AN: Apologies for the long wait, I had planned to update at the beginning of the week, but I was three-quarters into this chapter when I was hit by writer's block; I tried pushing my way through it, so that might reflect later in the chapter. Also, I'm aware some people may be acting out of character, I apologise for this; I'm biased towards certain characters, and not so much towards others, it will show. Enjoy.

Party at Potter Place

Harry paced, his eyes down cast and his finger rubbing his phantom beard. He already had the workings of a plan. Not much, but there was something there. He rubbed his phantom beard again, and then decided to shoot a glare at Lexi before looking at the young witch; Anna was her name, and she was the only spirit-witch that Harry trusted. It had something to do with the innocence that Harry could see in her eyes, but that all could have been an act to get Harry off his guard.

"How many vampires are in this town?" Harry asked.

The witch didn't even give the question much thought, she answered it as though she had known he would ask it. "Five," she said. "Damon and Stefan Salvatore, Caroline Forbes, Elena Gilbert, and Rebecca Michaelson." An original, Harry had the thought to meet up with her, he and her father had been friends once upon a time. "There's also the hybrid, Tyler Lockwood."

Harry shook his head. It was worrying when so many prominent members of the town were vampires, or in league with them; it meant the town's supernatural creatures, for lack of a better word, were not kept in-check—which explained why the Stranger, who must have been Damon Salvatore, spoke with no care to the sheriff about killing the council. But Harry wasn't about to try and fix that, he just wanted to ensure the vampires didn't go off gossiping about him. It would make this life less enjoyable, less on his terms.

Keeping their mouths shut about him was the simple part; a Tongue-Tying Curse and a Finger-Crippling Curse would stop them. But the tough part was surprise.

"And were they all there at the memorial?" Harry asked.

"The daughter of Michael was not present."

Harry mused for more than a second. "Doesn't your spell work against vampires?"

"It does," said the witch, "and it was working well at the Memorial, but its hold over them broke the moment your actions involved them."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, trying to think this all over. His first plan had been to ask the witches for help again, their spell—much like a Muggle-Repelling Charm—would have meant they wouldn't have noticed as Harry cursed them; but if the spell broke when Harry involved the vampires, then the plan wouldn't work. He was pretty relieved about it too; asking for the witches' help meant he was further in debt with them, and he certainly didn't want that.

He sighed. He would have to go about this on his own, try and be clever about it—which wasn't something Harry was well-known for.

"There's someone at the door," said Lexi, the first words she had spoken to Harry ever since the memorial. Harry had tried to interrogate—though he had thought it was more subtle questioning—her about the vampires of this town, the Ripper in particular. Lexi had made a deal that if Stefan went back to his Ripper ways, Harry had full right to kill the man. Harry had thought the Ripper had stopped, but then rumours drifted towards him that the Ripper was back and he was after Werewolves—Harry had a grudge with the man and Lexi knew it.

"Done with the silent treatment, then?" Harry commented as he walked out of his lab and downstairs. It must have been the strangest thing, Harry thought as he traversed the small distance between upstairs and down, for Lexi to watch him having a full one-sided conversation with the unseen.

He reached the door and opened it, a suited man stood on the other side, behind him a large van with other people coming out and hauling food.

The man in front of Harry smiled. "Good day, sir," he said. "Is this the Potter residence?"

Harry nodded. "You'll be the caterers, then," he said, gesturing the man inside. "The kitchen is that way," he said, pointing. "And I'll be leaving you to the task you know best."

The man nodded, politely agreeing then leaving to go supervise or whatever the man's job was, Harry didn't pay it much attention as he went back upstairs for some privacy; he did inform one of the workers where they could find him though.

Anna still stood where she had been, beside the piled brooms and the closet filled with armoured clothes—these were his hunting garb and they were much more powerful than the small shielding charms on his everyday clothes. The little witch stared with child-like curiosity at Lexi, the ex-vampire didn't know this of course.

Harry walked fully into the lab and sat on the fortified table acting as a desk on the far end. He looked at that girl, then at Lexi, his plans for the vampires were about done and all they needed now was action; but he still didn't know what the witches wanted of him.

"If you'll excuse us, Lexi," Harry said as he pulled his wand out of his pocket. "But I think this conversation should be private." He waved his wand and the ghost was pushed back by an invisible wind; the door opened as she came close, slamming shut as she was cast out. Harry turned to Anna.

"If you would be so kind, would you call the others?"

It wasn't even a moment before a dozen or so witches were in the lab, all looking at him with those cold eyes.

"Okay," he started, leaning back against his chair. "You've had my word that I'll help you," he said. "That I'll stop reality from breaking apart at the seams, so tell me: what is it that I'm exactly supposed to do?"

He could see the oldest amongst them open her mouth to speak, but Harry cut her off.

"If you say to stop the coming darkness, I swear I will stop. I won't even make the effort to stop whatever vague and ambiguous threat you think is about to befall this universe."

The witch quickly shut her mouth and she looked briefly sheepish. Another spoke, "Expression," she said, and again the word brought with it a flurry of emotions Harry had no idea where they came from. "It was used centuries ago by the most powerful amongst us to craft a piece of magic so great, there is no hope that it can be recreated."

"And what is it she crafted," Harry asked, finding himself curious—though he was so adept at Occlumency that his face didn't show it. Magic was his life. It was the only constant throughout his lives and therefore he had developed a love for it that transcended most relationships since his first semi-permanent death.

"The Other Side."

Harry stilled, his heart beating faster at the revelation.

The Other Side.

Purgatory.

A witch had created Purgatory.

Harry was surprised and more than a little scared, the Other Side was magic the scale Harry had never come across before, and a scale he didn't know whether he could match or not.

He shook his head. This was truly unbelievable.

"The Other Side," Harry said after a long while. "Truly astonishing, but I don't see how someone learning such magic could bring about dark times. Heck it could even end Purgatory," Harry said. He didn't like the idea of Purgatory, more likely what it would mean to him, but he had learnt to pay it no attention. His life wouldn't be truly lived if he spent every waking moment worrying about what was to come; he'd told himself he'd try to break through once he was caught on the Other Side, if that even happened of course.

Many of the witches frowned, some even shook their heads. "The Other Side has to exist," one said, a witch that hadn't spoken to Harry before. "It is what keeps us here, ensures that we keep guarding nature."

"Leave that to the living," Harry said with a lazy wave of his hand. "You're dead, you deserve rest, not this endless existence, watching as future generations make the same mistakes you did."

There was silence for a long while, but from the expressions Harry could tell they weren't about to change their minds; they most likely wanted him to stop this Expression user from achieving enough power to break the veil separating this and the Other Side.

"So you want me to stop whoever this is?" Harry asked, though he knew the answer.

"We want you to stop the veil from being broken," the witches said.

"You still haven't told me how to do that," Harry said.

"Stop the twenty-four from dying."

"So all I have to do to help you, is stop the twenty-four from dying?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"I can do that," Harry said with a smile. He didn't know yet how, but his 'Saving People Thing' would help him on that front.

Done with the details on keeping his word—and Slytherin-like thoughts were already filling his head about that—Harry set out to watch over the preparations for the party. It was an unfortunate fact that Magic and Technology didn't interact too well, and between the vault and the lab—which too was heavily enchanted—he couldn't even have the smallest of appliances; this in turn made it a bit awkward to set-up for the party without too many questions being asked. But he would make due, and the house was already looking fit for a party even more as the sun started setting.

"Done with the witches, then," said Lexi, she sounded exasperated.

Harry nodded, his wand in motions to keep the Last Supper from moving, the painting didn't want to have it though, and it seemed to have formed a life of its own.

"You didn't need to send me out, you know," she said. "It's not like I can see or hear them."

"Yes, but you can hear me, and you can piece together the rest of it by what I'd said."

"Not like I'm going to tell it to anyone."

"There are many mediums in the world, and you have a lot of time on your hands," Harry said. "Frankly, for the moment I don't trust that you won't leak information to your boyfriend, the Ripper."

She glared, but Harry saw something in her expression: was it perhaps guilt? Harry could look at it no further because the girl disappeared.

He quickly got into his formal-wear the as the clock went closer to the hour eight, and waited eagerly for the guests to start arriving. It didn't take too long, not even a full day after the memorial and people were already in a partying spirit. Harry acted the role of the gracious host, weaving in and out of conversations, a bright smile plastered on his face, and an ever alert gaze which didn't stray from its task.

"Mr Potter," Harry smiled as Mayor Lockwood suddenly appeared in front of him. She held glass of champagne. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you," said the older looking woman.

"Likewise," Harry said. "Your speech at the memorial was moving."

She smiled a sad smile. "They were friends, and what happened to them was a tragedy," she said. But then she smiled. "But now isn't the time for such thought, we should all be happy to a have a new resident in our little town."

Harry beamed. "Indeed. Which is why I thought it would be appropriate that I meet the locals," Harry said, but he stopped as he spotted a familiar face; dark and brooding, and he scanned the room looking for something. Me perhaps? Harry thought.

His attention returned to the mayor. "I'm sorry to cut this short, Lady Mayor, but I see an old friend."

Mayor Lockwood followed his gaze, then she frowned. "You know Stefan Salvatore?"

"We've come across each other a few times," Harry said. He gave the mayor a small nod then traversed the gathering until he stood in front of the Ripper.

"Mr Salvatore," Harry said with a smile, his hand had already gone to his pocket; his heart beating faster and his body preparing for any scuffle.

"Potter," the Ripper said in a monotone; there were a few people with their eyes firmly planted on them, watching each and every one of their moves that it would have been easy to think they were spies. Stefan noticed this. "I wonder if I might have a private word," the Ripper said.

"Of course, Mr Salvatore, if you'll follow me," and he turned walking away from the party and leading the man upstairs towards the study.

"Upstairs, second door on the left," Harry heard muttered by the Ripper, but he didn't turn, or react, he opened the door and led the man inside. The door closed with a muted thud then a click.

Harry turned and was caught at the throat by the vampire, he felt his feet lift the ground and came at eye-level with the Ripper; force the intensity of a jackhammer collided with Harry's mind, he flinched, but beyond that there was no reaction.

"You will tell me who you are, and why you're here," the Ripper stated, his words spoken with a quiet force that tried to burrow into Harry's mind.

He grinned, pulling his wand out of his pocket and shoving it between the man's ribs. "You drew the short end of the stick by coming here," Harry said, his voice soft but his tone of restrained anger. There was a brief moment the Ripper looked confused, his gaze on the stick pointed at him, but that confusion soon turned to apprehension as he stared longer at the Elder Wand.

"Relashio." Harry was suddenly let go and he landed on his feet, his wand working at a pattern. The Ripper tensed, but with the distance between them so short there wasn't a room for missing; there was a flash and a cannon-like bang, and when the light faded Stefan was stuck on a wall bloodied and bruised.

Harry pointed his wand at the man, a broad grin plastered on his face as he stared at the surprised look the Ripper had. "I've never liked your kind," Harry said to the man, his voice cutting through the wincing and haggard breaths. "You don't have much in the way of control, and are a danger to the greater Muggle population. I made a deal not to go after you," Harry said, and his tone hardened. "But when you went after the wolves, when you were no better than the Original Niklaus, you doomed yourself."

Harry's wand started glowing bright red. "One less Ripper in the world, not much of a loss."

The Ripper didn't speak. He stared at Harry, his eyes reflecting some strain, as though the man was trying in vain to pull himself off the wall. It wouldn't work, vampires still abided to some Laws of Physics, and the Ripper would need leverage before he could dislodge the Sticking Charm.

"Harry, stop."

Harry didn't turn, his gaze not leaving one of the few Rippers that still walked the earth. Harry had killed most of them, and Stefan had been a lucky, the effort of trying to be like an old man who had taught Harry a great deal. A man who truly believed in giving a second-chance.

But that chance had been pushed back in his face. He hadn't known he would be this angry when he finally came face-to-face with the Ripper—he shuddered to think of how reckless he would become when he came across Niklaus—but all that anger came boiling back. It was perhaps sentiment of a lifelong past that he still had a love for wolves, why he considered them the most human of supernaturals. They were cursed, unlike vampires who could get rings to ward off the sun's effects, wolves went through terrible transformations, and then they lost their minds and became feral.

Harry identified with that loss of choice, because more often than not, he was often pulled by mysterious forces into actions that ensured he died. Which was the reason he despised the Fates, and vowed to test the effectiveness of the Killing Curse on them if he ever met someone who said they were a Fate.

He wanted to kill the man that further cursed the most cursed species.

"Please, don't kill him," said Lexi, and this time she had appeared between Harry and the Ripper. Her eyes shone with fear, both for her and Stefan; magic affected ghosts, and Lexi only wondered what would happened if Harry shot a spell that could kill her.

"And why not?" Harry asked. "We made a deal the conditions of which were broken. I can do what I want."

"But kill him? Harry that isn't like you. You don't kill unless you have to, and in this case you don't. It was because of Klaus that he lost his way, you can't blame him for that."

Harry grit his teeth. Her word were true enough, he didn't enjoy killing even though he like a good fight. He only killed when it was necessary, and he truly believed in this case that it was necessary. This man had killed many and another lapse would mean he would kill again, could he just let him out of here?

Yes, he could, and he hated that. Dumbledore had thought him well. Too well, and sometimes he despised that.

"Consider yourself with an above average amount of luck, Ripper," Harry said. "Twice I have been convinced not to kill you, but I assure you that will not happened a third time." Harry's tone turned hard. "If you go back to your Ripper ways, I will kill you," Harry said, then he swished his wand, the lightless, soundless spells hitting the vampire.

"You'll be able to move in an hour or so," Harry said as he walked to the door. "I'll be watching you."

Harry turned and stalked out of the room, reworking his features so he didn't have a scowl when he went don't stairs. He arrived, and was a little surprised; there were none but a few, and most of them vampires.

His hand tightened around his wand.

"Our host finally makes an appearance," said a voice in a low drawl. Harry knew the voice, the voice that had blatantly spoken of killing the council, Damon Salvatore.

"Was my party that boring?" he asked, his mind already trying to set up a strategy. He was alone, and the only thing which had been his saving grace was gone. Now the vampires could attack him and cover it up later, it was good he hadn't killed the Ripper, he shuddered to think what they would have done to him had they learnt of that death. "Didn't expect people to have left this early into the night," two hours hadn't even passed yet, but he strongly suspected the vampires had a hand in this.

He tried to name them, recalling what he'd learnt from Anna; there was a Damon Salvatore, who shared enough of a resemblance with his brother to be recognisable, Elena Gilbert, the vampire Harry had seen week at the memorial, she looked considerably better now, Caroline Forbes, the blonde who had used her vampiric speed in public to save a girl's life—Harry decided he liked her—and the last, Tyler Lockwood, Harry hadn't notice him at the Memorial but he decided to keep a better eye on his now, he might have hated the Original Hybrid, but Tyler was still of a supernatural species Harry liked.

"That would be us," said Caroline, she stood beside Tyler, the two close enough that Harry thought they were a couple. "We wanted to speak to you about what happened at the Memorial."

Harry raised a brow. "I wouldn't have thought that seeing as you sent a Ripper after me," he said, there was shock at his words, though not from Damon, the man had schooled his features tightly.

"Reformed Ripper," Damon corrected. "Where is brother dearest anyway?" he asked as though conversationally.

Harry shrugged. "Must have gotten lost, it's a big house," though it wasn't by much. He didn't like this; if they were all here, then he couldn't surprise them at all now could he? He internally sighed, but didn't dwell too much on the feeling, he had gotten used to his plans being foiled. "But fret not, I'm sure he'll find his way." Harry walked further into the living room, bypassing Caroline and Tyler and took a seat on a couch, it wouldn't do to be uncomfortable in his own house.

"You wanted to know about the memorial? Then ask away." Talking would give him time enough to form another plan.

"Did you attack April Young?" asked Tyler.

Harry frowned. "I'm sure if you were at the memorial, Mr Lockwood, but I trying—and I hope I succeeded—save her life. Why would I have gone to all that trouble if I wanted her dead?"

"To buy our trust," said Elena.

Harry snorted at that. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, love, but you're vampires, and vampires don't have much care for Muggle lives."

She grit her teeth, it seemed Harry had struck something; the others though looked a bit confused. "What's a Muggle?" he heard Caroline whisper.

"Non-magical folk," Harry answered absently, and silently chided himself, he shown them two things; that he could hear them when they whispered, and that he was magical.

"You're a witch?" came the question, the first from Damon, he sounded suspicious and taken a little off-guard. For a moment Harry thought they might not have too many witches in this town, but with the amount of witch-ghosts present here, it was impossible. "Explain the disappearing trick."

"A wizard," Harry corrected. He knew this universe used the term for both genders, but he had lived in a world where 'witch' was female and that belief thought system stuck with him.

"What would a witch be doing in Mystic Falls," Damon asked.

"Wizard. And what would a wizard be doing anywhere? What makes this place so special that it has to be suspicious when I arrive?"

"Given you've arrived just after the death of the council, I think that's suspicious," said Tyler.

"So that wasn't an accident?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance. "You should tell the sheriff then, she'll want to know this as soon as possible, and you don't really have a point there do you, Mr Lockwood, because if I remember correctly, there are two new inhabitants to the town of Mystic Falls."

"I wouldn't say not interesting," Tyler so low Harry had trouble hearing him. "The guy shot me, and he was at the Memorial, Elena saw him."

Damon shot the hybrid a look that said 'shut up' and the teenager acquiesced, maybe they were too used being around each other that they didn't quickly accept that a witch could have below supernatural hearing.

Harry grinned. "You see, I had nothing to do with Ms Young—well, if one doesn't count saving her, of course."

"You could still be working with the hunter," said Damon. "Witch or no, there's something about you that just screams hunter. I've been around long enough to spot it with my eyes closed."

"Wizard, and quite the boast," Harry said, and spoke no further.

"You didn't deny it."

"I didn't agree with it, either. You're just fishing, Mr Salvatore, reading between the lines and seeing only what you want to see."

"And you still haven't denied it."

"Still haven't agreed either, and I'm afraid this conversation will keep going in circles until one of us gets tired. I can go a very long time without food."

Damon snorted. "You're not afraid of us," said Damon. "Which I find strange. You might be a witch, but I doubt you could take all of us."

"Care to wager?" It was a bluff, he couldn't.

There was a moment of silence, Harry watching the vampires for any sign of motion, then Damon smirked. "Like I said, a hunter. We should kill him."

He stood with vampiric speed, Harry didn't even budge, even as Elena moved to stop him; she didn't get a chance though. There was a shift in the room, all of them felt it, and powers began to work their magic and after a second Damon no longer stood in the house but beyond the houses wards. Harry outright chuckled.

"I'm a wizard, you can't really think to kill me and not expect me to be prepared," he said as he watched their shocked faces. "Listen to me, all of you," Harry said and there was a power in his voice, it rang of authority, of age, of wisdom the vampires in the room couldn't hope to match. "Things will change in Mystic Falls, if you thought, just because your families were prominent members of the community, you would have a good time snacking on all on its inhabitants without mummy saying no. Well I'm sorry to tell you this but those times are all over, I even get a whiff that you've killed someone and I will find out who it was, and kill them, painfully."

Harry smiled. "Threat done. I would like you all to leave. I need sleep."

"You know we're vampires right?" asked Tyler, when the shock had worn off.

"And I'm a wizard, while you're creatures of magic, I wield it however I please. Who, of us, is more powerful?" Harry let the question hang. "I'll let you decide."

"We should go," Caroline whispered, she looked at Elena who watched Harry with an indecipherable expression. Tyler nodded, then started moving. Elena didn't. "Elena?"

"I just need to speak to him," she said to Caroline.

Caroline nodded, then started walking off. Tyler following.

"Something the matter, Ms Gilbert?"

"You don't like Rippers," she started. "I could hear it in the way you spoke about him, but you have to know, he's changed. He's loving, compassionate, and he wouldn't hurt a soul. I'm asking you to keep an open mind towards him, not let his past mistakes cloud the man he's trying to be."

"I'll try, Ms Gilbert, though I won't be promising anything," she nodded, "and since you've provided me ample opportunity." Harry quickly raised his wand and shot two simultaneous curses at her; she retched, surprised at the feeling of her tongue rolling into her throat and her fingers cramping up.

"I apologise, but those are precautions to ensure you're not all gabby about me. I wouldn't try writing down my name," Harry added even as he watched veins appear around the vampire's eyes; she disappeared just as Damon had done not a moment ago.

Harry walked upstairs, enchanting every room in the house to keep out vampires as he walked; he only left one path, and that led from his lab, to the front door.

His plans hadn't worked, he mused sitting in his room and thinking on the night's events. He hadn't expected they come together, that they distract him with the Ripper, then Compel his guests to leave; but they had played their game well, and came out with an upper-hand. They knew more about Harry than anyone alive, or even undead, and though they didn't know it, knowledge in Harry's abilities often meant he could then be easily predicted.

There were still three vampires he needed to keep shut, and he was starting to see that he would need help. He lazily twirled his wand, he hadn't had a companion since the man who had trained him as a hunter; maybe it was time for him to take on his own apprentice, and this hunter was the perfect prospect.

Harry stood. He wasn't feeling too tired, the night was still young after all. He checked his watch, there was still a few minutes before the Ripper would leave the wall; Harry had really thought the party would last longer.

Who to call? There weren't all that many ghosts that Harry knew, and the only regular was Lexi, but she wouldn't be talking to him now because of the whole Stefan thing. Harry sighed, and he liked her company, now things were going to be tense and he would have to apologise even though he knew it was right: it felt just like being married, at least what Harry still vaguely remembered of the experience.

He checked his watch again, still a few minutes left, and he still had to give the man enough time to actually leave; which would be an hour or so, Harry estimated. He amused himself with some practise, conjuring birds of fire that flew around the room, chirping and acting normally as though they were regular birds; he twisted his wand and the birds changed form, turning into seagulls, then owls. Simple though it was, with each practise he was teaching his body to move with some autonomy when casting spells, sometimes the mind took too long to remember; he wanted to have some variety even when his mind was not catching up—which was what happened when he fought with some of better speed.

An hour finally passed, and Harry Apparated to his car, pulling out of his garage and instantly taking to the sky. He tapped the small compass lodged in next to the speedometer, it spun rapidly, then fixed to a south, towards the hunter. The drive was a few minutes, three in total, before Harry saw a little caravan just on the outskirts of town; he descended, coming to a rumbling stop next to the man's van—or pickup as it was called around these parts.

The lights were on inside, but Harry didn't trust that estimation enough; he muttered a Human-Revealing Charm. There was someone there.

Good, Harry thought.

He started walking for the door, flicking his wand and popping the door open. He didn't let go of his wand as entered, making sure to look around for anything in the way of traps; there weren't many set up, but Harry could see a few wires in the cluttered room. He walked in.

BANG!

There was a furry of sparks as the bullet hit the shield; it rebounded and broke a window as it flew out. Harry's wand had gone to point at the man—Harry couldn't for remember his name, it had seemed unimportant when he'd first heard it—and the hunter, one arm in a sling, was pointing a gun at the wizard.

"What do you want? How did you find me?"

"Magic," said Harry as though that answered it all, which it did. "And as for the former, I want to train you."

"What would make you think I want your training?" the dark-skinned man asked, his deep voice dripping with distrust. "Vampire-sympathiser," he said that as though was a slur of some kind.

"Well, for one you have no real morals," Harry said, he walked further in and leaned against what looked to be a small counter, though it was filled with clutter. "I want to put a stop to that, being a hunter shows that you want to protect humanity from vampires, but what you did at the Memorial just told me you're no better that what you want to kill."

"Was that supposed to move me?" asked the hunter.

"Well no," Harry said. "I was just answering your question. Whether you're moved or not is really your choice. I'm just here to try and coax you into an apprenticeship position; I train you, teach you a little about potions, and give you a few trinkets that will ensure you aren't killed."

That latter seemed to interest the man, but his gun didn't waver. "Where would be the catch in all this?"

"You work for me. You kill only the vampires only I say you kill, and you don't hurt Muggles—non-magic folk—without cause."

The man shook his head. "Why should I trust you? You stopped me from killing vampires at that Memorial."

"No, I stopped you from killing an innocent girl. There's a difference."

Harry could see a struggle and he resolved on something, he grabbed a cup, transfigured it into a ring, then charmed it into a Portkey. "Here's a deal, I'll give you some time to think about it. This ring is the first trinket I'll give you. If you're ever in trouble, or if you want my training, say the name, Harry Potter. My name. It will teleport you to my house," with that Harry left, hoping the man would agree, he had to admit, the hunter showed potential.