Counterpoint

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Nearly 25 years after Voldemort's downfall in 1981, Harry Potter's made a life for himself as a warder in the employ of Gringott's. That is, of course, until the Dark Lord returns from the brink, determined to continue exactly where he'd left off in 1981. AU.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult themes.

Author: tlyxor1.

Chapter One

Harry Potter, at 24, was tired. He'd spent the last six years of his life on the go, training and studying, working and occasionally competing, and it had taken it's toll on his health, mental and physical both. He was proud of his achievements, certainly - there were few his age who could boast duel masteries, after all - but at the end of the day, he was worn down and world-weary, and He had not been able to pretend otherwise.

With that in mind, he'd requested and been approved a transfer from his Gringott's placement in Iraq, and returned home to Britain, to his comfortable flat in Cardiff, to weekly dinners with Sirius and Remus, to pub crawls with friends from Hogwarts, to too much takeout, and to a frankly embarrassing number of 'Doctor Who' reruns.

Despite the strenuous background checks upon his return to British soil, it hadn't been a difficult transfer. With the tumultuous state of affairs in Iraq, Gringott's had begun a withdrawal of it's staff from the area, and Harry's transfer had only been a matter of time. It was simply that rather than get relocated elsewhere, he had instead returned home. .

Most days, he was content. His job - examining, strengthening, occasionally changing wards on the vaults under London - was safe and dependable, guaranteed a nine to five work day, five days a week, and it was exactly what he needed.

Other days, he wished he was still in Iraq, constructing wards for the expedition teams, duking it out with the occasional hostile, sweltering under the desert sun, squabbling with the curse breakers over which of their jobs were better. He'd had the time of his life there, in the ancient remnants of Babylonia, and despite himself, he missed it.

He couldn't deny that the respite was good for him, however. He no longer had to watch his back for encroaching hostiles, no longer had to watch his front for IED's or land mines or dangerous creatures, no longer had to keep an ear out for gunfights and battlefields and bombs. Instead, he could enjoy a life far from the grim reality of an active war zone, and although some habits would never be broken, and some experiences could never be forgotten, he couldn't, and wouldn't, regret returning home.

"Are you joining us for drinks tonight?"

Leonie Steiger was a German ex-pat based out of Manchester, a buxom blonde with blue eyes and a pretty face. She was a licensed Healer and a Potions Master, but she had the bedside manner of a nesting dragon, which was probably why the goblins were so damn fond of her.

"Depends, where's everyone heading?"

"A place called The Three Broomsticks', Leonie answered.

"Ah, there's a place I haven't been to in a long time," Harry acknowledged, a reminiscent smile on his face. He had fond memories there, but he hadn't returned to Hogsmeade since he'd left Hogwarts. He'd not yet had reason to..

"Will you be joining us, then?"

Harry acquiesced with a nonchalant shrug. "Why not?"

"Fantastic," Leonie smiled, pleased, accepted the mug of coffee he offered her, and settled herself at the available dining table. They were in the break room shared by the human and goblin employees alike, and across from her, one of Leonie's goblin colleagues - a fellow healer - ate a plateful of unidentified meat with relish. "Will you be joining us, Healer Richstone?"

"No," Healer Richstone answered, "I will return to my home in the Stone City to spend time with my youngling, as I always do."

"Of course," Leonie acknowledged, "Just know that if you ever change your mind, you're always welcome."

Between themselves, they discussed the merits of wand vs crystal vs potion healing, and Harry listened absently, content to focus on the preparation and then the consumption of his coffee. It was a vice he'd grown dependent on in Iraq, and in India before that, when caffeine was the only thing that could get him awake and functioning enough to satisfy his teacher and mentor, an Ancient Runes and Charms Master, a longtime employee of Gringott's, and a cantankerous old bastard by the name of Clyde Owens, who had been very difficult to please indeed.

"What do you think, Harry? What's most effective?"

"I think I'll leave that to the experts to decide."

Leonie pouted. "Spoilsport."

"That's me," Harry agreed mildly, "Wet blanket."

With a glance at his watch, Harry drained the last of his coffee, washed out his mug, and returned to work. His most recent project was to dismantle the wards surrounding a vault door that had taken on a life of its own, and Harry had to wonder about the amateur idiot who'd thought to build upon Gringott's quality wards, of all things.

Deconstructing the protections layer by layer was intricate and time-consuming work, and before Harry knew it, his watch chimed the end of his work day. Simultaneously, the day-shift security goblins switched out with their nightshift counterparts, and Harry rode up with them to the surface.

Leonie waited for him in the lobby. "You're late."

"A wizard is never late, Leonie Steiger," Harry answered, "He arrives exactly when he means to."

Beside him, the two security goblins he'd spent most of his day with chortled in that low, guttural way of theirs, but they didn't linger to hear his friend's answer. Instead, they took off towards another part of the building, and Harry turned in the opposite direction, headed for the office he shared with 12 of his fellow warders. Leonie fell into step beside him, content to walk in an easy, companionable silence.

Harry packed up the things he'd need over the weekend, slipped his paperwork into his messenger bag, and threw the strap over his shoulder. His winter cloak was slung carelessly over his arm, his desk was quickly tidied, and before long, he and Leonie were headed out of the Gringott's staff exit.

"Have a good weekend, Bertuk."

Bertuk, who could always be counted on to take one of the Friday night guard shifts, grunted his reply.

Harry offered him a salute, and made his way towards the apparition point alongside Leonie. "Have you ever been to Hogsmeade?"

"I have not," Leonie admitted, "Though I have heard much about it."

"That doesn't surprise me. Every witch or wizard who attended Hogwarts has been there at least once. do you mind if I side-along apparated, or would you rather we flooed?"

"Apparition is fine." Leonie curled her fingers around his bicep, "Is there anything I should know?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, "It's about ten degrees colder there."

He apparated them away with a barely audible 'pop, and appeared on the solitary platform of Hogsmeade Station. Not far from them, the lights of the village lit up the darkened sky, and overhead, snow fell in flurries to the ground beneath their feet. The wind was cold and biting, but the village beckoned, and it was a call neither cared to ignore.

It seemed the Three Broomsticks was the place to be that evening, because Harry recognised a fair few faces among the patrons, and not all of them were his colleagues from Gringott's. Those whom he knew greeted Harry cheerfully, with hugs and handshakes, or slaps on the back, or the occasional kiss on the cheek, and it was a further ten minutes before Harry reached his coworkers.

Leonie beat him there, of course, and she was already in an animated discussion with Eddie Carmichael by the time he dropped into the available seat beside her.

Carmichael was an analyst in the Requisitions Department of Gringott's. He spent his days studying the artefacts recovered from dig-sites across the world, tasked with the responsibility of determining the age, historical significance, and monetary value of pieces that had previously been cursed - or at least hidden - by magic that had been forgotten long ago. It was something the former Ravenclaw was abundantly passionate about, and it had a tendency to dominate his discussions with everyone he interacted with.

Leonie thought it was charming. Harry thought it was insufferable..

"How have you been, Harry?" Bill Weasley greeted him. He had his wife, Fleur, tucked under his arm, and the pair waited expectantly for a reply.

"I've been good," Harry answered, "Busy. And you two? How are the kids?"

Bill and Fleur spoke proudly of their young children, Sebastian and Annabelle, and Harry listened with a fond grin. He had seen them scarcely over the years - an unfortunate byproduct of trans-continental field work - but Harry had known both toddlers since they were newborns, and it was sometimes difficult to believe that they were both already walking, and talking, and up to no good.

"Merlin, they grow up so fast."

Bill nodded emphatically. "Tell me about it. Before we know it, they'll be in Hogwarts, and I still haven't learned enough curses to ward off any blokes Belle will bring home."

Fleur rolled her eyes, long-suffering, and changed the subject before Bill started ranting about teenaged boys, and all the things wrong with them. "Has Ron told you anything about his work?"

Harry frowned, puzzled. "No. Should he have?"

Fleur shrugged, clueless. "He has just been… tense."

Bill nodded his agreement. "Says there's some things going on, but he hasn't talked about it with any of us. He's worried though, and we were just wondering if he'd shared with you."

"Afraid not," Harry denied, "I guess he'll talk when he's ready."

Ron had gone straight into the Auror Academy after school, funded by his brothers on the proviso he worked hard to maintain his place there. These days, he was a Junior Auror under the seniority of Kingsley Shacklebolt, and he was settled, self-assured in a way Harry had never seen from him in all their time at Hogwarts.

Harry didn't need to ask in order to understand why. Ron was the only auror in his family, and as such, he wasn't trapped in one of his brothers' shadows, or even in Harry's, and it was what he'd always wanted.

"I guess so," Bill reluctantly conceded, "I just hope it's nothing too awful."

Harry nodded, and silently prayed for the same.

Unfortunately, they would both be disappointed.