Disclaimer: J. K .Rowling owns Harry Potter and his world.

Chapter 7:

About the time of the wedding, Naomi mentioned to Harry that the paperwork was complete for his change of name. Medjkind records were important, and Harry had decided that he'd been around long enough as Harry Potter, even though, according to records, his home, for instance, was now owned by the grandson of the original Potter. But now the records stated that Harry Potter was dead, and his home was passed on to Henry Bellamy. Naomi handed him a new passport, too, as well as work permits. With the help of magic, the documents would be accepted, without questions or doubt, in any country. They stated his age as twenty-one at date of issue. He didn't look quite that young, but they'd be good for twenty years or so that way. Naomi wondered why he'd asked for work permits as well, as it was not needed for his spell-breaking trips. The Ministry looked after all the arrangements for those. And Harry had ample money for any holiday he wanted to take. If he chose, he could live indefinitely on the proceeds of investments.

Harry didn't know, himself, why he wanted work permits, but put them away carefully.

His own world still knew him as Harry Potter, although he was mostly referred to these days as the great wizard, or, sometimes, the Monster. It was only for Medjkind that he would be Bellamy.

His behaviour on the spell-breaking expeditions made it an interesting job for the aurors. When married, he had almost invariably gone home at night, although every other wizard could only apparate a few hundred miles at a time. But Julie wasn't there any more, and home was too lonely. Instead, his restless search for fun and entertainment took him from one dangerous pursuit to another. The reward for his death was now such that it would make a wizard very rich indeed, and the aurors were under firm orders to try and be with him at all times. He was irreplaceable.

But Harry did exactly as he chose, was frequently out by himself, even overnight, got himself into fistfights, and had seduced a female bodyguard before they even knew that Julie had left him. Franz was in despair. Luckily Alex, routinely in charge of the team of aurors, was not a worrier. He'd known Harry for nearly thirty years, since he, himself, was newly qualified. He'd seen him in trouble, had seen him close to death, and had seen him achieve incredible things. Alex did his job as best he could, but chose to draw amusement rather than annoyance from the rash activities of his friend.

There were never major crime problems among British wizardry when Harry was around, although troubles had developed sometimes when he'd gone away for long periods. The theory was that ambitious Dark Wizards might simply go overseas rather than run the risk of raising the ire of the great wizard. It was another reason for keeping him around and healthy, and another reason not to begrudge a large allocation from the aurors.

Harry was happier when he knew the aurors well, and liked to have the same team week after week. Besides Alex, he usually had Patrick and Fred, large Gareth, and a couple of youngsters - Adam, who was twenty-five, and Ricky, the only newly qualified auror in years, as there seemed little need these days for large numbers. Unusually, for an auror, Ricky was small, only five foot six. He had lightning reactions, and was already respected among his peers. His parents called him Quicksilver. Harry liked young companions, and the more he was content to play with the aurors rather than going off by himself, the better. Franz avoided rostering those four of his aurors to whom he'd been 'Grandfather Harry' though, as he thought he'd probably pay even less attention to them than he did to the others. So redheaded Tom Davenport, and the three other descendants of Harry who'd become aurors, missed out on this favourite duty.

There was a new healer assigned to them. It didn't appear a good choice. Graham was too young, not very experienced, and distinctly nervous of Harry. On his first trip, he said hesitantly to Harry that Catherine had told him that he was to do the Niscos and to check his weight at the beginning and end of each trip. Harry said No. Graham said nothing. That was some weeks ago now.

This week the team were in Russia, although it was the first time they'd visited. Wizardry was a very small minority indeed in Russia, and it was only in the last decade that they'd had much to do with the rest of Wizardkind. Unfortunately, the custom that seemed to have taken off with most enthusiasm was that of wizard duelling. Russia's one and only mediwizard was observing. Harry cured three patients, then conjured an easychair, sat himself down, and said to Graham, "I reckon you can do the rest of them, and maybe teach Gus here while you're doing it." And he leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and his feet up on a footstool that appeared at exactly the right height and position for him to take his ease, and relaxed.

Graham was appalled. "You know no-one else can do what you do!"

Harry smiled, "Try it!"

Gareth was with them in the room, and he, too, turned a questioning look toward Harry. There was the Russian Coodinator and translator, too. Harry was apparently paying not the slightest attention.

Reluctantly, Graham turned back to the patient. It was the boils curse, which was a standard curse, easily removed by any qualified mediwizard. So then why did he need the great wizard? Still tense, without confidence, Graham spoke the words of the counter curse, and to his own surprise, cured his patient.

"Now show Gus," ordered Harry. Graham demonstrated to Gus, as he himself had been taught not so long before.

Harry rose and strolled out of the room, Gareth hesitating over whether or not to follow him. But Ricky and Adam were just outside. Harry cast a glance around at the waiting patients. Three more wizards appeared to be suffering from boils. He beckoned to one, who rose, hesitating. And this time, after a couple of attempts, it was Gus who was able to cure the man, then the other two. Harry yawned. He suspected that there were no patients here at all who required his unique talents. It was just that their healer had not been taught his job. He wandered outside to see Alex, leaving on his cape, as it was not unusual garb for this cold country.

"Something wrong?" Alex asked.

"Nothing wrong," answered Harry casually, "I just thought I'd leave Graham to do my job today, might give him a bit of confidence."

Alex was quick to comprehend, and laughed. "You mean they're just ordinary patients?"

Harry smiled, "I haven't seen one yet that can't be cured by any competent healer. They've paid a lot to have their mediwizard get a bit of training!"

But now he had nothing to do, and looked around restlessly. Alex watched him uneasily, and said, "Harry, what are you planning?"

Harry glanced at him. "Nothing," and walked back toward where Graham was now teaching Gus how to reverse the Trembling Curse. Harry was trembling himself, but that was normal for him, and no-one took any notice.

New patients had arrived, and Harry noticed one that probably would need his personal attention. He supposed he'd best stay around, and to the amazement of Ricky and Adam, he sat himself in the waiting room, closed his eyes and appeared to doze. He'd walked a long time the previous night, after one of his nightmares, and was tired.

Graham looked for him a half hour later, saw that he was asleep, and only set the difficult patient to wait, himself proceeding with the next patient, under the Snail Curse. The woman looked perfectly normal, but could only move extremely slowly. She'd been hit with the spell by a wizard intending to rape. But she'd already got him with the 'No Way' spell that witches know, and the man was unable to rape anyone. Now, every morning, the man would look down at himself sadly, and wonder if he'd ever be able to enjoy sex again. He was not among the patients set down for Harry. He'd been told that the woman's brothers would be watching for him if he thought of a cure.

Harry was more deeply asleep, Ricky and Adam close by him in case any of the patients were assassins in disguise. Graham had still not woken him. He looked so tired and sad in his sleep. It was nearly lunchtime before Harry suddenly jumped and looked up, eyes wet, and said to Ricky, "Jebedee's dead!"

Ricky looked at him confused. Who was Jebedee? But Harry just rubbed his face and went off to freshen up.

He needed the strong magic for the difficult patient, as he'd expected. It was the first time that Graham had seen it, and he watched in sheer awe as Harry concentrated, and produced a power in the air that almost made his head hurt. It was like he was somehow in the middle of a maelstrom, but with no actual movement, hardly any actual sound, and nothing to see, except that it felt like there should be lightning all around.

At lunch, Alex said to Harry, "Ricky told me that you said that Jebedee's dead." Harry nodded. Alex said softly, "That's a great loss to us all." Alex knew that Jebedee and Harry had been close friends for a long time, but Harry only nodded again.

Graham was watching. After work, he was going to muster up his courage, and insist that Harry allow him to do an examination. He didn't look well, and was trembling again. Alex put out a hand and touched him, provoking a comment, "Everyone dies, there's no good getting upset about it," but there was a great pain in Harry's eyes, and he pushed away his meal. He would have liked to leave, but he knew that at least one, and probably two, of the aurors would then feel obliged to abandon their own meal, in order to stay close to him. He did sometimes think about their convenience.

He hung around for the afternoon, while Graham and Gus did the work, only wanted once, and then it needed only a wave of his wand. Gus made a lot of notes, and would be a much better mediwizard in the future. Gus was with them at dinner, and Gus and Graham became very involved in discussion. The Russian translator was very hard at work. Harry listened closely. He'd never learned Russian, though he had dozens of other languages by this stage in his life. There were a couple of other Russians there, whom they assumed were the equivalent of their Minister for Magic and maybe an offsider. There were a few other Russian wizards hovering around, also, acting as guards. Alex wondered if they were any better trained than the mediwizard.

Harry was beginning to get a feel for the language, but decided he needed more exposure. "I'm going out for a while," he said to Alex.

Alex nodded. "Pat? Fred? Harry's going out." Patrick and Fred were covering the evening and night shift.

"Alone," added Harry.

"Now, Harry," protested Alex.

Harry grinned at him. "Pat and Fred were walking with me last night, they could do with a rest!"

Alex replied with asperity, "They've been resting all day."

Graham was feeling rather cocky after his day's work, and the prestige of being the expert in the eyes of Gus, and, besides, he suspected that Harry was not quite well, and thought that he should be checked. He tried to put authority in his voice, therefore, as he firmly requested Harry to report to his room for an examination before going out. Harry hesitated. Graham was holding his breath, and Gus was watching, interested. Harry was suddenly sorry for Graham, whose relief was profound when he looked at his watch, and only asked, "Now?"

Graham had sets of monitors that had been modified especially for this purpose. Harry was not like other wizards, and certain measurements were off the scale of normal monitors. In the past, Harry had interfered with the monitors of Ministry healers in order to disguise his abnormalities. But his differences were now common knowledge, especially among healers. Graham couldn't believe his luck when he was allowed, not only to check the Niscos and weight, but to do a more thorough examination.

Harry put up with it patiently. He might be working with Graham for many years, and he quite liked the boy, who'd tried hard not to let himself be frightened of him. Graham's results were as expected - Harry was thinner than he should be, and the LV and a couple of other measures of general health were down from his normal but not by a large amount.

Harry was regarding him, a slight smile on his face. "Satisfied?"

Graham said with dignity, "I'm satisfied. Thank you," and Harry strolled out.

Alex was waiting for him, very surprised that Harry had been so cooperative for Graham, and now hopeful that he might be given a similar cooperation. Harry accepted his escort to his room, and even invited him in. But once inside, Harry pulled his hair back into a ponytail, conjured some clothing that looked as close as possible to the rough and drab gear that seemed to be the norm among the Russians, and turned to Alex and asked what he thought.

Alex said that it was very good, and then, persuasively, "How about you do some for me, too, and we'll go together?"

Harry replied only that he wanted to be alone.

"You cooperated with Graham!"

Harry grinned, "You're a lot tougher than Graham, I reckon you can take a refusal," and silently disapparated. They always followed him if he just walked.

He reappeared a couple of blocks away from the hotel. He didn't know this city, and now walked, looking for a bar. He was still bent on learning Russian, and was listening to the thoughts of those he passed in order to help in the learning process. He reckoned it was not really an invasion of privacy when he didn't know the people and they didn't know him.

Two hours later, he'd been adopted by some Russian workmen, who were pressing drinks on him. They thought his accented Russian very funny. To begin with, Harry treated his drinks, so that they only looked alcoholic. He hardly ever had too much to drink. But suddenly he changed his mind. Jebedee was dead, Julie had left him, and he abruptly decided that getting drunk might not be such a bad idea after all.

More hours later, and Gareth found him. Alex was informed, and Patrick and Fred were sent to join Gareth. The three aurors lounged against the wall, close by, as Harry and his new-found friends sang drinking songs, getting louder and more raucous with each verse. They were not quite sure whether Harry noticed them or not.

The four drunks were eventually hunted out into the cold, and staggered off down the street, tailed by three highly amused aurors. One of the drunks was beginning to be belligerent, and suddenly wheeled on the aurors. The Russian was unintelligible to the aurors, but Harry obligingly translated. "He says, What're you doing following us?"

Harry was staggering, and a big Russian with a battered face, wrapped an arm around him in order to keep him on his feet. The belligerent one walked aggressively toward the aurors. Harry just stood, looking mischievous. What would they do now? The aurors looked at each other. Fred took charge, spreading his arms in a peaceable gesture, and saying placatingly, "We were just walking, no harm."

Harry translated faithfully. And then, "He says you're to walk the other way!"

Patrick said something, and Gareth and Fred retreated. Harry called to his belligerent friend to leave the man alone, as he was too small to be bothered with, and the big Russian obeyed, laughing suddenly, hilariously, and launching again into song.

Patrick tried a mental communication then, as he knew Harry would probably hear. For goodness sake, Harry, Come back with us. You don't know them! Harry heard and replied, turning back toward Patrick, and saying definitely, if in rather a slurred voice, "My name's not Harry! I'm Bellamy, now! You call me Bellamy!" Patrick raised his eyes to the sky, and gave it up for the time. The three aurors continued to follow, a lot more discreetly.

There was another bar, with a roaring fire. The Russians were still drinking, but quieter now. Harry was lured by the glow of the fire, only just saved from falling in by a reaching arm. He sat on the floor, looked into the fire for a time, then curled himself up in front of it, and went to sleep.

It was almost dawn before his Russian friends were sufficiently comatose for Patrick to rouse Harry, who still insisted on being called Bellamy, and persuade him to be a passenger while he apparated back to the hotel. It would have been a recipe for disaster to allow him to apparate himself while still drunk.

At breakfast, Harry observed to Gareth, "You look rather tired." Alex was also looking very tired. He was nearly fifty, and hadn't gone to bed until his charge had been returned. Harry himself looked perfectly well, even contented.

"Are you going to behave yourself today, Harry?" he asked.

"Bellamy," said Harry tauntingly. "I'm not being Harry any more, now I'm Henry Bellamy. You call me Bellamy!" And he totally refused to acknowledge any remark that addressed him as Harry.

Graham and Gus were handling the work again, and Harry, now Bellamy, asked Alex about the schedule, "Well, Bellamy," said Alex deliberately, and Bellamy grinned. "We finish the Russian cases about mid-afternoon, and then there's some from various other countries, which probably will need your personal attention."

"I might go for a bit of a stroll, then," said Bellamy. "I'll be back in an hour," and he disapparated in his characteristic silence. Alex swore. One of the Russian guards was close by, and pointed. Bellamy was disappearing around a corner, heading toward a nearby park, where temporary charms kept away Medjkind. It was being used as an apparation point.

The wizards waited with wands raised. Bellamy was anticipating. He was here. They could have a go. The wizards didn't feel it when he put an anti-disapparation charm on each of them. Bellamy felt like testing his own reactions against Death Curses, and besides, it was really high time that he died. They were in ambush, behind trees. That didn't suit Bellamy, and the wizards found their feet taking them into an open area. The aurors were approaching rapidly, and suddenly a red line was traced at a distance, around Bellamy and the two who wanted to kill him. Now no-one could interfere. The barrier was impervious to spells, and as it was his own, it might even stop a Death Curse. Just in case, a brick wall was suddenly at his back. Harry wanted no-one else getting hurt, and Death Curses were supposed to be unstoppable, undeflectable by normal means. A brick wall would stop one though.

The wizards were suddenly released, and a taunting voice said, "Well, come on then, don't you want to kill me?"

Alex, Ricky and Adam tested the barrier, found that they could not approach, and so could only watch. Harry was crouched slightly, ready, and when two green streaks of light came hurtling, he leapt to the side. More streaks of light came, and the wizards were coming closer, so that he had less time to dodge. The great wizard could bat a spell aside with his hand, even Death Curses, but this time, he dodged, ducked, and once even jumped over a spell. And he was laughing as if his dance with death was just a game.

Alex made the only argument he could think of that might stop this suicidal madness. "There's two days work to go, Bellamy. You can't leave a job unfinished!" Instantly Harry was surrounded by a semi-transparent, magical shield. He stopped moving, and waited. The spell hit the shield, and vanished, then another. His shield worked against Death Curses. He'd wondered if it would. The shield vanished, he put up a hand, and the wizards dropped their wands.

Harry walked toward them, casually. The wizards backed up until they were hard against the barrier that still surrounded them. He smiled at them. One drew himself up bravely, trying to muster the courage to die with dignity. The other wet himself. The great wizard deliberately drew his wand. The first put his chin up a little more.

Bellamy stooped, picked up the two wands, and asked the first, "Yours?" There was a nod. The wand was tossed back, and was caught. "Put it in your pocket," he was told, "You might need it where you're going."

The other wand was thrown to the other wizard. This time, it was fumbled, and the wizard had to bend and pick it up. The wizards still didn't know whether or not they were to be killed. Wizards are always buried with their wands in their hands. He probably meant that.

Alex called to him, "Harry, you have to hand them over for trial. Don't take the law into your own hands."

Bellamy ignored him. He wasn't Harry any more. He pointed his wand and a wizard vanished, then the other. The barrier vanished, the protective brick wall vanished, and he turned to go back to work.

"What did you do?" asked Alex, very, very worried. Had Harry broken the law?

Bellamy said casually, "I sent each of them to the top of a cold and steep Scottish mountain. They can no longer apparate, and they'll probably take days to get home." He grinned. "I wrote on their chests, too. It'll be no good them telling their wives they were on a business trip."

Alex laughed with a great deal of relief. "What did you write?"

"I wrote, I tried to kill the great wizard. You know, like a souvenir shirt, except that it's on their skin, and won't go away."

Alex pulled Bellamy to his side in a hug. "You're mad, you do know that!"

Bellamy frowned and said in a troubled voice, "Maybe I am a bit mad." And he was silent.

Alex and the others were relieved when the standard patients that Graham could do came to an end, and Bellamy again had something to keep him out of mischief, as least for a few hours.

When Alex gave Franz his report that Friday, Franz took him with him to talk to Catherine. Catherine was still a Ministry Healer, even if she was no longer up to travelling. She knew Harry very well, and was appalled when Alex described Harry's flirtation with death. She blinked in surprise at his abrupt change of name, too. Alex was less concerned, and he tried to reassure Franz. He thought that Bellamy had only been reacting to the death of Jebedee, and a change of name was really perfectly logical. Alex thought his kindness to Graham reassuring, too. No matter how apparently mad his behaviour, he ensured that others were not hurt by it. He did agree with Franz, though, that he was in some quite deep distress.