Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Jim Butcher for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use.

Author Notes: This is a Harry Potter crossover with the Dresden Files the book series. All my knowledge of the Dresden Files comes from the books. I've never seen the TV series. For the timeline that will be stated later. Thanks to the folks at DLP for help with editing.

Awaken Sleeper.
Chapter Six: Born Under a Bad Sign
by: Water Mage

Harry awakened more tired than he could ever remember. His eyes remained half lidded with sleep, and his body protested against any and all movement. Why was he even so tired? The answer came to him in a moment of perfect clarity as he squinted at the morning sun filtering in through the curtains of his bedroom window. He had spent all night at Griffin's again till close. It was the third night in a row. Still no sight of the mysterious Elaine. While he did have a few questions for the woman, Harry hadn't come away from his outings empty handed. In a bar people talked. They talked to pass the time, to meet people, or to listen to the sound of their own voice. They talked when they were sober, and talked even more when drunk.

He learned that Elaine was a semi regular at the bar. She sat alone in a corner and usually passed the time by reading. He had got that from Sam who he learned knew every customer who came in like he knew Quidditch maneuvers. He had developed a respect for the woman who hailed from the UK just the same as he. Her brazen attitude and endless bad jokes amused him to no end. He hadn't come away with just information on Elaine.

Time and time again mention was made to the White Council. From what he gathered Sam was a member and Harry was too, as far as she knew. They were a governing body of wizards, and that was all he knew. People didn't bring up the White Council often, or for no reason. The governing body was spoken of by customers with mixed emotions. The snatches of conversations held tones of fear, respect, and sometimes anger. Harry kept his ears open and originally figured maybe the White Council were as incompetent as the Ministry of Magic before its rebirth after falling to Voldemort. It was the opposite. The White Council apparently was good at their job. Perhaps too good at times. He didn't have enough information to form a more solid picture, but he had to get people used to seeing his face before he started asking questions that may raise brows.

Without warning the bedroom door banged open. He didn't think. Instincts kicked in and he acted. Harry rolled from his bed and landed on the balls of his feet, crouched low in a fighting stance. Lily and James appeared in the doorway smiling like loons. Their grins slipped a bit, and they eyed Harry weirdly, who quickly dropped his stance.

"Er… good morning," he smiled awkwardly.

James turned to Lily. "I told you we shouldn't barge in. 'James it's too early for him to be doing that'," he mocked in a high pitched voice, waving his arm around wildly. "He's a healthy boy, Lily. It's never too early for him."

Lily's right eye twitched as James concluded his over the top impersonation. "You're begging for a good smack across the face."

James grinned roguishly. "I'll just reply with harder, and we both know where that will lead."

"To intense counseling," Lily deadpanned.

Harry let out a noise that was between a choke and squeak. "Mortified son here, folks," he announced weakly with wide, disbelieving eyes.

James had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry about that, son. Didn't mean to barge in and whatnot. If you were doing that thing that all guys do, I have to say—"

Lily jabbed him in the rib with an elbow, and smiled warmly at Harry. "Happy Birthday, Harrison."

Harry raised both eyebrows, surprised. "Er… Are you sure?"

James snorted. "It's July 31. Don't tell me you forgot your birthday. Your twenty first birthday at that. You're legal in the states now, kid."

Was it really his birthday? Harry glanced at the calendar tacked to the wall. They were right. It was his birthday. How had the days run together on him? A slow grin spread across his face as the full implication hit him.

"I can finally get a drink around here," he blurted out happily.

James saluted him. "That's the spirit."

Lily wrapped Harry in a hug. "My baby boy all grown up."

Harry looked down at her from his extra half foot of height and grinned. "I think that happened a while ago, Mum."

She let him go and clapped her hands, beaming excitedly. "Tonight we're going to have dinner as a family. I'm going all out. Cake, your favorite foods, the works!"

He stared at her feeling so overwhelmed that it took almost three tries before he could speak. "You really don't have to…"

James clapped him on the shoulder, his face open showing nothing but seriousness. "We haven't celebrated a birthday with you since you were fifteen. You bet we have to do this. Twenty one is a special birthday in our family."

Harry felt warmth settle down in his gut and he smiled brightly. "Then I can't argue with that."

"What do you want for breakfast, honey?" asked Lily, leading him from the room.

Harry blinked. "Pancakes would be nice I guess."

"Pancakes for the birthday boy coming right up," announced Lily with far too much cheer.

Harry slowly distanced himself from her a bit. She was all, bouncy.

James leaned in and whispered in his ear, "She's a bit over the moon that we get to finally celebrate your birthday with you again. This day's usually hard for us every year, and now with you back well…" he trailed off, shrugging awkwardly. "It's like a miracle."

Or magic. He refrained from opening that can of words. Instead he settled for a nod and replied, "I don't mind. It's nice."

James ruffled his hair and Harry swatted at the hand. His mother worked her magic as she buzzed around the kitchen, mixing batter, flipping pancakes, and carrying on a conversation all at once. Harry had some skills at cooking thanks to the Dursley's, but he didn't have the ease of cooking like his mother showed. She was like a professional chief, and he was more like Chief Boyardee. Sad but true.

Aiden pattered into the room, wearing pajama pants and a snug red shirt just as Lily finished her first batch of pancakes. With his mused reddish brown hair and wide bright hazel eyes, Harry thought Aiden resembled one of those characters from the Japanese cartoons he was always observed in.

James pulled out a chair for his youngest. "You get your cartoon fix for the morning?"

Aiden nodded happily and delved into the short stack of pancakes Lily placed in front of him. Harry stared at the child. Watching Aiden eat was as always a sight. Where some kids picked at their food, or ate a small portion and called it a day, Aiden devoured food as if it was his last meal. He was just always hungry. His metabolism had to be working overtime with the amount of hours it logged, breaking down all the processed food into energy.

Harry stared at the boy with a touch of awe. "It's always an experience watching him eat."

James laughed. "He eats like a bloody horse. The boy will be something else when he hits the teen years."

Lily pecked a kiss on the side of Aiden's head, and took a seat at the table. "He can't help it if he knows good cooking when he sees it."

Harry snorted. It was like watching a velociraptor devour its first prey in over a week. Finally his fork clattered to the plate and he sat back in his chair holding his stomach with a satisfied smile on his face. He didn't eat a lot, but he made up for it with sheer speed.

"So do you want to do anything for your birthday today?" asked Lily as she wiped Aiden's cheeks with a towel, cleaning up all the syrup he had managed to get even behind his ears.

"I was planning to go out for a little while," said Harry casually. He had to go back to Griffin's again. It was a bit obsessive, but it was his first actual breakthrough.

Lily shared a look with James. "Is to the same place you were at last night? I noticed that you weren't home last night when I went by your room."

He tensed unconsciously, and answered shortly, "Yeah, it's the same place."

"What's this place you keep disappearing off to?" asked James. "You were out pretty late last night."

Harry shrugged. "Just a place downtown. Nice atmosphere. Met a few nice people."

"You were downtown all last night?" asked Lily, looking like she was on the verge of worry or anger, he couldn't tell. It was more than likely a mixture of both.

"Yes, Mum," said Harry calmly, watching her with deliberate coolness. "I promise I didn't talk to any strangers."

James flashed Harry a look of warning. "Harrison…"

"Sorry," he mumbled, feeling marginally guilty for the comment.

Aiden was still, but his eyes watched them thoughtfully. Lily glanced at him and took a deep breath to calm herself. Harry understood. She didn't want to upset Aiden.

Lily sighed, and looked at him green eyes shining with worry. "Harrison, downtown's dangerous late at night. Especially if you're alone. Things happen."

"I know how to take care of myself," Harry replied with a sudden confidence that made her blink.

James took over. "You've been in a scrap or two, but we'll still worry about you. Nothing will change that, whether you can defend yourself or not."

Harry conceded his point and slowly nodded. "I know. I promise to always be careful when I'm out and by myself."

Lily opened her mouth to reply, and James covered her hand with his, and half smiled at Harry. "As long as you're careful, and you give us a heads up if you're going to be out really late."

Harry couldn't dismiss the concern painted so clearly upon her face, and answered softly, "Okay, then. Okay."

The sun was high in the sky when he stepped into the familiar alley that he had come to know well in the past few days. It was late afternoon and hot enough for him to don a pair of shorts, and a white shirt that said in big letters on the front, "The Me in Team". He was mildly impressed that he didn't have to fill out a questionnaire when he proclaimed to his parents that he was leaving for a few hours. They already knew where he was going, so all they did was bid him to be careful and be back for his birthday dinner tonight. He had to give credit where credit was due. They were trying. They weren't used to their son being independent from them, and Harry wasn't used to constant parental attention.

He glanced at his watch and it was nearing five o'clock as he opened the door and stepped into Griffin's. Ceiling fans lazily whirled above the nearly empty bar, except for three others settled at a table hunched over an old tome. Harry slid onto a barstool and waved at Sam who sauntered over, breaking into an easy smile when she saw him.

"Well if it isn't the banner boy for the Union Jack," she teased, wiping at the counter in front of him. "Come to dazzle me with another round of dry wit and politeness."

Harry adopted his own teasing smile. "So the mick finally has sobered up enough to have a real conversation with me. You know I've only come to drug your Guinness and have my way with you."

Sam snorted. "You don't have the right equipment to satisfy me."

"You mean a brewery?" Harry asked, his smile contradicting his confused tone.

Sam laughed and patted at her chest. "More like a set of tits, English."

"Bugger," said Harry sadly, firmly holding back a full blown smile. "Well… if you ever get tired of playing with knockers and want to try out—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll be seeing stars."

"That would be some foreplay," said Harry thoughtfully, staring into space. Laughing, he dodged the towel that she swiped at his head.

Sam shook her head, the smile not leaving her face. "Can I get you anything? Well anything with no alcohol." She snapped her fingers, and put on an overly apologetic expression. "Sorry but we're fresh out of tea."

Harry ignored her last jab and grinned victoriously as he slapped down his ID. "Screw that. I want a pint of Foster's."

She snatched up the ID, turned it this way and that, and even held it up to the light. Finally she begrudgingly handed it back to him. "Damn. There goes all the joy I get from denying you alcohol."

Harry winked. "Just like you on a Saturday night at the end of a date, you can't say no."

"The drink was on the house, but after that remark it's going to cost you."

"It was worth it," declared Harry, staring at the drink that was placed in front of him. It was the best thing he had seen all day.

He lifted the glass to his lips and tasted the beer. It was cold going down and hit his taste buds in an explosion of sensation. He closed his eyes and hoped that the low moan he emitted didn't sound as orgasmic as it did to his own ears. Foster's wasn't the best beer he had ever had, but after months with no alcohol it tasted like the best thing since Firewhiskey.

Sam raised an eyebrow, dark blue eyes watching him in wry amusement. "Was it good for you too?"

Harry refrained from commenting at that. He caressed the glass and looked around the bar. "Is it always dead at this time? It's always pretty busy when I come in at night."

Her smile left, replaced by a grim frown. "Word is the White Council just came into town."

Harry studied the purple haired woman. He knew enough to know that a visit by the White Council spelled something not so good. "I take it something is going down."

"They just got in this afternoon," she replied, quietly. "Its just rumors at this point. But they say a kid has been using some pretty black magic. Mind invasion, transmogrification… really heavy stuff."

Harry's eyes widened. The words were different, but he knew what they translated to in his world. Mind invasion – Legilimency. Transmogrification – Transfiguration. Were such things so illegal in this world enough to bring down the entire wizarding body down upon a wizard?

"So I guess they'll give him a trial and prison time?" asked Harry, itching for more information.

Sam looked away, her face seamed with sudden age and sorrow that it caused him to take pause. "You're part of the White Council. You know the Laws just as well as I. They'll most likely execute the wee one." Her eyes were shuttered and glassy. "It's always the young ones who don't know better."

Execute? What the hell. Those weren't death sentence violations. Not where he was from at least. Sam still believed he was a part of the White Council so learning these Laws from her was going to take some weaseling, since she already believed that he knew them. He shook his head. He was a dark wizard catcher, but willingly killing a kid for using black magic wasn't something that was done. It was usually instant Azakaban. Execution was saved for the truly depraved. Maybe black magic in this world twisted your soul further than what he was used to. At least he hoped. Otherwise he really had to be on his toes and watch himself until he learned all the ways to this world.

A figure moved in his peripheral vision, and he turned his head. Coming from the hall leading to the restrooms was non-other than Elaine. She moved with grace and Harry's lips quirked as she went to the same table from the other night and picked up the same book of poetry. A creature of habit that one was. He pushed the thought of the execution and the White Council to the back of his thoughts. Harry didn't want to be broody and sullen in front of a potential ally, friend… that was stretching it a bit. She did help him out, and he was banking on the chance that maybe she wouldn't mind helping a little more. Anyone who helped him in a fight was worth getting to know.

Harry grabbed his beer and stood up. "I see an old friend. Try not to miss me too much."

Sam's face cleared and her brow lifted, as she replied slow and dry, "However will I manage without you at my bar top."

"I really don't know," sighed Harry, sadly.

He approached Elaine who was absorbed in the book. Or appeared to be absorbed. Those gray eyes pinned him to the spot as he neared the table. He gave a little wave and took a seat fully aware and deeply amused by the narrowed eyed stare burning a hole through him.

"Elaine long time, no see," he said, cheerfully.

She rolled her eyes and closed her book. "Look, I know I helped you out during that fight and all, but we're not friends."

There she goes again. Harry scratched his head, confused. "Again, what fight were you watching? "

"I saw you fighting with that little stick," she replied, her voice part mocking and part taunting. "Most wizards stick with the standard staff for a focus. You have size issues?"

Harry grinned showing teeth. "It's what you do with it that counts. And I was doing pretty damn well till you rode in off your high horse."

"I only caught the end of the fight, but you keep telling yourself that."

Harry was beginning to think he had run into the world's first woman who was immune to his charm. He didn't think such a thing existed. Even Hermione was known to fold when he turned green eyes on her, and turned on the charm. It was like talking to a wall, only this wall kicked back.

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "I thought we've been over this. You're not my type. I just want to be your friend."

"I don't need a friend," Elaine responded instantly.

He blew out a frustrated breath. Ron wasn't even this stubborn. "Why not?"

Elaine flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder in an irritated gesture. "That's my business and it's going to stay that way. Now find your own table."

Harry made a big show of inspecting the chair and the tabletop. "This is your table? I don't see a sign."

"Ha. Funny," she snapped. "I was here first, so move."

"Oh, really?" asked Harry, too innocently.

"Yes, really, Captain Hair Gel," she said, smirking as Harry's hand flew to his gravity-defying hair with a scowl.

Harry glared at her and said through gritted teeth, "My hair is like this naturally."

Elaine blinked in honest surprise. "Serious?"

Harry blew out an exasperated breath. "Cross my heart."

He couldn't be sure if he felt them or if he saw them first. The air grew thick, as magic whispered through the air, and the few patrons in the bar silenced in sudden quietness that seemed unbreakable. All eyes fell on the four figures that walked into the room. Three were clothed in grey cloaks, all male, and their expressions were stern and gave nothing away as to their true emotions. A woman stood before them, just as tall as their six foot forms, with a black silk robe two shades darker than the color of her skin. A purple stole was draped over her shoulders. Her hair was all grey but her eyebrows were dark, and set upon a face that didn't look old enough to have completely grey hair. Her dark brown eyes were imposing just as they were timeless.

"Fuck me," cursed Elaine, clenching the table tightly. "He's a damned Warden!"

Harry's head snapped at her hissed outcry, and was astonished to find the air empty. What the hell? Where did she go? He craned his neck around, searching wildly for the woman. It was just like the night he met her. Once again she had vanished. There was no telltale sound of air displacement of apparation, or the snap of magic that vibrated through the immediate area of Portkey activation. She had simply disappeared. Poof.

Two of the wardens stayed stationed at the door like sentries, and the woman and one very familiar figure moved to the bar top to talk to Sam. Harry didn't have any idea who the woman was, but he knew the man accompanying her. Peter was just as tall and surly looking as ever. Harry recalled Elaine's last words, and put two and two together. Peter was a Warden. Shit. He had heard whispered mutterings of the law enforcers of the White Council. Grey cloaks and enchanted swords were the official items of a Warden. They were Hit Wizards and Aurors all in one. These were the wizards that wizards stayed away from. And Harry had beaten one in a back alley fight. Damn. He quickly took note of the emergency exit. If he could just slip out unnoticed…He saw Sam's gaze flick toward his corner table. Double damn.

Harry was more than tempted to just leave. But he had a feeling that they would somehow just track him down. From some of the things he heard, these wizards were thorough when it came to getting their man. That was putting it lightly. He was still unsure how he would fair in a real fight between him and a wizard of this world, going full out. So he made the decision to stay, watching the duo walk toward him carefully. If they were civil then he could be civil. Peter knew some of what he could do, but he didn't show his full hand in their brief fight. If they wanted a fight, then Harry would give them one. The question is who would win?

Peter nodded jerkily as they came upon the table. "He is the one I told you about."

Harry quirked an eyebrow and stared blankly at them. "Hi."

"It is fortunate that we managed to cross paths," said the woman, her voice was smooth and rich like a diplomats. "It saved us the opportunity of tracking you down."

Harry crossed his arms, his stoic expression just as impassive as hers. "And you are? I already know Peter. How you feeling, old boy?"

Peter growled and muttered under his breath in German, eyes staring hotly into Harry. A slow grin spread across Harry's face, amused by the anger, and also taking a bit of pleasure in the fact that his smile served to further antagonize the larger man.

"Be at peace, Warden Becker," she said in a low tone. "I'm Martha Liberty. I'm a member of the Senior Council."

Harry swallowed and didn't let his surprise how. She was a Senior in the Council, which was like getting a visit from a member of the upper echelons of the Ministry of Magic. He watched as the few other guests in the bar threw money on the table and made hasty exits. He wished he could do the same.

"Why have I warranted a visit from one of the members of the Senior Council?" asked Harry. "Heard you were in town for an execution."

Martha frowned at him for a long moment, not speaking. "Word spreads fast. The will of the Council has already been carried out. Meeting with you was decided once Warden Becker informed us of your attack upon him."

Harry's eyes flashed and he sat up straighter, as anger swirled in his gut, and he spat, "I guess Warden Drinks-a lot forgot to mention that it was the opposite. He attacked me, lady."

Martha shot Peter a look and said coldly, "He forgot to mention that part."

Peter cringed and ducked his head and said quickly, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to deceive, but my story isn't entirely untrue. He is a danger. He used magic against me that I haven't seen in all my years. He even used some type of spell of teleportation. I've never encountered anything like it."

Martha turned her gaze upon Harry, assessing him quietly. "I know for a fact that with the gift of magic as strong as yours that the White Council would have approached you when you came of age."

Harry shrugged, feeling a bit better that she got some of the story straight. "I was indisposed at the time."

"Who did you apprentice under if not a member of the Council?" she asked.

Tread carefully, Potter, his mind warned him. "I had a teacher but he long since past away. I learned a bit from here and there actually."

"Lay your focus on the table, boy," she stated, clearly not appeased by his answer.

He slid his wand from his pocket and laid it on the table. Martha didn't pick it up, but she tracked his movements like a hawk, and when the wand was bared she eyed it critically.

"An odd choice for a focus, but I have seen more exotic choices," she muttered, staring at his wand.

Again with the wand comment. He wondered if his eye really just twitch or did he imagine it. What did these people use, tree trunks? His wand was pretty long as far as wands went from what he was used to.

Harry made a show of looking at his wand. "Do you want to dust for fingerprints?"

Martha glared at him and snapped, "You would be wise to show respect, boy. You are a wizard and as such you fall under the authority of the White Council. You haven't been approached before, so consider this your first warning. Remember this: There are Seven Laws of Magic. Thou must never use magic to kill. To enthrall. To invade the thoughts of another mortal. To seek knowledge and power beyond the Outer Gates. To transform others. To reach beyond the borders of life. To swim against the currents of time."

He knew what happened if one law was broken but he asked anyway, "Or?"

Martha's eyes grew hard. "If found guilty of violating a law, you will be labeled a warlock, put under a trial and then executed."

"Where do I sign up to join the Council?" asked Harry, eagerly. "I reckon you folks have got the right idea."

Peter stepped forward, smiling wolfishly. "There is a test conducted by a Warden and then approved by the Council."

Harry snapped his fingers with over exaggerated movements. "Darn," he replied. "And here I thought I had my sarcasm down pat. I always get sarcastic and eager mixed up. Excuse me."

"Rather a member of the White Council or not," declared Martha, watching Harry noticeably not amused. "You abuse magic or break one of the Laws we will hunt you down and deal with you. You have been warned, Mr. Potter."

Harry didn't let his surprise show at her knowing his last name. Instead he gave a sharp salute and an answering smile. "Duly noted, Ms. Liberty. It's been a pleasure."

Without another word, she spun around her robes silently swishing. Peter gave Harry one more mad dog glare, to which Harry mocked, and followed the woman from the bar, taking the two Wardens guarding the door with them. Sam was upon him the instant the front door closed.

"I thought you were apart of the Council!" she snapped, blue eyes flashing, and Irish accent coming out thick in response to her agitation. "You lied!"

Harry was still unwinding from the tension Martha and the Wardens invoked, so it took him a minute to respond. "Sorry. When I said I was a wizard, you just assumed and I didn't correct you…"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Just like a man. Blame it on somebody else. What else are you lying about?"

Harry stood up. "Nothing else. Look, I really don't have time for another interrogation. I like you, Sam, but I have secrets like everybody else so back off."

He stomped out the bar with anger, irritation, and tiredness swirling around him. He stepped no more than a foot outside before he left in a swirl and an echoing crack, as he apparated away.

He spent the evening still wound up pretty tight. It was a test of control that he managed to make it through dinner without being sullen or snappish. His nerves were frayed and he was feeling testy, but he was doing his best to hide it. His parents didn't deserve attitude after going through so much trouble for him on his birthday. After dinner, desert was had, and then they moved into the living room to bestow gifts. Harry sat in the armchair while the rest of his family huddled together on the couch, watching him as he unwrapped their gifts.

Harry stared at the documents before him with a puzzled frown. "I'm not sure what this means."

"Your grandparents set up a trust fund for you to recieve when you turned twenty one," answered Lily. "Those are the papers that contain all the information for the trust. Look on the page behind that one. It shows how much they put away for you."

He flipped to the next page and boggled at all the zeros staring him in the face. Somebody pinch him. This had to be a mistake.

"Wha—I— This—" He stuttered and stopped unable to finish a coherent thought as his brain went bye bye at the amount of money that was all for him, in his name.

James looked amused. "You can do anything you want with it. Your grandparents wanted you to always be taken care of."

"And then some," said Harry, baffled. "Does Aiden have one, too?"

Lily nodded, kissing Aiden on the top of his head as he snuggled into her side. "They started one for him right before they passed on."

Harry shook his head, still stunned. "This is amazing."

Not to be outdone, Aiden jumped up from the couch and thrust a picture right under Harry's nose. He laughed and took the offered picture. It was another drawing. It was two stick figures. One was tall and black hair went everywhere. A woman with long, brightly colored yellow hair stood next to the figure holding hands. A large sun was drawn on the female's side, and on the male's side were multiple balls of light colored in a wide array of colors.

"Is the guy me?" asked Harry, grinning as Aiden nodded happily. He squinted at the female trying to get some clue as to her identity from the picture. "Who is the girl?"

Aiden smiled enigmatically and shook his head. He giggled and ran back to the couch, nestling back into the spot between Lily and James. Okay. It's not like it was nowhere the oddest thing Aiden had ever done. He sat the picture down and thanked his little brother who was yawning, and increasingly looking as if he was about to fall asleep at any moment.

"Oh, dear, I better put you to bed," began Lily, noticing Aiden's condition. "Its way past your bed time anyway."

James hugged Aiden and Harry went over and got in a hug as well. Lily picked him up and whisked the boy off to bed. Harry slouched in the chair arranging his presents on the coffee table.

"How are you enjoying being twenty one?" asked James, grinning.

Harry shrugged. "It's been interesting."

James cocked his head. "How so?"

"Just a few out of the blue things happened while I was out," responded Harry, his tone deliberately light and nonchalant.

James nodded knowingly and winked. "You went out for a drink didn't you? It's what I would have done."

Harry let an abashed grin settle on his face. "You got me."

"I knew it." James smirked. "I wish I made that bet with your mother after all. There goes ten bucks."

Harry kept his story magic free as he told James about going downtown to have a beer and his subsequent reaction. James almost laughed himself stupid and Harry found himself grinning carefree, as the laughter James emitted was infectious to breaking bad mood. It was easy to see why the older man had so many laugh lines on his face. Lily appeared in the room and returned to her seat on the couch.

"What's all the laugher about? I heard you all the way upstairs."

James kissed her cheek, eliciting a small smile from her. "Just male bonding. Guy talk."

They sat in an easy silence for a moment till it was broken by Lily. She moved closer on the couch and reached over to the armchair and took Harry's hand. He could see her mentally running through the words in her head, and knew whatever she was about to say was going to be heavy. He tried to brace himself for another round of sharing. Obviously once at breakfast wasn't enough for the day.

"You know I worry about you, and I always will. I'm a mother. It's what we do. But you're a man. Your not my little baby boy anymore," she said, sadly. "I see that and it's important that you realize that I will try and treat you like the adult that you are."

James nodded. "Twenty one is an important time in our family. For the Evans and the Potters. Its not just another birthday. It's a time for new growth. It's a rite of passage. Harrison, its time we gave you you're birthright."

He reached beside him and handed Harry a box. Harry didn't have a clue as to what was going on. His parents were serious and silent, as they watched him take the box. He turned it over in his hands frowning at it. It was about seven by nine inches, and carved entirely out of a solid piece of wood. There was no key, latch, or cover that identified an opening. Harry ran his fingers along the box, feeling for an opening, or some hidden catch. He looked to his parents for help, but paused at their almost closed expressions that adorned their faces. They expected him to figure this out. Whatever it was. His fingers pulled, twisted, and rubbed but nothing happened. He didn't give up. His eyes spaced out and his fingers moved seemingly moved on their own accord, as they caressed the box in a peculiar movement. The box exploded open, and Harry suddenly realized what happened. The box was an expertly crafted puzzle box, and had only opened by his use of directional force upon it in various ways. It was brilliant in a simplistic, but not overly so way.

A ring fell from the box inside and landed on his lap. He picked it up the shiny, platinum ring. Writing in a flowing script was engraved on the band. It appeared to be Latin but unlike the dialect he was familiar with. It had to be older, some throwback obscure form. Set upon the ring's surface was a small blood red stone. It looked like a ruby, smaller versions than the ones adorned on Gryffindor's sword.

Harry tore his eyes from the ring and looked at his parents. "Don't secret decoder rings usually come in cereal boxes?" he joked.

James and Lily shared a look that was secretive, and full of silent communication. Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them it was like looking at a different person. The sadness from earlier had long ago vanished, and was replaced now by a grimness that he had never seen worn on her face.

"There is more to your father and I then what you see and know, Harrison," she said, her words came out heavy and slow, unlike her usually light and chipper tone. "You've come along way from Summerholm and your sickness. You're old enough, and strong enough to handle the truth." She took a deep breath. "There is much you don't know of the world. Beneath what you see, there is a whole other world. It's a world with faeries, ghouls, ghosts, vampires. There is even an entire community of wizards governed by a group called the White Council."

Harry stared at her, his eyes widening and hands clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palm drawing blood.

"There are groups dedicated to keeping the darker aspects of the supernatural at bay. Our family. The Evans and Potters have belonged to one group since the Magna Carta was first issued. The Venatori Umbrorum is an ancient society that fights the darkness not with magic, but with political maneuvering, modern weaponry, and knowledge." Her eyes were steely and passionate, and her voice was filled with pride. "Your father and I are members just as our parents, and their parents, and their ancestors were. We use our influence in society to make operating and moving about in the world very difficult for the supernatural predators that prey on innocents."

"What was that?" asked James, hearing Harry mumble inaudibly under his breath.

Harry didn't bring his head up. He stared at the blood that pooled in his palms. "Venatori Umbrorum. It's Latin. The Hunters of Shadows. Right?"

James nodded. His normally bright eyes were just as serious and eerily disconcerting as Lily's. "That's right. That ring is a symbol of a Venatori member. We argued against telling you about this due to your past condition, but you have proven strong and resilient since you got well. I was inducted into the family secret on my twenty first birthday, the same as you. And the same as your mother. Its tradition. You have a week to think about—"

"No."

Lily was startled at the clipped response. "Harrison, I know it's a lot to take in but you don't need to make a decision now."

Harry finally looked up and his eyes bored into them with such fury that they froze in their spots. Harry glared at them feeling so much rage boil in his gut that it threatened to spill over, and consume him. He welcomed it. The more he heard the more furious he got, and the more his rage grew till he wanted to literally cause something to explode.

Harry face grew dark, tight, angry. "Is this some type of sick joke? At first I thought you were pulling my leg, but what made me believe you was when you mentioned the White Council. Magic is real. Magic is real!" he screamed, slamming his hand down on the table hard enough to cause the vase on it to crash to the floor, shattering. "You knew. You knew! I went into some psycho delusional fantasy, babbling, drooling, and screaming I was a wizard, and I could do magic—And you still sent me to Summerholm? Did it occur to you that something magical was going on with me!"

"Son, calm down, please," James demanded, he ran a hand across his face with a weary sigh. "Of course we thought that! How could we not! You were tested at puberty for magic. You came up weak. Barely a practitioner, the middle class of the magical world. You didn't have enough power to make a full blown wizard. And after Sirius and your sickness…" He bit off, forcing himself to not dwell. "You were tested again. You weren't there! They told us the same thing. Your mind was simply gone! No magic involved. You always loved magic. It fascinated you when you were a child. It was no surprise you built up a fantasy about it."

Harry let out a sound that was between laughter and a cry. He shook his head. Emotions swirled through him in a storm of rage. It was so much that it was hard to even concentrate. He didn't know where to begin.

"You two are biggest liars I've ever met in my life," said Harry viciously. "All that time I sat there convincing myself magic was real, and you two knew all along. I sat there in that room for hours sometimes telling myself I wasn't crazy. And you—"

Lily shook her head, and said gently, "We thought you got over this, Harrison. You told us you knew the truth. What you dreamed was a fantasy. That magic world with wizards on broomsticks, dark lords, magical schools—" She looked up at him with green eyes, pleading. "It doesn't exist."

Enough was enough. Something snapped within him at that last sentence.

His body acted on impulse, as it naturally did when his emotions grew uncontrollable, and when he was pushed to defend his beliefs. He snatched his wand from his pocket and his father grabbed Lily instinctively. Harry's arm whipped through the air and he flicked the wand at the coffee table. It lifted up by some unseen force and rocketed into the air. Lily screamed as the table smashed into the wall with enough force to shake plaster from the ceiling. His leveled his wand at the armchair and swished sharply, giving a satisfied bark of mad laughter as the chair exploded in a shower of splintered wood and stuffing, that harmlessly bounced off the shield he conjured. His parents threw themselves behind the couch. He waved his wand in a wide arc and the couch shrunk till it was the size of a matchbox. With eyes full of fear and confusion, his parents looked up at him from their crouched positions. James dragged Lily to her feet, and Harry breathing hard met their eyes with unwavering resentment.

"Magic does exist," he said in a harsh whisper. "And I am a wizard."

"Harrison—" breathed Lily, tears spilling down her cheeks.

James grabbed her hand in a tight hold, as he stared at Harry with unreadable emotion, coming to a conclusion with panted breath. "Not Harrison… Harry."

Lily nodded and replied in a choked, broken cry, "I know, James. I know."

I know a lot of people who read this story haven't read the Dresden Files, so I will of course make the story easy to follow in regards to that series world and characters. Its a great series and I suggest everyone read the books. For those that have read the books we will jump into the actual plot soon, and the setting will be during Summer Knight.