Disclaimer: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Hopefully, I can beat the clock before JK Rowling and BK. V hit the streets.

Chapter XI: The Great Game

Harry awoke to the feeling that his head was coming apart at the seams. Opening his eyes, he saw that it was morning, that he had had a dream of Voldermort, and that he supposed his time with Alice was up. Assuming that his uncle was handling the finances, Harry softly got of bed, not wishing to disturb Alice, who was still fast asleep. He headed into the shower, where he washed up, hoping that the hot water would relieve him of his hangover.

Now, while he hadn't drunk enough to get him hung over, the Eros Potion which both acted as a contraceptive and protection against VD had the slight side-effect of giving you a hang-over eight hours after it had been consumed; the eight hours being how long it protected you. As Alex put it, "If when you wake up and your dick is still there, and your head hurts, you know it has worked." Considering the photographs he had been shown back at Dwrryn Camp of the effects of the clap and pox, Harry decided he would gladly take a sore head over an ulcerated cock any day of the week.

Drying off, Harry went back to the room and got dressed, picking his scattered clothes from the floor. It took him a moment to find his Fairbain; the last he remembered, it had gotten in Alice's way as she was pulling off his coat, and it was only because the straps holding it to his arm had Velcro clasps that nothing was broken. After he was dressed in shirt and vest, he slung his coat around his shoulders, picked up his hat, and went over to Alice and kissed her gently on the ear. She was still sleeping, a smile on her lips.

Harry backed out of the room, and turned to see his uncle sipping a glass of iced tea at the table near the kitchen. He was in his shirtsleeves, his vest and coat lying down on the couch, with a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him. Alex looked over at Harry, and smiled, "I trust you had a good night?" Harry reddened slightly as Alex motioned for him to relax and have a seat, even though he continued vexing Harry. "Truly, Harry, you can admit that you did. I mean it's not as though Meg and I weren't deaf to Alice's rather loud squeals and yells." Neville, and Dudley were still in the their rooms; Harry assumed their women had exhausted them to sleep. By now Harry was reddening, and it was then Alex dropped a bombshell.

"Admittedly though, I will give you top marks as that is one wicked hickie you have on your neck." Harry looked puzzled, and Alex handed him a small pocket mirror. Sure enough, he had a dark red mark the size of an egg on the right side of his neck. Alex laughed as he saw Harry's shocked expression.

"Nothing to be worried about lad. After all, with the kind of action you went through, you didn't expect to come out unscathed did you?"

Harry sighed, giving up and asked, "Uncle, can I have my wand back? I feel rather naked since I'm in a place of magic, and don't have it on me."

Alex pulled a small leather case out of his pocket, opened it, and tossed Harry's wand to him. Harry was pleased to have the feel of his wand back, and then decided to speak something on his mind. "Uncle, would you mind if I ask a question?" Alex replied, "By all means, ask away."

Harry looked at him. "Why did you go through the trouble of arranging all of this? I mean, you could have just told me the usual bits of the birds and the bees, but you also took the trouble of spending…"

"Precisely three hundred galleons for the lot of you. Now, you want to know why I took the trouble of ensuring you got a good time?"

Alex sighed and stared him in the eyes, "Put simply, the wizard world is going to war, if it already isn't so. People will die, and quite frankly, the odds of dieing are quite good. I felt you would appreciate it if that should your time come sooner then expected, then when you went before God to be judged, you will at least have experienced the one truly god-like act men and women can do: engage in making life." He continued to eyeball Harry, as if daring him to cross him. Harry decided to change the subject, as quite frankly, he truly had enjoyed himself, and given another opportunity, wouldn't hesitate to dally again.

"Uncle, is there a place I can grab a bit to eat? I'm rather starved."

Alex's face changed as he laughed, "Indeed, the immediate post-coital period tends to make one have a ravenous appetite. My recommendation is steak and eggs, but I digress. Go downstairs and talk to Jeeves, the barkeep. He'll fix you up." Harry nodded, and proceeded out the door as Alex leaned back and continued to read his Daily Prophet.

Going down the stairs, he wondered if he should tell Alex or Sirius about his dream. Right now, his nightmares had been reduced to a tolerable level, he had just gotten laid (a lot), and had done a lot of things that had someone told him he would be doing a month ago, he would have called them a fucking lunatic. The very last thing he wanted was to mess it up.

Harry had resolved to only tell Sirius, Remus, and Alex, and that was when they got back to Alex's house. After all it had only been a short, utterly uninformative dream.

Yet his thoughts were cut short as he heard voices coming from around the corner of the staircase on the first floor. Harry decided to put his fedora on, as the last thing he wanted someone sober to notice just who he was and report it to Rita Skeeter. Harry could just see the headlines, Harry Potter: Sexual Degenerate? He paused, and took a quick look around the corner, where he was shocked to see a tall, silvery-haired gentleman in an argument with Meg.

"I told you last time, I want Alice and two others for the party myself and my friends shall be having." He was poking Meg in the chest with a long, ebony cane.

Meg was unfazed as she replied, "No is no, as the last time you took them out, you seriously injured one of my girls. So the answer is no, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius Malfoy; Draco Malfoy's father. Harry felt it was a tossup between which he hated more: the son, or the father. Since Meg and her girls had been good to him, and after seeing the anguish in Alice, Harry wasn't going to stand for this son of a whore (bitch, Harry corrected himself after remembering where he was) do his usual bullying tactics.

Stepping around the corner, he surprised both Meg and Malfoy. "Morning, Ms. Meg. And a good morning to you, Mr. Lucius Malfoy."

Malfoy was surprised, but nonetheless maintained his arrogant bearing. "This is none of your business, so stay out of it." He obviously didn't recognize Harry.

"No, Mr. Malfoy, I'm a man who doesn't like bullies, especially ones who are so impotent they have to abuse women to get it up." He was deliberately insulting Lucius, even though a part of his mind was telling him his life wouldn't be made easier by a killing a man in a Soho brothel.

Malfoy's nostrils flared as he turned away from Meg and pointed his cane towards Harry. "I don't know who you are, but…"

"But you do know me. You, Mr. McNair, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle." Harry smiled coldly, "Mr. Riddle." With that he raised his left arm and let the unbuttoned sleeve fall down. The arm that Wormtail had cut so that he could take his blood. Malfoy stared open-mouthed, and Harry continued, "Perhaps this will refresh your memory even more." He took off his fedora and tossed it on the bar counter, exposing his lightning bolt scar. Lucius stepped away from, and looked as though he were going to run away before a cruel smile came to his face. "So the redoubtable Mr. Potter enjoys whoring does he? I'm sure the Daily Prophet would be quite appreciative of this piece of information."

Harry stared at him, still smiling, "Really? I'm likewise sure they would appreciate once it came out a man like yourself also visited such establishments like this." Malfoy looked as though he were going to say something, but Harry cut him off, "Think of it… A young boy, albeit famous, nevertheless is in his teens, young, inquisitive, and quite…virile. Whilst you are a married man, with an air of respectability, and we all know that the Prophet thrives on muck. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, which of us do you think will dredge up more muck? My fucking, or your fucking around?"

Malfoy stopped, and looked at him for a moment. Without another, he turned and left the bar, and slammed the door of the brothel on his way.

Harry heard clapping in the background and turned to see his uncle standing there. Alex was smiling, "Smart, lad, smart. Now you're real work begins."

                                    *          *          *

The next phase of Harry's training began in earnest that day. Returning to Alex's house in Privet Drive, Alex Mrs. Figg, and the real Moody began to train Harry and Neville ruthlessly on all topics of magic. Transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts, Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, Astronomy; everything they had learned over the past four years was reviewed and re-taught at a lightning pace. Alex explained, "This will serve two very important reasons: I) Your O.W.L. tests are approaching and you need every bit of help you can get and II) this will be an excellent review for some of the magic I will be teaching you."

Harry had to admit by the end of the second week back (the sixth in an eight week long summer break) that his uncle was an excellent teacher, particularly in Potions and the DADA topics as he patiently instructed them in the arts of making potions. Alex's style was quite similar to Remus Lupin's though it was for more condensed and varied, but nonetheless even Neville was enjoying it and making much progress. Both of them were also taught several new hexes and curses, all of them on the MOM's Restricted List. These included the Firegga Curse, which resulted in a ball of molten fire being shot out of the wand. Pyreggina, which caused anything that it hit (excluding people) to explode, and led to anything that moved being a possible explosive. Finally, there was Avanchina, which caused the immediate start of gas gangrene inside the body, ensuring that within five seconds, any target would be a smelly, putrefying mess.

Besides these magic skills, Alex ensured all three of the boys (Dudley usually spent the mornings either running and doing calisthenetics with them, and then doing lessons in Mathematics, English Literature, and History that Alex had made) learned new skills of the non-magic world. He taught them the intelligence agent's art of field-craft, how to spot a tail, how to break said tail, dead letter drops, the whole deal, even going so far as to teach them how to drive and instruction in the foreign languages of Russian and Spanish. Alex had them practicing the routine using, at first, the City of London (the financial district), followed by the whole Metropolitan area. In Harry's case, extra instruction was given to the use of the Browning Hi-Power, ensuring that Harry (who was already a good shot) became an even better shot and was able to use it well under any and all circumstances. Harry enjoyed the shooting, the time spent in the Kill House learning how to draw his weapon from a holster his left side (while he was ambidextrous, his wand hand was his right, so he preferred use his pistol on his right as well), and smells of gun lubricant, WD-40, and cordite as they cleaned up afterwards.

At night, Harry, Dudley, and Neville usually went back to Meg's, where they each continued their education in regards to women as Meg had given them a high discount after Harry had threaten Lucius Malfoy. Harry, in particular, was especially fond of the ladies, though there was one rather embarrassing, yet funny, incident…

                        *          *          *

"Shit, Nev you have any idea where he went?" Dudley asked exasperated.

Neville replied, "Megs, of course."

Dudley nodded, and after getting the keys to the Scania, they drove to Soho and went inside. Surprisingly enough, the place seemed deserted, though there were a number of courtesans and wizards heading up the stairs or in the booths. Since Meg looked busy talking with Jeeves the barkeep, they couldn't ask her if Harry had shown up. Miffed, Neville and Dudley went upstairs to the third floor, where the suite they usually used was located. Neville and Dudley went up there and hear a lot of voices. Wondering just what was going on, they opened the door and both of them broke out laughing.

Harry was entangled in the midst of three women and appeared quite…busy. He seemed oblivious to what was happening, and then paused long enough to yell at them, "Give me another five minutes, I should be done by then," and returned his attention back to the women.

Both of them closed the door, and let their friend have his five minutes of piece.

                        *          *          *                                             

Eventually, Harry asked his uncle why he was them fieldcraft, and the other skills of the spy's trade (such as breaking and entering, lock-picking, stalking, and others) after a particularly brutal shooting session in the kill house. Alex looked at him and told him, "The last time the Dark Lord had to be fought, the battles weren't like it was in the Falklands or the Gulf. It was fought like it was in Northern Ireland and the Cold War: by spies and assassins, terrorists and special agents. The Great Game, as old man Kipling once called it. You see, the only difference between an Auror and a man from MI5 or the Counter-Intelligence branch of SIS (MI6) is that one carries a Browning and the other a wand."

Still not satisfied, Harry asked, "Is that what you were doing after you got out of the Army? MI5 or the SIS?" Alex nodded, "Yes, I worked for the Queen's Secret Intelligence Service, or MI6 to the James Bond fanatics out there. Plus a bit of smuggling on the side while I worked my cover with old Taipan Dunross's Noble House subsidiary Struan's Tobacco. The smuggling was Cuban cigars to Belize and from there to America." He grinned, "You won't believed how much those rich Yanks would spend on genuine Cuban cigars. Now, your problem when you draw your weapon is that your thumb is…" Harry and Alex continued to train, Harry realizing that his uncle, when all was said and done, truly a man of mystery.

                                    *          *          *

In the middle of the sixth week, Alex brought Harry and Neville out to the backyard of his house. Linda stood by ominously with a white bag with a big red cross on it. All and all, not a good sign at all, thought Harry. Alex ordered them to give their wands over to Linda and set down in front of them. "Now," Alex began, "tell me one of you the Primary Principle of Magic. What separates the wizards from the muggles?"

Neville raised his hand and explained, "The Primary Principle of Magic states that magic is a form of natural energy that exists in the universe. Based on current studies, it seems a combination of factors such as genetics lead to certain individuals, i.e. wizards, being able to better draw upon this energy for practical purposes then muggles. This is common in nature as well as various creatures draw upon magic during their lifespan." Neville seemed out of breath by the speech he had just recited.

Alex nodded, "Very good. Now, using that as our base, what is the use of wands for?" Harry held up a hand, and Alex pointed to him. "Harry."

"In order to fully harness the energy of magic, a conductor is needed in the form of a wand made of elements inherent in magical energy. Time and training ensure that the user of a wand can draw upon greater and greater amounts of the energy."

"Very good, Harry. However, using the Primary Principle, it tends to frown upon the use of wand-less magic. True?" The boys nodded. Alex grinned, "Not necessarily. People can, by themselves, use some magic without a wand. The wand merely makes it easier. A case in point is the wizards of Nepal and Tibet. The average age of a recently qualified wizard or witch is thirty-five years of age, of which thirty are spent studying the arts of magic.  Yet, they can do spells which you young pups require study and wands to accomplish."

Allowing that fact to sink for a moment, Alex continued, "Now, you have seen me do one spell earlier this summer without using a wand, and I'll teach you the basics of doing just that for, believe it or not, counter-curses are the easiest to perform. But first," he smiled, "back to the basics: accio."

Motioning to Harry to stand up, Alex instructed him to empty his thoughts and picture a white wall. "Now, when you have that wall, picture seeing the wand flying into your hand. Try to do it with your eyes open, but if you have to, close them." Harry left them open, and stared at his wand that was in lying next to Linda. Concentrating, he pictured a white wall, and then pictured, as though it were a home movie, the wand flying towards him. His mind picturing it, Harry felt himself murmur Accio and was surprised to see the wand rise slowly, and go towards him. Just as it was about to reach his hand, it dropped as Harry reached out to touch it.

Alex scolded him gently, "Let it come to you, for to do otherwise means breaking your concentration and thus your magical link to its movement." With that, they practiced wand-less magic for the next three hours, stopping only at dusk. Both Harry and Neville had succeeded in the wand test, and had been practicing counter-curses.

For the rest of the week, when Alex felt he was satisfied with their skills at counter-curses, they practiced up to three hours a day on wand-less magic.