Title-Returning Heroes

Author-Jypzrose

Spoilers-all four books

Pairings-R/Hr, H/G

Rating-R for mature themes. May go higher later



Summary-Set seven years after graduation. Seven years ago, Harry Potter disappeared out of his best friend's lives with no explanation. Now, he has returned, asking for help. The three return to Hogwarts, to help sort out a threat against the school, going undercover as teachers. What and who will they find there? Can they get past the pain of betrayal to trust each other again? Will love find its way back to them?



A/n-This is my first ever HP fan fic. I normally write in the Buffy fandom, more specifically the Buffy/Spike pairing. So, please be kind and let me know how I'm doing, in that constructive sort of way of course. Also, this is not beta'd. I have a beta for S/B but not HP, so cut me a little slack. I catch what I can. And spell check only goes so far. :)



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*Prologue*

The boy who lived, the man who survived



Rain swept down from the heavens, not in a torrent sheet of misery, but in a gentle weeping of warm summer tears. The occasional rush of a car could be heard but at this late hour, most people were at home, cozy in their beds. The moon shone bright from between the clouds, adding its light to the street lamps. Because of the late hour, no one took notice of the man leaning casually against one of those lamps.

His relaxed stance gave away none of the tension coiling through him, as green eyes that had seen more horror than a man his age should, surveyed the rain clouded building in front of him. NO longer hidden by round, wire glasses, the eyes were sharp and clear. His build, once too short and thin for his age, had gave way to a leanness honed from years of training. Muscles of steel bunched and pulled beneath his skin as he shifted his position. Thick, black hair-which had forever run wild in his youth-was tamed now into a tight tail at the nape of his neck. His forehead was free from the fringes of hair that used to hide the one thing that identified him better than any thing. There, standing out in the light from the lamp, was a lightening shaped scar that told all who knew the tale who he was.

The man shifted again, heedless of the water soaking into his plain black t-shirt and jeans. He was as comfortable in this attire as he was in the flowing robes he normally wore. He had grown up a Muggle, and had been trained as a wizard. He learned a long time ago to reconcile the two.

Now, to most people, standing in the rain and staring at a darkened building was unusual at best. But, the man wasn't looking at the darkened windows. He was carefully watching the one near the top, with the light shining through the shade drawn against it and the shadow that occasionally crossed in front of it. A glance at his watch confirmed what his internal clock was telling him. Two a.m.

Well, Ron always liked to keep his own schedule, he thought, a hint of a smile tugging his lips. Now's as good a time as any, I suppose, he told himself, pushing away from the post and jogging lightly across the street. Dread warred with excitement the closer he got to the building. How long had it been? Six, seven years? It was a wonder to him that graduation seemed like lightyears away, instead of less than a decade.

He found himself remembering that day, in an effort to keep his insides from freezing. He reached the glass and steel door and walked through with images of the sedate commencement ceremony, then the not so sedate party at the Burrow afterwards. It hadn't wound down until well after midnight, and even then, he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had stayed up. They'd lay in the garden behind the house, talking and laughing about their adventures and planning out their lives. Even Ginny, who still had a year left in Hogwarts, seemed to have a handle on what she wanted to do. The final defeat of Voldemort had left them all giddy and bright eyed for the future.

The others had gone in when the sun had crested the horizon, emblazoning the sky with a brilliant pallet of pinks and oranges, before fading into a vivid blue. He had stayed, however, basking in the warmth of the sun. It was then that his life had changed. He hadn't seen or contacted the other's since.

Now, here he was, trotting casually up the stairs to his best friends flat, wondering if he had the right to call Ron that after so long. He certainly hadn't acted like a best friend. Guilt stabbed through him that the only reason he was even making this late night visit was because he needed help. That was sure to make this meeting even more happy. Knowing Ron, he could expect a strong clip to the jaw for his troubles. Another smile tugged at his lips with that thought. It would be no less than what he deserved he supposed. Hopefully, after initial anger and violence, Ron would calm down and listen to what he had to say, before throwing him out.

In less than a minute, he found himself staring at the door. He found it odd, that he could run into battle against the forces of darkness with barely a twinge of apprehension. But facing his best friend after years of absence had terror slicing through him.

He lost track of how long he stood there, just staring at the nondescript piece of wood. It did dawn on him, that to anybody that might come along, he would look extremely suspicious, or just plain crazy, standing alone in the middle of the night staring at a door. So, with this in mind, he raised his fist and knocked.

At first, he didn't hear anything, and wondered if Ron had put a silencing spell on his flat. Then, a gruff sounding curse filtered out to him, followed by footsteps. He barely had time to take a deep breath to calm himself when the door swung open. He suddenly found himself staring up-Ron, having always been tall, seemed to shoot up an extra inch or two since he last saw him-into the unshaven and angry face of his friend. Suspicion gave way to disbelief which in turn melted into anger in eyes that were so blue they resembled ice. The last time he had seen Ron, the red head had just started to ease into his height and build. Now, his bare chest was thick with muscle and his arms tense with it. A pair of ancient sweats hung low on his waist, letting him see more of Ron than he had ever really wanted to.

With heart pounding in his chest and his mouth as dry as any desert, he raised his eyes. Blue clashed with green and it was like and explosion.

"Well," Ron started, in a voice that belied the violence singing under his skin. "If it isn't Harry Potter. Forgive me if I don't give much of a shit." He snarled, moving to close the door. It stopped when Harry's hand spread flat against it. "In case you didn't get the hint, I don't have anything to say to you." The wand he'd been hiding behind the door was quickly brought into view, warning Harry that he wasn't afraid to use it.

"Listen, Ron. I know you don't owe me anything, but we need to talk." Ron snorted at that, but didn't try to slam the door again.

"Fine." He said after a minute. Harry looked at him expectantly for a minute, until he realized that the other man wasn't going to let him in.

"Ron." He said with a sigh. "You have Muggles in this building. It wouldn't do to go discussing stuff that they won't understand in the hallway."

"It's the middle of the night, Harry. Nobodies awake." Was the answer, but Ron did move inside, leaving the door open for Harry, who walked inside and shut it. The red head stalked across the living room, which was simply furnished with a couch, chair in blue and coffee table, to the bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the flat. He snatched a bottle off the surface and took a deep swallow. Since his hand was wrapped around the neck in a vice grip, Harry got a look at the label. Seemed that Ron liked to sleep with Jack Daniels now.

"Ron. Can we sit?" He asked, not flinching from the heat in the other man's eyes.

"Go right ahead, Harry. I don't know where my manners have headed off to. You'll forgive me of course if I stand?" Sarcasm laced the words thickly. Harry bit back a sigh, reminded himself that he knew this wouldn't be easy and moved to sit on the couch. Once he was settled, he looked over at the man he still considered his friend.

"I need help." No reason to dodge what he was there for with small talk neither felt like engaging in. The bottle Ron was holding paused in mid air while his eyes stared incredulously at the smaller man. Then, it landed with a crack back on the counter while Ron practically fumed with anger.

"You left, seven years ago, without so much as a piss off to any of us, then waltz back in here expecting me to help you?" He asked, his body rigid with tension, his voice shaking with it. "Sorry, Harry. The days of me following you blindly are long passed." He then turned towards the door and walked to it, as if telling Harry his presence was no longer tolerated.

"It's about Dumbledore." That had Ron pausing in his tracks. Harry watched him as he seemed to struggle with the want to help his old headmaster and his desire to have Harry gone. Finally, it seemed Dumbledore won, because he turned back and walked over to the chair opposite Harry and flopped into it.

"What?" He asked wearily, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the chair. Seizing the opening, Harry started to speak.

"A few weeks back, I got an owl from Dumbledore asking me to meet with him. When I got there. . .,"

"Wait, Dumbledore knew how to get in contact with you?" Accusation burned bright in the blue orbs studying him.

"Come on, Ron. It's Dumbledore." Harry felt that was all the explanation needed. Ron must have too, because he didn't interrupt again. "When I got there, I was ushered straight to his office. He looks old." Two russet brows drew together at that. Ron almost commented that the headmaster WAS old, so looking old shouldn't have been all that surprising. But then, he remembered the twinkle that was always in the man's eyes, making him seem younger than his years, and chose to remain silent. "When I asked him why he wanted to see me, he told me that there had been some trouble at the school. At first, he just thought it was vandalism from some of the more rambunctious students. Writing on the walls, some minor damage, that sort of thing. But, then, it started to escalate. Students started to get injured in odd accidents. Professor McGonogall got caught in cave in in her class room. She's alright." Harry said quickly in response to Ron's look of concern. "She was a bit unnerved, but not hurt. She managed to get her wand up and deflect most of the falling rock. The point is, they could find no cause for it. Bludger's are running wild at Quidditch matches. Almost like when Dobby sent that bludger after me, when he was trying to get me to leave school."

"So, what does he think is causing it?"

"He doesn't know. They can't find evidence of any curses, they've tried extra protection charms around the whole place, and things are still happening. The day I arrived, the glass in the green houses exploded. Luckily, no one was inside, but the plants were destroyed." Ron leaned forward as he listened, resting his forearms across his knees and staring intently at Harry while he spoke.

"Term just ended, didn't it?" He asked, trying to remember the date.

"Yeah."

"Has anything happened since then?"

"No." Harry stared pointedly at Ron then, his eyes telling him his suspicions. The red head realized how odd it was that he could still seem to read the eyes of the man that had walked out of his life.

"He thinks it's one of the students." It was a statement, not a question.

"He hasn't gone as far as to say so, but yes, I think he does. I would. But the fact that the person is leaving no clues behind makes him, or her, very knowledgeable in what they are doing. They are overriding spells and charms that were done by wizards that are supposed to be much more powerful than them. How is it possible? Not even Hermione could do that." Harry noticed, at the mention of her name, that Ron tensed.

"So, what do you want me to do?" The other man said after a minute. Tension still poured off of him, but he looked willing to help, even if it was just for Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore has asked me to come on next year as a teacher, to try to figure out who's doing it. I want, would like." He amended, after the ginger brow that shot up. "For you to do the same. I've already spoken to Hermione..."

"What?" The word came out softly, but it had the effect of a gunshot. Harry stuttered to a stop, cursing inwardly. He knew it was too much to hope to be able to slide that little bit past Ron.

"I've already talked to Hermione. She's willing to help."

"Oh, well, isn't that just cozy and nice. The great Harry Potter decides to grace us with his presence again, and Mione is just ready and willing to help. Isn't that just bloody wonderful." Ron sneered. Harry sighed, fought against the urged to beat his head on the wall.

"Ron, it's not like that. She wants to help Dumbledore, and keep Hogwarts from getting shut down. I was hoping you would feel the same." Ron scowled darkly, then turned his eyes away to stare at the wall. Harry could see the muscle ticking in his jaw, and wondered if he had wasted his time. Ron sure could hold a grudge if it suited him.

"You know Ginny's working there, I suppose." Of all the things that Ron could have said, that was the least expected. Harry blinked twice before it seemed to sink in. And when it did, a stab of pain lanced through him.

"Yeah, I know." He answered, dropping his eyes to his hands, which were tightly clenched in front of him.

"If you go near her again, I'll kill you." Their eyes met at this, and Harry had no reason to doubt him. Not trusting his voice, he just gave a jerky nod. "So, when do we head back to school?" A smile that didn't quite reach Ron's eyes spread across his lips. Harry returned it, knowing it didn't reach his either.

"Two weeks before term. Gives you time to get what you need in order."

"Fair enough." Judging that the conversation was over, and he was going to be able to walk out with all his parts in place, Harry stood to leave. He got as far as the door before he looked back at Ron.

"Thank you."

"Not doing it for you."

"Fair enough." Harry said with a nod, then turned back to the door.

"Harry." He paused with it partially open, looking back at Ron. "You ever going to tell me what happened?" Harry seemed to think on this for a second. He would have said yes if he'd just spent the last half hour talking to the Ron of old. He didn't know this man staring at him so intently.

"I don't know." Ron snorted bitterly and sat glaring at the door long after it had shut.



~*TBC*~