Ok guys, Here it is. The Third installment to the insanity. I own nothing except this idea, the psycho death-fairy of a Muse in my head and a old PC. The rest belongs to the legendary J. K Rowlings and the phenomenal Jim Butcher.

Hope you guys like it, and how many of you spot the Easter Eggs.

Dedicated to my Mum, Jane and my Minion loving mate, Michelle.

You Want Who

Chapter 3

Uh Oh We're in Trouble...

Order Headquarters.

Hermione bounced into the boys' room, startling a still sleeping Ron right out of his bed. The gangling redhead frantically grabbed for his quilt and shot their closest female friend a dirty look. "Bloody Hell! Knock next time!" He groused. Hermione ignored him. There were more important things on the bookworm's mind. Their school letters had come, which meant so had their Book Lists! She quickly handed the boys their letters and the three of them opened them together. She'd gotten Gryffindor Fifth Year Prefect, as had Ron. Harry had felt a brief flash of disappointed but he just grinned and congratulated his friends. He didn't really mind, being a prefect wasn't worth the bathroom perks. He just wanted to graduate.

Hermione, meanwhile, was staring at the book listed as their Defense text. Elementary Magic by Ebenezar McCoy. As she pondered this, the twins apparated into the room, right on top of Ron in his bed. Chaos reigned for a few minutes whilst three red heads untangled themselves from bedclothes and one another before the twins grinned at the Golden Trio and chorused, "We know something you don't know!" in childish singsong. Hermione's eyes narrowed. Fred caught the look and nudged his twin. They both grinned innocently at her.

"We were just on the stairs..." said Fred,

"Testing our extendable ears a bit more..." added George

"When we 'overhear' " said Fred, drawing out the suspense

"Just who Dumbledore hired for " George supplied

"The DADA position..." they chorused together.

And then they shut up. The trio stared at them. They stared back. A clock ticked. Silence stretched.

Ron cracked first. "Well?! Who is it?"

Fred shrugged. "Some American bloke named Dresden." and with that they apparate out again.

Hermione frowned. She bit her lip and glanced at the door before obviously coming to a decision. She hopped off the end of Harry's bed, told them to 'get up for breakfast' and hurried out.

Ron and Harry were a bit surprised though when she begged off to go home to 'do something she forgot' later that day.

To say her parents were surprised to see her home already was an understatement. The Grangers had begun to realize that the magical world was slowly absorbing their only child. When she hugged them quickly before dashing into the study and to the family computer, they shared a relieved and amused look. Some things never changed. Their daughter had a new research project and nothing would deter her from it. There were somethings that plain old 'muggles' had the Magicals beat for, and one of those was the internet.

Hermione sat back from the computer screen and chewed at her lip. Her stomach rolled. As soon as the twins mentioned Dresden she had known she knew his name. Luckily, her parents were very progressive and had the latest computer as well as a good internet connection. Her Dad claimed it was for 'work', but Hermione had caught him playing cards on more than one occasion. Still, she had been able to find several articles online about Dresden, written by a woman named Susan Rodriguez for a yellow rag out of Chicago, The Arcane.

Most of the stories in the publication were complete fantasy, more in line with the Quibbler than real journalism but Ms. Rodriguez's articles had a ring of truth to them. Her stories about Dresden dealing with creatures from nightmares and banishing ghosts had too many factual points to be completely fictitious. Then there was the video footage she had watched. Poorly lit and grainy, the camera wobbling and jiggling, with bursts of static that made it hard to see or hear what was happening, she still saw Dresden killing a werewolf. With a necklace.

Following the trail she managed to dig up a few more 'urban legends' about Harry Dresden, as well as what footage of his disastrous appearances on Larry Fowler she could find. Eventually she found herself in the small occult bookstore she frequented when looking for obscure texts. She got lucky and asked the right questions at the right moment. A short stocky man with a heavy cockney accent thanked her for the tip on Dresden heading to Scotland. He said he planned to leave the country immediately. When she pressed him, the man, who told her to call him Binder, told her quite a bit about the "Mad Wizard Dresden". He liked to talk, and Hermione was a very good listener. She didn't believe him about the zombie dinosaur until she looked online and saw that 'Sue" had indeed been 'relocated.' Binder was just telling her how Dresden had pulled the White Council and its Wardens into a war with the Red Court of Vampires when the storekeeper interrupted him by chasing them both from the store. Before Binder left he told her that Dresden had recently been 'drafted' to the Wardens. Apparently superstition went that just mentioning the Wardens could make them show up and the proprietor wanted no part of it. At home Hermione began digging for information on the White Council. What she learned did not reassure her, in fact it outright terrified her! If Dresden really was on the Council, and could call in these Wardens.. or worse WAS a Warden now, the Death-Eaters were not going to like the outcome. But many of the good guys wouldn't like it either.

Logic was not one of Hermione's strong suits. There was a reason she was not in Ravenclaw. Despite her prodigious intellect, Hermione too often led with her emotions not her mind. (Cough SPEW cough) So when she watched Dresden kill the werewolf, intellectually she understood his actions, but her teenage emotions did not. Hermione's only experiences with a werewolf had been Lupin, and while terrifying at the time, she still could not see the gentle professor as a monster. Hermione didn't like what she had learned one bit.

12 Grimmauld Place, mid-August.

Hermione rejoined them at Grimmauld two weeks before school started. At breakfast her first day she casually detonated a verbal nuke at the table.

"Mrs. Weasley?" she asked.

"Yes, dear?"

"Have you ever heard of the White Council?"

From the reactions of every adult Wizard in the room you would think she had used every profane swear word known to Wizard-kind. Mrs. Weasley dropped the large platter of bacon, sausages, eggs and toast she had been levitating to the table, Tonks fell off her chair, Moody's eyebrows shot up into what little hairline he had left and Mr Weasley's tea cup exploded. Both Sirius and Remus dropped what they were holding - which turned out to be the crockery and silverware needed for breakfast and two pitchers of juice. It was all now a huge, scattered mess all over the stone floor, mixing in with Molly's wonderful cooking.

Ron stared in dismay at the ruins of breakfast. He took in the stunned and horrified faces of the adults before turning to Hermione and asking "What Did You Say?!" (He'd been talking Quidditch with Harry and not paying attention.)

"I take that as a yes.", said Hermione drily, eyeing the mess on the floor. The adults flushed and muttered a bit before using their wands to good effect and cleaning up the mess. Half an hour, and a fast Apparition to a great little bakery Remus knew of, everyone was seated with the beverage and breakfast pastry of their choice. The teens were watching the adults, all of them now waiting for the answer to Hermione's question.

Moody took the lead, his work within the Aurors Office and his own paranoia meant he had gathered quite a lot of information. A quick, fortifying slug from his flask went into his black coffee and he addressed the table.

"The White Council predates the Ministry, Merlin himself founded it. He was on par with the Founders, one of their first students, and a teacher in his younger years. Helped with some enchantments on the school even. He had a different grasp of magic. One unlike anyone before or since. When he got older he founded the White Council as a governing body for the magical community. He wrote the Seven Laws of Magic. Break those laws, and the Wardens come for you. They can come out of nowhere and get you anywhere too, they know how to use the Ways. The Council are NOT to be trifled with. They very rarely give second chances. I have only heard of one case and the poor kid was under what they call The Sword Of Damocles for years. One single mistake and he'd have been dead. Mind you Dresden is mad that one, been trying his damnedest to get himself killed . Got a bigger saving people thing then Potter. If any of you see one of their Wardens, the Grey Cloaks, get gone fast. Apparate if you have to, screw the law."

"But, Sir, we don't know how..." Hermione began. Sirius interrupted her. "We planned to teach you all before you go back, Hermione. Harry gets into too much trouble as it is. He needs another way to get out of it. Voldemort won't expect a fifteen year old to be able to Apparate. It'll only work once, but it's enough. No one tell Snivellus."

"Sirius..." Remus warned.

"I am not being a dick! Snape has to let that snake faced bastard into his head. He doesn't NEED another secret to hide. It's for Harry's safety. The less people who know, the better. The only reason Molly and Arthur know is because Ron and Ginny are taking lessons, too."

"Why Ginny?" asked Ron, nonplussed.

"Riddle possessed her, Ron. She had his bloody diary! So, of course, she is of interest to him. If for no other reason but to punish her for it being destroyed." Hermione sniped. Then in a more polite voice added, "And Harry saved her life. He nearly died in the process and he killed his pet basilisk to do it. It's irrelevant anyway, He'd take any one of us to get to Harry. Ginny, me or you, especially. Everyone knows how close we all are."

Ron grimaced. The thought of Death-Eaters touching either Ginny or Hermione made his stomach clench and his hands shake. He didn't fancy a vacation with them either but would rather it were him instead of the girls. He looked away, vowing that the girls would not be alone that year, if he had to blackmail, bully or coerc the twins and his fellow Gryffs, so be it.

Fred, out of curiosity or an attempt to lighten the mood asked, "So, how do you recognize a Warden?"

Moody sipped his coffee. He'd made it himself with his own pot. "They just show up, out of nowhere, no sound, nothing. They wear long gray cloaks with deep hoods. Legend has it blood does not stick to the Warden Cloak. They also always, almost to a man, carry enchanted silver swords. Swords that can cut through and dispel magic. Currently they are led by a woman I know only as Luccio and her right hand, Morgan. He's also their executioner."

The kitchen was quiet.

"So knowing their Seven Laws might be a good idea?" prompted Hermione. Moody nodded slowly.

"Their laws are somewhat different from ours, like their magic is. They don't like us 'Wanded Wizards' much, think we violate the laws, take too many liberties with the muggles and such, but they leave us to police our own, unless things get really crazy or the Muggles get too involved. We haven't had a visit from the White Council in a while. Last time was bad enough, they sent the Blackstaff to speak to Bagnold about You-Know-Who." Moody chuckled darkly.

"Who is this Blackstaff?" asked Sirius, curious. He'd been told horror stories about 'Wardens' as a child, the Wardens had been his mother's answer to the boogieman for bad children, and heard he'd heard stories and rumours in Azkaban. The idea his mother hadn't been lying left a bad taste in his mouth, though the notion she'd have had more to fear from them then he amused him no end.

"The Council's biggest gun. He's Scary. And he is powerful. Bagnold needed three shots of Ogden's and a fresh set of robes after he left her office. Not that anyone knew how he even got in there in the first place. Apparently he gave her an ultimatum, deal with the Warlock or they would. If it hadn't been for Harry, the Wardens would have come calling for You Know Who." Moody chuckled, "I would really like to see that. Old Lucius wouldn't be so uppity facing a Warden or three."

Hermione coughed gently "What are the laws, Mr. Moody?"

She really wanted the answer to her question, Harry mused .

"According to the White Council the Seven Laws are;

Thou shalt not kill,

Thou shalt not transform others,

Thou shalt not invade the mind of another,

Thou shalt not enthrall another,

Thou shalt not reach beyond the Border of Life,

Thou shalt not swim against the currents of time, and finally,

Thou Shalt not open the Outer Gates."

Silence filled the room. Then Hermione whispered,"What do they do if you break the law?"

"They chop off your head with one of those swords. Swish-Thump." said Moody, thumping the floor with his wooden foot for emphasis. Then he looked at Hermione, his sharp old eyes narrowing.

"Why all the questions, girlie?" he asked, suspicious.

"Um... well, ah... I did some research on the man Dumbledore hired as DADA professor... then I met this old hedge wizard, said his name was Binder. He knows him. Said he was leaving the country before he got here. And he's apparently a Warden now... He hired Harry Dresden"

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's No Good, Very Bad Day.

Albus Dumbledore, a man with too many names and too many secrets sunk into the opulent chair behind his desk and rested his head tiredly against the headrest. He had had one of the worst days he could remember. And he could remember quite a few.

His morning had began early, with the usual depressing amount of mail. He had been making good headway when a loud bang from below his office had startled him into tipping his tea all over the freshly inked correspondence, his new silver robes and his lap. He'd just refilled his cup and the tea had been scalding hot. In his hurry to get up, his beard had tangled with his quill, and somehow the inkwell joined the mess. Frustrated, and not a little discomfited by the scalding tea in his lap, Albus held his robes away from his skin with one hand and vanished the mess with the other. He looked grumpily at the sodden and ruined letters, they were beyond saving even with magic. He would have to start over. Sighing he went to change his robes and saw brilliant red marks that stung all down the front of his thighs and in other places that didn't bear mentioning. He would have to go see Poppy or Severus for a burn salve, he realized.

Re-dressed and decidedly uncomfortable, Albus went in search of Poppy. It would be too humiliating to go to Severus, and it was close to breakfast time anyway, maybe there would be waffles! A quick but humiliating visit with Poppy and Albus's legs and assorted bits were no longer sore and red. The same could not have been said for his cheeks or the tips of his ears. It had been a thoroughly embarrassing experience.

He arrived in the Great Hall to see much of the staff at the high table breaking their fast. Settling into his throne-like chair he perused the table. No waffles, or bacon, not even raspberry jam. Plenty of fruits, yogurts and oatmeal plus other 'high fiber' options though. He snorted. The elves took taking care of their Wizards seriously. With the students absent from the castle the sweet, high energy foods needed to power a growing young witch or wizard were swapped out for a diet more beneficial for adults, grown into their magic. Using magic burnt a lot of energy. The high carb factor also helped keep the students warm in the bitter climate until they mastered warming charms. Fortunately with magic, tooth decay was rare, for which Albus was eternally grateful. He did so love his sweets.

After a bland but healthy breakfast, Albus had artfully dodged Sybil Trelawney and was making his way back to his office and the mountain of paperwork awaiting him when he heard an almighty CLANG and a terrorized feline yowl unlike anything he had ever heard before. Then he heard Peeves, who had apparently come out of his hiding place and started making mischief with a vengeance.

"Ding Dong Dell, Pussy in the Well!" He was cackling."HA HA Poor Pussy.. You're all wet! did Peevsie scare you!"

Albus closed his eyes and counted to three. Then he headed for the sound of the noise. If Peeves had pranked McGonagall... well, Hogwarts might soon be poltergeist-free. The Bloody Baron and Filch would be terribly bored.

Entering his Deputy's office, he froze in his tracks. His deputy crouched, in her feline form, as far back in the corner of the room as she could get. Her fur would have stuck up everywhere if she wasn't soaking wet, and yet she still looked three times bigger then normal. Her back was arched, her tail a whip of striped fury, and her eyes were wild and rolling, as hisses and growls emitted from her throat. Lying on the floor was a overturned cauldron, a spreading puddle of water and a large iron ladle. Peeves rolled about the ceiling howling with laughter.

Until he saw Dumbledore. Who was definitely not laughing. A severe trauma or fright to a witch or wizard whilst in their animagus form was not for the good. The poltergeist bolted from the office, a small storm of 'fire' flies on his tail as he shot towards the staircases.

The damage however, had been done. Minerva was stuck. She'd apparently been enjoying a 'cat' nap in the warm morning sun when Peeves had dumped the cauldron full of water over her before banging it hard with the ladle. The shock and trauma had trapped her in her feline form and her magic would not let her revert.

It took several hours for her to calm down and stop hissing at and scratching anyone who got close. Albus, Severus, Poppy and Filius had all been badly scratched by the traumatized feline. Eventually a bleeding Severus sent a house-elf for Hagrid, whose tough skin paid no mind to the cat's claws. He scolded the Wizards in the room for 'scaring' her and soon had the professor safely curled up with one of her own tartan scarves, and settled in a bright red and gold cat basket a particularly bold Gryffindor had gifted her. Her amber-green eyes looked wild as she peeked out. She had obviously been trying to transform back, and her behavior had become more anxious and stressed as she realized she could not. With Hagrid's huge but gentle hands rubbing her ears, the schools Deputy Headmistress had begun to purr as she drifted into exhausted sleep.

For their part the other teachers were shocked. Minerva was a Transfiguration Mistress, a protegee of Albus himself. She had helped reverse more botched attempts at human transformation and transfiguration then any of them put together, it had become her specialty. St. Mungo's would call her for help at times and she gave summer seminars every year to Healers everywhere. And now she was trapped in her own feline body, unable to revert out of it. Dumbledore studied the now sleeping cat calmly, but inside he was reeling. His Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration Professor and the Head of one of his Houses, was stuck as a cat. A very stressed, vicious and upset cat.

Who had scratched and bitten him! Repeatedly!

Back in his office he found three Howlers duking it out over his desk, attempting to shred a fourth between them. More mail had piled up on his desk, on top was another letter from the Ministry. He sighed and sent a House Elf for some sandwiches and soup, he would not be making it to the Great Hall for lunch it would seem.

A quick flick of his wand and the four Howlers were consigned to the fireplace. He was, quite simply, not in the mood. He settled at his desk, opened the Ministry scroll and felt his heart sink. Using a newly-created law, the Ministry was sending him Dolores Umbridge- whether he wanted her or not -as she was to be the Ministry's new, official Representative within Hogwarts. He hadn't managed to protect his students from the toad after all. She would not be teaching however, so should have little to do with the students. He read further. Damnation. The Ministry was giving her the same power as the other teachers, she would be able to deduct points and issue detentions. He would need to have Min-... dammit, Remus -warn young Harry about her. Not that the lad would need much of a warning, having seen her in action at his trial.

The House Elf popped back in, interrupting his musings. "Skippio is sorries headmasters Whiskers but bad Peeves is in the kitchens, Sirs, he's making messes and He is scarsesies the little elvsies, Sirs."

Dumbledore sighed and glanced at a portrait to the left. Its occupant nodded and disappeared, "It's quite alright, Skippy" he reassured the little elf. "The Bloody Baron will be along shortly." Really he would have to get the Baron to do something about Peeves. He was being a right pain. He always was, when there were no 'ickle firsties' to torment. This year it would not be good for the Poltergeist to get too rambunctious. Unless he could be pointed in the right direction that was. Albus chuckled, he was sure Umbridge would come under fire from Peeves 'attentions' very quickly. He pushed aside the scroll, and begun his paperwork. Again.

Lunch was very late and he found snails in his woke from her nap, found herself still a cat and took to growling at him from beneath his desk, swiping at his ankles if he moved his foot to close to her. Peeves dropped and damaged another three suits of armour and five statues The elves made tripe for dinner. Something they only did when they were particularly upset. Dessert wasn't any better. "Not rice pudding again" griped Mary-Jane Milne, Charity Burbage's young apprentice.

Unusually Severus was almost joyful as he ate without noticing his meal and waxed poetic about his sojourns to the Chamber of Secrets, a place Albus had not had any time to go and explore himself. Albus retired to his still mail-filled office to sulk... err, do paperwork.

He thoughtlessly selected a lemon drop, unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. He sucked happily for a second before his eyes widened and he spat the offending sweet out. Grabbing the bowl he examined the remaining sweets carefully. Instead of a tiny stylized lemon, the image was of something far more terrible! It was as he had feared! Some evil, vile, hateful, vicious, despicable villain had replaced his lemon drops with banana flavored ones! Albus hated banana.

Fawkes chose that moment to flame into the room, and swoop over his wizard's head, just for Phoenix shits and giggles. Unfortunately, this startled Albus who jumped out of his seat, standing up too fast and spinning on his heel. Which was, of course, right on top of the spat-out sweet. It was small and round, and the heel of Albus's shoe was rather skinny and pointy (like his nose). The inevitable happened and the Portraits, hidden Professor Cat and Phoenix witnessed some rather impressive interpretive ballet. Albus wound up on his ass, elbow and knees in a tangle. Fawkes thrilled at him and Albus could have sworn the damned bird was laughing. Merlin knew the Portraits were. They tittered, cackled, guffawed, hooted and howled. Some even had tears running down their painted faces. Dilys Derwent giggled, Phyllida Spore actually snorted. That fool Dippet had fallen from his painted chair he was laughing so hard. Even Phineas Black seemed amused. From his much lowered elevation he could see that Minerva had at some point, vented her feline displeasure on the legs of his desk and chair. As she was still stuck as a cat he knew he would need new furniture soon, having learned from past experience magic would not remove those marks. Then he met a pair of feline eyes and knew, without a doubt, EVERYONE was going to hear about this.

It was also whilst in this undignified position that the Headmaster of Britain's only magical school found himself completely exposed when his flu suddenly flared to life and he was literally bombarded by the voices of the Order he had left at Grimmauld Place.

He couldn't make out much

"You hired..."

"You're insane!"

"We're Doomed"

"The White Council, Albus!"

"Harry Fucking Dresden..."

"WARDENS!"

"He'll burn down the school!"

"We're Doomed!"

"Are you mad?!"

"He kills werewolves!"

"We're Doomed!"

"The man's a lunatic!"

"They made him a Warden, Albus!"

Yes, indeed. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was having a No Good Very Bad Day.