b.c.: I just wanted to say thank you kindly for the reviews, it made my bitch of a hangover ease ever so slightly. Also, whether being on my side of the Atlantic, or on the other, (you lucky bastards), Happy New Year from the writer of T-Loke Town.

Chapter Six: A U-Turn

It had been a week since the incident on the beach. The day afterwards Harry lay in bed, Dobby at his side, healing his wounds and making sure he got rest. Harry was grateful to the house-elf. Sure, he had been in the hospital wing at Hogwarts many times, but Madam Pomprey, the school nurse, was like the majority of school nurses, hot tempered and yet, as cold as ice. Dobby, on the other hand, was as good as gold and better, and by the day's end, Harry felt like a million bucks.

Harry and Professor Castor didn't speak of what had happened. After Harry's day of rest, Castor got him working again, mostly on dueling. Harry's skill and talents were improving dramatically and he nearly fainted in shock when he finally hit Castor with a spell. Although it was a simple disarming spell and Castor had his wand back within a blink of an eye, Harry couldn't smile when he noticed Castor look exceptionally annoyed.

'Everyone gets lucky now and then,' he grumbled as Harry gave him a superior grin.

Harry found himself being more and more intrigued by the man he now knew as his guardian. He was cold and solemn, but he was also fascinating in a way that Harry couldn't put his finger on. Many nights at dinner or in the study Harry would fight the overwhelming sensation on asking him about his past. He wanted to know who the woman, Elizabeth Albin was. He wanted to know how he knew Sirius and he wanted to know his connections with Hogwarts. Past experiences with Defense teachers had taught Harry that they were either ignorant toads who were incompetent, like Lockhart and Umbridge who were either there by forced majority or ignorant popularity. But there were others, like Lupin and Moody, who were deeply connected with Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. He didn't know where Castor fit in, but there were clues on how he might have been.

Harry had been thinking about the things he had seen that gave him an idea on who Castor really was. There was the picture of him and Sirius. It must have been taken no more a year and a half ago. Sirius was clean shaven, and although he had a gaunt look on his face, he looked like the man in the wedding pictures Harry had seen so many years ago. And then there was Castor's presence at the funeral. Most of the people Harry had seen that day he recognized, but Castor didn't fit the bill there either. He was by himself, and Harry didn't see him talk to anyone, though he could be mistaken, he didn't give him that much attention that day.

And then there was the Weasley's. Castor knew them that were for certain, either in passing or by acquaintance. Harry wasn't sure, but the way Mr. Weasley described him in the letter he sent, and not to mention how Castor knew about the wedding, it raised an eyebrow or two. Instead of being specific, Harry asked him questions about his former occupation, considering it was the only type of job he was interested in, after leaving Hogwarts.

'It's mostly boring work actually,' Castor told him one day after training. They were sitting in the kitchen alone, drinking tea. Castor was rubbing his shoulder from a curse Harry had got him with earlier in the day.

'Really?' Harry asked.

'It's not all heroics and running about looking for Dark wizards,' Castor said kicking his feet on a vacant chair. 'Most of the time you're standing guard for some priceless artifact or escorting some billionaire wizard. Other times, well, it's like muscle work.'

'What about the times when you are fighting?' Harry asked. He didn't bring up the fact that he knew that Castor had killed a few Death Eaters Ron had told him about back at the Burrow. At this, Castor's eyes got cold and distant.

'It's like you're basking in hell,' he said gravely. 'I tracked down this one Death Eater, Saville. He was deeply connected with the Dark Lord, but his father was a member of the Magical Law Enforcement in England. When he found out that I had brought his son in charged with aiding and abetting the Dark Lord, I nearly got thrown into jail myself.'

As Castor finished his tea, Harry thought of Barty Crouch and how he had thrown his own son to the dementors when he had discovered his son was a Death Eater.

'Is Saville still in Azkaban?' Harry asked.

Castor looked at Harry then down at the floor. He looked extremely pale and tired just then.

'No, Potter,' he said coldly. 'You see, I didn't bring Saville in alive.'

Harry shuttered. He knew that Castor had killed a man before, but he didn't want to talk about it. He decided to change the subject.

'Do you have any family?' Harry asked.

'Sure,' Castor said. 'I got a few cousins that are Aurors here in England.'

At first, Harry was surprised, but then it registered that Castor had told him that he was born in England, and considering his supreme talent with a wand, it didn't seem unlikely that other members of the family would possess the same quality.

'And your parents?' Harry asked tentively.

Castor glared at him as though he had said something very out of line.

'My parents have been dead for a long time,' he said flatly. 'I barely remember them.'

Harry wanted to ask how they died, but he felt that might be pushing his luck.

Castor stood up and put the tea cup into the sink.

'Better get some sleep, Potter,' he said. 'Tomorrow is your Apparition Test and it's being held at the Ministry of Magic.'

Harry nodded and stood up.

'Goodnight, Professor.'

Castor nodded to him in reply. Harry walked back up the stairs and into his bedroom. Before he decided to call it a night, he pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment.

Hermione,

I need some more information. Find anything you can on a witch named Elizabeth Ann Albin. I found a picture of her in Castor's bedroom. Thanks.

Harry.

He folded the letter and gave it to Hedwig. Although he knew he was breaking his promise to Castor by sending out a letter without his knowledge, the craving to know was too much for him. As Hedwig flew out of sight, Harry lay down on his bed, and was asleep within minutes.

The next morning he met Castor in the kitchen. They had a quick breakfast, Castor drinking only coffee. Harry noticed that he had gotten thinner in the past weeks, and the lines underneath his eyes had gotten darker.

'You're flooing to the Ministry,' he said downing his cup and handing it to Dobby.

'You mean us?' Harry said standing up and straightening his shirt.

Castor looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

'You nuts Potter?' he asked surveying himself in the mirror. 'This is a five hundred dollar suit. There's not a chance in hell I'm going through a fireplace in it.'

Harry let the conversation drop.

They walked into the library together towards the fireplace. Harry took a handful of powder and tossed it into the fireplace.

'Uh,' Harry said dumbly. 'What do I say?'

'Ministry of Magic, Atrium,' Castor said checking his watch.

'Okay,' Harry said.

'See you in a bit Potter,' said Castor.

Harry shouted the words and he was gone.

He flew out of a fireplace and landed hard on his face in a beautiful room with a golden fountain with an elf and a centaur. Harry shuttered remembering the last time he was in this room. Voldemort and Dumbledore had dueled. Dumbledore had the chance of killing the Dark Lord, but didn't, knowing that Harry would die too.

Harry stood up. The Atrium was full of people. Witches and wizards were running all over the place, and owls flew overhead. Harry recognized a few of the people running along corridors and down flights of stairs. Kingsley Shaklebolt nodded at Harry before brushing past him, as though they've never met. Harry walked a ways until he was standing next to the fountain. His eyes scanned for Castor but he was no where to be seen.

'Hello, Harry,' said a familiar voice from behind him. Harry turned around and his heart plummeted. Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic was standing next to Rita Skeeter, about a dozen photographers and journalists all surveying Harry very intently.

'Hi,' Harry said coldly. He hadn't forgotten the two times he had a talk with the Minister, both times were not that enjoyable, to say the least.

'Good to see you Harry,' Rita said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

'What do you want this time?' Harry asked, his anger boiling, eyes fixed upon the Minister, ignoring Skeeter altogether.

'What do I want?' Scrimgeour asked with a voice of mock hurtfulness. 'My dear boy, I just wanted to say hello and wish you luck on your Apparition tests.'

'Oh, so you know about that?' Harry asked not believing a word Scrimgeour had said.

'Of course I do,' Scrimgeour said, still playing the fool by chucking Harry lightly on the shoulder. 'It is your birthday after all.'

Harry was struck dumb. Today was the 31st of July. How could he have forgotten? He was legal, finally. He had been dreaming for years the day he could pull out his wand and hex Uncle Vernon. But now, he wasn't at the Dursley's. The past days at Castor's had made Harry forget about dates and events. Harry got the feeling that's what the guy wanted to do in the first place.

'Right,' Harry said trying to act casual.

'Harry Potter!' a journalist cried making several passing individuals turn their heads and stare at him. 'Can I ask you a few questions?'

'Not really,' Harry said but the journalist wasn't listening. He pulled out a notebook and a quill and licked his forefingers. Harry noticed other wizards behind him do the same. Rita, non-surprisingly had already pulled out her quick quotes quill and notepad which was, somehow, already on the fifth page.

'Tell me,' he said eyeing Harry over large squared glasses. 'What are your feelings over what transpired at the end of last term at Hogwarts.'

'Transpired?' Harry asked, his fists clenching. He wasn't stupid. He knew what the journalist meant, but he got the impression the journalists didn't want to flat out ask how he felt about his Headmaster, mentor and friend being launched off the Astronomy Tower.

'How do you feel towards Severus Snape?' another asked.

'Is it true that you were thinking about not returning for your seventh and final year?'

'What is your relationship with Ginny Weasley?' Rita asked, her quill working furiously.

'How do you feel about the Ministry and their tireless efforts with dealing with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?'

Harry felt trapped. Skeeter and the Minister were moving closer to him, plastered smiles on their faces.

'THAT'S ENOUGH!' a voice bellowed from behind the journalists, who jumped and turned around. Harry peered through them to see Arthur Weasley, standing straight, his hands at his sides, clenched in fists. Harry had never seen Mr. Weasley look so furious. His ears and face were bright red, his eyes narrowed and fierce, his shoulders tight. He strode forward, and in doing so roughly shoving a photographer. He walked straight up to the Minister, so close Harry couldn't slip his hand between the two men.

'I will not let you or any other parasites interrogate him!' he growled looking dead into the Minister's eyes.

The Minister himself looked taken aback, but regained himself in an instant.

'You are out of line, Mr. Weasley,' he said coldly. 'Now step back from me, or find a pink slip on your desk in a matter of minutes.'

But Mr. Weasley didn't move. He stood right where he was, eye to eye with his boss, showing all signs of resentment and dislike. Harry never felt more appreciative in his life for the Weasley family. It took a lot of sand to tell your boss flat out he was being a fool, but Harry didn't want Mr. Weasley to get in a heap of trouble on his behalf. He stepped forward and placed an arm on Mr. Weasley's shoulder.

'It's okay, sir,' he said. 'I'm alright.'

Mr. Weasley turned his head, and Harry jumped back at the sight of Mr. Weasley's stare.

'I will not have them make you a poster child, Harry,' he said. 'It isn't right.'

'That is for me to decide Weasley,' Scrimgeour said, huffing out his chest.

'It most certainly is not, Minister,' Mr. Weasley said rounding on his boss once more, his voice getting dangerous. 'It is not for you to decide what is and is not beneficial for Mr. Potter here.'

'And it isn't yours either, Arthur,' said another voice from behind him.

Everyone witnessing the exchange turned around. Demetrius Castor was leaning against a marble column, no more than ten feet away. His eyes traveled over the photographers and journalists, then to Mr. Weasley and Minister Scrimgeour. He walked forward, a path forming between the publicists who stared at Castor. Harry heard a few of them whispering.

'It's him.'

'I thought he was dead.'

'Didn't he kill a dementor?

Castor didn't pay attention to their whispering. Instead, he unbuttoned his jacket pocket. He outstretched his hand for the Minister to shake. The Minister, finding room to breathe took a huge sigh and shook Castor's hand earnestly.

'My dear friend,' he said smiling once more. 'How have you been this summer?'

Castor eyed Minister then Mr. Weasley. He didn't give Harry any attention.

'Mr. Potter is here for his Apparition Licensing and I would appreciate it if you allowed him to go to the proceedings at hand and not interrogate him like a common criminal, Minister.'

All the journalists, Harry noticed were writing furiously, documenting the exchange between the two men. Scrimgeour looked very uncomfortable but Castor was eyeing him as though he were the only man in the room.

'Come now, Demetrius,' he said waving a hand towards the journalists, 'They just want to ask the boy a few questions.'

'He is no boy,' Castor said cutting off the Minister, his voice rising just slightly.

Scrimgeour looked at Castor then over his shoulders to where the journalists continued writing. Several photographers took a few shots. The Minister's eyes widened as the flash captured his nervousness.

'Now see here, Mr. Castor,' he said standing straighter. 'I won't have you tell me what I can and cannot do, especially in the Ministry of all places.'

Castor leaned forward and tilted his head towards the Minister, and saying in a tone only they, along with Harry and Mr. Weasley could hear.

'It's Professor, asshole,' he hissed. 'And as his Professor, Isuggest leaving Mr. Potter alone to such a date that I have allowed you to take some of his precious time.'

He leaned back, keeping his gaze on the Minister. Scrimgeour looked as though he was about to strangle Castor to death, but he kept his hands in the pockets of his robes.

'Mr. Weasley, sir,' Castor said, although keeping his eyes on the Minister. 'Would you kindly escort Mr. Potter to the Apparition Licensing Department?'

Mr. Weasley, who was watching the exchange between the two with shocked interest, shook himself to realization and nodded.

'Of course, Professor.'

Castor nodded at him, but he exchanged a look with Arthur Weasley of struggled integrity. Mr. Weasley nodded back and grabbed Harry by the shoulder and, steering him through the journalists, set off at a brisk pace towards the opposite end of the Atrium. Harry turned his head to see most of the photographers and journalists had dispersed, but the Minister and Castor were still nose to nose, speaking in hushed whispers.

Mr. Weasley kept his hand on Harry's shoulder the whole way through the corridors. Harry didn't say anything. His mind was reeling by what he had just witnessed. He was grateful for Mr. Weasley and Professor Castor for getting him away from the Minister, but he thought of what Castor had said to the Minister. He couldn't believe Castor had called out Rufus Scrimgeour. The acting Minister was nothing like his predecessor, with the exception of propaganda and blatant manipulation. For Castor to say something like that had a lot of fearlessness.

'Mr. Weasley?' Harry asked. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course, Harry, of course,' he said not looking at Harry and continuing to walk down the halls of the Ministry.

'The letter you sent me,' Harry said. 'Why don't you like Professor Castor?'

Mr. Weasley stopped in front of a door. He took a deep breath and looked at him.

'Look, Harry,' he said releasing his hand from his shoulder. 'I will not say much on the subject of Demetrius Castor.'

He looked over his shoulder, making sure Harry and him were alone. He turned his attention back to him.

'I know that you have a habit of searching out the history of your professors at Hogwarts,' he said. 'Particularly your Defense teachers.'

Harry didn't say anything. It was true, and though he might say something that would make it sound inconsequential he merely nodded.

'Harry,' Mr. Weasley said, leaning closer. 'I have always looked out for your best interest. I must advice you, and please, for the love of Merlin, take this into great consideration, it would be foolish of you to try and discover the history of Demetrius Castor. Simply consider him your teacher and nothing more. It is the best approach for such a situation.'

Harry didn't understand what Mr. Weasley had meant by that, but he merely nodded in return.

'Yes, sir,' he said.

Mr. Weasley's eyes softened and he put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

'You are like a son to me Harry,' he said solemnly. 'And although I don't approve of your relationship with Professor Castor, I cannot but stress the importance of not crossing him. He will, and trust me on this one, he wouldn't think twice by beating you to an inch of your life.'

Harry stared at Mr. Weasley. He had never heard him speak this way. The only thing that seemed recognizable was his warning of Sirius Black before his third year.

'It's time Harry,' he said opening the door. 'I have to get back to work, but I don't doubt Professor Castor will be here after your tests.'

Harry looked through the door then back at Mr. Weasley.

'Thank you,' he said.

Mr. Weasley nodded. Harry walked through the door as Mr. Weasley closed it behind him.

Harry walked into an enormous room illuminated by thousands of candles lining the walls. It looked very similar to the Great Hall back at Hogwarts. On the other end of the room were dozens of students, some Harry knew from Hogwarts, others he didn't. Most of them looked fearful and nervous. Standing on platforms were several wizards wearing Ministry official green robes.

'Name?' asked a gruff looking wizard with short curly hair and a thin black beard.

'Harry Potter.'

The wizard, not doing the whole usual glance at Harry's scar or pause simply checked off Harry's name on the list and motioned him towards the group of students.

'Hi Harry!'

A tall dark haired boy with large brown eyes and buck teeth came jogging up to him, smiling exuberantly.

'Hey Neville!'

'How has your summer been?'

'Good, yours?'

'Bout the same as every year,' he exclaimed. 'Nervous about the tests?'

'Not really. I've Apparated before.'

'Line up!' said one wizard in green robes. Harry recognized him as the frail and grey haired wizard from the lessons in the Great Hall.

'Good morning,' he said brightly. 'My name is Wilde Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the day. I expect all of you have practiced up to this point so we'll go one by one.'

He stepped off the platform and took out his wand.

'I will call each person individually. Your destination will be the Leaky Cauldron, inside, anywhere by the bar will do. You all know the place?'

There was a murmur of acknowledgement.

'Excellent,' he said. 'Tom, the bar man, knows there will be people popping in and out of his pub and there is a Ministry wizard waiting for you there. You have two minutes to Apparate from here and back. Understand?'

Again there was murmur of agreement.

'Alright,' he said pulling out a long piece of parchment. 'Let us begin. Ms. Alexis Burnett, could you please come forward?'

A tall red head with pale skin walked forward. Harry noticed she was awfully nervous about being the first one up, but she held her wand firm in her hand.

'You have two minutes, Ms. Bernett,' Twycross said gently. 'Starting now.'

Alexis closed her eyes for a moment. There was perfect silence in the room. In a flash, she raised her wand, and with a loud CRACK, she was gone.

Harry checked his watch. Ten seconds, twenty, a minute. It was getting on a minute and a half when there was another CRACK and Alexis Bernett appeared. She had a thin layer of sweat on her face as she looked at Twycross nervously.

'Well done, Ms. Bernett,' he said. 'You passed. Please,' he motioned towards a door on the over end of the room, 'Go through that door and receive your license.'

The room exploded in applause as Alexis smiled sheepishly and walked towards the other end of the room.

And it went on like that. Most of the students Harry noticed were getting more comfortable as the session progressed, seeing so many students Apparate with ease. Harry gave Neville the thumbs up as he Apparated and back in less than a minute. It was getting around noon and only Harry and about half a dozen students were left when his name was finally called.

He took a deep calming breath. He wasn't that nervous. He had Apparated before, and it gave him a wonderful feeling of confidence.

'Right now, Potter,' Twycross said smiling. 'Your time starts, now.'

Harry pulled out his wand and closed his eyes.

Alright. Think. The dark low ceiling, the rickety old chairs and unbalanced tables.

Tom, toothless Tom, standing behind the bar, polishing glasses.

Harry raised his wand, and with a swish, he was gone.

With a loud POP, he found himself in the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom was standing behind the bar, smiling his toothless grin.

'Potter, is it?' a voice said behind him.

'Yea,' Harry said to the Ministry wizard standing in the corner, his eyes scanning parchment with a long gold quill.

'Alright then,' he said in a bored voice, not looking up. 'Hurry on back.'

Harry nodded briefly. He smiled at Tom before raising his wand once more, and CRACK! He was back in the Ministry room, smiling broadly.

'Excellent, Mr. Potter,' said Twycross. 'Fastest one yet. If I didn't know better, I'd get the impression that you've done this before.'

Harry's face went a dull pink but he didn't say anything.

'Off you go, Potter,' he said scratching his name off the parchment.

Harry grinned broadly and walked into the room, where another Ministry wizard handed him a legal looking document, exclaiming he was now legal to Apparate.

Of all the times in his life, Harry couldn't remember a birthday as good as this one was turning out to be.

Harry met Professor Castor in the Atrium. He didn't ask him what the Professor had been doing all this time, but he had a good idea he was talking with the Minister. The conversation he had before Harry went with Mr. Weasley gave him the idea that Castor had some business with the Minister. He didn't know what, exactly, but he probably didn't want to.

They both Apparated back to Castor's home. Harry felt elated about Apparating back to Inis Clove. Although Apparition took a lot out of him, he nonetheless marveled at the idea of being outside of London to an island off the coast of Ireland within two seconds.

Castor opened the front door, and flung off his coat, tossing it on a nearby arm chair. He pealed off his tie, swearing underneath his breath.

'Professor,' Harry said tentatively. 'Are you alright?'

In response to this, Castor walked over to a small round table where a large glass bottle sat with four glasses. He uncorked the bottle and poured himself Harry knew to be whiskey.

He downed his drink in one breath, and let out an agitated grunt. Harry was nervous about Castor's behavior. He was the kind of guy who never lost patience or showed signs of irritation, but Castor looked exceptionally pissed at the moment.

'I tell you Potter,' he said, reloading his glass, 'I fucking hate politicians.'

Harry didn't know exactly what to say to this. He remembered all the conversations he had with Ministry officials. People like Umbridge, Fudge and Scrimgeour.

'I hate them too, sir,' Harry blurted, then cursed himself for once again calling Castor 'sir'.

Castor turned around, his eyes fierce. But then he downed his drink and chuckled darkly.

'I bet you do, Potter,' he said smacking his lips. 'I bet you do.'

He placed his glass back down and looked at Harry.

'It being your birthday and all,' he said unbuttoning his shirt a bit. 'You can have the day off. There's probably a shit load of presents waiting for you in your room, so enjoy yourself.'

Harry thanked Castor and started up the stairs, but Castor called to him. Harry turned around, halfway up the stairs. Castor hesitated a minute then walked over to a large oak dresser. He opened the top shelf and pulled out a long thin box wrapped in velvet paper. He tossed the box to Harry who caught it.

'Happy Birthday Potter,' Castor said coolly.

Before Harry could say thank you, Castor had turned his back and walked into the kitchen.

Harry looked at the box for a minute before heading to his bedroom. Upon reaching it, he found, to no surprise, half a dozen colorful presents at the foot of his bed.

Harry eagerly threw off his cloak and dived head first into his presents. He received assorted mince pies and a book on famous British Aurors from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Ron had gotten him assorted candies, raging in every type Harry loved. Ron also sent him a small radio which gave him access to the Wireless Wizarding Network. Hermione, to no surprise, also sent him a book, The Legend of Merlin. Hagrid had sent him Remus Lupin also sent him a present, and Harry nearly exploded in happiness as he opened the box, revealing dark brown dragon hide boots. Harry immediately put them on, they fit like a dream. He looked damn good. Ginny had sent him a framed picture of the two of them, dancing at Bill's wedding. Ginny was giving him furtive glances and playing with the back on his hair. Harry, on the other hand, had a drunken grin upon his face and was having trouble following the rhythm of the music. Finally, Harry opened his last present, the long thin velvet wrapped box Castor had just given him.

He undid the black lace string, took off the wrapper, and threw off the top of the box. Harry's eyes went wide.

It was a dagger. The handle was made out of solid silver, and the blade had a small curve in it. It was so sharp Harry cut his finger when testing the blade. He picked up the dagger and held it in his hands.

Why the hell would he give me this?

Harry noticed that underneath the knife in the box was a leather holster with an elaborate looking strap. Harry fastened the holster to his forearm. As he stood up to check himself in the mirror with this new accessory, a small piece of parchment fell out of the holster. Harry picked it up and read.

Your Godfather gave this to me a few years ago. I no longer feel the need to find it useful, and I would like to think he'd want you to have it. Keep it on you at all times, you never know when you might need it, and remember Potter, that the praise of glory can only be achieved by the acts of violence.

Harry stared at the parchment for a minute then looked at the dagger again. He twirled it in his finger and noticed something small on the butt of the handle. Looking more closely, Harry saw two small letters carved into the handle.

S.B.

Harry's mouth dropped.

This belonged to Sirius.

He stared at the dagger for a minute then slid it into the holster. He took a look at himself in the mirror, the holster on his forearm, the silver handle gleaming. Harry's mind was spinning. First the photograph in the study and now the dagger.

He wasn't in the Order, how the hell did he know Sirius?

He must have done work with the Order at one time, but that doesn't mean he had to be a member.

But Sirius wouldn't give a dagger to someone who worked for the Ministry, would he?

Harry took off the handle and sat down on his bed. He was exhausted. He slumped down and looked up at the ceiling. He didn't understand how Castor knew Sirius. There was no connection between Sirius and an American Auror. But as Harry kicked off his boots, and his eyes fell asleep, he knew deep down there had to be something important between the two, and Harry judged by what he had seen that whatever it was that put the Sirius and Castor together, it was meant to be kept a secret. It wasn't inconsequential, Harry thought, because Castor wasn't the type to merely keep a picture of him and Sirius in his study if it didn't have some importance. Putting these thoughts aside, Harry took a deep calming breath and was asleep within minutes.

It had been a week since Harry's birthday and still there was so word from Hermione about Elizabeth Ann Albin. Harry went back to focusing his mind on training and researching. He and Castor started to duel longer as well. Castor wasn't becoming more viscous in his selection of curses he threw at Harry. Twice, Castor hit him with the bone breaking curse, and Harry could only grind his teeth in pain as Castor mended the broken bone. The first time Harry was hit with the curse, he swore angrily at Castor.

'Death Eaters won't allow you to sit back and mend your injury like I will, Potter,' he said acidly. 'I am not here to give you any slack or mercy. I am here to train you and help you fully understand the hell that is awaiting you.'

Harry stared angrily at Castor, but his head dropped. He knew Castor was right, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

'My job is to make you a lethal adversary to all those who try to poison the decency of our world,' he said kneeling down next to Harry, mending his broken ankle in a flash. 'We must assume you are this Chosen One, and so it is our task, yours and mine, to make sure you know the vitality of this training.'

For the first time since Harry had been with him, Castor held out a hand and helped Harry back to his feet. He handed Harry his wand back and marched back over to the other end of the room.

'Alright, Potter,' he said straightening himself to full height. 'Show me what you got.'

They dueled for the next hour. Harry was caked in sweat, but he successfully deflected every curse Castor threw at him.

'Stupefy!' Harry yelled.

Castor fell flat on his stomach, rolled twice and shot up in an instant.

'Legilimens!' he hissed.

It was the first time Castor had used the curse without telling him, and Harry was caught completely off guard.

He was twelve, dueling Draco Malfoy in the Great Hall. He was thirteen, Professor Lupin handing him chocolate after he passed out on the Hogwart's Express. He was sixteen, Ginny had her arms around his neck and he was kissing her passionately outside of Hagrid's cabin after winning the Quidditch Cup. He was at the Department of Mysteries, watching Sirius fall through the veil.

'NO!' Harry screamed. His knees buckled and he slumped to the ground tears running down his face. Castor had lifted the curse.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to block out all the images that just passed through his mind. He heard Castor's footsteps walk towards him and felt Castor kneel down next to him. He looked up. Castor was right in front of him, a look of anger and frustration on his face.

'You're letting me get into your head, Potter,' he said angrily. 'The Dark Lord is gonna have a field day with you.'

'I'm trying!' Harry yelled, feeling weak and angered by Castor's lack of dignity.

'Stand up.'

Harry didn't budge. He merely sat there, his wand held limp in his hand.

'Stand up,' Castor said again, this time a bit louder.

Again, Harry didn't move.

'I said stand up, boy!' Castor said and this time he grabbed Harry round the neck and hoisted him up with one arm.

Harry tried to free himself but Castor grasped him firmer. His cool blue eyes were narrowed in fury, his fingers digging into Harry's neck.

'Let go of me!' Harry choked.

But Castor didn't let go, his hand was getting tighter, Harry was losing the ability to breathe.

'This is the one and only time I will say this, Potter,' he said coldly. 'What happened in the Department of Mysteries was not your fault.'

Harry opened his eyes and looked straight at Castor.

'You knew,' he whispered.

'Yes,' Castor said furiously, letting go of Harry and stepping back from him. 'I've known since the night it happened.'

'How did you find out?' Harry asked rubbing his neck.

Castor didn't answer for a minute but he took a resounding breath. Harry knew whatever Castor had to say, he certainly didn't want to.

'I was there,' he whispered.

Harry stood there, frozen. It was impossible.

Castor looked at Harry then walked over to the table where the pictures of his past stood. He leaned over the table and picked up one of the photos and stared at it for awhile.

'But you were never in the Order,' Harry said.

'True,' he said gazing in the photo. 'But I never said I didn't work for them.'

'What do you mean?' Harry asked, completely confused.

'Christ, Potter, use your damn head,' Castor growled. 'The members of the Order don't get paid for being in it, and in case your simple mind hasn't calculated the blatantly obvious, my services are not cheap.'

'Uh,' Harry said stupidly, still not understanding.

'I was working for Fudge back then,' he said still looking into the picture. 'He wanted my help to find someone who had gone missing. He was going to pay me top dollar for any information I could get on this wizard's whereabouts.'

Harry stood there, trying to put it all together.

'Who were you looking for?'

Castor looked up at Harry and smiled.

'Albus Dumbledore.'

Harry's mouth dropped.

'You were assigned to find Dumbledore and bring him in.'

'Unfortunately,' Castor started but Harry cut him off.

'You never found him.'

'That's ignorant Potter,' Castor hissed. 'Of course I found him. The day he left Hogwarts, well, escape is probably the better word, he contacted me.'

'Why?'

'Because Dumbledore knew that Fudge was going to hire me to find him, bring him into justice and all that nonsense.'

'But what did he want with you?' Harry asked, not understanding why Castor, although a skilled wizard, would be vital to Dumbledore the second he left Hogwarts.

At this, Castor grumbled darkly.

'Dumbledore knew that I was close with Fudge,' Castor said. 'The old man was going to try and convince me to turn over, and play the spy for him. He wanted me to find out anything I could on what Fudge was doing about any strange activity going on in the wizarding world. Murders, disappearances, that sort of thing.'

Harry stared at Castor for a minute.

'Did you?'

Castor paused for a second then, abruptly threw Harry the picture he was holding.

Harry caught it and peered down.

The picture was the one Harry had seen so many months ago. It was the picture of Castor and Sirius sitting at a table, Sirius looking at Castor with pride and happiness, Castor looking disgruntled and bored.

'I've seen you looking at that picture many times, Potter,' Castor whispered.

Harry looked up and nodded.

'You knew Sirius.'

It wasn't a question.

'Briefly,' Castor said. 'We had only met a few times.'

Harry was trying to understand everything Castor was saying.

'You worked for Dumbledore,' Harry said. 'You told Fudge you were going to find him, but instead you got information from Fudge to Dumbledore. That's how you knew Sirius.'

Castor didn't say anything. Instead, he merely nodded.

'It had nothing to do with morals or the fact that I admired Dumbledore more than I did Fudge,' he said slowly. 'Dumbledore paid me very well for my services, more than Fudge would. That is probably the main reason I took the job.'

'But you didn't want to join the Order did you?'

'The Order of the Phoenix is on the most wanted list for the Dark Lord, and some of them for the Ministry too,' Castor said. 'It is bad enough being a Dark Wizard catcher, Potter. I go look for them, and I prefer it that way. I wouldn't want someone like Lucius Malfoy knocking on my door.'

Harry hated to admit it, but Castor had a point.

'So for the next few months, until the night at the Department of Mysteries, I worked for the Order, relaying messages and giving any information I could on Fudge.'

Harry stared at him then back at the photo.

'When was this taken?' he asked.

Castor paused again. This time, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

'About three days before the night he was killed. It was the last time I saw him.'

Then something clicked in Harry's mind.

'But you said you were there that night,' Harry said. 'How could this photo be the last time you saw him if you were there the night he was killed.'

'I wasn't in the Department of Mysteries, Potter,' Castor said waving his hand as though Harry asked a stupid question. 'I arrived that night after Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore had dueled. I was in the Atrium surrounded by Aurors, delegates and everyone else that night.'

'I don't' understand,' Harry said. 'Why didn't you go with the other members of the Order?'

'Word of the battle didn't reach me until it was over. When I reached the Ministry, Dumbledore had Fudge at his knees. I caught a glimpse of you, actually, but you Portkeyed out of the there no more than two minutes after I arrived.'

Harry stared at Castor then back at the photo. This was too much. He didn't understand.

'Why are you telling me all this?'

Castor took a long drag from his smoke and tossed it out the window.

'Listen Potter,' he said walking towards him. 'I didn't know Sirius Black all that well, but I know he was a good man. He talked about you all the time, and he was never happy about being stuck in that house of his all the time. He confided in me, among others that he always regretted not spending more time with you.'

Harry's head dropped in guilt. Reluctantly, Castor put a hand on his shoulder.

'It wasn't your fault that he got killed,' Castor said slowly. 'The Dark Lord tricked you, and you fell for it.'

'If I just learned how to block him out, it wouldn't have happened,' Harry said, his voice cracking a bit.

'If Dumbledore made the right decision and taught you himself rather than that greasy hair bastard Snape nothing bad would've have happened.'

Harry looked up at Castor, and was surprised to see that behind his stern and cold expression, his eyes looked soft and concerned.

'There's no destiny or order on how things happen, Potter,' he said. 'You of all people should never underestimate the power of dumb luck and unlikely circumstances.'

Harry didn't say anything, but nearly nodded. He was right.

Castor squeezed Harry's shoulder once more, took the photo from him and placed it back on his table.

'Don't beat yourself up about what happened that night Potter,' he said. 'And don't do it because of what happened tonight. You are turning into the wizard that you are suppose to be, but you still need practice.'

Harry nodded, not finding his voice to talk.

'For the remainder of the summer, which is about three weeks or so,' Castor said. 'We will be working solely on dueling and Occlumency. But I want you running in the morning as always, keep up your strength.'

'Yes, Professor,' Harry choked.

'Get some sleep,' Castor said, 'I'll see you in the morning.'

Harry made his way to the door, but Castor called to him.

'Just one more thing,' Castor said walking forward. 'I don't like to pry in this but do you still have feelings for the Weasley's girl?'

Harry was taken aback. Of everything he didn't want to talk about with Castor, his love life was at the top. He didn't want to answer, but he knew he could not just say anything, and he didn't want to lie, Castor would find out anyways.

'Yes,' Harry said, going red from embarrassment.

Castor eyed him for a moment.

'I'm just gonna say one thing on this matter, Potter,' he said sternly. 'If Voldemort doesn't know about this already, he will find out, make no mistake. So if you want to be with her, by all means, go for it. You look like a guy who could do with some female attention.'

To Harry's astonishment, Castor smiled, a real smile. Harry turned around, his face burning with embarrassment. As he opened the door, he remembered something that had been on his mind for a while. Something he wanted to ask Castor.

'Uh, Professor, can I ask you something?' he asked.

'Shoot.'

'Well, you see, the thing is, er, Professor,' Harry stammered. 'That I heard somewhere that you were the only wizard to ever kill a dementor. Is that true sir?'

Castor didn't answer him right away. Instead he pulled out another cigarette, lifting his wand to the end and lighting it. He blew out a long cloud of smoke.

'Yea, its true, Potter,' he said not correcting Harry for calling him sir.

Harry was taken aback for a minute.

'How, er, how did you do it?'

Castor took another long dragged and turned his head to look right at Harry. Castor chuckled darkly.

'I drowned him in chocolate.'

Harry stared at Professor Castor for a minute. He mumbled a goodnight then headed for his bedroom.

Chocolate?

Harry reached his bedroom, shut the door and flopped down on his bed.

Chocolate? He killed a dementor by covering it with chocolate?

Harry was too exhausted to think about it, but for some reason, he didn't believe that Castor was lying.

A/D: Sorry this one took so long to write. Review, tell me what you think. Next chapter, Godric's Hollow and Harry goes back to school.