Ginny still hadn't gotten around to buying the telly she'd assured Harry she was going to get, so he settled for listening to some music on the wireless. He was sitting in her spacious and modern kitchen with a cup of steaming tea in front of him. From his spot in the kitchen he could see the foot of the stairs up to the bedrooms and the front door down past the living room. That was the Auror part of him thinking that. Not the ex-husband stuck babysitting his concussed ex-wife.

He'd finally managed to get Lily to sleep thirty minutes earlier after a night of assuring her her mother would be fine and what felt like an hour of her talking about how great Hugo and Hermione and Rose were. Immediately after the accident Harry had gone back to check on Ginny while Hermione had watched the children. When he came out with the healer and a woozy Ginny much later the stands were empty, Rose was still looking surly and Lily and Hugo were using Hermione's lap for pillows and napping.

Hermione had offered to take Lily for the night, or come over and help see her to bed but Harry had refused. Hermione had her own kids to raise and her own life to lead. She didn't need to be staying up all hours to nursemaid his family.

The errant ex-wife was in her own bedroom sleeping off a potion to help with the concussion. With the exception of the wireless the house was quiet.

Harry sipped his tea and prayed the bit of caffeine in it would keep him awake a little longer. Earlier when the team's healer had helped him put Ginny to bed he'd thought about asking for a pick me up to make it through the night. He didn't need a mirror to know there were dark circles under his eyes. He had only to close his eyes to feel the heavy pull of slumber.

But if he'd taken a pick me up he'd have been stuck away for hours and full of the odd jitters that kept his eyes open despite an overwhelming need to sleep. He'd nearly grown addicted to supplements back when he'd been testing for his Auror promotion. That had been years ago, when Ginny had found a way to disappear every night for "work" and come home smelling like Harrod's perfume counter.

They'd been such an easy couple then. A golden couple. Untouchable. With their three kids and their posh home and their perfect smiles. They'd been the envy of the wizarding world. Only Harry was a workaholic and would be so until the day he died, and Ginny had an almost inhuman desire for quim. Men fresh out of Azkaban weren't as randy as his ex-wife.

And reminding himself that the ill woman upstairs had slept with half the women in the wizarding world was a terribly good idea. That had never led to a bit of heartache and remorse. No, especially when he could stare at the pictures of the children she had stuck to the fridge. James and Albus and Lily all smiling and waving and not the least bit hurt by their parents divorce.

He must be really tired if he was musing about his failed marriage.

Twenty minutes later when he was so deeply exhausted and depressed he was ready to curl up in a ball on the couch there was a knock at the front door and then a haggard looking Ron Weasley came in still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Harry had called him as soon as they'd realized Ginny wouldn't need to be hospitalized and they'd agreed to take shifts watching her. Ron had offered to take the later shift which Harry gladly accepted as it meant he wouldn't have to deal with getting a cranky Lily dressed in the morning.

"Hey," Ron whispered, "she asleep?"

"They're both out. They gave Ginny some potions and told her no apparating for the next two days."

"Can she floo?"

Harry smiled, "that was her first question too."

"Come on Harry. The woman's a Weasley through and through. You can no more coop us up then reign in the moon."

"Yeah I remember. A few months with you in a tent Ron. A misery I'll take with me to the grave."

Ron laughed, "To be fair I also had a gimpy arm and a Horcrux around my neck and Hermione kept making moon eyes at you when she wasn't fussing over my shoulder."

"She did not make moon eyes."

"You were probably too busy staring at the Marauders' Map to notice, but mate, trust me, moon eyes."

The idea that Hermione could have had anything beyond fraternal feelings for him all those years ago confused Harry. As a teen he'd loved Hermione for her constance. She was logical, emotional, caring and had a crush on Ron so big you could see it from space. He'd never considered her anything more than a sister since he'd notice the way she flushed when she argued with Ron their third year.

And the two of them, hopelessly in love with Weasleys, made it easy to get along. It was a commonality they shared.

Harry must have been mulling over a relationship that had gone to weeds fifteen years earlier too long because Ron was smiling like the biggest ponce on the planet. "Thinking about Hermione?"

"Sure," Harry said. Ron immediately deflated.

"Really."

"She was at the game tonight. Offered to take Lily to school in the morning."

"You're joking." Yikes. Ron didn't like that at all. Well good.

"Nope. You can tell her all about the moon eyes she made at me. I'm sure she'll love to hear about it."

Harry scooped up his jacket and headed for the door, but Ron called after him, "Who invited her to the game?"

He was trying not to sound eager but they'd been friends for more then twenty years and his curiosity was blatant.

"Jealous," Harry teased.

Ron gave him one of his 'I'm serious but not mad faces,' and Harry, being a good friend, acquiesced.

"Lily and her son Hugo are in class together. She invited them."

"It was her and Hugo?"

"And Rose who I'm pretty sure hates me."

"It's the hair. You've got entirely too much hair for a man your age. And the way it kind of sticks up in the front. You look about twenty."

"Think about my hair a lot do you Ron?"

"No," he groaned, "but Maggie and Mum keep mentioning it. They both want you to get a haircut."

Of course they did. If there hadn't been whole biographies on him before he was twenty Harry would have been a little disturbed by three people discussing his hair so avidly behind his back.

"I'll keep that in mind. Call me if anything changes?"

Ron waved goodbye and with a pop Harry was back in his own flat.

During the divorce they'd decided that Ginny would stay in the house and Harry would get a new place. It had been out of necessity for the kids. Aurors kept insane hours and Harry would have needed a Time Turner to get the kids off to elementary school each day. So Ginny took them to school and Harry picked them up.

Four years later and he still spent most of his time at the house rather than his flat, which accounted for the musty smell, empty kitchen and unmade bed. Harry's was a bachelor's place. All it lacked were some Bachelor Bakes and a sour smell in the bathroom. The fastidiously clean bathroom, though, that was a holdover from his days as the cook and cleaner at the Dursley's home.

Exhausted and eager for a few hours of sleep Harry grabbed the bottom of his jumper and pulled it up over his head. He started to take off his trousers when a dry voice called out. "Looks as though I'm about to see all of Harry Potter."

He spun around—his wand instantly in his hands—and pointed towards the shadows. With his free hand he yanked his trousers up and buttoned them.

"All right. Out. Now," he growled.

There was a whisper and the tip of the person's wand lit up bathing the room in the cool light of the Lumnos spell. It was the dark man. He wore a great black cloak with a heavy hood that hung over his face. There was some sort of enchantment on the cloak that kept the man's face hidden even in the glow of his wand.

He was wearing the same clothes as the other night as well. Tight trousers and a coat that fell to mid hips and came all the way up his throat. All the skin on him was hidden, even his hands were gloved and the boots he wore came up to the knees. He was all in black except the buckles on his belt and boots and the fastenings on his coat and cloak.

He stood up from where he'd been sitting in the dark and Harry noted that he was only Harry's height despite cutting such an imposing figure. He didn't tower over Harry he only seemed to in Harry's mind. Another charm.

Ron's first instinct, in Harry's situation, would have been to duel the bastard and hoped he was better. But Harry only kept his wand ready. The man had been waiting for Harry and could have killed him as soon as he'd apparated. But he'd kept still instead, waited, and teased.

"I hear you've been looking for me."

His voice was queer. Mechanical and inhuman but there was a wit about it. Yet another charm. The man was so festooned in them he'd likely melt away if ever he found himself beneath Liar's Fall.

"We didn't finish our chat the other day."

"What would we have talked about? Finnegus Moore? Augustus Rookwood?"

"The Three Wise Men. Your employers correct?"

The light in the man's wand went out, casting the room in shadows once more. Harry tensed up and fell into a dueling pose. Waiting.

"Asking about the Three Wise Men will get you killed," he whispered from the darkness.

"They're criminals right? A great criminal conspiracy. And you're their errand boy. Or are you one of them?"

"What I tell you is for your own safety Pot—Auror; leave this be. Go back to your Death Eaters and dark wizards. The men you seek will only bring you misery."

The dark man had slipped. Nearly called him Potter. Like a Slytherin might have. There was even a tone of contempt in the dry voice when he spoke.

"You're not the first to warn me off this today."

The dark man had moved to a wall of photos Harry had of him and the kids. A few were older though. From Hogwarts. Of him and Ron and Hermione. Before Cedric died in front of him and Voldemort turned the world against him. The dark man plucked one off the wall and held it closer. Harry adjusted his aim, a curse on his lips.

"Dean Thomas is right about this. You should listen to him." The dark man looked up and Harry thought he saw a glint of human eyes looking back. "But you won't. Not Harry Potter. The boy who lived."

"A moniker from another age."

The dark man seemed to drop the photo, but it hung in the air a moment before returning to its place on the wall. "And if you pursue them? Me? It will be a moniker you want to hold true."

Harry didn't liked to be threatened, especially in his own home. The curse that exploded from the tip of his wand was pure instinct. The dark man was fast. His own wand drawn and blocking the curse with nary a word. He shot back one of his own. A Stupefy by the feel of it against Harry's shield. They both fired off spell after spell. The room flashing brightly with each bit of magic. They were quiet. In a real fight you were always quiet. Better to cast wordlessly then give yourself away.

Harry threw a powerful curse that usually sent it's victims into seizures, but his own couch leapt into the air to block it. The cushions quivered with the force of it before the entire piece exploded in a burst of fabric and stuffing. The dark man darted forward into the rain of debris that had been Harry's couch. His spells came faster and it put Harry on the defensive.

Until Harry Accio'd his old broom right into the other man's back. He grunted and fell to one knee. Harry moved forward—Stupefy after Stupefy spitting out of his wand in a blaze of red light. The man blocked each spell then suddenly vanished. Harry spun in place just in time to block a Petrificus Totalus. It shattered the shield he'd thrown up in a flash of light, and when the brightness receded the dark man was gone.

#

Little Bonnie Salander, the baby of the Auror department, was naturally the first on the scene. Despite the late hour she was bright eyed and perfectly dressed. The witches and wizards who followed were decidedly more bedraggled. Most stifled yawns and then looked away abashed when they caught Harry glaring at them.

Like they had any right to yawn. It wasn't their flat turned into a crime scene. They didn't have to deal with their staff traipsing through the place with wands alight, taking stock of the empty pantry and the dirty clothes under the bed. At least they couldn't judge the mess that was his couch.

Salander was the junior witch there, but as she arrived first and Harry was tired he left her to manage the crime scene. He made her clear his bathroom first then took a shower. He wasn't especially dirty, but he didn't have any tea in his kitchen and was in desperate need of a pick me up.

So he took a cold shower, because a warm shower often made him sleepy and he was already having trouble keeping his eyes open.

"Sir," Salander asked timidly from the bedroom door.

Harry was out of the shower and sitting on his bed lacing his boots and being annoyed by the bit of water trickling down the back of his neck.

"How bad is it Salander?"

Apparently the bare chests of thirtysomething Aurors were abhorrent to the girl because she kept looking anywhere but in Harry's direction. "They went through every protection you had around the place sir. Found remnants of your spells all over."

"I had a couple of spells on this place that should have taken months to break. How'd he do it in one night?"

"I don't know sir. But we've gathered samples and are taking them back to the Ministry for study." She was staring at the floor and twiddling her wand in her hands like a timid school girl. "And," she offered then she looked over her shoulder and chewed the inside of her cheek.

"And what Salander? It's nearly dawn and I still haven't slept."

She chastened by his vexed tone. Chastened enough to turn as red as a Stupefy. "The Unspeakables are here sir. One of them wants to speak with you."

She looked over her shoulder again. Well at least now he knew what made her so nervous. He didn't have to look past her to know that Dean was probably standing there.

He sat back down heavily onto the bed. "Send him in."

Salander looked like she wanted to salute or click her heels together or something but she just nodded and scurried away.

And sure enough Dean Thomas soon appeared in the doorway looking forty kinds of angry and not the least bit sleepy. He shut the door behind himself and shot a Muffliato at the door. "I thought I told you to drop it Harry. I thought I told you what could happen. To you. To any of us if you pursued this. And then I get a call in the middle of the night telling me you haven't let it go. Telling me you bloody dueled the bastard—"

"In my flat where he was waiting for me. So you can take that self righteous bit and shove it up you arse Dean." Dean's mouth popped open like one of those little Russian nesting dolls. "I'm sorry mate, I haven't…I haven't slept since before Ginny took a header off her broom and I'm a bit worn out."

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and had the courtesy to at least look a little abashed at his own outburst. "Yeah I probably burst in here a little strongly too."

"You understand though, this man threatened me. Came into my home. Popped through my wards like they were tissue. I'm the head Auror Dean. I can't let that pass."

"And I can't protect you. You're on your own Harry."

He smiled and behind Dean the mirror on the bedroom door reflected back that smile. It was dark and nasty and mean. "I normally am."