AN: Essentially, this is the second half of the prologue, thinking that it may be too long I split it. However, after recieving some advice (Thank You Lydia-Hood) I've decided to post the rest now. I plan to keep up with chapters of a decent length, so I will probably only post once a week, and because of various commitments (ie holidays) not at all in August and early September. I have been overwhelmed by the alerts so far, and now feel the pressure of producing something worth the interest currently shown. I hope this chapter lives up to any expectations, hopefully it will set a clearer premise.

Thank you for the reviews so far.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

All in all, they seemed to be recovering from the war. At least during the day, in the sun, it could almost be seen as a distant past, a dream, the shadows, spells and blood seeming unrealistic under the bright summer sun. At night however, the slept fitfully, often coming together in the early hours of the morning to talk over hot chocolates in the communal lounge. Harry's were often accompanied by phantom pains in his scar which vanished moments after he woke up, leaving him feeling shaken and disoriented. To their surprise, Neville actually had it worse than as they'd expected, but they soon realised that his blasé descriptions of the Carrow's punishments hadn't actually scratched the surface of what had really happened. They went through it together however which seemed to lighten the load and Hermione's excessive research into PTSD and other such conditions that there was 'light at the end of the tunnel' so to speak. They couldn't keep bouncing around living off Harry and Neville's inheritance forever however and they returned to England back to their lives, feeling overall a lot more light hearted than they had when they'd left.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were streamlined into the Ministry, Harry and Ron trouncing the Auror exams while Hermione went into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, much to Ron's amusement. Neville decided to continue studying and entered into a Herbology course while Luna and Ginny returned to a refurbished Hogwarts to finish their education.

He told Ron and Hermione about the Hallows pretty soon after their return and was right in his guesses about their reactions. Both were annoyed that he'd kept it from them, "Isn't what we went through together worth a little honesty mate?" before Hermione started worrying for him and the implications while Ron played the part of stoic best mate, making wise cracks about possible outcomes and the title itself to lighten the mood.

For the first few years, a fair portion of Harry's work was devoted to rounding up Death Eaters that had evaded demise during the Final Battle. Those that had been captured required trial many of which Harry testified in, each with a severe sense of satisfaction. He settled into his job, finding the decreasing list of known Death Eaters decreasing cathartic.

He started a relationship with Ginny once she left Hogwarts, just before she was signed to be a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies while Luna decided to explore the world for at least a couple more years before settling into anything.

A year later, Harry attended Ron and Hermione's wedding as best man, grinning broadly as Mr Granger walked his daughter down the aisle to where Ron was fidgeting with his cufflinks, an early gift from Hermione that she'd found in DC. Hermione looked beautiful in a simply designed, fitted dress with a train and veil, the back laced as one would a corset. The dress would have meant nothing though, had she not been radiating happiness, her smile transforming her as she walked the aisle. They were married outside, in the late afternoon in early August. There was a full turnout.

Pretty soon after that, Hermione changed departments at the ministry, much to Harry's consternation. She had already worked wonders in regards to both House Elf and Goblin rights, making herself a recognised name in several circles. She transferred into the Department for the Study and Application of Obscure and Unusual Artefacts, a fairly unknown but surprisingly active department. Harry was surprised to hear how many different types of jobs Hermione was called for, especially after she worked her way to the top of the food chain. She even interacted with the Muggle world on occasion, they found just as many odd items and Hermione often went to identify whether they were under the Ministry's jurisdiction, if so she would claim them and if not possibly stay to help identify them.

Her reasons for her transferral became apparent a year later. Four years after the Battle, Harry looked into the mirror and realised that he hadn't aged a day. In examination of his friends, he could see that they had all changed, their faces leaner, their bone structure more prominent, their stances emanating the air of someone older. Whereas Harry looked just as he had at the memorial service all those years ago. And it was becoming noticeable. Hermione admitted to having noticed a while ago and that she was studying what she could about the Hallows and other objects which interfered with growth but was coming up empty.

Pretty soon after that he broke it off with Ginny. How could he justify being in a relationship with someone who would grow old while he didn't? Sure there wasn't an age difference now, but before long there would be and what would happen then? He told Ginny this, quite bluntly and while she protested, he stuck to his guns, stopping her by asking how it was fair on either of them. She'd cried but accepted it eventually. They kept in touch, but it was awkward.

He stayed at work for another year, but soon, people started asking questions. Not wanting to face the theories and speculation, or any of the publicity, he quit his post. With his friends support he began to extricate himself from the wizarding world "You more than anyone," they told him, "deserve a quiet life." So he made an arrangement with Gringotts, set himself up with Muggle credentials and left for America.

A gaggle of people stood around him by the airport check in, the largest of which was Hagrid, who refused to not see him off. He ignored the baffled gazes of muggles and wrapped him into one of his trademark bone crushing hugs. The Weasley's were there, even George who gave him a pat on the back and a bag from Weasley Wizards wheezes before making way for his wife, Angelina to give Harry a hug. Mr and Mrs Weasly too were present adn Mrs Weasley bustled around him, checking he had everything adn asking if he was sure. He smiled wryly and assured her that he was, thanking her for everything. Neville, the newly appointed Herbology professor at Hogwarts had come without his fiancée, Hannah and stood to the side until Luna pulled him closer to say goodbye properly. Ron gave him a pat on the back and a travel set of Wizarding Chess, he looked sad but gave Harry a tight hug and a pat on the back before he was mugged by Hermione who flung herself on him, wishing him luck and promising to continue her research.

"I will find something, I promise."

It was easier, not seeing them age around him while he started into a new life. Harry made sure that he kept in touch with them, even if it was only by letter. He moved around for a few years, doing odd jobs here and there to earn cash to support himself. His vault could keep him going for many years had he wanted it to, but he realised that if he continued to remain the same age, over in the future his account would dry up with no sustenance.

One day, four years after he had left England, he stood a queue at the bank to deposit a cheque. He watched the people around him, idly going about their lives. There was a shift at the corner of his eye and a man pulled something from under his coat, held it above his head as two sharp sounds rang out. His actions were mimicked by five others around the room. Around him people screamed and ducked to the floor, someone grabbing his arm to pull him down with them. Harry looked up to see the only standing people in the room were the tellers and the six people toting what he now recognised to be guns.

"Just keep quiet and keep down and none of you will be hurt." The man barked, grinning through balaclava that he'd pulled over his face. Suddenly the hand on Harry's arm was pulled away and the woman it belonged to squealed as she was pulled to her feet by one of the robbers who was pointing a gun at her head.

"Stay where you are or I'll shoot her!" her captive shouted, and Harry realised that he'd surged to his feet and was glaring at the captor. He hadn't even realised that he'd moved. Now, as everyones eyes were upon him he had a moment to access the situation. HE knew that he couldn't draw his wand, not in a building full of muggles, but a part of him, the very stupid, Gryffindor part wouldn't let him stand down. So first he had to remove the woman from harm.

"Take me instead. Leave her be." The captor didn't move a muscle, "I'll do what you say."

The man who seemed to be leading the operation turned towards them and took a few casual steps in their direction, his heels clicking menacingly on the floor. His voice, when he spoke, came silkily, his words dripping with menace.

"Ah, but that's be concession, and concession is weakness." He turned to the room at large, raising his voice, "An example of why you shouldn't be brave!"

He span quickly and there was a bang. His body shut down the moment the bullet hit his heart. Faster than any spell he'd encountered, and completely unexpected, he had no chance to avoid it. The blackness consumed him before he hit the floor.

He came to on the marble floor, his eyes flickering open to look across the monotone stone. HE expected to see the numerous bodies he knew were sprawled across it. He sat up in surprise when he found the room empty. The room echoed around him as he stood, looking around. It was the bank, just as he'd left it, including the papers littered across the floor, dropped by one of the customers, but there was not a soul in sight.

At least there wasn't. A man suddenly appeared in the centre of the room, looking around with a cheery grin painted on his face. He saw Harry and the grin widened as he raised a gloved hand to pull of the deerstalker cap he wore.

"'Allo."

The man walked towards him, pulling of the brown leather gloves before proffering his hand for Harry to shake. "Good t' meet ya? Call me Death."

Harry did a double take. "Sorry what?"

The man scrunched his face in understanding, "Yeah, it's a new title. Still settling int' it."

And so Death was Cockney.

Death proved to be cheerfully enigmatic, answering all of Harry's questions, while successfully evading certain details that he wished to. After teasing him about how it was blatantly obvious that Death wouldn't let its master die, he made it quite clear that he was skirting around certain topics but refused to delve further into it. One of which most annoyingly was the subject of how to solve Harry's little problem. Death made it sound as if there was a solution but wouldn't say more than,

"Now I am afraid that I am not at liberty to tell yeh. You've got ta figure it out for youself."

He put great emphasis on random syllables, and had slung his arm around Harry's shoulder. At Harry's glare, Death's grin had widened and he patted Harry on the back.

"I think I like you Mr Harry Potter. Lord knows there can be worse Masters. May I be excused?"

Harry realised that he wasn't going to get any more from the man and nodded permitting Death to vanish from sight.

The bank around him faded in a haze to be replaced by blackness and heavy sense of his body as he lay on the cold floor, surrounded by whimpering people. He opened his eyes to slits, glad that his head had fallen at an angle that gave him a view of the room as a whole. Then leader had turned away, his follower dragging the woman with him in his wake.

"Tell the police that there is nothing to negotiate!" The man was shouting in the direction of the door, still making sure that there was an obstacle between him and the window.

"I'm just here to talk." A police representative's tentatively bold voice sounded from out of Harry's line of sight. "There's still a chance for you to get out of this. You haven't harme-"

"You're a tad late for that spiel," the leader grinned while the captive woman whimpered slightly. The man holding the woman was must have been a little too confidant at this point, as he was close enough for the negotiator to lunge for the woman, pulling the gun free and shielding her with his body armour as all hell broke loose.

Shots rang out, shattering glass and clipping or taking out all but the leader who'd moved a moment sooner and ducked out of the way. He skidded into motion, trying to make a run for it and in a moment, Harry was on his feet. The leader raised his gun to shoot behind him as he ran, levelling it with the hostages on the floor rather than anyone armed. He pulled the trigger and instinctively, Harry felt magic leave him, forming metal shields where he aimed, that reverberated as they reflected the bullets. Luckily for him, the intended victims were turned away, and saw nothing. Harry had barely a moment to marvel at his wandless magic before the noise brought him back to himself. Bullets continued to fly, but the leader had taken refuge behind a counter. Harry crept towards him, keeping low to avoid bullets. In the confusion no one had noticed the fact that a supposedly dead man had risen, but now that he was moving, he was more likely to be noticed. He got as close to the man as possible without being seen but still with a line of sight and on instinct levelled his palm and whispered "Stupefy."

A beam of red shot towards the man, covering the foot in a beat. It was barely noticeable but resulted in the man crumpling to the floor. He moved from the scene quickly, muttering as he went to various people that the man was out for the count and the word spread until the police, who'd ceased fire when the man had been out of the line of sight, rushed into the room. At this, Harry made his quiet disappearance. Too many people had seen him shot; he could deposit his money some other day.

From then he experimented with his wandless magic. It was easier if his wad was on his person at the time, but he was capable of doing it even when the conduit was nowhere near him. It helped he found to focus on the wand when he cast, especially when he wasn't holding it in his hand. This resulted in a much subtler form of magic, made identifiable only by his need to speak the words of the spells when he cast them, except those that he already knew silently, such as Levicorpus. He did actually call for Death at some point and asked for the logic of having one of the Hallows be a wand, which was later rendered practically redundant. Death had laughed, clapped Harry on the shoulder and said, "You know, I never thought of that. Good one."

Ten years after the war, Harry decided to settle for a more reliable job. Not wanting to be tied down in one place, he settled on a freelance job. His history set him up for law enforcement, leading him to become a PI. It suited him well to be fair; it allowed him to exercise his 'Saving People Thing' and he could move around in the future, so his age wouldn't be too noticeable, he could continue to renew his paperwork with updated dates through Gringotts. The goblins were the height of discretion. He was good at the job, so after his first few cases and word started getting around, clients began to overlook his age and see merely the results.

He had to start again four years later when he moved to Chicago, but with his more conventional experience, he built his reputation in certain circles quicker. He did however resign himself to having to set himself up anew every so often. Sure enough, he moved to cut all of his ties, sooner than he planned as he packed up to move away from his flat. One of the problems with his system was the contacts necessary to be an effective PI took time to build. But magic made up for a lot of these shortcomings, and he allowed himself to call his contacts from his old cities as they wouldn't really notice anything amiss from just his voice.

He apparated from Chicago to land in New York. He looked about the city with a smile and the sense of new beginnings as he hailed a cab for the nearest estate agents.

AN: Hope it didn't disappoint. I will adapt with constructive criticism.

CJames