Harry Potter and the Clean Slate

by ForsensProgeny

EWE: 70 years after Voldemort's death, Harry Potter is working for the ICW as a bounty hunter. That was until he tracked down and fought a dark witch meddling in magics that should't be meddled with. Sent back to 1995, Harry feels his mental crack slightly. Armed with a disregard for the law and heavy sarcasm, he sets out to change the world. Harry/Tonks, chaotic Harry, slightly AU

7. Erebus

'Good afternoon officer. Harry Potter and any associated characters? Owned by me? Nope, I do not own Harry Potter, I'm pretty sure thats the sole property of JK Rowling. Yes yes, good day to you too sir.'

Ok, time to pad the word count a bit :)

SORRY FOR DELETING, I DISCOVERED SOME MISTAKES AND UNFINISHED SENTANCES AND I COULDN'T BEAR THE SHAME. HERE IT IS :DDD

I said in the last chapter that we hit 1k follows and favourites, then you crazy fuckers went and broke 2k follows immediately afterwards. I'm new to fanfiction, but i'm pretty sure that it's rare for fanfics to get 2k follows in only six chapters, even if said chapters are disgustingly long. For that I'm extremely grateful.

Remember when I said chapters would probably be shorter? Yeah, well... this is 15k, almost 16k words. I'm pretty sure if I continue like this this story is going to become a monster.

Anyway, I'm entirely aware that all of you don't give a fuck about any of that, and so I present to you the next chapter of Harry Potter and the Clean Slate.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 7: Erebus

1st September 1995, 07:15pm

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table with a satisfied sigh in-between Ron and Hermione, as was custom. He glanced over at the Ravenclaw table and spied the bright blonde of his odd new friend, Luna Lovegood, who had sat in their compartment and proceeded to confuse them for the entire journey. She was an odd one, but Harry liked her despite her disparaging remarks about Hagrid's teaching abilities.

'Speaking of which...'

"Hagrid isn't up at the staff table either," Hermione said with furrowed brows, "you don't think he's left, do you?" She asked, sounding worried.

Harry looked up to the table where a seat far larger than the rest was noticeably empty, "nah, no way," Harry said firmly, "Hagrid would never leave Hogwarts. He likes it too much here."

"I guess, but then where is he?" She asked. They lapsed into silence, all worriedly pondering on where their giant friend had gone.

"Maybe he's just not back from that mission Dumbledore gave him," Ron offered.

"Must be that," Harry said, nodding.

After a couple of moments of silence Ron spoke up again, "I wonder who the new defence teacher is going to be?" He sounded like he was trying to lift the mood, one of the better traits that Ron and the twins shared.

Harry scanned the table and noted the second empty chair on the table where the DADA teacher normally sat, "don't know, I hope it's not another death eater though, I'm a bit tired of my DADA teachers trying to kill me," he said moodily.

"Lockhart didn't try and kill you," Hermione offered.

"I think he counts through sheer incompetence," Harry muttered. Hermione looked torn between her loyalty to teachers and her knowledge that what he said was far too true for comfort.

Just then the woman they had seen earlier arrived from a door to the side of the hall and walked along the staff table until she eventually took a seat at the very end of the table, where Hagrid should have been sitting.

"Firsties must be back," Dean commented from a couple seats down. Sure enough, mere minutes later the large main doors to the Great Hall opened to reveal the severe, black haired form of professor McGonagall leading a troop of terrified looking children in her wake. She was carrying a stool with a pointed, tattered looking brown hat perched on top of it. The sorting hat.

"Christ, were we ever that small?" Harry said under his breath, watching one particularly titchy blonde boy who was visibly trembling. He recalled how scared he had been when he had entered the same way and felt sympathy for him. Having someone barge into your living room, do some magic fuckery then get shipped off to a giant castle without your parents or anyone familiar was enough to make anyone nervous.

"You were smaller I think, mate," Ron said, grinning at him.

Harry snorted and punched him in the shoulder. "Fuck off, Ron."

"Language Harry," Hermione said automatically, still paying rapt attention to McGonagall who had lain the stool at the forefront of the room in front of the staff table. Harry rolled his eyes and aimed one last glare to a smirking Ron before he settled back to listen to the song.

Within moments of it being put down, the hat grew a crease just above the brim and formed it into a mouth, bursting into song:

In times of old, when I was new,

And Hogwarts barely started,

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted...

[I refuse to put the whole fucking song here]

...And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you…

Let the Sorting now begin.

"Well, was ominous," Hermione commented.

"Branched out a bit this year hasn't it?" Ron said with a smirk.

"Too right it has," Harry said, Normally the hat only sung about the traits of the four houses, It had never issued a warning before in his time in the school from what he remembered.

"I wonder if it's ever sung a warning before now," Hermione mirrored his thoughts, worrying her lip under her teeth in that cute way that Harry had noticed recently.

"Indeed it has," said a posh sounding voice from behind them. He and Ron jumped, but Hermione just looked back in interest at Nearly Headless Nick, "it has done so in the past when there was the possibility of-" he was interrupted by the calling of the first name to be sorted. The ghost put a finger over his lips and gestured toward the hat, where McGonagall was giving the four tables all a warning look to shut up. Hermione turned around to pay attention, but Harry could see she was primed to jump on Nick to dog for more information the first chance she got.

"Abercrombie, Euan!"

The terrified looking boy that Harry had noticed earlier stepped forward haltingly and was sorted into Gryffindor. Harry cheered loudly with the rest of his house, which made the boy look slightly less like he had just been put up for execution.

After the sorting had finished, during which Ron's stomach had been protesting loudly the whole while, Dumbledore stood to address the hall. Harry's head rose from where it had fallen onto the table and looked at the old man, who looked like he was genuinely happy to be there. Harry's feelings on the man were conflicted, memories of Dumbledore completely ignoring him after the trial coming to the fore, but it was still reassuring to see him there. The hall quietened immediately when he stood, even Ron's growling stomach had fallen silent at the sight.

"To our newcomers, welcome!" he said, arms spread with a wide smile, "and to our returning older students, welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it, tuck in!" He clapped his hands and food appeared.

Harry clapped and laughed along with the rest of the hall, happy to finally be back to something familiar to him. Hogwarts had been what he considered home for four years now, and it had always given him a fuzzy feeling to be back in its halls. Despite it's intimidating exterior, he had always found it more welcoming than the Dursleys, but then so was a Troll's cave in comparison.

After they had finished eating and the food disappeared from the tables (with a disappointed groan from Ron) the headmaster stood and spread his arms again, beaming at all of the assembled children before him who were looking at him expectantly in most cases and terror in the case of the first years. Especially the muggle-born ones, who had always been warned about strange old men trying to hug them.

"Now that we have finished yet another delicious feast, and our stomachs are all full, we must now begin with the start-of-term notices," he said, eyes twinkling as always. "First years ought to know that the Forbidden Forest is aptly named and just that, forbidden, as certain older students have found out." Harry glanced at Ron, who look disturbed and slightly pale at the reminder of Aragog.

"Secondly, Mr Filch has asked me to remind you that no magic is permitted in the hallways between classes, as are many other things, all of why can be found on the extensive list on Mr Filch's office door." Dumbledore bowed his head to Filch in probably the only show of respect he would get for a year, who was slouching in the corner and scowling at the general populous. Harry didn't think that anyone had ever gone to that office voluntarily, apart from maybe Hermione. She had always been a stickler for the rules.

"Next," Dumbledore continued, "we have two changes of staff this year, Professor Grubbly-Plank will be taking the place of Hagrid as the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher," he paused and everyone apart from Ron, Harry and Hermione applauded politely. Harry glared at the people who looked pleased about it. "And I am sure you are wondering who the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is..." his eyes twinkled at the affirmative mutters echoing around the halls, "we are delighted to introduce to you our new DADA teacher, Professor Slate."

There was a moment of confusion as everyone looked about to see who he was talking about, and then the huge doors to the hall were flung open with a loud BANG, which caused more than a few to jump and a couple to shriek.

Through the door strode a tall, lean man with a mass of silky, curly black hair, unnervingly bright grey eyes and a sharp facial structure that, to Harry, seemed almost unnaturally well sculpted. He was wearing expensive looking wizarding robes, black with white lining and an all black overcoat that were both cut in a way that wouldn't impede any movement. Harry thought that it looked like the robes that Lucius Malfoy had worn, but a more practical. The overcoat in particular looked far thicker than it should be, perhaps indicating some king of armoured lining.

He grinned unrepentantly at the students, "always wanted to do that," he said, tucking his wand back up his sleeve with a minute twist of his wrist. He then began walking down the middle of the hall as if entirely unfazed by all of the people looking at him, moving in a way that gave off the impression he was entirely sure of his steps. Harry agreed with him, ever since fake Moody had done that he had wanted to try it as well.

"Isn't that the guy from the papers?" Harry whispered to his two friends, "the one who had a trial against a death eater? I saw it at Grimmauld place." It had been oddly soothing seeing someone other than him get an equally bullshit trial.

"Yeah," Ron whispered back, sounding awed, "he's a total badass, d'you remember what he said at his trial?" Ron muffled snickers behind his hand, "fuck you all very much, and your mother twice, right at their stupid pureblood faces," Harry fought down a snort, he and Ron had had more than one laugh over the transcript Tonks had managed to get a hold of for them.

"You're a pureblood, Ron," Hermione reminded in exasperation.

"Yeah, but I know I'm stupid, those lot try and deny it," Ron shot back. Hermione just huffed and considered their new teacher once more.

"He's a bit young, don't you think?" Hermione said, eyeing the admittedly very young looking man critically. Harry understood what she was worrying about, that perhaps he wasn't experienced enough to teach them what they needed, but he didn't care either way. It could be worse, they could have had that toad at his trial, Umbridge, for a teacher. Harry suppressed a shudder at the thought. He had been quietly very pleased when the news came that Umbridge had vanished without a trace.

"He got attacked by a death eater and caught him," Ron said, sounding oddly defensive, "I say that makes him a better teacher than most of the ones we've had." Harry wondered if this 'Harrison Slate' had replaced Viktor Krum as Ron's idol.

"I suppose you're right…Oh Merlin, it's like having a male version of Fleur Delacour all over again," Hermione groaned, looking around her in disgust. That was when Harry noticed many of the girls in his year, and those above and below, were looking at Slate as though he were a particularly good looking steak. He frowned when he saw Cho Chang looking the same. Faint whispers of things such as 'he's cute,' and 'you think he follows teacher student rules?' could be heard throughout the hall, and one particularly brave seventh year Gryffindor even cried out 'Marry me!' Then flushed a deep red when everyone turned to look at her, including the new teacher, who winked at her and gave a cheery wave to everyone else.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure that you are all pleased to see someone who has proven that they are experienced in dealing with the dark teaching your DADA class," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling merrily.

'Damn, he's not even trying to be subtle.'

The headmaster turned to the man, who had just sat down in a chair in-between professor Sprout and McGonagall, "do you wish to say a few words, professor Slate?"

The slender man raised a single elegant eyebrow and glanced over at professor Grubbly-Plank. Rightly so, Harry thought. Dumbledore hadn't extended the same offer to her. Nevertheless, he grinned and acquiesced, stepping up to the platform to grin at them all like they were all toys that he was going to have lots of fun playing with. Harry found himself grinning back.

"'Lo kiddies," he began with a wave, "as the big man himself said, my name is Harrison Slate," there were a few mutters about the use of 'big man' around the hall, "now, as far as I am aware, only two of your last seven DADA professors have actually been at all competent," he frowned, "although one of them turned out to not actually be the person who was supposed to be hired, so I don't think that one really counts. Although it does say something about the teaching standards."

Harry had to agree with that. Barty Crouch Jr had actually been a brilliant teacher, if a little psychopathic. Lupin had probably been the only good one he had had in all of his school years.

"As for the other good one, as far as I'm aware he did dark creatures and how to defend against them," that was true as well, Harry acknowledged. Slates eyes gleamed in excitement, "therefore I am going to be your first good teacher for actual defensive magic." His eyes roamed over all of them, settling on Harry for a few moments longer, the mirror-like eyes that reminded him so much of Ollivander's seeming to bore right into his soul. "My goal is for you to be ready when you get out there, and not just sit there like an idiot if you are ever attacked. My goal is to get you lot to be able to get out of a situation like that alive and maybe, just maybe," he flashed a shark like grin, "you could take a couple of them out before you do." Behind Slate, Dumbledore looked like he had just stubbed his toe.

Harry listened with rapt attention, as was the rest of the hall. This is what he had been wanting for so long. He could really have done with this guy a couple of years ago, maybe then he could have saved Cedric.

'Cedric...'

He swallowed the memories down.

"There is something brewing out there, something dangerous," Slate continued, his gaze dragging across the hall, "I'm sure people on both sides have felt the effects of it like I myself have, and for those who don't believe that something is happening, I don't particularly care. I will teach you to defend yourself regardless of whether you believe more or not, and you will be prepared either way."

Harry sat up a little. That sounded like he believed him about what had happened in the graveyard, that Voldemort had returned. He shot a smug look at Malfoy across the hall, who was glaring at Slate hatefully, along with a few others in his house. All children of death eaters, Harry bet.

"And I believe that's about it," Slate said, looking considerate, "oh yeah, firsties, my classroom is in the west side of the castle on the third floor, the serpentine corridor, try your best not to be late." And with that he stepped down and gracefully sat down into his chair once more.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione and grinned, "I have a feeling this is going to be a very, very interesting year," he said.

-oOo-

Harry stood behind his desk and watched with a wide smile as the fifth year students began to filter in. He had already taught a lesson for most of the other years, the seventh year students being the last ones to go after this one.

It had been some of the best fun he had had in a long time. He had enjoyed teaching in DA, but he had forgotten just how much so. He almost felt sorry that he was taking the experience away from… himself? Hmm, maybe there was something he could do about that.

'Merlin's hairy testes this is weird,' he though, watching as his second self walked through the door and looked around uncertainly before settling somewhere in the middle of the room next to Ron.

Ron, now there was a man he hadn't seen in a long time. All of them had dealt with the war in different ways once it had finally finished. Some with shrinks, some in work, some in charity and most turned to family.

His oldest friend had turned to the type of solace that some found in the bottom of an empty bottle of fire-whiskey. He probably hadn't seen the guy for almost thirty years, and he had been too deep in his drink to even register that Harry hadn't seemed to have aged since their five years on the run.

Not that he had stayed for all of it, Ron had left in the third year of their adventure, leaving him and Hermione to complete it by themselves. He had been tired of the stress and the sleepless nights, and increasingly worried about his family, one of whom had been left stuck at Hogwarts by herself. Harry had been furious at the time, but now he couldn't find it in himself to blame him. They had been young, and Ron had been the only one who had had a family to worry about, and the Weasleys had been high up on the kill list for the Dark Lord, all having been dangerous mages in their own right, Ginny especially had amassed quite the kill count once out of Hogwarts.

Those five years had been dark and depressing, the ever present likelihood of them being caught by snatchers or a death eaters was always looming over their heads as they scrambled around England in a madman's search for objects hidden and protected by one of the most powerful and skilled wizards to ever be born. The five years had enabled Riddle to take the whole island in a stranglehold, and that hold had been absolute. Many muggleborns and half-bloods had died over that time, and it was only by offering foreign mages financial rewards that they had managed to bring in enough people that the population hadn't collapsed entirely. By the end of the five years Harry and Hermione had emerged as hardened soldiers, skilled at wards, evading capture and most importantly with the mindset of people that would kill without hesitation, as they had had to do more than a few times together. It had most likely been those awful years that had enabled him to advance through the ranks of the Hit-Wizards with such speed.

Speaking of which, Hermione was on the other side of his clone. Now there was a formidable witch. Her way of coping had been, as always, to bury herself under a mound of knowledge so deep that only Harry ever seemed to be able to pull her out of it. She had bickered and threatened her way into the centre of the Department of Mysteries, burrowed into it then stayed there, inventing things that nobody thought could be invented and sending hexes that had been out of use for centuries at anyone who dared come too close to her lab.

Their relationship had been odd, after Ron had left Hermione had been heartbroken and emotionally unstable over the loss of the man that she had considered a potential love interest. Times had been tough, and they had been a male and a female in their late teens alone in a tent running for their lives for two whole years.

It had been inevitable.

For a few years after the war, when they had needed to escape from the memories they had slept together on occasion, but that had stopped after they had become more mentally stable and Harry had begun his work as first a Hit-Wizard then a hitman for the ICW and she had settled down with some colleague from the DoM. His eyes fell on her as she leaned over the side of the desk to pick up a mound of books.

Brown hair spread across a lavender pillow, face flushed and rosy lips parted, panting in pleasure as she bounced against him.

Harry shook his head free of the unbidden flash of memory of that time in that dingy travelodge in |South London, feeling oddly perverted with her fifteen year old self in the room.

One of the last to walk in was Draco Malfoy, and at the sight of the boy sharing a whispered joke with Crabbe he was yet again drawn into a memory.

His boots echoed rhythmically on the black and white marbled floor of Malfoy manor, his meeting with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy finished after a long talk. It had been a heavy one, and he had gained a reluctant respect for Lucius afterwards. The man was taking responsibility for everything attributed to his wife and son, admitting to doing things that they had done even if it was impossible for him to have done them.

He would be in Azkaban for the rest of his life, but his wife and son would remain free. At least the Dementors wouldn't be there any more.

Near the end of the corridor a door was slightly open, golden light spilling into the darkened hall. Harry paused and looked through, making sure not to make any noise. He rounded the corner to see the tall, thin form of Draco Malfoy sat hunched over in the middle of the room with his left sleeve rolled up, staring at the scarring left behind by the dark mark with an entirely blank face. All of the wealth and opulence surrounding him couldn't protect him from the guilt of being responsible for the deaths of those he had crossed The Great Lake with as an innocent, wide eyed child, once upon a time.

Harry drew back from the door and continued walking.

He looked away from Draco and picked up a parchment, the memories stopping as he did so.

He took attendance and pretended not to know every face in the room off by heart, pretended not to feel his heart threaten to tear into pieces as he read names from the attendance sheet that he had read from too many gravestones all those years ago.

He had lived longer than most.

"Good afternoon, and welcome to your fifth year of defence against the dark arts," he began, looking over the whole class, "you will call me professor Slate, or sir, or an acceptable variation of the two for the remainder of the time that I will be here, understood?"

There was a chorus of affirmative noises and Harry grinned and clapped his hands, "good, then we can begin with this." Harry waved his wand over his shoulder and the words 'Defence Against' vanished from the huge chalk board he had placed behind him, leaving the words 'the Dark Arts' by themselves on the board. He saw a few Slytherins perk up, maybe wondering if they were about to be taught the stuff.

'Foolish Children.' The things he had seen, the things he could teach them of the dark arts would make them swear off it for the rest of their lives.

"Now tell me," Harry said, placing both hands on his desk and leaning over it, "what are the dark arts? If we are to learn to defend ourselves from it, we should probably understand what it is."

Hermione's hand shot up in the air, and Harry ignored it and picked out Tracey Davis instead, knowing that future Hermione would have found it hilarious, "Miss Davis."

"Magic which hurts people?" She asked hesitantly.

Harry grinned, "you are halfway correct Miss Davis," he said, then summoned one of the dummies lining the right side of the room to his left. "To demonstrate why it is only half correct, I will ask this question, would you consider the banishing charm dark magic?" He arched an eyebrow at them.

The incredulous looks and many negative responses were enough to ascertain their response. Although he was amused to see that Crabbe and Goyle looked around uncertainly at the question. He still thought that it was hilarious that blood supremacists continued to ignore the difference between those two imbeciles and mages like Hermione Granger. Or maybe they thought she directly stole their magic? She was definitely twice the mage they were.

"Correct, of course," Harry said, beaming at them, "any yet..."

He jabbed his wand sharply and banished the dummy hard, sending it crashing through the window and spinning three floors down to its inevitable demise. There were loud gasps and a few shrieks from both the male and female audience, including Malfoy, which Harry tried hard not to laugh about.

The dummy was summoned back into the room before it accidentally squashed someone on the ground and Harry repaired the window with a negligent flick.

"Why in Merlin's name did you do that?" Ron demanded, his ears red.

Harry frowned, internally giggling madly, "two points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn Mr Weasley, but the question was a good one nonetheless." He looked over all of them again, "would any of you like to provide an answer to Mr Weasley's question?"

There was noticeable few seconds of silence as everyone processed that before another Slytherin rose her pale hand, "yes Miss Greengrass?" He asked, gazing upon what had been known as one of the most beautiful women in high society Britain in his time.

"The banishing charm is not dark magic, and yet you demonstrated that it could be used to harm someone or possibly kill them, contrary to what Tracey said," she replied, sounding as cold and composed as she was known to be, but Harry could see the excitement burning in those ice blue eyes.

Harry smiled, "very good, five points to Slytherin," he praised, "and do you have an alternate argument to what dark magic is, Miss Greengrass?" He asked.

Her mouth quirked slightly, as much of a grin as anyone was every going to get from the girl, "the Ministry defines dark magic as any magic that it has prohibited," she said, a hint of derisiveness entering her tone.

Harry laughed, "a definition which many of you find ridiculous, no doubt," he said, noticing that along with many Slytherins, Neville also nodded. Harry wasn't overly surprised, Augusta Longbottom was a very pragmatical witch.

He also noticed that many of the Gryffindors, including himself, looked conflicted between dislike for the Ministry and dislike of Slytherins.

"Yes yes, another five points to Slytherin for another correct answer," Harry said, "according to the Ministry, if we follow their definition, the portkey creation spell is in fact dark magic if it is performed by anyone other than the department of international travel, as they banned it after it was abused in the war against Grindelwald." Something which Dumbledore had ignored entirely on multiple occasions, Harry recalled with amusement. "Which is of course, ridiculous," he stated.

Seeing that they understood, Harry continued, "the Ministry labels all of the banned magic 'dark' because the word has a bad reputation, and it gives them a way for them to control what mages can and cannot cast, many of the banned spells and rituals are not in fact dark at all, the Ministry just banned them after the wars due to paranoia and public outcry," Harry shrugged, "it was seen as perfectly reasonable back then, but now the list is out of date."

He was pleased to see everyone scowl at that, Harry was pleased that he had managed to encourage house unity through the collected hatred of Ministry politics.

"The definition of dark magic that I, and people that actually know what they are talking about it completely different," he stated, "does anyone have another description of what it is?" This time the class remained silent, although Harry could almost hear Hermione screaming in frustration in her head at not knowing the answer, her face was screwed up in a frown and she was flicking through the textbook he had left on the desks at a speed that was surely too fast to even read what was on the pages.

He smiled at them reassuringly, "that's ok, the truth is that the definition is vague at best, but the basic idea is that any spells that would not work without the intent to kill, permanently maim, cause extreme pain or bend to your will are considered dark. This is why those who practice the dark arts slowly become more obsessed with it and begin to show more homicidal tendencies than before, they intend to kill or disfigure with every spell they use and that does things to a mage's mind, it makes them want to do it more, and therefore attracts them to more of the same type of spells." He looked over them solemnly, "it's an endless and destructive loop, and one that an unfortunate amount of mages get caught in." He did not mention that it could be almost entirely negated through the use of occlumency. Anything to discourage children away from that path was essential. "Do any of you have any questions?" He asked after letting the silence stretch on for a while.

Hermione rose her hand and Harry pointed her out.

"Professor, what if you put negative intent into spells that aren't dark? Will they still work?"

"A good question Miss Granger, take five points. I believe for this we can use another example." he looked over the class, pretending that he hadn't already decided who he wanted to torment for the year.

"Mr Potter, why don't you come up here and be our example?" He said, trying not to sound too gleeful.

He, uhm. Harry…

'Fucking hell man.'

Smaller Potter scowled and got to his feet, obviously angry at having been singled out again. Harry grinned wolfishly at his younger self as he approached the front of the classroom. He had to suppress a wince though as the feeling of the Horcrux embedded in the kids skull drew nearer, seeming to twist the very air around it to his senses.

'Nothing like a piece of an insane man's shredded soul in the morning.'

"Now," Harry said as he summoned another dummy to sit about twenty feet away from them, "I want you to send a stunner at that dummy," he said, his arms crossed.

Harry junior nodded and cast a strong, "Stupefy!" at the dummy. Harry grimaced at the use of verbal magic. He would have the better ones on non-verbal by the end of the year, which included little Potty. He held high standards for himself, after all.

The dummy rocked back a bit at the force of the spell, and Harry's past self looked at him for approval. "Not bad," Harry said, then he drew his own wand and cast a bit of conjuration that would have made McGonagall proud, dressing the straw dummy in a distinctive pink poncho and dress. Capped off by a wig of curled brown hair.

"And for our next trick," Harry said, waving his wand elaborately in the general direction of the dummy like an idiot, "Mr Potter, I want you to cast the spell again and think of the person that this dummy resembles, who I have absolutely no clue who could be," Harry said, eyes twinkling. He heard various students laugh into the crook of their elbows around the room.

"With pleasure professor," little Harry replied, a slightly vindictive look on his face. Harry had the odd sensation of feeling proud of himself but not really… himself.

'I'm going to get a fucking migraine.'

He sent a stunner at the dummy again, but this time the red jet of light seemed to sizzle angrily as it hissed towards his dummy, far faster than the last one had. It hit the straw Umbridge and sent the thing flying backwards to hit the wall hard, its wig left behind in its hasty exit.

"Brilliant!" Harry cried, clapping his test subject on the back, who was looking at his wand like it had just conjured piss. "Five points to Gryffindor Mr Potter, now can the rest of you tell me why the spell reacted differently the second time?" he glanced back at himself and noticed that his clone was now looking at the pile of pink robes with a satisfied look, "you can sit down now by the way Potter, you can practice doing that again in your spare time," he whispered. Smaller Potter gave him a grin and went to sit down next to Ron again, who was looking at Harry in a way that made him very uncomfortable. He thought he had got away from worshippers when he became a different person.

"Was it because with the second one, the intent behind the spell was different?" Dean said after Harry picked him out.

"Exactly, five points to the red side," Harry said, "Mr Potter, when you cast the first spell, what was your intent?"

"Uhm, I wanted to stun it," he said, sounding uncertain in the way that only those giving a very obvious answer could.

"And with a stupefy, that's all the intent you need to make it effective, although when faced with the image of a person who most find to be unnaturally irritating, his intent changed. Did it not Mr Potter?"

Looking like he was trying his hardest not to laugh with Ron, who wasn't even trying to hid his laughter, Harry replied, "yes, sir."

"And the result of adding negative intent to a non-dark spell caused it to do more damage to the target," Harry concluded, looking over them all again, "everyone understand?" He saw all of them nod. "Good, part of what I will be teaching you this year will be regulating your intent to control the spells that you use, and that was a good introduction to it." He had them, he knew it. Even Malfoy had stopped glaring at him and actually looked interested. "Any more questions?"

To his slight surprise, Ron actually tentatively raised his hand. Harry had to remind himself that his old friend wasn't actually a fucking idiot, and just a bit clueless and lazy, "sir, if all of them need bad intent and you have to want to kill or hurt someone, what makes the unforgivables different? aren't they just kind of the same thing?" He said. Harry saw Hermione look at him as if he had just coughed up a Nargle.

"Another good question," Harry said, making Ron puff up in pride, "what makes the unforgivables different is that not only does your intent have to be even more malevolent, but unlike the other dark spells there is also no way to shield against any of the three of them, nor a counter curse, unless you count throwing off the imperius a counter curse of course." He was a pro at that particular feat.

He looked over all of them seriously, "that is why when you see any of those three curses, you dodge or conjure, do not try and raise a magical shield, something which your last teacher told you, yes?" Everyone nodded, "last question now, anything else?" There was silence around the room and Harry nodded.

"Intent is, along with magical power, without a doubt the most important part of casting a spell properly, if used properly and honed efficiently, intent can shape your magic to your will and accomplish incredible things, such as this," Harry pocketed his wand and raised his left hand, the desk next to him rising with it, "I have complete control over my magic, my emotions and most importantly, my intent," he grinned at their open amazement and rotated his hand minutely, causing the desk to spin. Was he showing off? Most definitely. Did he regret it? No. "My intent was strong in its belief that I could lift it, and my visualisation was also strong enough that my magical power backed it up and completed the task."

He lowered the desk back to the ground, "that calibre of magic is far beyond you at this point, but my goal over this year is to get you all to a place where you have a solid foundation that you can build upon so, in the future, you can perhaps do the same." It was an easy way to get them motivated for the class, the Gryffindors were probably thinking of all the cool shit they could get up to with wandless magic, and the Slytherins were all just attracted by the power, evidenced by the gleam in many a green robed mage's eye. Daphne in particular looked like she wanted to eat him.

"But first of all, we must go back to basics," he said, a predatory grin spreading across his face that made a some shift uncomfortably and some lean forward.

"So, lets start by testing your shield charms."

-oOo-

Harry walked into the headmasters office without knocking, negating the charm that told Dumbledore his name so he could do his fancy little trick. "Sorry I'm late headmaster, the brats managed to set fire to the whole left side of the room and I had to repair the desks."

"We do not refer to the students as 'brats,' Harrison," McGonagall sniffed over the rim of her tea-cup.

Harry scowled petulantly as he took a seat next to Filius, "what? How come Snape gets to call them that and I don't?"

She turned a hard glare to Snape, "neither of you should be."

Snape glanced at Harry in betrayal and he heard the words 'deserve it,' 'insufferable,' and 'Potter,' come from the man's mouth in a spiteful mumble.

"No worries my boy, and may I be the first to welcome you to the first staff meeting?" Dumbledore said, ignoring Snape's hatred of children as always.

Harry had been surprised when he had been told about the staff meetings, although he supposed it made sense that they all came together at some point to make all the garbage decisions that they had made in his school years.

"You may."

"And how has your first week of teaching gone Harrison? From what I hear the students have been working hard," Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling.

Harry shrugged, "they're children, so they are irritating, but I've got to say I'm having fun trying to educate the little guys, even if they are depressingly behind where they should be," he scowled, "I'm honestly beginning to think Barty Crouch Jr only revealed himself so he wouldn't have to teach years behind where he should be any more." He heard Snape exhale through his nose in in a mockery of a laugh, but nobody else looked very amused.

Right, it had only happened not even a year ago for these people. For him it had been almost eighty since Cedric's death.

'Fuck sake, Potter, why don't you crack one about Dumbledore's sister while you're at it,' A voice that sounded a lot like Malfoy drawled in his head.

"I was not aware that they were that far behind," Filius said into the slightly awkward silence that followed. His little face had wrinkled into a frown, "my Ravens have never complained about being behind, although I admit that teachers in the last decade or so have been sub-par for that particular subject."

'Understatement.'

Harry nodded, "the fourth and fifth years got the worst of it, two of the worst teachers having been their introduction to defensive magic. They are decent at the offensive side, due to faux Moody mainly teaching them jinxes and minor curses, but on the defensive side," Harry sighed wearily, "a few of them can't even cast a basic stunner, and more cannot cast a protego strong enough to stop one."

They all look shocked at that, and Harry was shocked that they were shocked, "what, you really didn't know?" He questioned incredulously, looking around at the gathered teachers.

"No complaints have been made to me about the state of their education," McGonagall said, setting down her tea with a clatter.

"Nor to I," Snape said, looking fairly annoyed at the fact. Sprout and Flitwick also voiced the same.

"Well," Harry breathed in exasperation, leaning back in his seat tiredly, "the fact of the matter is that the foundations of the fourth and fifth years magical defence is shaky at best, and the sixth and seventh are barely better, at least this years firsties and second years are going to have a solid starting place this time around, for the rest of them, I'm going to have to revise previous years before I can start on the new stuff."

Snape scowled at him darkly, "you seem very… confident in your abilities for one of your age, Slate."

'Ah, and there it is.' Snape was infamous for being jealous of anyone who manage to get the DADA position, it was widely known that he wanted the position very badly for himself. Harry decided to rub it in a little. He was in this new situation whether he liked it or not, and he couldn't think of a better way to make use of it than to piss of Snape.

Her shrugged nonchalantly, "sure I am, I'm fairly certain that I know more about the Dark Arts and defending against it than anyone else in this room, including sparkles here," he nodded towards Dumbledore, who indeed seemed to have glitter strew throughout his robes.

Snape sneered, "I very much doubt that."

"And yet I'm in the defence against the dark arts spot, and not someone else," Harry smiled at him condescendingly, "I'm sure that if there was a better option, they would have been chosen, no?"

"Just so, Harrison," Dumbledore said, smiling genially as if he hadn't said that on purpose just to annoy Snape, "I was particularly impressed with the tales of you using wandless magic, is there any backing to that rumour?" He sounded intensely and unabashedly curious, which made Harry smile. The headmaster was a sly one, and beyond clever, but at heart he was still a Gryff and wore emotions on his sleeve when he didn't need to hide them.

"You tell me," he said with a smirk, a ball of flame erupting from his upturned hand and floating in mid air. Gasps sounded across the room, and for a good reason. Not many had the necessary power or control over their magic to do wandless magic, although admittedly not many bothered to try. Wandless magic took about triple the amount of magic that using a wand did, and many found it an unnecessary and impractical skill to learn. Harry of course knew it was a useful skill, as it had saved his life in the Sahara not even a month ago. Well, he had died a bit after that, but it had saved his life for a bit.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he observed the flame, "incredible, to see one so young in such control."

Harry snuffed out the flame when he closed his hand and rose a challenging eyebrow to Snape, who scowled and looked away.

"It has saved my life on more than one occasion, headmaster, as I'm sure it has yours."

"Indeed it has," Dumbledore said, still looking impressed.

"What else can you do?" Filius asked, looking intrigued, "I never had the power to make such a thing useful in duels, although I always thought such a thing could be useful."

Harry grinned, "shoot a stinger at me."

Flitwick looked at Dumbledore for permission, who hesitated for a moment before nodding in acceptance. Flitwick drew his wand and silently shot a stinger at Harry. In response he casually rose his hand and slapped it away as if swatting at a particularly annoying wasp, making it fly away in a direction that was completely random.

An angry hiss came from Snape as the stinger collided with his leg.

"Fascinating," Flitwick said, looking in interest at Harry's palm as Snape cursed in what sounded like ancient Greek in the background, "protego regressus over your palm?" He asked, looking at Harry for confirmation, who nodded and angled his hand to show the shimmering silver shield covering the front on the front of his hand. Flitwick poked the shield a few times with his wand before leaning back and stroking his beard, "fascinating," he repeated, "I imagine that being able to deflect spells with one hand while still being able to cast with the other would result in a distinct advantage in a fight."

"I'm sure it is, however we are getting off topic," McGonagall huffed, scowling at them all.

"Minerva is of course correct," Dumbeldore asserted, "I am in fact interested how Mr Potter is doing in his lessons?"

Harry looked at him blankly, the sheer iron balls needed to blatantly ask about one specific student in front of all of the teachers…

"Well, I'm not sure why you want to know about Potter specifically," Harry drawled, "he's good at the practical side, being one of the few to actually be able to conjure a shield that could stop more than a thrown wad of paper and cast a decent stunner. He would probably be good at the theory side if he stopped copying Miss Granger's work instead of doing it himself."

This was just too good, he had always hated himself for being a lazy shit in school, taking the easiest subjects and doing the minimal amount possible. Grassing himself up was just too good, and he felt completely vindicated due to the fact that it was himself doing it. He had been attacked every year at Hogwarts, and somehow the thought hadn't managed to get through his thick skull that maybe he should consider trying a bit harder to raise his magical talent.

'Take that you little shit,' He thought gleefully.

"Oh, is that true?" McGonagall asked, looking like a cat with it's tail pulled.

Harry didn't bother to smother the wide grin, "it is, it seems your golden boy has a bit of a plagiarism problem, Minerva." His grin vanished all of a sudden and his eyes became intense, and he looked to Dumbledore completely seriously, which he noticed with pleasure made people shift uncomfortably around the room, "I do have one question about the boy however, Albus."

The old man looked distinctly put out by what Harry had revealed about his golden boy, but he nodded his head and rolled his hand in a gesture for him to continue nonetheless, "of course my boy, do ask away."

Harry morphed his face into the most innocent facade he could muster, which with his current features was nigh impossible, "why is there a soul shard in the boys skull?"

This was part of his plan. However much he planned to fuck with himself, he was thoroughly against letting something so vile remain in any child, and he hoped that revealing this to Dumbledore would lead to him being able to remove it. He had been on the fence originally, as he was fairly sure that it was AK insurance, but then he had felt the magic emanating from it and the idea had been kicked out of the proverbial window post-haste.

He had found in the future, much to his displeasure, that it was very possible for the Horcrux to be removed. He had found the knowledge in a book from the personal library of a particularly fucked up individual that he had read and then burnt with extreme pleasure.

Dumbledore went completely still, and around the room everyone else fell silent after shocked gasps and covered mouths.

"Everyone is to leave the room, immediately," Dumbledore said in a cool voice just above a whisper, his eyes piercing Harry's with unnatural intensity. The temperature in the room felt like it had warmed by a couple degrees, and Fawkes cried nervously from it's perch and shifted. Nobody moved for a few still moments where it seemed time had frozen momentarily.

"Now."

There was something undeniable hard in that voice, it caused everyone in the room to snap out of their reverie and come back to the present and they filed out of the room with many a backwards glance. Harry stayed in the chair before the headmaster, eyes still locked on the older man's. McGonagall paused by the door and looked back, "Albus…"

"Go Minerva," he cut her of firmly, and that was that. The door shut behind her with a soft thump and then the room was entirely silent.

"Explain what you are talking about, Harrison."

Harry scoffed and looked at the old man incredulously, "please, don't tell me you don't already know, I could feel the evil emanating from that boy as soon as he entered my classroom, I had to make a conscious effort to make sure the wards surrounding the room didn't kill the child in first period." He gave him a significant look, "I know for a fact that you are one of the few who can sense the same."

Sensory magic was a rare talent, and if one did not make a conscious effort to develop the skill most mages would never be able to feel the magics surrounding them as he and the headmaster could. The horcrux was evil and twisted, but it was also subtle, its intent causing it to remain hidden even in its unconscious state. He had no doubt that he was one of few in the country, or even the continent to have honed the skill to a level where he could sense such things. Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle were two others. Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel almost definitely could as well, but then again those two were practically gods in their own right. He had found that the two were, contrary to the headmasters opinion, very much alive almost sixty-five years after the events concerning the Philosophers Stone. He could still remember the roiling, ancient magic that had surrounded them both, it was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

"There is something evil in that scar, something entirely against the natural world order, something torn and dastardly in a way that only a perversion of the soul can be." The only thing that was close to it

Dumbledore gazed upon him with an unreadable look, and Harry thought he might be weighing up his options, deciding how much trust to put in this stranger who had crash landed into the halls of his school. Or perhaps he was preparing himself to obliviate him, it was hard to tell.

Finally, Dumbledore let out a deep sigh and seemed to get ever so slightly closer to his actual age, "very well, on the fateful night of the 31st of October, 1981 I believe that Voldemort tore his soul upon the murder of Harry Potter through the use of the killing curse. What he could not account for however was the ancient magical power of love and sacrifice intertwined, and the curse backfired, tearing his soul from his body. As its container was destroyed, I believe it latched onto the strongest magical object in its immediate vicinity, which regretfully-"

"Was ickle Harry Potter," Harry completed. Frankly he was surprised that Dumbledore would reveal such information to him, and he wondered what he had done to earn such trust, "that explains how it got there headmaster, but that is not what I asked."

Dumbledore rose a single eyebrow, "Oh?"

Harry nodded, "I was not asking how it got there headmaster, I had already deduced that, as I already know how a horcrux is made," he heard a slight intake of breath at his revelation, "what I wanted to know is why it is still there."

Bright blue eyes scrutinized him carefully, perhaps wondering where he had obtained such information, "if you know how such a thing is constructed, then you surely know that the only way to destroy one is to destroy the container, and in this case, as the container is a child..."

Harry raised a single eyebrow, "what if I were to tell you that I knew of a way to remove it from the boy without killing him? It will be painful, of course, but I assure you he will not die."

Dumbledore started, and something that looked like hope gleamed briefly in the man's eye before it was smothered through what Harry assumed to be the reluctance to accept false hope, "truly? And what is this method you speak of?"

Harry let the wolfish grin shine through finally, and lent forward, "a cleansing ritual, one powered by blood."

Thin shoulders slumped, and a heavily lined brow creased, "rituals," he almost spat the word, "a vile subject, and most dark, I do not desire to use such a thing."

Harry's eyebrow rose, he knew that Dumbledore was a firmly light sided wizard, but he wasn't aware that he was to the point of being blind. It made sense now that he had never found the solution. All knowing he may be, but he was still far light sided and not the type to collect the type of books that Harry himself had found the necessary information. Cështjet e Shpirtit was a particularly rare and malignant book that Harry was absolutely sure that nobody at all light sided would be able to posses at all in their lifetimes, no matter how hard they searched.

"Even if it was possible to save the life of the child? I assure you, I can do the ritual and I can do it well, he does not have to be sacrificed, Dumbledore, if that is what you have planned. I do not see how you could turn this down, even with your misguided ideas on the nature of blood magic," he gave Dumbledore a very judgmental stare, "he does not have to die, Albus."

Dumbledore looked over steepled fingers, obviously deep in thought, "I must think on this, Harrison," he said finally, "if you could, send me the notes on the ritual and allow me and other experts to analyse the ritual to see if it is safe, I will give you an answer at the end of term."

Harry nodded. They couldn't know that he was in fact the expert, but it was probably the best he could get.

"I must insist however, that I perform the ritual myself."

'Ah, now that is a problem.'

Harry glowered at him, "no disrespect, but I seriously doubt that you have the necessary experience required to perform such a thing."

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow, "and you do?" he sounded faintly disapproving.

"Yes," Harry answered shortly, "if you try and perform it, I have no doubt that you will either kill the child, release a demon or both," he tapped finger on his chin in apparent consideration, "probably both," he concluded.

Dumbledore was looking at him with something akin to… disappointment? Harry wasn't sure what he was disappointed about, he had never made any claim of being a light sided wizard, and he didn't know Harrison Slate. There was a silence for a moment then Dumbledore seemed to snap out of a trance. "Apologies my boy, you just suddenly reminded me of another young man who travelled the world immediately after schooling, coming back with knowledge he should not have."

Harry tried very hard not to immolate the man on the spot.

'Did he seriously just compare me to Tom Riddle?'

"I shall think on your offer," Dumbledore decided, ignorant to Harry's mental battle on murdering Britain's equivalent to wizarding Jesus, "for now, you must not tell anyone of what you have discovered, especially not young Harry himself, I shall have to have the other teachers swear oaths."

Harry shrugged, his anger disappearing when he realised he didn't really care, "kay."

"You may go now Harrison, I thank you for your offer, it could save many a life," Dumbledore said in a low, hopeful voice, "it could change everything."

Harry grinned, "you're welcome," he responded as he stood, "I'll see you when you decide, headmaster, I'll send the ritual notes soon enough." Dumbledore nodded, and he left, pondering on what kind of mischief this little change would cause.

-oOo-

"Can we trust him, Albus," McGonagall asked, taking a nervous sip from her tea, "he seems… unstable. And far too knowledgable about the darkest of magics, I don't even want to know where he heard of such awful things."

She had come back up after Slate had left at his own invitation, and he had revealed all about Slate's offer and Harry's own condition. To say she was distraught was an understatement, Harry was one of her favourite students, and it had taken a subtle wandless calming charm and several cups of tea before she had settled down enough for civilised conversation.

Albus sighed, "to be honest Minerva, I have no way of knowing," he shook his head mournfully, "his mental shields are far too strong to gleam any surface intent, and I know next to nothing of his past." The fact was mildly disconcerting to him.

He watched in mild displeasure as she raked her nails along the arm of the chair she was in like a cat sharpening her nails, "I don't like it Albus, from what you said the boy is powerful, more powerful then you even, and he does not seem entirely on the side of the light."

Dumbledore scowled, she wasn't entirely wrong. Harrison's magic was violent and almost unconstrained, raging like a malignant storm under a thin surface of complete control. On the outside he was flippant and mischievous, but his magic was entirely another matter. He hadn't felt such an aura since he last met Tom.

'Or Gallert.' The thought made him shiver.

"I do not believe he has turned to the dark," he said slowly, rolling a lemon drop in-between his fingers, "I think his magic could be defined as grey, perhaps."

"It does not matter Albus, he is teaching children," she looked furious, but he could feel the worry even through her mental shields, "if he were to lose his mind, lose control of his magic..." The implication that students could be harmed did not need to be mentioned.

"That will not happen Minerva," Dumbledore said firmly, the boiled sweet cracking under the sudden pressure of his closed fist, "for all of his power he is still young and inexperienced, I have many a year on him." For some reason the words rang false in his mind. The man seemed to have an affinity with his magic that should have only been possible after four or five decades of time, and knew things that should not have been possible to learn from just one trip around the world. It seemed to soothe Minerva however, and to his relief she stopped gouging long marks into his second favourite chair.

"I still do not like it Albus," she repeated stubbornly, "we will be putting a lot of trust into someone we don't really know, who somehow appeared from nowhere and has already raised to the position of defence against the dark arts teacher within not even a month, and he has already got close to Nymphadora," she worried her lip, "do you think he is attempting to spy on the order?"

It was a reasonable thought, and it gave him pause. It was true that Harrison Slate had appeared from nowhere, and quickly managed to get close to both himself and another of one of the most important members of the Order. On top of that, he had also managed to get into a position that Tom had coveted for a long time, it gave a new perspective to the disappearance of Dolores Umbridge. Not that he hadn't already suspected that he was responsible or cared.

"I do not think he poses a threat," he said slowly, "he did put a death eater in prison after all, and he did look genuinely irritated, if not surprised when I offered him the DADA position."

"The Dark Lord is not the only one attempting to get a spy in the Order Albus, as well you know. Amelia Bones has been trying for as long as she has known about it, for all we know Nymphadora and Kingsley already do so."

That was also true, Albus was fairly sure that Fudge was also attempting to do the same, but the man's attempts were about as subtle as a rampaging Hippogriff and were able to be ignored without effort. Amelia Bones, however, was most definitely a snake in badgers clothing. The woman had managed to find out that the Order had reformed, and had been making irritatingly subtle attempts to try and find out what they knew ever since.

He sighed. "We have not choice but to trust him Minerva," he said in resignation, his forehead palmed in both hands, "he has offered, with no request of repayment or favours, to save Harry Potter's life, and despite how much I have learnt of magic I doubt I can perform what he intends." He looked down at the runic circle and ingredients etched into a piece of paper that had somehow made its way onto his desk with no owl twenty minutes earlier.

Minerva sighed as well, "then we have no choice," she said, resigned.

"No, I do not believe we do." There was a long silence, the only sound the clinking of china as McGonagall reached for her tea again and took a sip.

"That is enough on the topic of Mr Slate however, we must talk of other things," he continued, focusing on Minerva again, "I have some important news for you," he stated gravely, "Fenrir Greyback has been killed, along with all of his pack."

-oOo-

Harry slid into the seat and offered the woman opposite him a warm smile in greeting, "hiya Tonks, long time no see."

She looked up at him and returned a bright smile of her own before her face turned stony, adopting a haughty look along with an elongated nose to better look down at him from, "you are late, Mr Slate," she declared coolly.

Harry grinned, "apologies my Lady, I was busy trying to unstick a third year from the ceiling, little brat said he wanted to walk on the walls like spiderman, it appears my instruction on the permanent nature of the sticking charm didn't quite get through to him."

"That's what they all say," she dismissed, "your apology is reluctantly accepted, however."

"How gracious of you," Harry said dryly. He smiled at her, "it's good to see you again, Tonks, you're looking good."

Her bright, bubbly smile returned and Harry felt his heart beat a little faster at the sight. He hadn't been lying, she did look good, She was wearing an open fronted denim jacket with a plain white t-shirt underneath and a pair of black jeans. She was also wearing her classic thick-soled black leather boots. Her hair was neck length with a straight fringe just above the eyes, and also bright blue. Sparkling pink eyes peeked through the fringe at him, and he found himself being drawn into them.

"Good to see you to Harrison, I suppose you're alright yourself."

He scoffed, "I would bloody well hope so with the advantage I have, hows the job?"

Her face scrunched cutely up in annoyance, which Harry watched with rapt attention, "the Ministry is a bloody mess," she complained, "one of the pureblood lords from Fudge's bloc has disappeared without a trace, so half the time they're running around like idiots and ordering us to try harder to find him, and the other half of the time they're moaning about Potter and Dumbledore."

'Ah, it seems Travers' disappearance has ruffled a few feathers.' He had anticipated it, but had simply not really given a fuck. Travers was a Lord, the Travers house wasn't a Most Ancient and Noble house, just a Noble one, but due to its alliance with houses much more powerful and ancient than itself such as Malfoy, Avery and Lestrange it had been dragged up a few ranks in the Wizengamot and consequently held significant political sway, and a good pile of gold to boot. The death of Cohan Travers would personally piss off and spook Fudge, who would inevitable get paranoid and lose his shit. He wasn't worried about them finding about who the man had died. Kingsley had no reason to tell anyone, and on top of that Cohan had probably been covering his own tracks himself due to the

Harry laughed and accepted the beer he had ordered, the deep red swirling by itself in the glass, "you think they would have better things to do then slander a fifteen year old and an old man."

"Not everyone is buying their shit any more," Tonks reminded, grabbing a handful of salted peanuts from the glass bowl, "your trial woke a few of the sheep up, I even got one of the posters that Puddifoot has been selling," she grinned cheekily at him and stuffed the peanuts in her mouth, completely unashamed at the inelegance of it.

He arched a single eyebrow, "oh? And do you admire it when you're alone in your room at night?"

The blush crept up higher, but she still laughed, "sometime, when the nights are particularly cold," she chuckled, "how's Hogwarts?"

Harry shrugged, "kids are fucking annoying, but other than that its alright, definitely a step up for an ex prisoner and accused AK user."

"You can't be worse than some of the other teachers," Tonks groused, "I had a teacher in my NEWT year with a stutter," she looked at him flatly, "a wizard, with a stutter. He had to say spells at least three times before he could even cast one, it was a bloody nightmare." It was a good point. Next to a missing hand or fingers, a speech impediment was about as bad as things could get for a mage. Any injury that prevented casting spells was almost as bad as death.

"You seem to have done well for yourself nonetheless," he pointed out, "good position in the aurors, friends in high places..."

Pink eyes snapped to grey through blue strands of hair, "what do you mean by that?"

He grinned, "well..." he drew out the word to irritate her, "you seemed rather close to Amelia Bones, and just the other day I had a peculiar conversation with Albus Dumbledore himself where he repeated things to me that I had only told you."

Her eyes widened slightly, "me and the headmaster have kept up since school, I think I was a favourite student of his or something," she gushed awkwardly.

Harry hummed and gave her a shrewd look, which made her visibly squirm in her seat before he relented, "I don't really care Tonks, but I would prefer it if you didn't relay everything I tell you to my new boss, some of the things I say to you might get me fired," he laughed.

She looked visibly relieved at his abandonment of the line of questioning, "oh really, and what are you planning on saying to me that would scandalise the headmaster so much?" She asked, the impish grin hitched back onto her face.

"There are many things I would like to say to you," he said under his breath, but judging by the further creep of red up her cheeks she still heard.

"Like what?" She asked, a single pure black eyebrow arched.

He looked her up and down very slowly, then nodded resolutely as if coming to a conclusion, "blue doesn't suit you," he said, completely serious.

She snorted and flipped him off, taking a sip from her lime green cocktail as she did so, "well one of us has to switch it up, seeing as you're always on tall dark and handsome mode," she quipped, taking another hasty sip before setting it down, "what colour do you think suits me then?" she asked curiously, her hair starting to shift already.

He didn't even need to think, "pink," he said without hesitation.

Her hair shifted to a pastel pink colour immediately, "and whys that?"

He shrugged, "when I think of Tonks, I think of you with pink hair, it's just who you are."

She gave him a shrewd look, startling cyan eyes scrutinised him in a way that made him feel like he was six inches tall and sat across a table in an interrogation, "I was not aware that you knew me that well."

He smiled thinly, "I'm a good judge of character."

It was then that he felt a twinge in his magic from one of his personal wards, and it made him tense up ever so slightly, his hand twitching in anticipation of drawing his wand from years of practised instinct. From the feel of it, it was one of the intent wards he had powered up earlier in the day. It was a clever one, sensing when negative intentions were being directed to the caster and alerting said caster to them. It was roughly based off of the runes that powered the sneakoscope that Moody liked to have in every room in his house. The only downside was that it did not show where the intent was coming from.

"Well obviously you are, you seem to have taken a liking to fabulous ol' me, after all, makes me wonder how much of me you want to get to know." He heard Tonks reply with her permanently flirtatious lilt to her voice in the back of his head, but he wasn't really paying attention. He scanned the room surreptitiously, eyes flicking around in search of whoever was watching him with negative intent. He thought he caught a flash of something dart from a corner of the window that faced into the back alley of the pub, but couldn't exactly be sure.

"-rrison, Harrison," his gaze snapped back to Tonks, who had gone straight backed and was watching him intently, "what are you looking for," she whispered harshly when she saw she had his attention again, her eyes dashed to peer over his shoulder then back to his own as if to check he wasn't being snuck up on, something which he would have found funny if it wasn't a distinct possibility. He noted that her eyes had gone a navy blue in her sudden seriousness.

He smiled at her, "nothing Tonks, just admiring the view," his tone was playful, but his eyes were hard as he tried to tell her that they would talk about it later through them. She laughed and smiled back at him, but he saw her give a small nod in affirmation to his unsaid response.

'Smart woman.'

He nodded back, the pleasant smile still on his face, "don't know about you Tonks, but I'm fucking starving, lets get some food ay?"

The rest of the subsequent meal was happy and idle chatter floated over the table freely, both of them comfortable in each others company. Harry enjoyed himself, but the whole while he couldn't quite shake the slight tenseness in his muscles and the feeling of foreboding permeating his entire being. He had learnt to trust his instincts many years ago, finding that more often than not they were right, and on this occasion his instincts were telling him that something bad was about to happen.

-oOo-

They walked silently through the main street of Hogsmead, Tonks was pressed into his side with her arm linked through his own. She said it was because it was cold outside, but he wasn't so sure. She seemed to have sized herself so she slotted perfectly against him, which was a particularly satisfying feeling.

"So, are you going to tell me why you weren't all auror mode back then?"

"Not right now, Tonks," he replied, looking around and over her head at the few people still wandering along the town, "lets find somewhere private first, I don't want us to be overheard."

She giggled from his side, "that's the first time a man's tried to get me alone like that," she said coyly, "what are you planning to do that's going to be so noisy?"

He grinned down at her, "mind out of the gutter Tonksie, I just want to take some precautions, for now anyway," he steered her into a small alley that he remembered led into a dead end, a small square between houses with a fountain that had the founder of Hogsmead in its centre.

"Nice place, I got stood up here once," Tonks commented idly, looking around at the ivy covered bare brick walls and the gurgling fountain, all lit by soft yellow lighting runes.

"Evidently they were a fucking idiot," Harry commented, throwing up a privacy ward around them to prevent being overheard. His personal ward that normally did so was back at his office, as having it activated in a classroom was impractical, and he didn't like to admit he had just forgotten to take it with him.

"Their loss," she agreed, then looked up at him, half her face lit by wavy yellow light from the fountain, "now tell me what you were so panicky about."

He tried a pout, "I don't panic, I'm always calm and composed," she stared at him, and he sighed, "negative intent ward went off when I was in there," he explained, "someone was watching us, someone who wanted to either hurt, control or kill me."

"Shit," she breathed, her eyes dropping to fix on his chest in thought, "you think it could be death eaters again?"

Harry shrugged, "dunno, but I thought I caught someone watching through the window for a moment, I reckon it was them. But it could have just been a harmless bigot somewhere in the pub who read the papers about me."

"I guess," she said uncertainly, mirroring his own doubt in his head, "I don't think so though," she eventually said, "certain… others have good reason to want to hurt you, the Dark Lord isn't the type to let what you did go without recompense."

Harry nodded and drew his personal ward case from the inside of his robe, enlarging it wandlessly as he did so, "I thought the same, which is why I'm giving you this," he opened it and proffered a cubic obsidian stone, the runes on it still glowing a dim red, "its the negative intent ward, it will alert me if you get attacked, I have no doubt that they would sink to doing something to those closest to me."

She glared up at him, "I don't need your help, Harrison," she snapped, "I'm not some hapless bint who doesn't know how to use a wand, I can defend myself, if you think-"

"This isn't a fucking game, Tonks," he interrupted, annoyed, "this isn't about personal pride or me thinking you're incompetent. If you're really so offended, think of it as backup instead of me thinking you're useless, which I don't," he sighed and ran his other hand through his hair, looking to the side at the water in the fountain in an attempt to calm him down, "look, Voldemort doesn't fight fair, he works by stacking all of the odds in his favour until the outcome is almost definitely a good one for him, he doesn't care about things like dignity or pride in a fight, he cares about results. I don't want you getting hurt, Tonks, so please, just take the fucking ward," he turned back to her, his eyes looking slightly backlit in the dark in his passion.

Her face had relaxed into an unreadable expression by the end of his speech, and she was looking into his eyes intently, the only sound in the courtyard the soft gurgling of the fountain in the background.

"Fine," she relented, causing Harry to sigh in relief. She grabbed the stone and stuffed it in her pocket, "I suppose it's your turn to rescue the damsel in distress anyway, no?" She asked cheekily.

"Very funny," Harry huffed as he removed the ward with a careless flick of his wand, "just remember to power it up every morning yeah?"

"I know how these work, Harri," she said tiredly, "Moody taught me how to use them, he would have my hide if he knew I didn't already have some to be honest," she admitted.

Harry nodded, "he's right, the things are dead useful, just one more thing preventing you from getting cursed in the back."

Tonks nodded sagely and they began walking back to the main street towards the apparition point, neither making much of an effort to get there any time soon.

"What do you want to do, after Hogwarts?" Tonks asked as a conversation starter, shattering the comfortable silence that had fallen as they walked down the mostly empty night-time road.

Harry sighed, "well, there's a war coming, and I kind of have a personal grudge against the one perpetrating it, so maybe I'll spend my time trying to do something about that somehow."

"You're dog right? Vaelin?" She asked, sounding amused.

Harry scoffed, "yeah, but it's more than that now, fuckers almost killed me, twice. I don't think I'm going to get a day of peace until I kill 'em back," he grinned.

"I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that," Tonks said flatly.

"Hey, if you want to get into uniform and put me in cuffs I wont complain."

"In your dreams, Slate."

Harry nodded, "yup, all of them actually."

Tonks laughed and he smiled as the sound echoed around them and made the few still walking the streets either scowl or smile fondly at the two of them. When the laughter faded, they walked in a companionable silence for a minute or so before Tonks broke it once more, Harry being happy to stay silent.

"Did you mean that? What you said earlier?" She suddenly asked, as if she had been trying to work up the courage to do so.

He looked down at her and drew her into himself by wrapping one arm over her opposite shoulder, "I said a lot of things, Tonks. You're going to have to be a bit more specific."

He felt her body shift as she instinctively changed the shape of herself so she slotted into his side comfortably, "what you said about him going for those closest to you, am I really one of those people?" She didn't seem to be in any hurry to move from her position.

He looked pointedly at their quite literal closeness and rose an eyebrow at her, "well, right now it most definitely appears to me that we are pretty close."

She rolled her eyes, "I didn't mean that and you know it, asshole. Now tell me," she demanded.

He chuckled and then fell silent, thinking on how to answer the question. In the end, he decided on a half truth so he could feel half as guilty.

"You are the closest someone has got to me in many years," he admitted, not mentioning that he was thinking about decades and not singular years, "when my parents died I left England to travel the world, and it was a solo venture," he shrugged, "there were women, and a few brief friends, but nobody really close," she was looking at him now, bright violet eyes searching. He was simultaneously unnerved and slightly turned on by the intensity of the look, so in classic fashion fell back on humour, "it could have been worse I suppose, I mean you are just about bearable in the grand scheme of things."

For once, she didn't smile at his joke, "it is the same for me, although for different reasons," she admitted, a thin smile on her lips, "the life of an auror isn't exactly conducive to a healthy relationship, y'know? And I do… other things outside of being an auror that take up even more time. Sabina and my cousin Si-" she stopped herself abruptly, "my cousin Simon are the only people I really talk to regularly apart from Madam Bones, but she's my boss."

'Simon?' Harry had to disguise his laughter as a sneeze into his free arm.

"Two peas in a pod then aren't we?" Asked Harry as he grinned down at her, "you think we're soul mates?"

"Dunno, why don't you kiss me and find out?" She challenged, grinning up at him mischievously, "I remember my bedtime stories, when the Warlock kisses the Damsel in the tower there's lots of bright sparks and the like," she waved her hand over her head randomly to demonstrate.

Harry hummed in consideration, then bent down and pressed his lips to hers firmly before pulling away quickly, leaving Tonks with her lips still parted staring at him in shock, which he pointedly ignored, instead looking above them into the starry night sky.

"Huh, no sparks," he commented innocently, "bad luck Tonksie, looks like we aren't gonna live in that castle you wanted after all."

She stared up at him from his side, and Harry idly wondered if she was choosing which hex to use on him before his thoughts were interrupted by the front of his being yanked forwards and he was pushed backwards to impact the stone wall of the building they had been walking past, not that he put up much resistance.

"I thought you might be the type to like it rough, Tonks, but don't you think this is a bit far?" He teased as he grinned down at her. She was pressed into his front with her hands still balled into his coat, and her eyes had darkened into a deep chocolate colour.

"Oh just shut up and kiss me you idiot," she murmured, before she leaned forward and captured his lips with her own without hesitation. He smiled into it widely and reciprocated, his hands making their way to her waist to draw her in even closer. He felt her own release him and run through his hair as it deepened.

Eventually they came back up for air and they reluctantly separated, staring into each others eyes as they both breathed deeply. Harry's grip tightened around her waist and flecks of gold once more entered his eyes as he sighed, his words suddenly serious.

"I need to to stay safe, Tonks, yeah? Promise me."

She nodded and rested her forehead against his own, "I promise Harri," she whispered, "but only if you do the same. If you get yourself killed I swear that Merlin himself wont stop me from dragging you back through the veil and kicking your arse," the words contained a joke, but the tone in which she spoke did not.

"I promise, after all if you can kiss like that I think I may as well keep you around," he joked as her head fell from his own to rest under his chin as he cradled her.

She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a twitch on her lips, "I'll think about it," she replied.

Her tone was light, but she a certain look in her eyes that made his heart skip a beat in a way he hadn't felt in decades. A look that said she had already decided.

-oOo-

"My Lord…."

'Pathetic.'

He looked down at the prone, shaking form of the low level death eater that had delivered the news, his inner fury making no appearance on his apparent entirely calm exterior. An angry red glow got steadily lesser in intensity on the end of a cruel bone white wand, the intent to cast the torture curse making it seem as if the wand was ready to cast it again within a moments notice. He didn't even know the name of the man before him, he was just another low level minion that he had sent to converse with the werewolves in Travers' place.

"I want you to repeat what you just told me," he hissed, almost dipping into parseltongue in anger, "and I want you to say it very… very clearly."

"M-My Lord, I know not where Fenrir Greyback's pack has gone, they did not arrive at the organised meet up point, and I have found no trace of them anywhere, p-please my lord..." the man broke off into pained whimpers as he rocked himself.

Rage barraged through him even as he maintained the cool and composed exterior, not that some could not sense it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Severus twitch slightly at the leaked emotions flowing into the room. No matter how much he might despise the creatures, they would have been a key component in the oncoming war in terms of both physical prowess and intimidation, and were a prominent feature in many of his plans. Now, with Travers presumably dead, they had lost their best contact with the werewolves. The man had been considered a friend by the packs that emulated Greyback's ideologies due to the odd wizarding child the man had given them from that distasteful ring of his. That had been bad enough, but now with Greyback himself also presumed dead along with a whole pack… it was not ideal to say the least.

"This cannot have been the work of Albus Dumbledore, it is far too well executed for such a thing," he murmured under his breath, "the incompetent old fool would not have allowed any of the beasts to be killed even if they deserved it, no, this is something… new. A new player in the game perhaps." He snapped his crimson eyes to Severus, internally delighting at the tightening of the man's features under his scrutiny. Nobody was able to remain unafraid under the gaze of Lord Voldemort and he revelled in the fact. "Severus, have you heard anything from Dumbledore about the packs… disappearance?" he asked softly, his voice still easily carrying in the silence of the room even over the whimpers of the man still curled at his feet. Several people shifted uneasily around the room. When the Dark Lord was screaming and casting crucio at anything that moved was one thing, considered normal to most. But when his voice dropped into the cool, composed drawl it was a sure sign that one wrong move would result in a not-so-swift and extremely painful death.

"No, my Lord," he answered smoothly, unflappable as usual. Severus was good like that, even when they were mired in the most arduous and dangerous of tasks you could rely on the man to always keep his cool and disparage everyone around him simultaneously.

Voldemort turned his gaze to a death eater with long, flowing blonde hair coming from behind his mask that defeated the whole purpose.

'Really, why does he even bother wearing a mask with that ridiculous hair exposed, he looks like a veela at a masked party.' He sneered at the thought of the disgusting half breeds. He had attempted to reach out to them to bring them to his side, offering better rights as a reward. However innocent their beauty may imply, they were dangerous in their shifted forms, and even if they were not they would have been a good moral booster for the men. Unfortunately, Dolohov had been laughed out by the coven with nothing but burn scars on his back to show for it.

"And Lucius, have you heard from our contacts in the German Ministry? Perhaps they found and apprehended the creatures?"

"I have heard nothing my Lord, they would surely have told me if they had done so, my contact is reliable," Lucius replied just as silkily as his friend.

"Interesting, interesting," he contemplated, his fingers steepling as he leant back in his throne and thought on the possibilities. "Does anyone else have anything to report?" He asked offhandedly as he pondered.

"M-my Lord, I have news on Harrison Slate," a quavering, nervous voice spoke up from the back of the room. Voldemort could tell who it was from the cowardice leaking from the man's tone immediately, and his eyes lit up as the report immediately snapped him out of his contemplations. Harrison Slate had been yet another source of immense irritation to him. It had been the first hitch in his plans since the Potter brat had escaped his glorious return to the living alive, having had the nerve to witness one of their raids and escape alive. Rudolphus had suffered greatly for his incompetence. Still, he had brushed it off as a minor hitch until the incompetent fool sent to kill the man had managed to somehow get overpowered then sent to Azkaban, sending suspicious whispers among the public as a consequence. The loss of Burke had also upset his father, and as a consequence his access to some of the more… interesting things sold in the shop. And then on top of that the man had been hired into the position that he had desired for so long. It was a slight that could not go without punishment, and he had ordered the rat to follow Slate if the man ever left the castle to find an avenue of attack. Just killing him wouldn't do now, Harrison Slate needed to hurt.

"Oh? And what have you found, Pettigrew?" He purred, crimson eyes gleaming in anticipation.

The rat's double chin quivered as he swallowed nervously, glancing at the still twitching form at the Dark Lord's feet before he looked back at his master, "y-you asked me t-t-to watch him milord," he stuttered out, "I followed him t-to the T-Three Broomsticks where he m-met with a woman, a woman h-he seems close to my Lord," the man bowed his head in supplication.

The smile that broke out on his face was lipless and unnatural, "perfect, perfect, and what is this unfortunate young woman's name?"

The man gulped again.

"Nymphadora, Nymphadora Tonks."

---

AN: Ooooohhhhh, that was dramatic. *waves hands dramatically* This chapter was fun to write, even if it was mainly filler and romance before some more action.

More Harry/Tonks for you lot, and I thought that 70k words was a decent point to start the romance. I'm cackling evily behind my monitor right now at the thought of all the twists and turns I can torment all of you lot with this.

Keep doing the follow, favourite and review thing, it boosts my ego.

Adios amigos, see ya next time!