Author's Note:
This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" and other things written by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.
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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.
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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.
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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Weary Wizard" by Yunaine.
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Part 3: Dolores Umbridge vs The Daily Prophet
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Chapter 13 – Gadding with Ghouls
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Any wizard bright enough to survive for five minutes was also bright enough to realise that if there was any power in demonology, then it lay with the demons. Using it for your own purposes would be like trying to beat mice to death with a rattlesnake.
– Terry Pratchett
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Diagon Alley during the Christmas holidays was a thing of beauty. Soft snow coated the streets and rooftops. Cheery, coloured lights adorned every shop. Tinsel hung in every window. Pixies and faeries flitted about like dancing spots of rainbow light.
Harry walked past yet another poster promising enormous rewards for any information concerning the tragic disappearance of a substantial number of children of prominent pureblood families. Rewards he wasn't the slightest bit interested in. No, he had a far more important task in mind. Pulling his nondescript wizard cloak tighter against the chill, he made his way through Knockturn Alley back to a familiar-looking storefront. To Harry's delight, the middle-aged man inside was dressed in a tan jumpsuit very similar to the ones in the movie.
"What can I do for you, kid?" the man behind the counter asked, face half-concealed by a big, bushy moustache.
"Um ... can I see your Proton Packs?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Muggleborn?"
"Close enough," Harry agreed.
"Hate to be the one to tell you, but we don't have any. Named the shop after the 'Ghostbusters' movie, but we use magic here, not technology," the proprietor explained.
"Oh." Harry's shoulders dropped. "What do you do?"
"Same as in the movie, you got a ghost or poltergeist or something similar that you want to get rid of, we do it."
"How?"
"Have a seat, kid." The man waved him over to one of the mismatched chairs. "Fore I forget, name's Dirk Murray, call me Dirk."
"Peter Pettigrew, please call me Peter" he replied, belatedly giving a small bow. Trying too late to remember Andromeda's wizarding etiquette lessons.
"Never expected to see such a well-bred young lad in my shop."
"Why not?"
"Most wizards don't like to have anything to do with necromancy if they can help it," Dirk explained, "Bit like normal folks regard working in a mortuary: necessary, but a bit creepy. Most respectable folks prefer to send a go between if they need the shop's services."
"What's necromancy?" Harry asked.
"Magic of the dead. Encompasses everything a mortician or a coroner does in the normal world along with busting ghosts. With the occasional raising for flavour," he finished with a smile. At Harry's confused look, he elaborated. "Some wizards are a trifle strange; 's not uncommon for one to wish to attend their own funeral or something similar ... best to not think about that, kid."
"Oh. They don't teach anything like that at Hogwarts," Harry offered.
"Wouldn't expect 'em to. Like I said, most wizards regard it as creepy but necessary. Hogwarts is where the future politicians, business leaders, and bureaucrats come from. You want to learn necromancy or how to be a tailor or anything frightfully blue collar, you go to one of the trade schools."
"What else can you do?" Harry asked. "Can you speak with people that have died?"
"I can't, but I know how you can if you're good enough," Dirk replied. "On the higher levels, it does a lot of other things I don't know much about, think it's how the Ministry manages to make deals with the Dementors too."
"Could you teach me?" Harry asked eagerly. This was a perfect opportunity to understand more about horcruxes, and any other weird soul magic Voldemort may have delved into. Harry was painfully aware of how ignorant he was about a lot of important things: horcruxes, the Resurrection Stone, the Veil of Death, Dementors. Perhaps necromancy even held the key to getting back to his original time! And if he could find a way to get rid of the Dementors for good, that would just be icing on the cake.
"A bit," Dirk agreed cautiously, "Why?"
"Well, uh, we've got a poltergeist at the castle that's always giving us trouble, I thought it might be nice to be able to threaten him into good behaviour," Harry lied, not wanting to give his real reasons.
"Sure," the man agreed, "But be sure not to banish him. Pretty sure the Hogwarts spirits are protected as being vital parts of the school."
"Doesn't mean I can't scare him," Harry countered.
"True," Dirk agreed, "How old are you, kid?"
"16."
"Okay, first thing you're going to need is a provisional license for underage sorcery. It'll let you do magic under my supervision or at my direction."
"I am an emancipated minor, you know."
"Wonderful, so you can sign legal forms then. Don't make no difference to underage magic usage, lad – unless you've got one of those fancy exemptions from the Minister …"
"No," Harry admitted reluctantly.
"Well there you go then. Only other way to use mage out of school is that provisional licence."
"Where do I get that?" Harry asked.
"Ministry has a branch office at the end of the street. Tell them that you're interested in all types of magic or that you're interested in seeing how the other half lives or something," he advised. "Do NOT tell them that you want to become a necromancer or any other trade job! You're a Hogwarts student, scandal would be enormous. And before you say something about not caring, you're not the one the angry mobs would go after for corrupting the bright young leaders of tomorrow." He made a mental note to strengthen the wards around the shop, maybe get a portkey or an off-the-books-Floo.
Harry considered this for a moment. "I read that in order to be a leader, you must first learn how your followers live. It's fascinating that anyone could live in such disgusting conditions. Did you know that they do the work of house elves?" Harry's eyes widened in comical shock. "Imagine it."
"Works for me, kid," Dirk agreed, "Might think about talking to some of the others along the street too. It'll give you a chance to learn a bit more than you can here, and it'll also give you a chance to see how the rest of your 'future followers' live."
"I was just kidding about that," Harry said quickly, "It's not anything I really believe."
"Believe it or not, chances are it'll happen, young Peter. Like I said, you're a Hogwarts student. Study hard and make lots of connections, and it's almost a sure ticket to at least moderate greatness, right?"
"I'm not trying to be great," Harry mumbled, staring down at his shoe covered toes as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. Bad things tended to be attracted to the 'great'.
"Don't know how often it happens to people who are," Dirk replied.
"I'm gonna go get that license," Harry mumbled, eager to get away from the uncomfortable conversation.
Harry stepped out of the shop and walked down the cobblestone street to the office of the Ministry representative for a meeting, pulling up his hood to obscure his face. The meeting turned out to be much easier than anticipated. The man had almost fallen over himself to help 'the new Lord Black' and given Harry much more than he had asked for. It was his first real taste of how much his unwanted Lordships could help him if he let them. Days after the incident, he would still be unsure if it left a sweet or a sour taste in his mouth.
Harry returned to the shop in a daze and plopped back down on the worn wooden chair he'd left only a few minutes ago. "How'd the meeting go?" Dirk prompted.
"He told me that he couldn't let me become some sort of tradesman, no matter how noble my reasons," Harry replied.
"Can't teach you without it, sorry, kid," Dirk sighed.
"So he made me a Deputy Code Inspector. Said it would look good on my application to the Ministry to have already worked for them in a lower position," Harry continued. The man had done a few other things for him as well, but the last thing Harry wanted was for anyone to think that he was trying to abuse his positions.
"What!? Let me see that!" Dirk took the paper from the boy's hands and stared at it for a few moments before bursting into laughter. "Looks like ol' Diggler is brighter than I thought he was. This is good for you, good for me, and good for Diggler."
"What?"
"It lets you learn anything you want, it lets him sit in his office and mark time till his retirement, and it gets me an in with the Ministry." Seeing the confused look on Harry's face, he decided to explain. "Way Diggler worded this, you can do any magic you want on this street as an on-duty DCI, and when you're in private, which is good for you. Diggler is marking time 'til he gets to retire, doesn't want to do any more work than he has to and this lets him dump a lot of what he really hates onto your lap without getting in trouble with the Ministry. One of his major duties, one he hates, is inspecting the shops. In the old days it let him take bribes, but the higher-ups take such a large chunk these days that none of the little fish bother with it anymore. Ministry won't say a word because he's helping a Hogwarts student with his education. Good for him. Good for me because you're in charge of code enforcement, unless I was wrong about being on your good side."
"Teach me and you'll be on my great side!" Harry declared.
"A win for everyone so long as you were serious about being willing to work this holiday break," Dirk summarised.
"I am," Harry agreed. "What can you teach me first?"
"A fairly boring and obscure mental art called Occlumency, you need to know it to avoid getting possessed by angry spirits you were hired to exorcise... well, you wouldn't be hired and it wouldn't be needed if all you're going to do is scare the poltergeist at Hogwarts, but it's good to know anyway," Dirk offered. "I'm told it also lets you keep from getting your mind read, but I don't know much about that."
"Okay," Harry agreed, curious to see whether his new friend/employer would use a different technique to that of dear 'Professor' Snape, and whether it would be more effective.
Who are you kidding? demanded the Grim. Of course it'll be more effective! There are bits of lemon rind floating down the Thames that would make better Occlumency teachers than Snape.
"What should I do first?"
"Go to your room, get comfortable, and try to let your thoughts drift." Dirk took a deep breath. "Relax, close your eyes, and try to get yourself in a state between being asleep and being awake."
"Then what?"
"Stay there as long as you can until you fall asleep," Dirk replied, "We'll go to part two at the end of the week if you think you're good enough."
"Okay," Harry agreed.
"Do the same thing tomorrow morning," Dirk said, "don't even bother getting out of bed unless you're hungry or need to use the loo. Come here after you've had lunch and we'll work on something else 'til it's time for you to practice that again."
"Alright," Harry agreed, "See you tomorrow afternoon."
"See you tomorrow, Pete," Dirk agreed, wondering if he would. Wasn't like anyone with a Hogwarts' education was likely to stick with blue collar work for long. To Dirk's surprise and pleasure, the boy arrived the next day for instruction. He wasn't sure how long the boy would come before he lost interest, but he was willing to enjoy what time he had with an eager young protégé.
"Have you eaten yet, lad?"
"Yeah, had something before I came today."
"Good, because I didn't think to bring enough for two," Dirk replied. The man pulled a plastic-wrapped plate out of the icebox and waved the tip of his wand in a square pattern, causing cube of red light to spring up around his frozen meal. The cube hummed with force for a few minutes as the plate rotated before fading away with a loud 'ding' sound.
"What was that?"
"Charm that can heat or cook simple meals, bachelor's best friend," Dirk replied. "Wife usually wraps leftovers up for me to bring to work." He pulled off the plastic wrap to reveal a beef noodle dish.
"What does she do?"
"Works at a jeweller selling overpriced baubles to rich ladies," Dirk said. "Met her at school, but she didn't want to try to get a job in the magical world. Too afraid that she'd be expected to provide 'extras' to the boss, assuming she could get anything at all." Take an honourable man not to lean on a girl as pretty as his, something that was in short supply in Magical England. Both honourable men and pretty girls that is.
"Extras?" Harry's nose wrinkled as he tried to work out the undercurrent.
"Not something I'm going to discuss with a kid," Dirk said firmly, "Just figure that being a muggleborn is hard enough as a man."
"Oh ... I wonder if Hermione knows," Harry mused.
"Who's Hermione?"
"My best friend, a muggleborn," Harry temporised.
"She's got a better chance than most, if she's a Hogwarts student," Dirk assured the boy, "Most muggleborn from Hogwarts manage to find something, well, those that don't marry into one of the important magical families right out of school anyway." He took another bite. "Wife and I went to a trade school, not in the same league as Hogwarts at all." Dirk finished his meal and cleaned the plate with a flick of his wand.
"So what are we going to learn today?" Harry asked eagerly, changing subjects.
"Did you do the exercises I showed you?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "not sure when I fell asleep though."
"Good enough. You can do half an hour less today and half an hour less tomorrow morning." Dirk yawned. "Cutting back ten minutes a day after that to about five minutes in the evening before you go to sleep and five in the morning after you wake up."
"What do I do after that?"
"They can tell you more about it at the solicitor's office down the street. I learned enough to keep from having to share space in my head with something I was trying to remove from someone's house. They learn it because they need to keep secrets, even the secretaries. Ask for Mandy if you go in, she's one of my wife's friends." Another looker too, one who'd managed to find a decent man to work for.
"I'll talk to them when I'm ready to go to the next step," Harry promised.
"Good. Another week before I can start teaching you necromantic spells, but I can teach you some of the others I know right now if you want." No way in hell was he going to teach the boy anything 'til he was sure the kid had the basic protections down so it didn't matter if he suddenly decided to quit.
"Sure," Harry agreed, "Could you teach me that cooking spell you used earlier?"
"Happy to," Dirk agreed. "Anything else you'd like to know?"
"Do you know any good defence spells?"
"A couple," Dirk agreed, "Mostly know how to deal with restless spirits, zombies, vampires, and the like." Fine for the occasional mugger too, provided he had blood on his hands.
"Could you teach me those too?" Harry asked eagerly.
"I could and I'd be glad to." He scratched his chin. "Feel free to drop by tomorrow afternoon to learn what I know if you like, but it might be a better idea to use the gym down the street, least in the morning and evening when I do most of my work."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"It's a bit low brow, but Jim, guy that runs the gym, was a champion prize fighter in his day. You want to learn defence, he'd be your guy. Like I said, most of what I know is how to defend against the dead since that's most of what I do."
"I'll check it out tomorrow morning before I come here," Harry promised before they started work on the handful of common household spells that Dirk found useful in day-to-day life.
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The gym was a big, boxy affair with faded white paint, a wooden sign hung above the door featuring two silhouetted figures in duelling stances facing each other. The door creaked when he opened it and a wave of wet heat seemed to hit him like the fist of a giant made of air. His nostrils were assaulted by the smell of a hundred generations of stale sweat and his ears rang with the sound of the bell announcing the start or end of a round. Harry paused for a second to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. As they did, he noticed that all of the walls were covered in peeling paint and posters of fighters, save one which held an impressive display of trophies. A ring sat proudly in the centre of the room and the remaining space was filled with a bewildering array of mysterious equipment.
"What can I do for you, kid?" an old man demanded, emerging from the gloom. His face was covered in scars, his nose favoured the left, and the set of his jaw indicated the lack of at least a few teeth.
"Dirk down at Ghostbusters, told me I should come here to learn some defence spells," Harry volunteered.
"You want to learn spells, you've come to the wrong place," the grizzled old man coughed, "You want to learn to fight, you've come to the right one. Which is it?"
"How to fight," Harry amended.
"Good, problem with most wizards is that they come into a fight with too many spells," the old man began, "Can't decide what to use and that costs them. Best thing to do, in my opinion anyway, is to have maybe a dozen you can use really well." The man gave a coughing laugh. "Hell, better to know three spells really well than a hundred you can barely cast. 'An expert with a stone can defeat an amateur with a katana'."
"Makes sense," Harry agreed with as much confidence as he could muster, trying to sound like he had enough knowledge to have an informed opinion.
"Fee is 15 galleons a month for training," Jim continued. "You get an hour of my time a day and as much of your time as you care to spend on the machines."
"Could I have two hours of your time a day for 30 galleons a month?" Harry asked hopefully. The old man gave him a sharp look. "Can you afford –" He trailed off as Harry poured out a small pile of gold from his pouch onto a nearby table. "Call me Coach!" Jim ordered. "At least two hours a morning for 30 galleons a month. Be here early tomorrow." And more if the boy would take it, Merlin knew how deserted this place got during the Christmas season.
"Thank you, Coach." Harry grinned. " What do we do first?"
"You want to start now?" the man asked, amused.
"If we can," Harry agreed.
"Go into the locker room and pick a locker without a name on it, there'll be a set of clothes to train in. Change and meet me out here." Harry was out and changed in five minutes. His habit of sleeping in at school had taught him how to change quickly.
"First thing we're going to do is warm up," his new coach pronounced. "I'm going to show you how to stretch, first thing I want you to do when you get here from now on is to go through this routine and then start jumping rope." After a quick warm up, Coach cleared his throat and began to explain his views on how duels were won and lost. "Simplicity is the key, like I said before, it's better to know a couple spells really well than to have a thousand you can barely cast. You and I, we're going to practice five spells this Christmas break," Coach began, "My opinion is that's all you need in the ring, only used four myself in my last title fight." Which he'd won less than a minute after the bell had rung, but the boy didn't need to know that yet.
"What about outside of it?" Harry asked.
"Aye, there's the rub, isn't it?" the old man sighed. "Outside the ring, there aren't any rules and there isn't any ref to save you. Tactics change a bit too, can't really use much transfiguration inside the ring but it can be deadly outside of it. I'll teach you what I know, work on the basics with you, but you'll have to find someone else to help you translate it to the real world. Best I can do, sorry, kid."
"It's good enough," Harry replied.
"Like I said before, we'll start on five spells and on conditioning. Work 'til you know those five spells so well you can cast 'em in your sleep. That's one aspect of duelling. Couple others we'll work on are dodging and fighting without a wand. Duel isn't over till you're out or you forfeit, knowing how to throw a punch can be the difference between taking home a full purse and an empty one." Or who ended up in a box feeding the worms, he didn't add.
Harry left the gym a few hours later tired, sore, and feeling like a thousand galleons. It was an odd feeling, the boy reflected, a mixture of horrible and great, as if his body wasn't sure how to react so was doing both at once. Harry's good mood vanished when he stepped up to Ghostbusters and saw a Closed sign in the window. What was he supposed to do now?
"Are you Peter?" a female voice asked.
"Yeah," Harry agreed.
"I'm Mandy," a pleasingly plump blonde woman introduced herself with a wide pouty smile. "Dirk had to go on an emergency call and asked me to tell you." She glanced at her watch. "And now I have to run 'coz I'm late and my boss is going to kill me."
"I could talk with him if you want," Harry offered. The woman evaluated him for a moment.
"You can help, Mr Pettigrew," she said quickly. "Thank you for offering, you're a life saver!" The woman led him to an office building where a weedy looking man with a receding hairline was waiting at the door. The man had a pair of thick round glasses covering an annoyed set of eyes and his lips were pursed.
"Ten minutes late," he said flatly.
"I'm sorry, Mr McKinnon, I was helping our new client with something," Mandy squeaked. "This is Mr Peter Pettigrew."
"New client?" The man's eyes focused on Harry. "I see, good work Mandy."
"Thank you, sir."
"Hogwarts boy?" he asked shrewdly. Harry nodded, as he was led into a cramped office, stuffed to the gills with piles of paperwork. "Do you know my daughters Alice and Marlene?" the man asked eagerly, indicating a framed family picture that was half buried by the detritus on his desk. "Gryffindor sixth years."
"We're in the same House. We have a few classes together," Harry replied. "They seem nice."
"Marximus McKinnon, magical attorney," he introduced himself. "What can we do for you today, Mr Pettigrew?"
"Um, what do you do here?" Harry asked.
"Good question," Marximus said with a wide smile, "Most people don't know that there's as many law specialisations as there are branches of magic, more even. We mostly focus on tax law here, my wife's an accountant, went to Hengefaddon to study numbers."
"Dirk mentioned I should talk to you about advice on how to work on my mental conditioning and um..." It seemed rude to just demand instruction. There had to be something useful a bunch of lawyers could do to help him. "I have recently inherited certain Houses and was wondering if there was anything I should know about the state of their finances? Any major risks? Anything of concern that I should know about? That sort of thing."
"Mandy's the one to talk to about Occlumency, that's the fancy name for your 'mental conditioning', hate to admit it but she's better at it than I am. As for your other issue, we'd have to obtain your authorisation to gain access to audit your Gringotts records … hold the fellytone, did you say 'Houses'? Plural?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes," Harry nodded. "The Ancient and Noble House of Potter and the Ancient and Noble House of Black." A mental command and his Lordship rings flashed into existence on his fingers. Marximus looked on in shock. His jaw opened and closed several times, but no words proceeded. "So," Harry offered, to try and break the silence, "how much do I owe you for your services?"
"Your signature on a paper and 50 galleons to start with," he replied automatically, eyes still glazed and unseeing. "I'll let you know as soon as we have something substantive to report."
"Thank you."
"No, thank you, Lord Potter-Black, for choosing to place your trust in me and this firm. Mandy, take the rest of the afternoon to help this young Lord with his studies. Sally!" he bellowed, "I'm going to need your help drafting a couple of letters!"
"Yes, Mr McKinnon," a woman's voice responded. Harry spent the rest of the day at the Law office learning a few more tricks to strengthen the security around his mind and to be on hand in case his new barrister had any more questions or needed any more papers signed.
After getting back to the Leaky Cauldron that night, Harry had a large meal before retiring to his room to go through his new exercises, both physical and mental. Upon awaking the next morning, Harry gulped down a couple bites of toast and rushed to the gym to start his new morning workout routine. Half an hour of stretching was followed by fifteen minutes of jump-rope and two hours of casting. Lunch followed that, which in turn was followed by a visit to his favourite shop for another lesson on the wonders of necromancy.
"Afternoon, Dirk," Harry greeted. "How'd the job go yesterday?"
"Messy, it's never good when you've got to get involved in a domestic dispute," he said. "My wife tells me you spent the afternoon at her friend's law firm?"
"Yeah, they're looking into some thing for me and they gave me some more exercises to improve my mental shields."
"Good work." The man reached under the counter and pulled out a couple books. "Dug these up for you last night."
"Thanks," Harry said. "What are they?"
"Some of my old, school manuals," Dirk explained. "I never bothered with the advanced stuff, make enough busting ghosts not to have to, but it's all there. Read 'em when you get home tonight and let me know if you have any questions."
"I will," Harry agreed. "Does this mean you're going to start teaching me necromancy?"
"Yup. OK, now the first thing we gotta do is attune your magic to the necromantic aura most spirits have. This is the most difficult part of learning necromancy and will show how far you can advance in the art. Like most branches of magic, necromancy replies on inborn talent as much as skill."
"Any way to improve your 'talent' if it turns out to be a little on the low side?" Harry asked anxiously.
"Several ways, not all dangerous or dark either. Being close to death enhances the talent. So, working in a hospital with the sick and dying can help. You can have a healer bring you close to death to really attune yourself, but that's considered borderline grey – and borderline insane for that matter." The man stopped and considered what to say. "Truthfully, the only feasible way a kid such as yourself could get more attuned is if the spirits themselves invited you to special events and you attended, or – I don't know, if you somehow got ahold of one of the Deathly Hallows."
"Like a Death Day celebration?" Harry asked.
"Exactly," the man agreed. "Having the dead notice you and invite you personally is about as good as it gets. Having a ghost hit on you works too."
"Hit on you?"
"Yeah, see a relationship with a ghost enhances the connection. Most powerful necromancers have a... relationship with the dead that isn't discussed."
"How do you mean?" Harry asked confused.
"I mean it isn't discussed, period, end of story."
"But—"
"Let's check your aura before we bother worrying any more or go breaking taboos that generally make my workload go up, okay kid?" Harry watched as Dirk cast an unfamiliar spell and waited for the results. "That can't be right," Dirk mumbled. "Let's try it again."
"Well?" Harry asked, waiting nervously for the results.
"Hmmm?" Dirk's eyes focused on the boy's face. "Well, we'll start off with a couple control exercises, then a couple more when you've got the first ones down."
"Okay," Harry agreed. "What's my power level?"
"Not sure. I must be casting the spell wrong," Dirk admitted. "I'll call in a favour and have one of my old professors drop by to do it later."
The afternoon went quickly, none of the exercises were very difficult and Harry was fairly sure he had them down by the time his stomach informed him that it was time to eat dinner. "Just remember," Dirk called after Harry as he was leaving the shop. "No more than fifteen minutes at a time per exercise. You don't get any benefit from going longer and you risk causing a blockage." Which was more annoying than dangerous.
"I'll be careful," Harry assured the man. Another night at the Leaky Cauldron spent practicing everything he'd learned was followed by another morning at the gym and another afternoon at his favourite shop.
"Hi boss," Harry said cheerily. "What're we gonna do today?"
"Afraid we can't do much till the end of the week when your mental shields are strong enough," Dirk said regretfully.
"Why not?"
"Like I said before, learning this stuff opens you up so you need to be able to keep things out. Sorry, Pete, but I'm not gonna let you take any risks you don't have to."
"Can we learn anatomy then?" Harry asked hopefully.
"What do you want to learn anatomy for?" Dirk said with a frown, fairly sure the kid wasn't asking for access to his porn stash.
"Recommends it in your book," Harry replied.
"Nurse's office three doors down on the left, butcher seven doors down on the right," Dirk said after a moment of thought, "not sure where else to look."
"Great!" Harry cheered.
Dirk eyed the boy critically. "While you're there you should get her to do a full physical. There's all sorts of nutrient and growth potions and so forth that can increase your height, speed, stamina and so forth. You'll need all the strength you can get when you're fighting ghouls. Thing is you need a prescription from a licenced health care professional before any apothecary'll whip 'em up for you. Most are on the Ministry's restricted substances list. And the potions ain't cheap. Still, it's the best way to avoid any … shortcomings with the body one was born with …" Dirk said as delicately as he could.
"That's a great idea, thanks! I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Just keep practicing your mental shields and the control exercises I taught you," Dirk called after the boy.
"I will," Harry promised as he darted out the door.
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Nurse Joy was bored. She flicked her pink hair idly and wondered if she should change it to blue. Were blue-haired people more vibrant and go-getting and extroverted with a hungry zest for life? She looked up when the door chimed and hit the ugly child that came through with a quick diagnostic charm. "Your diet is terrible," she scolded.
"I've been eating better these past few months," he defended quickly. "And exercising! I've already lost like, 20 pounds since the beginning of term!" So what if he were exaggerating a trifle, it was the intent that mattered right? Magic was all about intent, after all.
"Hmmm, I guess," she allowed, wondering what sort of monstrosity the poor kid used to be before he lost all that weight. "What brings you to my clinic?"
"Couple reasons. You've seen my, uh … condition. I was raised in the muggle world."
"Figures," she said pityingly. "Only muggles would let their children deteriorate to such an extent."
Harry squelched his irritation at such casual bigotry. Being a smartass was unlikely to net him any help. "Ah yeah. My friend tells me that there are potions that can help fix my physical condition: potions for nutrition, height, muscle growth, agility, speed, and so on. Things that can only be prescribed by a registered health official?"
"That's true," she nodded. "There are a number of potions regimes available depending on the situation. I warn you, they're very expensive."
"Not a problem. I want the works; cost isn't an issue. "
Raising her brow a little at his casual tone, she continued, "And if you go this route, you'll be permanently barred from all competitive sports, Quidditch, Quodpot, the lot."
"I don't care."
"Alright then, if you're sure. The best potions regime is one specifically tailored to your physiology and magic. I need to run some tests and take a sample of your blood." Nurse Joy had him sit up on the bed and spent the next hour running more detailed diagnostic charms and noting the results. She then took a blood sample and spent another half hour examining that. Eventually, she pulled out three dust-covered tomes and consulted them, writing out detailed notes and calculations. This information was then summarised on an official-looking document that she signed.
"Done," she announced, handing him the scroll. "Take that to an apothecary or potions master and have them brew the order for you. Might take them a while, some of these concoctions are very finicky and need a long time to perfect. Now, you should know that it isn't a magic fix for everything you may not like about your body. Well actually, it is a magic fix," she giggled, "but even magic has its limits. You'll never become a seven-foot tall muscular behemoth, it's not in your blood."
"I don't care about becoming a basketball player; getting to six foot would be nice, but I'll take what I can get," he said, handing over his payment.
"Very sensible. None of us want to end up a kasbetall player," she nodded wisely. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"I wanted to learn anatomy and Dirk recommended you," Harry explained.
"Alright," she agreed. What the heck? It was better than sitting here staring at the eye charts on the wall and practising her pilimancy. "Have a seat." Harry hopped off the bed. She lifted a large book off the shelf and put it in Harry's lap. "Look at the pictures and tell me if you have any questions."
"Thank you," Harry said happily.
"So why did you chose the necromancy career track?" Joy asked.
"Necromancy career track?" Harry asked, nose wrinkling. "What do you mean?"
"At school. You did choose to study necromancy, didn't you? That's why you're working at Dirk's office over the Christmas Break, isn't it?"
"Oh, I'm sorry for the confusion Miss ..."
"Joy," she supplied.
"I'm sorry for the confusion, Miss Joy, but I'm not studying necromancy in school or working in Dirk's office." Harry looked up from the book. "I'm actually the Deputy Code Inspector for this street and that's why I'm learning things from all the shops."
"Aren't you a little young to be a DCI?" she asked, smirking.
"Why yes, yes I am," Harry agreed. "But they still made me one." He dug around his pockets and pulled out his paperwork. "See?"
Joy glanced at the paperwork, that was followed by a closer look when it appeared genuine. "You're serious aren't you?" she said dumbly.
"Nope, Sirius is my godfather," he retorted cheekily.
"Huh? Never mind, get my attention after you've finished flipping through that book," she ordered. "Just because all you came here to learn was anatomy, doesn't mean that's all I'm gonna teach you. There are a few basic spells I think that everyone should know and I'm not gonna let you leave without learning them." Harry spent another two hours in the Nurse's office till she closed for lunch, heading off to place his potions order with the apothecary.
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The butcher's eyebrow rose when he saw the boy enter unaccompanied by an adult, the other rose when the boy stated that he was the DCI and produced the paperwork to prove it. "What did you want to inspect first?"
"Dirk said I could learn about anatomy here?" Harry replied. "What do you think I should inspect?"
"How much time do you have?"
"An hour maybe?" Harry mused.
"Suppose I could teach you a couple cuts and show you the chart," the butcher said thoughtfully. Harry watched in fascination as the man wielded his wand like a surgeon's scalpel, separating familiar looking steaks from the carcass hanging in the back of the shop.
"That was wicked," Harry said. "Do you think you could teach me?"
"Can teach you the charms and how to use a knife," he agreed. "Takes a bit longer to learn where to cut."
"Why do you use a knife if you've got charms?"
"'Coz two of my employees are squibs and 'coz a knife doesn't wear you out as much. Only reason I ever use charms is because the purebloods get uncomfortable if you do anything that looks too muggle around 'em. Now first thing you need to know is the right way to hold your wand," he began. As they were variations of versions he already knew, Harry mastered the basic cutting charms used by magical butchers long before he needed to break for lunch. "Might have to teach you some of the others later," the butcher remarked, pleased by how quickly his student was picking things up. "Wonderful job, kid." They'd focus on knife work if the kid came back for a second lesson.
"Thanks, um." Harry looked around, trying to think of a way to pay the man back for all the help he'd given. "You know the law says that you have to keep your shop clean."
"We're a butcher shop. As the saying goes, if you like sausage, don't learn how it's made."
"I understand that you can't cut up the meat as clean as if you were cutting flowers. By the way, Jane at the Flowermart says 'hi'. No, what I was thinking was Nurse Joy showed me these cleaning spells they use in the surgery that might be useful."
"Write 'em down," the butcher asked. "I'll practice them while you're gone and you can do your inspection when you get back."
"Okay," Harry agreed, doing his best to copy down the spells on a piece of paper.
"Here," the butcher handed him another scrap of paper when he'd finished.
"What's this?" Harry asked.
"The spells I use to keep my apron white," the butcher replied. "Doesn't sterilise like your spells, but it makes everything look clean. Stains keep customers away."
"Wow! Nurse Joy was complaining about how hard it was to get blood stains out of her robes. This is great. I can share this with her, right?"
Lunch was followed by a return to the Nurse's clinic to do a bit more studying and to teach the woman the laundry charm he'd picked up from the butcher. That was followed by a return to the butcher's shop to conduct the promised health and safety inspection.
"Thank you, Harry," the butcher said, proudly hanging a notice stating that his shop had achieved a perfect score in the window. "First time I've ever gotten a perfect score without giving the Inspector a bribe."
"I didn't do anything," Harry said modestly. "Just passed on a couple charms I learned."
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Tom waived Harry over the second the boy got back to the pub and leaned in to whisper. "Hear you're going around the alley learning things, young Pete?"
"I don't really know much about the wizarding world," Harry agreed.
"That's what I figured," the old man said softly. "Come down in an hour and go to booth three in the back. There's someone that wants to teach you something."
"What?" Harry asked.
"Something you won't learn from no teacher but that you'll need to know if some of the rumours are true," Tom replied cryptically.
"Rumours?"
"Aye lad. We may be a ways away from Hogsmeade, but we still hear things as going on in Hogwarts. And round the rest of the country. Heard what you and your friends are doing to help protect our world from the degenerates. This is just a little helpin' hand. Now git going, son."
Harry went up stairs and took a quick shower, that was followed by a large meal. A glance at the clock confirmed it was time for his appointment and the boy crept downstairs to the appointed place. The private booth was dark, too dark to distinguish any of his new instructor's identifying details. All he could distinguish through the all-concealing shadows was a distinctly feminine shape, a few stray locks of blonde hair, and a hauntingly familiar chin. The smell of spilled alcohol and old tobacco permeated the air.
"Sit," the woman ordered.
"Why did you call me here?" Harry asked.
"I was scheduled to get my Dark Mark three months ago," the woman admitted softly. "I ran instead. Luckily as it turned out, I wouldn't have survived the ceremony." She took a sip of her drink. "I'm not going to go in to details, but in order to get the Mark you have to first prove yourself. It involves the death and torture of an innocent, usually a bit of rape thrown in for added flavour. The other Death Eaters watch and the Master judges." She raised a trembling hand to take another sip. "You get rated on how well you did. Lack of creativity earns torture, refusal earns a place at someone else's initiation."
"If you weren't willing to do what it took to earn a Mark, why did you join?" Harry demanded. "Why would any decent person even consider it?!"
"The Mark only goes to the real hard cores, the Inner Circle types which make up a small percentage of the Dark Lord's followers. Most of us joined to protect our culture ... No, that's not right. We joined to give our people the chance to build their own culture. Look at the wizarding world, look how magic users crudely ape the muggle world they say they disdain." She took another sip of her drink. "We're parasites, producing nothing, aping the muggles, it's pathetic. The number of muggleborn entering our world every year increases at such a rate it ensures that we'll never be able to break the cycle. My goal wasn't to set the world alight, my goal was to loosen our ties with the muggles, to ... to give us long enough to develop our own culture. I joined a madman with what I thought were the best of intentions and my punishment was to watch my dream die. My penance is to give it up and to endure the life my youthful folly inflicted upon me."
"Is there anything I can do?" Harry asked, stung by the bitterness that coloured the woman's tone.
"You will come to meet with me three days a week, you will learn all that I can teach you, you will do your best," she ordered. "Perhaps helping you will silence the voices that torment me in the dark hours of the night." She downed the remainder of her drink. "Now leave a foolish woman to the only friend she has left in the world," the woman commanded, topping up her glass. "We shall see each other again at the same time, the day after tomorrow."
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Harry went through his usual routine the next morning; breakfast was followed by the gym which in turn was followed by a stop at his now favourite shop. "Mandy says her boss needs to have a word with you and she wants to check on your progress," Dirk announced as the boy came in.
The business with his solicitor didn't take long, he'd just had to sign a couple papers authorising the man to get some documents from the Ministry and a couple more authorising him to contact a few companies to ask about invoices and shipping receipts. The business with Mandy had taken a bit longer, the woman was determined that her 'little Lord' have the best mental shields possible. Because of this, it was nearly time for lunch by the time he got out. Harry walked out of his solicitor's office and paused as he tried to decide what to do next. On the one hand, he could go back to the Leaky Cauldron to get something to eat. On the other, he could put off lunch in favour of doing a bit more exploring. In the end, the decision was rendered mute when a dainty hand came to rest on his shoulder.
"Are you lost?" a soft contralto asked. "Do you know where your parents are?"
Harry turned to find himself face to face with a blue-haired woman wearing a red Aurors robe. "I'm not lost," he replied, ignoring the question about his parents.
Her stern look morphed into a smile. "You must be Peter, the shopkeepers have told me about how you've been hanging around the street. My name's Auror Jenny, I'm in charge of making sure this street stays safe."
"Pleased to meet you, Auror Jenny. I'm responsible for making sure all the Codes are followed," he said with a smile. The boy's hand darted into his pocket and emerged with his paperwork.
"I knew Diggler was lazy, but this takes the cake," she said in disgust. "You eaten yet?"
"No, Auror Jenny."
"Just Jenny," she said. "Come on, I'll buy you lunch. It's the least I can do for a fellow Ministry colleague."
"Okay," Harry agreed. "Where are we going?"
"Chip & Curry shop at the end of the street. It's got all three things I look for in a meal: cheap, fast, and good." Pity it didn't have healthy too, but as it wasn't one of her three criteria, she didn't worry about it overmuch. "Haven't been there yet?"
"I've only seen a little bit of the magical world," Harry agreed. "I barely know anything about it."
"Know what an Auror does?" she asked.
"Eh, I guess?" he tried a somewhat believable simulacra of childish ignorance.
"Most people think we're dark wizard hunters, and we are, but that's not all we are. What we do is solve problems."
"How do you do that?"
"Well, I personally walk my beat at least twice a day and sit in my corner box the rest of the time. Others inspect wards, conduct investigations, and do loads of other things. Best thing about being an Auror in my opinion is that there's so much variety you never get bored. Would you like to walk my beat with me after lunch to get an idea of how some Aurors work?"
"That'd be great," Harry agreed instantly.
"Just keep in mind that I'm a beat Auror. My job is to be visible and to help people, much less exciting than some of the other jobs Aurors do."
"Sometimes boring is good," Harry replied, thinking about how his years at Hogwarts ended the first time around.
Jenny regarded the boy out of the corner of her eye. Just what kind of life had he had to teach him that lesson at such a young age? "Sometimes it is," she agreed. Testament to its popularity, the shop was crowded with dozens of witches and wizards eating lunch when they arrived.
"Jenny, over here!" a male voice called out. Harry turned and saw a barrel chested man with a black beard and no hair waving them over to a corner booth.
"Bob!" she replied, a big grin on her face. "Come on, Harry, I'll introduce you." The Auror elbowed her way through the crowd and waved for Harry to take a seat as she slid in beside the man. "Peter, say hello to Chaoticus Shalimar Lovegood – but everyone just calls him Bob. Bob, Peter."
"Good to meet you," 'Bob' said.
"Good to meet you too, 'Bob'." Harry replied. "Any relation to Pandora Lovegood?"
"You know my great-niece!" he bellowed in delight.
Harry nodded. Sweet Merlin, how many of them are there?! "We're in some classes together at Hogwarts. She's a good friend." Bob beamed. It was a terrifying sight. Harry, however, had had sufficient exposure to Luna, Xenophilius and Pandora over the years to be able to shrug it off with little difficulty. The nearby patrons were less fortunate; many tried to inconspicuously slip further to the other side of the room.
"Bob works on the presses at The Daily Prophet," Jenny explained. He was also her boyfriend of a year and a half. "You should check 'em out some time, they're pretty interesting."
"Could I?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Of course," Bob agreed. "I could give you a tour after lunch if you want."
"I can drop you off after we get done walking my beat if you like," Jenny added, hoping for an excuse to visit her man.
"That'd be great," Harry agreed instantly. The meal wasn't quite up to the Leaky Cauldron or the Hogwarts house elves, but it was quite a bit cheaper and he wasn't the one paying for it anyway, so Harry had no complaints. After they were finished, Jenny took him on her beat, giving the boy a thoroughly professional tour of London's magical shopping district. She introduced him to shopkeepers, she gave impromptu history lessons, she bought him an ice cream cone, and finally, she showed him another entrance to London proper.
It's amazing how much there is to see and do, observed the Otter pensively. All those years in the wizarding world, and we never thought once to explore Diagon and its side streets in any depth. Makes you wonder what else in our world we've been missing out on.
"One last street to walk and we can get you to the Prophet," she promised, taking the boy's hand and walking to a crosswalk. "Watch this," she said with a wink. The Auror reached into her pocket and gave her wand a twist, causing the lights to turn red and the crossing signal to come on.
"How'd you do that?" Harry asked, more than a bit impressed by what he'd seen.
"All the street lights are charmed so Aurors can switch them with the right wand movement," she replied. "DMLE tends to have a higher percentage of muggleborn and a much better relationship with their non-magical counterparts than the rest of the Ministry."
"Could you teach me?" Harry asked as they crossed the street.
"I'm not supposed to teach non-Ministry personnel, but since you're a DCI, sure. Just don't show your friends how to do it, okay?"
"Deal," Harry agreed instantly.
Auror Jenny glanced around to make sure no one was paying a whole lot of attention before hustling Harry towards and through a dilapidated wooden fence. "Wards on the street are supposed to keep anyone who doesn't know about magic from noticing anything strange, but it's always a good idea to double check." Especially since they were contracted out to one of the former Minister's cronies rather than the ward specialists that should have put them up. More work for the DMLE, more work for the DoM that maintained the wards, a bit of extra gold for a corrupt politician and his toady. Sometimes she wished she was still ignorant about how the world really worked.
"What's on this street?" Harry asked, looking around.
"Businesses catering to muggleborn and halfbloods mostly," Jenny replied, pulling out her wand. "Watch what I do."
"Okay," Harry agreed, soaking in every detail as the woman demonstrated the twist that would control the lights outside.
"We'll let you do it for real when we go back," Jenny stated. "Now, main thing the Ministry expects us to do in this alley is bust people for illegally enchanting muggle devices. Way I avoid that is by stating that I'm a pureblood and don't know what a muggle device is supposed to look like. Way I suggest you deal with the problem, should it ever come up, is by sneering that it's not your job to deal with enchanted muggle items. Ask for a bigger budget if they press you on it."
"Okay?" Harry said unsurely.
"Shouldn't come up, I'm just telling you how to deal with it if it does. Another good thing to do is to demand your union rep and to let CI Diggler handle things. Man's a master of bureaucratic infighting."
The bell on the door rang as they walked into the nearby junk – that is to say, antique – shop, and Harry got his first look at the interior of the store after his escort had moved aside. The centre of the store was filled with a number of large, raised bins filled with every imaginable category of single and album, separated by clean hardwood paths. The back of the store was taken up by two soundproof listening booths. The area around the display window was dedicated to record players ranging from old Edison type wax cylinder players to relatively modern turn tables. The walls were papered with posters and a young green haired clerk leaned on the counter bracketed by a register on one side and a rack of spare needles on the other.
"Business or personal, Jenny?" the clerk, a youngish looking man asked with a grin.
"Personal," the Auror replied. "Thought that young Peter here may want a record player or some such to take back to Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?" the clerk's eyebrows rose. "You'll want something that doesn't use electricity then."
"Because electronics don't work at Hogwarts, right?" Harry asked, having a vague memory of Hermione quoting something along those lines from her favourite book.
"Because the Professors tend to make things they know are electronic not work at Hogwarts," the clerk replied. "Least that's the rumour. Hogwarts is the school where the elite send their children, can't have the little darlings contaminated with muggle things, can we?"
"You'll want to watch what you say around Aurors and Hogwarts students in the future, Jacob," Auror Jenny said calmly. "Especially when that Auror is a pureblood and the Hogwarts student is a Ministry employee."
"Come on, Jenny, I know you're alright and I know you wouldn't bring anyone to my shop that would cause a problem," the clerk replied, sounding a bit annoyed.
"I'm alright, Peter's alright, I might someday bring in a trainee who isn't," Jenny said firmly. "Be careful till you know who you're dealing with."
"Is it really that bad?" Harry asked. He wasn't liking what he hearing from the offhanded comments made by the people around the alley.
"Yes and no," Jenny said. "There are a lot of laws on the books that can be used to harass people that are ignored most of the time. Jacob has a few things in his shop that aren't technically legal."
"Not technically illegal either," the man added quickly.
"But that won't matter if he gets on the wrong side of the wrong person," Jenny continued. "A pureblood trainee Auror from the wrong family, a Hogwarts student from the wrong family, that sort of thing. That's why he needs to be careful," she said firmly, giving the man a sharp look.
"I will be, Jenny, I always am."
"Good." She flashed a dazzling smile.
"Right, so you wanna look at some artefacts to play music with at school, eh," the clerk mused. "How 'bout a Victor V phonograph?" the clerk suggested. The man reached under the counter and pulled out what appeared to be a wooden box with a bell shaped metal horn perched on it. "Hand crank, should look antique and mechanical enough to get a nod from most anyone."
"How old is it?" Harry asked, staring at the device with wide eyes.
"Think we put this one together six or seven months ago," the clerk replied. "Might be younger, might be older."
"But it looks like it's at least a hundred years old," Harry protested.
"Model we based it on is about that age," the clerk agreed. "This thing is ancient enough so that even the most traditional purebloods tend to be comfortable with it, let's them pretend they don't know it came from muggles. Means there's a market which means we build 'em to fill the demand."
"How's the sound quality?" Jenny demanded.
"Few subtle enchantments to make it quite a bit better than the original version. We also enchant the records to keep them from wearing out or breaking. Care for a demonstration?"
"Yeah," Harry said enthusiastically.
"Pick out a record and take the left listening room, that's the one we have another Victor V set up."
"Not going to show us how to use it, Jacob?"
"Can't leave the counter," the clerk explained. "Not unless I had a really good reason," he purred, batting his eyelids.
"My boyfriend would rip your arms off and shove them up your –" she glanced at Harry – "nose," Jenny giggled. "Wouldn't even have to use his wand."
In the end, Harry left the record shop a few galleons lighter with a phonograph, a shrunken case containing what the clerk had described the bare minimum needed to start a collection, and a short book titled 'Every Day Magic for the Normal World' which the clerk had recommended due to the fact that it contained several spells allowing one to change records without leaving their chair and Harry had bought because it contained a spell on how to change television channels from another room. Take that Ron, you channel-surfing-nazi!
"What else is on this sidestreet?" the boy asked.
"Oh, loads of things," Auror Jenny replied. "Corner shop, hardware store, couple places to eat, a small healer's office specializing in everyday problems, grocer, butcher, baker, candlestick maker."
"What, candlestick maker?" Harry gave her an odd look.
"Just wanted to see if you were listening, Pete" she said sweetly. "You'll find everything on this street that you'd find on a normal shopping street in normal London." She looked up and waved her hand at the windows. "Plus a generous amount of living space. So that's the three streets I take care of," she continued. "Other streets belong to other Aurors."
"Wow!"
"Ready to head to the Prophet?" She asked, happy to have an excuse to visit her boyfriend on the Ministry's galleon.
"Yeah," Harry cheered.
They left the shopping street and came to a halt at the cross walk. Auror Jenny nudged Harry after a minute of waiting, prompting him to hastily cast the spell needed to get across the road. "Good work," she said with a wide grin. They waved to a couple familiar people as they strolled down the street to the nondescript building that housed The Daily Prophet. "I'm here to see Bob," Jenny announced as they strolled through the front doors.
The Chief Editor stuck his head out of his office. "Does he know you're coming?"
"Yup," Jenny agreed.
"Does he know I'm going to dock his pay for visiting his girlfriend on company time?" he added with a playful grin.
"Did you know I have the Deputy Code Inspector with me?" Jenny shot back. "Wonder what sort of fines you'd get if he was in a bad mood?"
"Where?"
"Chief, I'd like to introduce you to DCI Peter Pettigrew," she said, patting the boy on the back.
"A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, DCI Pettigrew." The Chief Editor stepped out of his office and squatted down to be at eye level with the boy. "So, DCI, how'd you get that job?" Might be worth a paragraph or two to help fill one of the back pages.
"Chief Inspector Diggler gave me the job so I could learn more about how people run their businesses without breaking the law about underage magic," Harry said.
"Interested in the magic of the common people, huh?"
"I'm interested in all magic," Harry replied. "I didn't know about it at all till I got my letter."
"Wonderful attitude," the Chief Editor said, widening his grin. The man rose to his full height and turned to the receptionist. "Bob's in the back working on the big press. Tell him to take a few minutes to show DCI Pettigrew around."
"Got it, Chief," the woman agreed.
"DCI Pettigrew, I'd appreciate it if you told me about any health or safety violations or even potential violations you might see," he requested formally. Never hurt to cultivate the leaders of tomorrow. The receptionist took them deeper into the building and stopped before a gleaming chrome stairway. "Wanna see a neat trick?" the woman asked with a wicked grin. Harry nodded, a matching grin forming on his face. "Take out your wand."
"Okay," the boy complied.
Her hand wrapped around his wrist and led him in a complicated pattern, causing the stairs to start moving up. "One of the former editors had it enchanted to help him get up when he started having trouble with the stairs. Neat, huh?" Harry nodded.
Bob was just finishing with one of the large presses when they found him on the upper level. "See if she'll start up!" he ordered. To his visible pleasure, it did. "Decided to join us, Peter?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed.
"I'll give you the penny tour," he said. The purpose of the Prophet, Bob explained, was to inform the public about important events in the wizarding world. His purpose at the Prophet was to make sure the giant presses that turned out the papers remained running as much as possible. The tour that followed was illuminating. Harry saw giant tubs of ink that flowed thicker than anything they used at Hogwarts, a thousand nooks, two thousand crannies, and the musty basement storage area where copies of all the earlier editions were kept in perpetuity. "Kinda interesting to come down here sometimes to read the early issues and see what people cared about in the old days," Bob added.
Coincidentally, the tour ended the same time Bob and Jenny got off work and so Harry ended up having another meal with the couple before getting back to the Leaky Cauldron. He sat on his bed and pondered for a long time before turning in. What he'd seen today was generating a bunch of ideas. Ideas that would need to percolate in his brain for a while before they could come to fruition. He jotted down a number of questions to ask Pandora and Odd the next time he saw them.
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There was a strange man in the shop when Harry arrived to visit Dirk the next morning. He looked a lot like Dumbledore with his long white beard and oddly decorated robes, little skulls rather than planets. The glint in his eye was the main difference, suggesting barely restrained madness rather than grandfatherly approval. "You must be Peter," the man said with a grand smile, springing to his feet, much more sprightly than his apparent age would suggest. "Pleasure to meet you, Dirk's told me wonderful things about you and your desire to study magic's most fascinating and underappreciated-by-the-living art, wonderful things."
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Harry replied. The boy discovered his hand had been captured and vigorously pumped.
"This is Master Necromancer Aleister Dee," Dirk introduced the man. "He's here from the Necromancers' Guild to double check your power levels."
"Thank you for coming, sir," Harry said politely.
"Happy to be here," the man replied. "Would have been happier if I'd known how late you came in so I could have had a bit of lounging about this morning, but such is life."
"Harry spends his mornings at the gym down the street learning how to fight," Dirk volunteered quickly.
"Something necromancy can be quite useful for if you know the right spells," Aleister said with a wide smile.
"Really?" Harry's eyes were sparkling.
"Of course," the man agreed. "If not for my interest in offensive magic, I'd have never survived the zombie plague of '13." He wrote down a spell and handed it to the boy. "We usually use this one when dealing with particularly dangerous undead."
"What's it do?" Harry asked.
"It summons the sacred fire and casts your foes into the molten maw of an insatiable gort," he replied with a grin. "Just be sure there's something around for the gort to eat or he might decide to eat you." That wasn't strictly true, gorts had a remarkably refined palate and had stated more than once that humans weren't flavourful enough unless first marinated in dark magic and decay for a decade or two.
"Really? Wow!"
The old man chuckeld. "Sorry lad, just kidding. The only spells around that can do that all involve some rather distasteful blood-rituals. That spell is useful for shredding the very souls of your enemy asunder though, so still pretty useful. No you remember to be careful with that, no testing it on your little Hogwarts friends in jest."
"Okay," Harry promised.
"Sure it's a good idea to just give him the spell without any instruction, sir?" Dirk asked.
"Fine," the man agreed. "We'll practice it later, Peter, to make sure you know what you're doing."
"Okay, sir," Harry said quickly.
"Should probably show you the primary shield spell we use when we're fighting against hordes of the undead too," he said thoughtfully. "Creates a safe bubble around you that protects against spiritual and elemental attacks. Can also be cast around ghosts to temporarily trap them like rats in a particular location. Heh heh, a previous Minister (who shall remain nameless) was able to endure the presence of his predecessor for two days before calling me and the Guild to explain that his proposed a Dark Art Tax on necromancy had all been a big misunderstanding and that he'd really appreciate it if we'd be willing to let bygones be bygones. Things were resolved to mutual benefit; ours more than his, of course. But we can discuss that later, after we've taken care of the reason I came here today. Testing your necromantic affinity."
"This'll be just like last time," Dirk told the boy. "Just relax."
"This can't be right," the Master Necromancer mumbled. He recast the spell and rechecked his results.
"Is it bad?" Harry asked.
"No, it's good," the old man said absently, trying to figure out how a schoolboy had many times more necromantic energy than he did. Surely it couldn't be from simply hanging around that paltry number of ghosts that were laughably said to 'haunt' Hogwarts? Possibly it was due to near exposure to the Killing Curse? Thor knew, there were plenty of those being slung around, even at women and children in these troubled times. He was far too polite to ask the boy direct whether any Death Eaters had been sending Avada Kedavras his way lately, though. He made a mental note to send a copy of his results to a friend at the DoM, maybe she could make sense of the odd readings he was getting from the boy.
Harry spent a rather enjoyable afternoon learning a number of very dangerous spells of the sort used by professional necromancers that specialised in dealing with the more lethal sorts of undead.
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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~
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At Tom's direction, Harry went directly to the private corner booth to speak with his most mysterious tutor when he got back to the Leaky Cauldron that night.
"Have a seat, Peter," the woman ordered. "Have you eaten?"
"Not yet, ma'am," he replied politely.
She signalled for Tom's presence. "I suppose the correct way to do so will be the first thing we'll cover then."
"What else are you going to teach me?"
"Politics, society, how to conduct yourself as befitting your station, etiquette." The woman took a deep pull of her drink. "How Death Eaters are recruited, what the meetings were like, everything I know about the bastard and his slaves." The lesson was odd to say the least, his instructor spent the first half of the meal silently watching him eat and the next half calmly explaining what he'd done wrong and why.
"Your every gesture screams to the world who you are," she stated firmly. "From your clothing, to your haircut, to your handwriting, to the way you eat your steak. The important thing is that you train yourself to be able to present whatever image you wish to show. We'll meet again in two days," she said dismissing him. "Bring a parchment and some quills."
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