AN:
Welcome to what every fanfic writer believes would never affect them only to realize that some ideas need to be written to allow focus to return when working on another fic. Well, at least that's what I tell myself when I write almost 10,000 words in one sitting like an over-caffeinated monkey. Just to clarify, this is a chapter to a new story I dreamed of one night while on vacation. I immediately put finger to keyboard the next morning and ended up with what you will read below.
Be warned, this is a random idea that came to me and wouldn't leave. Now that it's seeing the light of day, I first of all want to mention that updates will be extremely sporadic. My primary focus is my main story The Bodyguard, and I will always prioritize putting out chapters for it rather than this. That being said, if the angle of the moon is just right and it shines some extra light into my bedroom, you might get an update alongside the monthly chapter of the The Bodyguard. No promises at all.
As I have instituted with my other fic, I have a strict no reading reviews policy. As much as I appreciate that people like my stories, my exposure to the section in other fics left me thoroughly disenchanted about reader feedback and the like. I do not track any of my numbers and will continue not to do so for as long as I write on this website. I write for fun and nothing else.
Hope you enjoy.
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and any related intellectual properties belong to their rightful owners and not myself.
Emerald eyes snapped open in the pitch-black room. The gentle tingle in the back of his mind that woke him up so suddenly was the feeling of the perimeter wards being breached.
Slinking out of the comfortable bed he had transfigured, he cast a wandless Switching spell that exchanged his black silk pyjamas with a set of dark green robes and trousers.
Reaching out with his senses, he pushed his magic into the wardstone he had laid down underneath his temporary accommodations. The world changed as it went from pitch black to a corona of bright pastels. His eyes darted back and forth, quickly homing in on the blue human-shaped figures surrounding the building.
'20 wizards. Moving in formation. Highly trained, by the looks of their approach. Assassination attempt?' His mind churned as it started coming up with plans for defense.
While he was thinking, a bright yellow flare of magic erupted in the distance. Within a second, a pale-yellow dome appeared layered beneath his protection and alert wards. A sense of light pressure was all that was felt as Apparition and Portkey travel was cut off.
'Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Wards? Someone doesn't want me to run.'
Not that he had any intention of running.
The average wizard would be terrified to learn that 20 strangers were trespassing on their property at night. Then again, as all his friends could testify, Lord Henry James Potter-Black was anything but an average wizard. For him, it was an exhilarating discovery, and he found himself eager at the thought of finally seeing some action.
His latest missions had all been terrible let-downs. A violent werewolf pack here, a rogue vampire coven there. Nothing that really got the adrenaline pumping like he desired.
The last time he remembered being this excited was when he fought an up-and-coming Chinese Dark Lord that specialised in necromancy a few years ago. Now that had been a fun duel, even if he had been hit by a terrible dark curse that almost resulted in him losing an arm.
The fact that he found the counter curse in the Black family library at Grimmauld Place made him more appreciative of his adopted family and proclivity to darker magics.
Sirius had designated him as the Heir Black in his will but demanded that he undergo a costly blood adoption ritual to ensure that he had no contest from the Malfoys. Seeing as Sirius was the only living male from the main line of the Black family, the blood adoption made him the de facto heir in all the ways that counted.
At the time, it was only his love for Sirius and guilt for causing his death that made him go through with it. It had felt like a betrayal towards his parents for whatever weird reason he couldn't remember all these years later. He chalked it up to teenage angst.
Looking back, it had been for the best, as not only did it rip away the possibility of adding the Black fortune and library to Voldemort's war chest, but it also helped him secure help in the war effort. When he reached out with Kingsley's help to the ICW, the Black family gold had greased the bureaucratic wheels and he was able to secure a small army of skilled hired wands with good reputations.
They had been a godsend for the war against the Death Eaters, and with the Black and Potter fortunes backing him, along with a contract enforced by Gringotts, it made sure that the mercenaries he hired would stay loyal.
He had kept the secrets of the Horcruxes between him, Ron, and Hermione, but when he was hunting them, the mercenaries had protected Hogwarts and even taught older students how to fight. With the promise of a sizable bonus if they performed well and saved lives, of course.
With Hogwarts being protected, they were able to relax and put their efforts into hunting the remaining Horcruxes. Kreacher had proved useful when he came forward with the locket after he punished Mundungus for attempting to steal it.
The goblins had been easily dealt with after he offered to return every goblin made item in the Black family main vault. Greedy buggers had tried to go for money as well as the items, but he had been ruthless in his negotiation.
They would either accept his offer, or they would get nothing, and Voldemort would keep killing their main clients and they would keep losing money to Ministry confiscations. They had grudgingly accepted, and the horcrux within Hufflepuff's Cup was destroyed summarily.
Ron had abandoned them after suffering from a Bone-Breaking Curse during an ambush in Muggle London. It had permanently damaged whatever friendship he had with the redhead, but Hermione had stuck with him, and that's what had mattered.
After making a few educated guesses accompanied by intense research, they had discovered the possibility of Ravenclaw's diadem being inside Hogwarts. They made their way back to the school and were greeted with an atmosphere that, while tense, didn't feel like a violent civil war was raging outside the walls.
With the help of Luna, who he found out had an uncanny ability to see magic in its purest form, they located the cursed diadem and destroyed it. Only a few hours later, Voldemort and his forces had descended on the school, and demanded them to turn him over for execution. Luna, bless her soul, had realized that he was a Horcrux based on what she learned while searching for the diadem.
After being informed, he teared up a little, hugged his friends, and went to meet his death with his head held high. With his death, Voldemort would be mortal once more, once his friends killed the final horcrux, Voldemort's familiar Nagini.
He met Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, and he went through the typical Dark Lord spiel before finally sending the Killing Curse at him. It took a lot for him to not dodge and as it was right in front of him, he closed his eyes, dreaming of seeing his parents in the afterlife.
The afterlife turned out to be a shitty place. Albus Dumbledore dressed like a resurrected Gandalf in a pure white King's Cross station was not what he had expected. The first thing he had done when confronted with the image of his former Headmaster was punch him in the face.
Their conversation had been fraught with tension, as Albus explained his actions and decisions when it came to him. The man had apologized profusely, begging for forgiveness as he laid out the case on why he never trained him to fight Voldemort.
Nearly a decade later, and he still hadn't figured out whether he forgave the man for what he did. Nonetheless, it became a part of his life that shaped him into who he was today.
After surviving the fatal Killing Curse for a second time, Harry had directly confronted Voldemort in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Their final duel was legendary. At least, that was what every subsequent edition of Hogwarts a History said, along with everyone who participated or knew someone who fought in the battle.
As he lay there over the corpse of his archnemesis, tired and hurt, he was approached by an older looking wizard. The first words out of his mouth were "you have got to be the luckiest son of a bitch I've ever seen in my life."
While a little affronted at the statement, he was too tired to argue. The man went on to explain all the ways in which he could have died had it not been for someone else shielding him, or a lucky dodge. He found out later that while the man was sincere in his observations, he was mainly talking with him to try and distract him from the pain he would be feeling once the adrenaline rush died down.
It worked like a charm.
While he was recovering in the hospital, the man who approached him after the battle introduced himself as Clint Santiago, a hired wand with the codename "Eastwood". He explained that he was a huge Clint Eastwood fan and modelled himself after the infamous movie character Dirty Harry.
American cinema predilections aside, Clint was a knowledgeable and experienced mercenary, who saw that he had talent and wanted to know how he felt about getting into the business of contract work. At the time, he rejected him because he felt responsible for bringing peace and stability back to British magical society, now that Voldemort was gone for good.
After a few funerals and a round of accolades from the Ministry, he chose to not go through his seventh year and was instead fast-tracked into the Auror program. Helping others was what he desired most of all, and the Auror Academy did help him in a way that Hogwarts never could have.
It gave him the tools and training to fight on equal footing with
Dark wizards with the duelling skills of Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, Voldemort's fiercest wands. The spells and subjects he was taught went a long way in making him a competent fighter and investigator.
Moody had survived the battle, but had lost his remaining leg, so he had decided to become a full-time trainer for the Auror Corps. Seeing as it was decimated during Voldemort's Ministry takeover, getting multiple batches of fresh grads to fighting standard was the main priority.
With Moody manning the helm, he learned all the things that would have been helpful during the war. Alongside with his dedication to bettering himself, broke multiple departmental records. The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly had gone wild with speculation.
The public was watching his career in earnest, looking to him to provide the security and safety that they so craved after almost a year under Voldemort's rule. He put his heart into serving, and he did quite well for the first couple years.
Then the expectations started piling onto him. Ginny wanted to get married, the Wizengamot looked towards him to lead, seeing as he was the unofficial head of the largest political bloc. The general public couldn't get enough of their hero and swarmed him every time he stepped out of the house.
It all came to a head when he was investigating the murder of multiple Muggle girls and traced it back to the Notts. His old classmate Theodore had not been marked, so had avoided the initial round up of all younger Death Eaters. After getting enough evidence to convict him, it was overturned due to an obscure law that he had never heard of.
His attorney had taken pleasure in causing the dismissal of his entire case due to a law that protected the last sons of a Pureblood family from legal repercussions depending on the severity of the crime. It was a law that was initially set in place to protect young Lords from false prosecution in case relatives tried to get the Lord imprisoned to take over the Lordship of the family.
His passionate plea to bring Theodore to justice had instead led to a rallying call that united the Traditionalist faction and caused the Neutral faction to break away from the Progressives. They gave platitudes about protecting their own, but he knew that money and favours had been exchanged behind closed doors.
Within a single month, the Wizengamot was broken once more, with the Neutrals courting bribes and enriching themselves while the Traditionalists laughed and got away with their crimes once more. Any evidence he brought in was automatically held to a higher standard, and slowly but surely, his conviction rate started dropping in the months following Nott's trial.
After that episode, he had enough and resigned from the Corps, sick and tired of dealing with corrupt assholes who didn't realize the damage they were doing to their society. So, there he found himself, insanely rich, with two large libraries filled with rare books on magic he had never heard of.
With his passion for learning once more ignited, he devoured the knowledge, seeking to educate himself in fields that previously never interested him. Even though he never had to work for a living, he found himself missing the action and thrill of a good fight.
Then he remembered he had Clint's contact info.
Reaching out to the mercenary had been the best idea of his life. He found himself part of a community that didn't really care about his fame and status. He got a steady stream of contracts through his connections at the ICW from back during the war. Most importantly, he had more fun than he could have ever imagined.
After spending his teenage years hoping to be normal, he embraced the fact that he was always destined to be special and made a name for himself.
It was an open secret that the mercenary codenamed Basilisk was the Man-Who-Conquered, but most of his clients didn't pay much attention to that. The only problems he initially faced were the many assassination attempts during the start of his career.
Several jobs he went on turned out to be traps, and it was only after he got angry enough to kill his attackers, did they finally stop. People started realizing that he wasn't an easy target, and many of his peers stopped accepting jobs that targeted him. Mostly out of not wanting to risk losing their lives.
He had earned a reputation as a fierce duellist and ruthless opponent after years of taking contracts. He stayed away from shadier jobs and stuck only to contracting directly through the ICW. While limited in nature, they often entrusted him with major jobs. Primarily, targeting Dark creatures, and up and coming Dark Lords.
The latter tended to stir the hornet's nest, and the followers of the Dark Lords he killed never really stopped trying for revenge. He did his best to clean up loose ends, but even he wouldn't be immune from the ICW's anger should he start murdering people without just cause.
As he was thinking of a plan of action, he felt a few more wards go up on the outside. What felt like a powerful Notice-Me-Not, Muggle Repelling and a few others whose signatures were too muddled for him to tell. It was starting to look more and more like a professional hit.
If tonight was another assassination attempt, it would be the most well-timed one he had ever encountered. He had been stuck in this shithole for two months without a hint of action. Being several hundred kilometres away from civilization, with not a single beautiful woman in sight, he was bursting with pent-up stress that desired to be vented.
Just as he was about to fire the opening salvo, he saw every figure around him save for the three approaching the door, halting before turning around. That was an odd turn of events, so he stopped his preparation and silently made his way to the front door.
He heard the footsteps cease right outside before three knocks resounded in the quiet room.
"Harry? Are you there? It's Niklas. Can we please talk?"
'Niklas? What the bloody hell is he doing here?' Harry thought as he asked a security question.
"What was the piece of advice you gave me when we last met?"
He heard a muffled chuckle on the other side. "I remember telling you that Swedish women love your accent, and you should take advantage of that when you go out for the night."
Harry guffawed as he opened the door. That had been damn near sage advice, seeing as he had gotten very, very lucky that night.
"Good morning, Nik. To what do I owe the surprise?"
Niklas stepped in and held out his hand, which Harry took. "Nothing much Harry, the bosses had something fall into their laps and knew that you were one of few people capable enough of dealing with what they found. But before we talk more, I need to take care of something."
Turning towards his companions, he addressed them. "Gentleman, I need to have a word with Lord Potter-Black in private. Give us a few minutes, if you please."
They both nodded and posted themselves on either side of the doorway. Closing the door, Niklas took out his wand and whispered several different spells, layering the periphery with multiple Secrecy charms to prevent any magical or non-magical eavesdropping.
He walked towards the table and took a seat. "Could I perhaps get some water? The weather here is dreadfully hot."
Harry nodded and flicked his wand, summoning a pitcher of water and two glasses from the small kitchen area of the cottage. The pitcher poured a full glass of water that Niklas drained completely.
"That's much better. Thank you. Now before I can give any explanation, I require your authorization code. Question, Blue-5."
"Response, Romeo-Whiskey-Seven-One-Delta-Five-Two." Harry replied almost immediately.
It was one of several personal pass codes that Niklas used to identify whether it was really him and not an imposter. Only after the song and dance is over does the real business begin.
Niklas nodded before removing a shrunken item from his jacket pocket. Laying it on the table, he tapped it twice and it enlarged into a folder wrapped in twine. Harry took the folder, undid the string, and started reviewing the documents that were inside.
"There was a discovery made earlier this year. A tomb of an unknown ancient magical in Greece. The archaeologists in charge of the site found some of the most complex wards they've ever seen all around the entrance. The Confederation contacted Gringotts and through them, hired their best Curse-Breaker team to get inside and investigate who was buried there.
What they found was beyond anything they could have imagined. It wasn't just a tomb, but also a laboratory and repository of sorts. Translating the writings, they discovered that it belonged to one Zotikos Herpopolous. You might better recognize him by his infamous epithet, Herpo the Foul. The vilest Dark Lord in all of magical history."
Harry blinked incredulously. Herpo the Foul? The creator of the Horcrux ritual? It wouldn't be far reaching to say that this Dark Lord had a more profound influence on his life than Voldemort.
Without Horcruxes, Voldemort would have been vanquished that Samhain night without any possibility of return. Salazar Slytherin would never have been able to hatch and nurture a basilisk that went insane while attempting to kill students. The feeling of the venom coursing through his veins had been more painful than any Cruciatus he was subjected to afterwards.
It was this Dark Lord's research that allowed Voldemort to live on. He had read up more about some of Herpo's research in the Black library, and it was sickening to even read about. By all accounts, he was an amoral monster who hadn't deserved the magic he was blessed with.
"You wouldn't have bothered me with the results of an archaeological dig if it didn't have some relevance to my main contracts, Niklas. Get to the point."
Niklas huffed. "Well Harry, I was getting to that. If you would allow me to speak."
Harry shrugged and started perusing some of the pictures that were attached to the documents.
"The ICW did not just find his laboratory. They found something much worse. Traces of recent activity before they had breached the main chamber."
Suddenly, any casual browsing stopped, and Harry gave his full attention to Niklas.
"Recent activity? That doesn't sound very good."
"You would be correct. In fact, the moment they were found, the Inquestas were deployed to the scene. Unfortunately, whoever it was covered their tracks extremely well. What you see in that folder is all the information we were able to get."
Harry rifled through the folder. "This seems quite small for an open investigation file, especially one run by the Inquestas. You do realize what this could possibly mean?"
Niklas nodded grimly. "It's something both myself and the higher ups in the Confederation find disconcerting, to say the least. Before I left, I was given authority to pull any and every resource the ICW has, to investigate and find whoever accessed the lab.
That alone should tell you just how seriously we are taking this potential threat.
So, with my authority as ICW Chief Field Operations Officer and the blessing of Supreme Mugwump Akingbade, I am formally drafting you, Lord Henry James Potter-Black, codename Basilisk, into my new unit.
We have been assigned the temporary designation of Huntsman, and our sole purpose is to ideally capture, or kill whoever accessed Herpo's tomb before we did."
Taking out a few sheets of paper and a quill, he slid them on the table towards Harry. "Your new contract. We will take care of the penalties for breaking this one before completion. I'm sure our friends at the Algerian Ministry will understand. Our current task is far more important than whatever brought you out here."
Harry slowly blinked and looked down at the freshly prepared contract in front of him. Smiling, he set the folder to the side and started reading through it.
It had the most lenient terms he had ever seen. Even the Supreme Mugwump had signed off on him being able to use any magic he had in his arsenal, regardless of legality. That alone was enough to have him grinning in anticipation.
He had gone through the entire Black library with a fine-toothed comb after his run in with the necromancer. It had lived up to its reputation of being one of the greatest libraries on the Dark Arts in the world. Some of the spells he learned were honestly reprehensible. Fit only to be used as a last resort.
In this case, the Supreme Mugwump himself was telling him to take the kid gloves off, so who was he to deny him?
Signing his name with a flourish, he slid the contract back to Niklas. "When do we start?"
Niklas smirked. "Easy now. I still need to pick up a few more members. There'll be a few familiar faces, but I want to remind you that I expect you to be on your best behaviour." He sternly spoke.
Harry clutched his heart. "Dear Niklas, why would you wound me with such insinuations of unprofessionalism?"
Niklas snorted. "I'm serious, Harry."
"No, Sirius was my godfather" Harry riposted instantaneously.
Niklas pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Every damn time" he muttered, while cursing under his breath.
"Just… don't sleep with anyone on the task force. You've become such a horn dog in the last couple of years. Don't think I don't know about those twins from the last time we met in Stockholm."
Harry sighed dramatically. "Fine then. Ruin all my fun, why don't you. You've got yourself a deal. Strictly professional."
Niklas got up and retrieved the folder before walking towards the door. "I'll give you 5 minutes to collect your personal effects. We're on a tight schedule, so be quick about it."
He exited the building as Harry yawned loudly. With a wave of his hand, he saw all his things start packing themselves into his trunk within the bedroom. Walking over to the sink, he conjured cold water into his palms and splashed his face a few times.
After he felt sufficiently awake, he cast several hygiene charms to freshen up before his trunk flew into his palms while shrinking into the size of a deck of cards. Securely attaching it to his necklace, he made his way out of the building.
Upon stepping outside the small cottage, his wand snapped to his hand as he gave it a flourish, effortlessly collapsing the numerous wards both he and the ICW Enforcer squadron had laid down around the building. As they came down all at once, he felt the ward stone buried underneath his cabin shatter and dissipate.
He noticed the nervous expressions and fidgeting of the red-robed men and women around him when they witnessed his actions. Smirking at their discomfort, he made his way to Niklas.
A young female Enforcer, who was obviously a rookie, shivered as he walked closer. Her hand twitched as her wand leapt into her palm. It trembled slightly despite the brave expression she kept on her face.
He stopped right in front of her and put on his friendliest smile. Pushing a little magic into his eyes, he gazed into hers deeply.
"There's no need for that sweetheart. I don't bite… unless you want me to." He teased her while knowing his eyes were glowing with the signature green light of the Killing Curse.
The rookie's trembling grew in intensity as he loomed over her. Niklas interrupted his teasing with a harsh clearing of his throat.
"Harry. What did I just say about professional behaviour?"
"Now Niklas, I am being professional. I have a reputation to maintain after all."
And what a reputation it was. His name garnered fear among both allies and enemies alike. A baby who became a hero to entire generations of British magicals, to a man that exterminated Dark wizards and creatures for sport. Even the most experienced mercenaries thought twice about accepting contracts that put them opposite him in the field.
Niklas sighed. "Enough, Harry. We must be off."
"Coming, mother." Harry joked as he gave the rookie a devious wink. He could hear the audible sigh of relief when he walked past her.
Niklas held out a small rope. Harry took it and heard him mutter "Huntsman HQ", the activation phrase for the portkey.
A pulling sensation gripped his body as the world grew smaller underneath his feet. Maintaining a tight grip, he closed his eyes and waited for the roller-coaster ride to end.
He felt them slowing down gradually and flexed his knees in preparation for the landing. The portkey dropped them in front of a large Victorian-style manor. Looking around, he could see the sprawling grounds that encompassed at least a few acres.
"Welcome to Huntsman HQ. This is a property in Britain that was generously lent to the ICW to serve as our primary base of operations. It's warded six ways to Sunday by some of the best Warders in the Confederation, and it's Unplottable to boot. This will be where all training and planning will occur until our perpetrator is caught.
There is a team of house-elves that will cater to your needs. Familiarize yourself with the facilities while I assemble the rest of the team. I hope to be done by late evening, so expect our first team brief in the next couple of hours. Till then, rest up, get some food. Things will start moving quickly."
Harry nodded. "Where are my quarters?"
"Topsy!" Niklas called out.
A pop sound rang out in the silence. "Mr. Nikky be's needing Topsy?" A squeaky voice inquired.
"Could you please direct Lord Potter-Black to his room and give him a rundown of the estate?" Niklas politely asked.
"Of course, Mr. Nikky. Topsy be guiding Lord Potter-Black to his room."
"Excellent. I'll be out recruiting for a few hours, please see to his needs."
"Yes, Mr. Nikky. Topsy will be's taking care of him."
Niklas thanked Topsy and whispered another activation phrase for the portkey, disappearing to his next destination.
Harry sighed as he walked into the manor. The main door opened into an impressively large foyer. Two large sets of stairs spiralled towards a second-floor entrance and a huge crystal chandelier floated at the top with several smaller ones orbiting around it.
It screamed of British Pureblood pretentiousness, and it honestly made him a little uncomfortable. Ever since he started taking freelance jobs, he made it a point to avoid Britain whenever he could. The constant attention was annoying and unwanted.
While he was still quite famous on the international stage, it was nowhere near the level of fanaticism that could be seen among the British magical population. To them, he was Merlin reincarnated, the protege of the great Albus Dumbledore. A designation that displeased him greatly, but one he didn't comment on, if only to spare their feelings.
The expectations that had been thrust upon him by the people he had saved contributed to his joining the Auror Corps without finishing his last year at Hogwarts. The subsequent following attacks on his character from the upper crust of their society, and their general indifference to the crimes their ilk committed, lead to him leaving it.
He was brought out of his thoughts by Topsy calling out to him.
"Lord Potter-Black. Would you'se like to be seeing your room? Or a tour of the manor?" She inquired while bouncing in excitement.
"I would like a tour of the manor, please. We can save my room for last. This is a beautiful home."
Topsy squealed lightly. "Oh yes, Lord Potter-Black. Mistress Izzy has the bestest taste. She be's so good at decorating the manor. Us elves only be taking care of it."
From the happiness radiating from Topsy when she spoke of her Mistress, it seemed like the elves were treated well. That was always a good sign. It told him that perhaps the family who lived here would not be the standard insufferable kind of Purebloods.
That also didn't mean they couldn't be hiding their cruelty underneath a veneer of sophistication. After all, even whacky Walburga Black didn't outright abuse Kreacher, thinking such actions were beneath a Pureblood lady of her status. She simply ingrained the habit of self-punishment for any perceived failure into the elf.
'I guess time will tell, as it usually always does.'
He followed Topsy throughout the house as the energetic elf gushed on and on about the family she served. Honestly, he was surprised by the amount of effort that the lady of the house had put into decorating it.
For him, 4 walls and a roof was all he needed. Even if he had enough funds to buy a manor like this many times over, living in the lap of luxury would inevitably weaken him. In his line of work, that was unacceptable, and would be a one-way ticket to the afterlife.
They finally reached the end of their tour as Topsy stopped in the middle of a long corridor in the East wing of the manor.
"This is being sir's room. If you'se be needing anything at all, please call for Topsy."
Harry smiled and knelt to the elf's level. "Thank you very much for the wonderful tour, Topsy. You truly served your family well in showing me around their wonderful home. If there is anything I need, I'll be sure to call for you."
The elf blushed and looked down as she fidgeted. Though he could tell that it was more a mixture of pride, gratitude, and embarrassment rather than the fear and discomfort he often dealt with.
"Thank you'se sir. Topsy hopes you have a wonderful stay." The elf gave a low bow before quietly popping away."
Standing back up, Harry gave a brief chuckle at how shy Topsy had been. He always had a soft spot for elves, especially after Dobby's sacrifice. Speaking of which, seeing as he was back in England, he would have to visit the war memorial at Hogwarts at some point, along with Dobby's grave near Shell Cottage.
Entering his room, he saw a king size bed, a decent sized armoire on the opposite wall complete with an enchanted mirror and table most likely for ladies to put on make-up. Looking left he saw a door and opened it, revealing a spacious bathroom complete with a shower and a large tub.
All in all, a very impressive setup for a house guest. Judging by the luxurious materials that were used in the furnishings, the family that owned the manor was very well off and liked to make sure that everyone knew it.
He scoffed as his hands caressed the sheets. They were made from Acromantula silk. How excessive was that?
He himself had quite a few Acromantula robes as they offered some of the best enchanting properties when it came to fabrics. It was why all his armour and battle robes were lined internally with AAA grade silk that was enchanted for maximum protection and durability.
However, using such precious material for bedsheets? Completely over the top, in his opinion. Then again, he was never the posturing type. It was an open secret that he had more money than he knew what to do with.
With his reputation as a magically powerful Lord and internationally renowned mercenary, money was inconsequential. He made more in a month than most people would see in their lifetimes from his numerous investments through Gringotts. Though he found no desire to rub the fact that he was wealthy in other people's faces.
At the same time, if others wanted to do so, it was their choice as far as he was concerned. It gave him insight into their character and priorities. Something that was always good to know in his business.
Unclasping his trunk from the necklace, he tossed it onto the bed, expanding it as it fell. Flipping it open, he retrieved a set of exercise clothes consisting of a pair of joggers and a tank top. It took surprisingly little in the way of equipment to get in a good cardio workout.
After 10 minutes of using a jump rope, he went through a standard routine of pushups, sit-ups, and dips before heading out for a run on the grounds. It was especially important to familiarize the terrain, it helped immensely if a hostile force invaded, or if you had to make a quick retreat due to internal issues.
Making sure to stay within the wards, he made two circles around the perimeter, making note of any landmarks that could be helpful in dealing with an assault. With how often the so-called "secure" headquarters that the client provided for the hired wands fell under assault, this had become an ingrained habit.
It did not matter how many wards or protections were in place, they were only stopgaps to temporarily stave off the worst of a planned attack. Relying only on the protection of wards was suicide, especially with how many well-known Cursebreakers and Warders often hired themselves out for small jobs with questionable legality.
After working up a good sweat, he strolled leisurely towards his room, while wiping himself down with a towel. Dripping sweat all over the host's floor was simply bad manners, even if there were house-elves to clean up after him.
As he rounded the corner, he felt his sixth sense for danger momentarily flare. Instantly on alert, he stealthily scanned his surroundings while keeping his pace steady. Whoever was watching him was good, but not that good.
Pushing some magic into his eyes, he activated his Mage-Sight. The corridor lit up with a bright blue indicating just how magical the property was. Given how strong the aura was, the house belonged to a Most Ancient family at the least. Magic like this could only accumulate over several generations.
Stifling the headache that came with aura overexposure, he focused only on any active magic near his person and not a part of the house or grounds.
Out of his peripheral vision he saw the distinct silver shimmer of a Disillusionment charm. The light coating around the humanoid shape meant that they had great control over their magic. Very efficient in covering their figure and not allowing the excess magic to diffuse into the surroundings.
With a smirk on his face, he kept walking, noticing his secret admirer keeping pace. As they neared his room, he slowed down slightly. There was no telling if his tail had accomplices in his room waiting to ambush him. The best option was to subdue the one behind him and draw out any partners that may be lying in wait.
With a plan of action in place, he pretended to wipe his forehead once more, as he balled up the towel in his left hand. Before his opponent knew what was happening, he whipped his hand backwards over his shoulder, throwing the towel while transfiguring it into a murder of crows.
They burst into action and targeted the person behind him. To their credit, their reaction was great, as he saw the crows leading the charge fall to some nasty looking curses. Unfortunately for them, it wasn't anywhere near fast enough to prevent what he followed up with.
As the crows provided him cover, he launched an overpowered Finite to break the disillusionment, alongside a spell chain he commonly used for capturing hostiles without permanently maiming them.
An overpowered Lumos Sphaera to blind and disorient. An Expelliarmus to get rid of the attacker's primary weapon. A modified Levicorpus that targeted both wrists simultaneously to ensure they couldn't reach for anything or physically fight back. Finally, a Sticking Charm on their clothes, accompanied by a Banisher to secure them to a wall.
All the while, he would rush forward and by the time they were stuck to the wall, he would be right there in front of them. Most magicals never paid attention to their fitness, due to their innate magic boosting their body. Hence, the majority would never be able to handle a close quarter fight against someone who knew what they were doing.
Predictably, his attacker went hurtling towards the wall, and let out a decidedly feminine grunt as they made contact. He closed the distance quickly and firmly secured her wrists with one hand while his wand sparkled threateningly in front of the woman's obscured face.
'An Unspeakable? What the hell is one of them doing here?'
Focusing on his captive, he gave a pleasant smile before starting the field interrogation. "Why hello there, Miss Unspeakable! Fancy meeting you in this empty corridor on this lovely evening. May I ask why you were following me?"
The woman struggled for a little bit before realizing it was futile. Taking a deep breath, she replied. "I saw a man I've never seen before walking around like he owned the place. Who the bloody hell are you, and what are you doing in my house?"
Harry kept his expression the same as his mind raced. Niklas mentioned this house was temporarily handed over to the ICW to serve as an HQ for the new task force.
"I think you're mistaken about something, Miss Unspeakable. The owner of this lovely manor loaned it out to the ICW for an ongoing mission. I would think someone who knows the owner would get the memo."
He felt her still, before a muttered curse escaped her lips. Sighing as she relaxed. "Look, this is quite embarrassing, but I honestly didn't know. Judging by what you've been calling me, you know what I do. I've spent the last two weeks working and I didn't have time to check for any letters. I must have missed it."
He nodded. It made sense, but he still couldn't take chances. He hummed and made a show of thinking as he discreetly waved his wand to inscribe a runic matrix on the Unspeakable's cloak. After he was satisfied with the failsafe, he conjured a replica of her wand behind his back before addressing her.
"I'm sure. Now, as a show of trust, I'm going to free you. Please don't do anything that would make me restrain you once more. Though, if you're into that sort of thing, I wouldn't mind at all."
Giving a roguish wink, he backed up and dispelled the Sticking and Levicorpus charms. Even though his posture looked relaxed, he was vigilant of his surroundings and prepared to leap into action at a moment's notice.
The female Unspeakable grumbled as she rubbed her neck. Harry then reached out and presented the wand he had created. "Here you go miss."
The Unspeakable looked surprised if he was reading her body language correctly. "You're giving me my wand? Are you not afraid I'll curse you once I get it back?"
Harry smirked. "This is a game of trust, sweetheart. I believed your story, so you reciprocate by not taking advantage of me, no matter how much you might want to."
She chuckled a little as she retrieved her wand from his grasp. Putting it back into a holster with a light flick, she stepped back. "Alright, so where do we go from here?"
"We can head to the dining room and keep each other company until my cohorts arrive. You wouldn't mind that, would you?"
The Unspeakable lightly huffed and dusted off the front of her robe. "Not at all."
"Ladies first, then." Harry smiled and gestured down the hallway.
The Unspeakable took the lead, and he followed her. Throughout the journey, he was watching her closely. He always maintained 5 paces from her. It was far enough to dodge, get up close, or retreat depending on the situation.
Thankfully, they reached their intended destination without any hiccups, and he settled down onto one of the chairs. She walked over to the opposite side and followed his queue.
Silence was all that pervaded the room for the next few minutes. Neither of them knew what to say, so they simply said nothing and waited. He didn't mind the silence, opting to keep a light smile on his face while keeping a close eye on her and the surroundings.
She seemed to not like it though. Even through the obscured hood and loose robes, he could tell that she was fidgeting. If she was related to owner of the mansion, that usually meant that he was dealing with a Pureblood woman. They were always a very extroverted sort, so it made sense that she was uncomfortable at his scrutiny.
Out of nowhere, the question came. "Do I know you from somewhere? You seem very familiar."
He raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Usually, I'm the one using the corny pickup lines. Colour me surprised."
She bristled underneath the hood. "It's not a pickup line. I have standards."
That was a sharp comeback. Obviously, she didn't like being teased.
Hiding his grin, he nodded. "I understand. It's not often you get to meet a man so far out of your league like myself. You wouldn't be the first woman to become flustered in my presence."
"Coming from a man with nothing other than his wand to get him by, that's laughable." She snarked.
It was becoming harder for him to hide his smile. There was something about this woman that he found interesting. "Well, my wand is longer and more powerful than most, so it gets me by just fine."
Childish? Sure. He couldn't care less. He was having fun.
The sexual tension from his impromptu interrogation in the hall was still in the air. That, and he found himself genuinely enjoying the way their verbal joust was progressing.
"Typical. You lot always make everything about sex. Tell me, does that work on any self-respecting woman?"
"Is it working on you?"
"No."
"Oh dear, it looks like you're immune to my masculine charms. I guess I'll just have to wear you down over time. Don't worry, you'll enjoy it every step of the way."
She huffed. "Unlikely, but you're welcome to try."
He winked at her. "Just you wait Princess."
She stilled for a second before speaking. Any frivolity or emotion in her tone was gone. "Do not call me that."
He frowned at the sudden shift. "What? Princess?"
She flicked her wand into her hand and stood abruptly while pointing it at him. "Yes. That. Or you will suffer my displeasure."
Harry didn't make a move at the threatening gesture. "Touchy, aren't we? What's so wrong in calling you Princess? Bad memories? Let me guess, ex-boyfriend? No, maybe someone close who passed on?"
"Sanguis Conglacio!" She furiously yelled.
Nothing happened. Not a spark of magic was launched. Which going by her expression confused her greatly.
"Sanguinifervo! Lacerti Imputresco!" She shouted, wiggling the wand in complex patterns.
Still no reaction.
Harry was getting tired of her posturing, so he spoke out. "Please, sit down."
"You. What the hell have you done to my wand?!"
He flared his aura violently, immediately starting to hear the soft whispers in his ear. His magic was begging to be released. To unleash destruction on everything and everyone around him. It was a feeling he was used to suppressing after years of practice.
"Darling I handed you your pert arse on a platter without any effort on my part. Do not push your luck with me. I'm not asking this time. Sit. Down."
Magical power was radiating from his body causing the entire room to start vibrating. The Unspeakable curled in on herself, like she was terrified. He heard her struggling to breath and decided that enough was enough.
Withdrawing his aura, he waited for her to get back to a proper state. Her gasping resounded in the quiet surroundings as she struggled to remain on her feet. Finally, she ended up collapsing bodily into her chair.
This time, not a word was spoken. He felt her eyes boring into him from underneath the obscured hood. It took some time for her to regain her composure, and he waited patiently before finally addressing her.
"I apologize for having to do that. It was not my intention to cause you any harm. If you're curious about your wand, I can explain. The reason it didn't work is because that is just a conjured piece of wood. I have your wand on me and will return it once you have been cleared. Please do not bother asking for it any earlier."
He caught the almost imperceptible, meek nod from the shifting of the hood.
'Shit. I scared her too badly. Get it together Harry. You're in her home. She didn't deserve that.'
"What was that?" The question sounded like it had been whispered by the wind.
"Ah, that was what I like to call an aura flare. It's a rather effective intimidation tactic that I developed after learning about magical auras during my studies."
"What is aura? It felt like something was pressing on my chest, but I couldn't see anything other than the table and chandeliers shaking."
Harry mentally sighed in relief. It looked like she was going to be okay. Maybe he could satisfy her curiosity and feed her some information to build rapport.
"Aura is an invisible field that is generated by magical beings. It is also possible for it to be naturally occurring. There are certain hot spots on Earth that exude a strong magical aura as well. For example, Hogwarts, the Pyramids of Giza, parts of the Amazon, etc.
We can easily notice them, even if they aren't visible. Our magic gives us a sort of sixth sense that makes us partially aware of them. It's not just limited to living things as well. Ancient artifacts can also develop an aura over time. The Sorting Hat of Hogwarts, the Founder's Artifacts, and so on."
He saw her leaning forward, attentive and eager for knowledge.
Giving a wry smile, he continued. "Most will go their whole lives and not bother paying attention to it, or even know what it is. It just gets lost in the torrential flow of sensory information that our brains constantly process. There's nothing wrong with that, seeing as they would not have a need for it.
However, there are members of a certain mainstream profession that tend to gain an intimate understanding of its uses. Like the Aurors of the DMLE. Their lives depend on being able to combat dark wizards and criminals and defend the lives of the public.
Even if they might not know exactly what it is, they all gain a certain instinct that they hone and listen to throughout their careers. A sense for danger or where to search for clues. It's a helpful skill to have. One that takes years to truly grow into anything meaningful but will do nothing but help once properly matured."
"You speak from experience." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"I do." He confirmed without hesitating. He had nothing to hide in this case.
"You're an Auror. Or a former Auror. You learned it on the job. That still doesn't explain what I felt back then. If it's supposed to just be invisible and inconsequential background noise, why did it feel so heavy?"
Harry chuckled. "I was getting to that. My path of learning about aura was rather… unorthodox. My formative years were less than pleasant, so I ended up forming my sixth sense quite early. By the time I was in the Auror Corps, it had developed into something quite different.
I found that in moments of emotional turmoil, or extreme stress, I could weaponize it. Use it to bolster the morale of my comrades in a fight or suppress the momentum of enemy combatants. It's quite a handy talent, so I practiced it, and got good enough to be able to use it on command without the use of emotions."
"So, what I felt was your aura suffocating me? That is so interesting. Do you think I can do it too, now that I know about it?"
"I don't mean to blow my own trumpet, but only exceptionally powerful magicals could do what I did. Most people simply don't have the capability of pushing their aura out the way I do. One example of a man who frequently used this skill would be Albus Dumbledore, though he used it in a far different manner."
Even though he couldn't see her face, he could imagine the raised eyebrow that accompanied her question. "Really? Albus Dumbledore used it? I never once felt such a thing in all my time at Hogwarts, and I was in Harry Potter's year. Those were perhaps the most chaotic seven years in all of Hogwarts history."
'She was in my year? Now this is interesting. Let's dig a little deeper.'
"You were there during Harry Potter's time? Tell me. What was he like? I heard some of the most ridiculous rumours of possessed professors and basilisks."
She scoffed. "I heard those too. He was always getting into some sort of trouble. Members of my house didn't really like him for the most part."
'Of course, she was a snake. Just my luck.'
He had never bothered interacting with the Slytherins as many of them didn't like him on principle. Hell, other than Draco, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, he didn't know anyone else among Slytherin in his year.
She continued, unaware of his inner turmoil. "Dumbledore loved his little Golden Boy. Him and his best friends. The 'Golden Trio' as they were referred to. They could do no wrong.
Though honestly, I never felt Potter was anything special. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, and all that, but he never showed any signs of skill. To his credit he was good in Defense, but his grades were average in everything else. He was quite shy and withdrawn, but quick to anger, especially if it was Draco Malfoy provoking him.
It came as a huge surprise when he ended up defeating Voldemort. I'm pretty sure that most people thought the Light was going to lose. He must have been blessed with the luck of Merlin himself.
Last I heard he never completed his seventh year and somehow ended up in the Auror Corps. It was a big scandal for the DMLE when he quit after a couple years, but I didn't care much, seeing as I belong to a different department."
Huh. Not what he was expecting. But a refreshing perspective, nonetheless.
"Sounds like you don't like him much." He pointed out.
"It's not that I don't like him. I'm just not a 'Man-Who-Conquered' groupie like others. For example, what were your N.E.W.T. scores? If you don't mind me asking?"
He didn't know where she was going with this but chose to answer out of curiosity. "Outstanding's across the board."
"Exactly. The Auror Corps only takes the best recruits. Yet somehow, Potter managed to skip his seventh year and was fast-tracked into the program. He became the youngest Auror to ever come out of the Academy. If that wasn't pandering to the public, I don't know what was."
He resisted the urge to smirk. She had unknowingly praised and criticised him at the same time. Still, he felt the need to defend himself.
"I was there when he became an Auror. I don't particularly think it was undeserved. He was a quick study and effective in the field."
"Please, do you really think he earned that through his prodigious skill and knowledge? He was the Ministry's poster boy. Plain and simple.
The new administration wanted to assure the public that everything was okay, so they gave him a badge early and paraded him around. I'm sure that even he started believing his own hype. Say what you want, but he wouldn't be able to fight like you or me."
Harry was about to respond when the door opened. Niklas came in with a group following him.
"I didn't know we were expecting guests." He said while observing them both.
"I caught little Miss Unspeakable when she tried to assault me in the hallway. My wardrobe was rather risqué, and I felt my chastity threatened. So, I captured her, and we've been enjoying some polite conversation."
A tittering laugh came from a woman behind Niklas. "I didn't know you felt threatened by petite women, Basilisk. Perhaps I could use it to my advantage."
"She's got this dark and mysterious vibe to her with the obscured hood. Unlike her, I've already seen everything you have to offer, Kitsune."
Kitsune stepped out of the group. She was a seductive looking Japanese woman dressed in a crop top with a mesh vest underneath, a tight miniskirt that hugged her rear and accentuated her legs, and a pair of expensive looking red high heels.
"And you enjoyed every minute honey. Don't bother denying it."
Harry was about to respond when Niklas cleared his throat.
"Before we continue the banter, may I ask how unauthorized personnel managed to get onto the property? This is supposed to be a secure ICW operations headquarters."
Harry answered for her. "She said it was her house, so the wards let her in. It makes sense, as with a magical manor this old, it would be impossible to lay down wards over the existing ones steeped in family magic for centuries."
"Her house? Pardon me Miss, but would you happen to be Lord Greengrass's eldest daughter, Daphne?"
The Unspeakable sighed before pulling back the hood. Harry was greeted to the sight of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Which was saying something.
Long ebony tresses framed a face that looked like it was crafted from the finest porcelain. She was blessed with aristocratic features and the most captivating pair of eyes. He could already feel himself getting lost in those cerulean pools. If he did, he would never want out.
"You would be correct, sir…?"
"Oh, of course, my apologies. My name is Niklas Dahlstrom, ICW Chief Officer of Field Operations. Your father, Lord Stephen Greengrass, volunteered the use of this property as headquarters for my task force. Before I say anything further, may I please see your Unspeakable credentials."
The now identified Daphne Greengrass gracefully nodded and walked forward while rolling up her right sleeve. On her forearm was a small unassuming tattoo of the Greek symbol Delta.
Niklas waved his wand over the tattoo and muttered a spell. A small magical projection appeared, and he silently read it before nodding.
"It appears everything is in order, Miss Greengrass. My agent had to apprehend you due to the security concern you posed. I hope you understand. You have my apologies and are free to go.
Your father said that your family would be staying in the property in Oxford. The Floos have been deactivated, so I'll make a portkey for you. It would be quite a distance to Apparate."
"No problem, Chief Officer Dahlstrom. Thank you for your consideration, and I apologize for trespassing."
She nodded her head and turned towards him. "Now that my identity has been confirmed, may I please have my wand back?"
Harry got up and walked over to her. Reaching into his pocket he retrieved Daphne's wand. Flipping it around, he presented it to her grip first. She grasped it and this time made sure to check whether it was really her wand. Once she was satisfied, she flicked it into her wand holster.
She was turning around when Harry spoke. "One moment, Miss Greengrass."
He reached forward and slowly moved her hair over her shoulder while inwardly marvelling at the silkiness. Placing a single finger right above her collarbone he pulsed his magic. The runic matrix he previously placed on the robes lit up brightly. A simple clockwise twist disrupted the enchantment and it dissipated.
"Now you are free to leave. My apologies for detaining you."
She looked at him curiously. "What was that on my robe?"
"That was an enchantment of my own design. If, by some miracle you managed to get the better of me, a single pulse of my magic would have activated it."
Her eyes narrowed. "What would it have done?"
He grinned. "Incapacitated you. Quite painfully."
She clicked her tongue. "I had no chance against you, did I? As to be expected from an ICW Field Operative. What was it that woman called you? Basilisk? With cunning like that you truly live up to your name."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Niklas interrupted their chat. "The portkey is ready Miss Greengrass. It's timed to leave 2 minutes from now. Agent Basilisk, please escort her to the front porch."
Harry nodded. "Of course, boss. If you would, Miss Greengrass?"
They made their way to the door with time to spare.
Daphne turned around. "Despite our rocky first meeting. I enjoyed our conversation. If you're available, I would love to have a few more discussions on aura and its potential applications."
"Far be it from me to turn down the request of a beautiful woman such as yourself. I'll be waiting for your letter. My schedule will be a little hectic, but I'll do my best to make room for you. Truth be told, I enjoyed our conversation as well." He gave a genuine smile which she returned.
"I look forward to it. By the way, before I leave, can I get your name? I don't know if my owl could find Agent Basilisk of the ICW."
He gave her his trademark lopsided half-grin. "Oh dear, where are my manners?"
Taking her hand, he gave it a gentle kiss. Looking deep into her eyes he said "Lord Henry James Potter-Black at your service. But you, darling, may call me Harry."
Her eyes widened her jaw dropped as stared while she absorbed what he said. It was honestly adorable.
He winked and let go as the portkey activated, whisking her away to her destination.
Walking back to meet with his new teammates he chuckled to himself. He couldn't wait to see her again. He knew their next meeting would be immensely entertaining.