and a grimace.

"You two both ok?" He asked, knowing that she would understand through the charm.

She didn't seem in a hurry to rise from the floor. Her wrinkled face was drawn and pale, and there was a dribble of vomit trailing down her chin, but she pulled herself together admirably at his question. Her sharp blue eyes met his and she took in a shaky breath before responding and turning the kids head to show him the other side, "no, my little Rigel is hurt," indeed, there was a long, deep cut hidden among the golden locks of the child, who couldn't have been more than seven. Evidently that was what had knocked him out.

"I can heal it, if you let me?" he asked, his hands spread in an effort to look unthreatening, which was probably unsuccessful considering he was covered in blood.

She drew the boy, Rigel, further into her lap and curled her arms around him protectively but nodded curtly, letting him approach. Harry looked at the wound, it was against the skull but hadn't pierced it, meaning it hadn't done any permanent damage. He cleaned it and disinfected it then sealed it up under the watchful gaze of what was most likely the kids grandmother, who looked half amazed and half relieved.

"What were those… those things," she whispered. The clearing was quiet now, the only sounds the chirping of insects and the crackling of the fire as the house slowly fell apart.

Harry looked over his shoulder at the bodies, "monsters," he said back, the volume of his voice sounding out of place in the juxtaposing calm, "monsters, the ones that hunt in the dark."

She took that in for a few seconds, her gaze falling on the massacred corpse that Greyback had been feeding from then shooting away from it with grief etched across her face plain to see. She looked at Harry's still drawn wand and from there slowly tracked her gaze up his arm to look in his face, where two bright grey pupils looked back curiously. Unbeknownst to him they were glowing slightly, as if backlit. A common occurrence for mages of exceptional power, the magic tended to leak through the eyes after intense spellcasting.

"And… and you?" She enquired, only a slight quaver in her voice indicating she was scared of his reply, "are you one of the monsters, too?"

Harry turned back to her and tilted his head in thought, taking the question seriously for once. He had never really been one for questioning his own morals. He had been killing people for money for seventy years, he was well past the point of such things. He was a glorified hitman, not a philosopher. He looked down at his blood and dirt stained hands, responsible for so many deaths. He wondered if the fact that he felt no guilt meant there was something wrong with him.

He was still kneeling.

"I hunt the monsters," he said slowly, "I hunt the monsters that prowl in the dark so people like you can sleep safely behind walls, ignorant of the horrors that lay outside of them," he thought for a few moments longer, "some would say that I am one of those monsters for the things I do," he shrugged, "it does not matter to me, what matters is they die, and I live." There were always those that would look down from their presumed high ground with unbloodied hands and proclaim that violence only begets violence, that by killing Greyback and his troupe he was only causing more death. Harry thought that those who said such things had never been in a war.

She pulled Rigel even closer into her bosom, "if you are a monster, you are one of the good ones," she said firmly. Her ice blue eyes flicked over to the first who had died and a shadow of pure grief passed over her face again, "they killed my Leon," she choked on the name and took a few seconds to compose herself, making no move to stop the moonlight filled teardrop leaving a pale trail through the fine layer of ash on her cheek, "he was my husband, and a good man," her shoulders set again, "I was a girl in world war two, and I know that what you did here is just, some people are beyond redemption, and must just be put down."

Comparing Voldemort's troops to the Nazis was far more accurate than she most likely knew.

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so instead he just stunned her, catching her body so her descent to the cold hard ground wasn't too rough.

He had never been good with crying women.

He looked at both of them, feeling slightly ashamed for what he had to do next. He despised messing with muggles' minds, they were just so defenceless.

Nevertheless.

He raised his wand at the woman first, "obliviate."

-oOo-

Remus Lupin flicked over to the next page of his book, an interesting one on the subject of deflecting curses. He took a sip of tea and relaxed slightly more into the couch he was on, then stiffened as his overly sensitive ears picked up the noise of flapping wings from outside. It was the day after the night of the full moon, and his senses had yet to die down.

He cautiously let in the Tawny Owl, who dropped a package down on the table in front of him then promptly left as quickly as it had come in. Befuddled at the creatures odd behaviour, he looked at the package and instantly caught a slight hint of blood. He could almost taste it, the iron tang sweet on his tongue.

'Control yourself Remus,' He rebuked himself.

He took a deep breath and regarded the parcel with deep suspicion. He cast every dark detection spell on it he knew, only for it to come up all empty. Carefully he unwrapped the brown paper wrapping, revealing a shiny white card box with polka dots covering it, resembling one you would get to house a wedding cake. On the top, in thick black marker was written:

To Remus John Lupin:

Happy belated Birthday!

I hope you like the present, it was quite difficult to find

And then there was a huge smiley face under that.

Confused, as his birthday had been almost six months ago, and wondering at the mental state of the person who had written, he cautiously opened the lid.

And most definitely did not scream like a girl when he saw what was inside. Remus Lupin did not scream.

"What the fuck?" He shouted into his empty flat. The smell of blood was overpowering now, and he really did not want to look at it again, but curiosity and animal instincts propelled him forward even as logic tried to drag him back. He peeked over the side of the box and gazed upon a face.

A face he recognised.

One from his nightmares.

"Merlin's red and itchy sack," he murmured, then got a hold of himself and darted over to the fireplace in his small apartment, throwing powder into it and yelling, "headmasters office, Hogwarts!"

He buried his head in the coals and shouted, "Albus, Albus are you there?"

There was a surprised shriek and Remus could hear a faint, "sorry, Miss Perks, I shall attend to this and we shall return to our conversation in short order," then Albus Dumbledore came into view and smiled genially at him, "Remus my boy, please do tell me what is so important that you had to interrupt my conversation with one of my student's parents?" There was a hint of rebuke there, but Remus didn't really care at the moment.

"Albus, I just had Fenrir fucking Greyback's head mailed to me through owl post," he said bluntly, looking over at where the box lay to check it hadn't grown legs or something. The change in Dumbledore's demeanour was instant, his transforming from the normal friendly and genial look into one of surprise instantly. He then responded in a manner completely out of character of the normally eloquent and many worded headmaster.

"What?"

AN: I hope you enjoyed, cos I enjoyed writing it. Merlin, I love writing fighting scenes in Harry Potter, you can be so inventive with it, so many possibilities.

I know some of you are desprate for more Harry/Tonks covos, and I agree. I love reading Harry/Tonks, and I like writing it just as much. Next chapter, I promise.

I've been thinking of a theme song for this story, and I came up with two. Doorman by Slowthai, and Unfuckwittable by Kid Cudi. WARNING: these are rap songs. If you don't like rap songs, don't listen to them. I don't need my music tastes questioned in my comments.

It was pointed out that I spelt Dolores wrong, and I find it hilarious that the bitch annoys me even through my reviews.

Anyway, that's all folks! See you when I get off my arse and post the next chapter. Sorry again for the long wait, and I love all of you who left the nice reviews, I hope I don't disappoint :-)

ForsensProgeny