Harry Potter:The Dark Knight by Mister_Midnight

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 01/05/2005
Last Updated: 02/04/2006
Status: Completed

(AU)The Batman captures the one who will cause more trouble from the inside the bars then the
outside. Another enemy stumbles his way into the story, and his laughter will soon haunt the night.
(HP/Batman)




1. Prologue
-----------



A/N: I'm not abandoning my other stories if you wish to check those out, however I wanted to
attempt this idea that came to mind and figured I give it a shot. JK Rowlings owns Harry Potter and
Batman and like are owned by DC Comics. Please Read and Review. Thank you.

The brilliance of two single shots of green light was burned into his retinas. The evil laughter
even more distinguished then the lights that cripple his sense. His nightmares are always the same;
they haven't changed over the last ten years, and there has never been a reason to. The smoky
dismissing nature of the alley where the pale concrete only magnified the-

“Master Harold, wake up Master Harold,” the elderly voice said comfortingly. Harold felt someone
shaking his shoulders. He shot upward, the sheets around him falling down to his waist. “Another
dream?” It was no less then a question, rather than a statement.

Without nodding to or acknowledging the butler, Harold rose from his bed over to the fireplace.
As per his nightly ritual, he stared longingly at the masterpiece portrait of his parents.

“You must get your sleep,” the butler said, moving a robe over Harold's shoulders. “You have
a very busy schedule tomorrow Master Harold. You're opening a new wing at a local
hospital.”

“Normal or wizard?” Harold asked, moving his emerald eyes off the portrait.

“I believe its called St Mungo's,” the butler said. Harold nodded, sitting down on the bed.
“You won't be going back to bed will you?” There was a bit of annoyance in his voice, and
Harold could not help but smirk. “Very, well, I shall prepare the simulator for you sir, if that is
what you wish.”

“Thank you Alfred,” Harold said, removing the robe as Alfred caught it. Harold walked to his
closet as Alfred left, and he pulled out a lightweight karate suit. He followed the path Alfred had
left to the library, where a single grandfather clock on the side of the wall awaited him. Opening
the window to the face of the clock, he positioned it to the time of his parents' death, and
stepped back, letting the magic he had set down do it works.

He would be ready, for the night.

**I0I**

The world had changed. It was darker, grimmer than before. The world had changed in subtle,
small movements that order could not apprehend. Darkness drifted in and out of the land. The world
had changed.

Most carried on with their daily lives, fearing the night, where the criminals made their work.
The system of protection with the world was corrupt beyond comparison. People lived in constant
fear of the terror that worked at night.

Harold knew this all too well. He knew what evil lurked behind the shadows, what evil threatened
life from continuing past sundown. The same evil that had existed since his rebirth, since his
oath. It was the same evil, only a different form. His time was coming, Harold knew that it would.
He knew his time would to show the world what Harold Potter had truly become……….

The Bat will bring ebb the darkness………

-->



2. Chapter One
--------------



**Chapter One: Returning**

“Good morning Master Harold,” the butler said as a plate of food was placed down in front of the
master.

“Morning Alfred,” said Harold. He sat down, looking at the stock portfolio that had been placed
before him. Several of his companies had dropped, except one, a company he co-founded to say the
least.

It was joke shop founded by two redheads that had a passion for invention. They were only a few
years older than him, though had helped him develop some of his own creations. Both were brilliant,
in his opinion, beyond their time with their jokes, and funded their store, with only one
stipulation: that he but their silent-silent partner. They would not contact him; he would contact
them, only when it was absolutely necessary. They, being the shrewd businessmen they were, agreed
immediately.

“What time shall we be leaving?” asked Harold. He put away the papers and began to read
newspaper and tabloids. All loved to talk about the playboy billionaire, whether he was at a
function or dinner or whatever, they talked about that or his reclusive lifestyle.

“Ten am, sir,” Alfred said as he put a cup of coffee next to the plate of food. Absentmindedly,
Harold began to eat from the plate, reading through the paper. Unlike most “playboy billionaires,”
he was looking at the deaths that happened the night before.

“They just keep adding up.”

“That is why we are going back, is it not, Master Harold?” Alfred asked as he took the plate
away from Harold. He took a drink of coffee before standing up as Alfred took the cup.

“You're right, but it does not make it any easier,” Harold said, folding his napkin as edict
dictated. If there was one thing that had made life easier for Harold now as a social elite, it was
being taught edict by the Alfred, his guardian and closet friend. He had long ago taken the place
of his birth father, who was stole from him at a young age, but now Alfred was indispensable as not
only a guardian and caretaker, but as a friend as well.

“You're clothes are laid out for you,” Alfred said as Harold walked away.

“Alfred, what would I do without you,” Harold asked as walked up the stairs to shower for the
morning, and change into his business suit. His mind began to go over the last few years once more,
like he had done everyday. Of the times when he knew his life would change depending on the direct
he would take….

**I0I**

*Seven years ago*

“Are you sure about this Master Harold,” Alfred said as he held the hand of small child. Harold
nodded, before watching the train leave without him. He had made a promise to his parents, and to
himself. That promise could not be fulfilled nor completed without the training he needed. That
would come elsewhere. As much as he wanted to go to Hogwarts, Alfred could teach him what he needed
to know, and then the rest would come from tutors.

As grand as magic sounded to learn, it did nothing for him, it could only hinder him. He could
not learn it now, not for a while. There were more important things to learn, like the art of
business, and the conquering of ones mental perceptions and skills. The States held the answers for
him there, and that was where was going.

Any majestic train ride would have to wait for another day, another year. He caught the head of
a bushy brunette as she stuck it out the window. Perhaps next year…..

**I0I**

*Six Years Ago*

“Master Harold, we must be going,” Alfred said, drawing him out of his dreams. He was
world's youngest business owner, and would in his second year at Hogwarts. Would if he
went.

He wanted nothing more than to give it all up and be a child, but the world was too much. He had
long ago, learned to hide his emotions. He longed for the family that would never be his; watching
that same young brunette from the year before say goodbye hurt even more this year as she hugged
her parents.

Sighing, Harold gave into the inevitable, and turned back to Alfred, knowing full well that the
old man saw his glances toward that loving family.

“Come my boy,” he said, placing a hand on Harold's shoulder, leading him back to the car.
Harold felt his emotions return as he entered the back. Closing the door, Alfred moved around to
the front, and closed the window that separated them, allowing him to grieve once more in peace, as
he had done every Halloween….

**I0I**

*Five Years Ago*

They stood waiting for their train to take them into London as a familiar face passed by them,
at a hurried pace. What is meant by “pass by” is crashing into. Harold found himself on the ground
in a few moments.

“I'm sorry about that,” Harold said, standing up immediately. He held his hand out for girl,
who looked shocked at him. She accepted it, and before he could help her pick up her belongings,
mainly a few stray books, she began to ramble.

“You're sorry, I'm the one that should be sorry, I mean I was the one that ran into you
without looking. Oh my God, are you hurt, please, don't be hurt? I didn't mean to hurt you,
I just was running late and I didn't want to miss my train and-” Harold put a innocent finger
to her mouth, stopping her from speaking. Her rambling gave him time to really look at her
face.

She had not reached puberty yet, though her face could still be considered childishly cute. Her
bush brown hair did a good job of hiding a smile that Harold thought any would be happy to receive.
Her front teeth were slightly larger than the rest, but she had corrective braces on to fix that.
But that wasn't the strange part about her. It was this aura he got from her. He had not met
many other witches or wizards, Alfred being the only other one, but he believe he was safe to
assume she was a witch, especially with the strange book titles.

“It's alright,” he said, with maturity beyond his age. “Let me help you pick these up.” He
bent down and gathered the books up before she could utter another word. He quickly examined them
to prove his hypothesis, which it did. Placing them carefully back onto the trunk, he removed his
belt and wrapped the books up, securing them onto the trunk.

“That should hold them,” he said. The belt was for show mainly. He was a man of business, and
business was ninety percent image. “Are you sure you're alright? I didn't break anything
did I?” She shook her head.

“My name is Hermione,” she held out her hand. Smiling, Harold bent over, and picked up her hand,
kissing her knuckles lightly.

“The pleasure is all mine, Hermione,” Harold said. “A Winter's Tale, if my literature is
correct?” Her blush was his answer. “My name is Harold, but my friends call me Harry.” Which was a
lie, he didn't have any friends, anyone beside Alfred.

“Nice to meet you Harry,” she said, her cheeks filled with blush. Checking his watch, he noticed
he had enough time, quarter until eleven. More than enough time.

“Do you mind if I walk you to your train, in case anything else falls?” He said, lamely. He felt
himself blushing. He really did not want to leave his first friend, and knew that if he did, it
would probably be another year before he saw her again.

“Sure,” she said, taking a hold of her cart.

“That's a nice cat you have there,” Harold said, pointing to the cat on the edge of the
trunk.

“Thank you, I got it for a present this past summer, it's an early birthday present,” she
said with a large smile. “His name is Crookshanks.”

*An interesting name for cat owned by an interesting girl*, Harold thought to himself.

“What school do you go to?” He asked. “A private school, Hogwarts I assume.” He kept walking for
a few feet, only to notice she stopped. Looking back at her, he smiled causing her to blush once
more.

“How did you know?” She said, obviously trying not to blush.

“Those book titles told me it wasn't a normal school, especially with so many of them,”
Harold said, walking back to her. He took the cart from her and began to push it towards the
platform he had seen dozens of children and families pass through. “Another is your cat. I've
researched the schools around the country, in hopes to find one that would suit my needs. Of all of
them, Hogwarts is the only one that allows pets, cats among the allowed.”

“So why did you not go there?” Another question. Harold could not help but smile.

“Because I needed a more rounded education, and Hogwarts does not offer that. Specifically, I
need to understand economics, normal and wizardry, as well as a bit of the theater to round me out.
Physical education is also important as the body should never be allowed to fall into decay before
its time.” He spoke as he had repeated it a hundred times, but no matter how many times he said it,
people were always impressed.

“How old are you?” she asked him, slightly in awe.

“Thirteen this past July, though its been too long to remember since I've been a child.”
Harold's face was downcast for a moment before pausing. Hermione paused with him. “Here's
your stop.” He said with a smile. “It was nice meeting you Miss. I hope to see you again.” Hermione
paused for a moment before doing something he had never received.

He felt her hug his tightly around his neck as he awkwardly put his arms around her waist,
returning the hug unsurely. “I wish more boys were more like you.” She said as she pulled back. “I
wish you were coming. That way I'd at least have one friend.” Harold smiled before pulling out
a small pocket watch.

“This was my father's,” he said, running his hand over the cover. “I, I want you to have it.
You're my first real friend and I-” He was cut off by another hug.

“Thank you,” said Hermione. She took it reverently and placed into her pocket. “I don't
much, but I think you might like this.” She took one of the books off the stack, the only one that
was normal. “It's my favorite, and I've read it about a hundred times. I think you might
like it if you haven't read it yet.” Harold took the book, and smiled for a moment before
running his hand over the cover.

*“Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy*,” he said softly. “No I haven't read it. Though
I've probably meant to at one time or another. Just haven't found the time. Life passes us
by before we know it.” He looked up her at her and smiled once more. “Thank you. I doubt want you
to be late, so you best be going.” She took a look at the watch she now held before giving off a
shriek and running through the barrier. “Goodbye, my friend.” He said before heading off to catch
his own train.

“Master Harold, I was so worried,” Alfred said as he approached. “You mustn't run off like
that. Who knows what could happen to you?”

“I do,” he said as he stepped beside his guardian.

“What happen to your belt, Master Harold, and where did you get that book?” Alfred said, a small
twinkle in his eyes. Harold ran a finger over the book once more.

“A friend of mine,” he said as their train approached. He was off to London and all silly
thoughts of friendship were put aside for another day.

**I0I**

Harry did not return for another five years, and this would be the first time he had return to
the British wizardry world. His trip to Japan and study of the martial arts had taken longer than
anticipate, only because he was determined to become the best. These trips were done in secret, to
protect his playboy image. He did not want the world to know what he was planning, what he knew was
becoming necessary. The return to London had been hard enough on him.

His finished his shower and dressed in his suit and tie, ready for the trip to St. Mungo's.
The wizardry paper stated only months before that they were in need of support with the pouring in
of patients. He figured and his business manager agreed that it would be a good way to fully
reintroduce himself to this community of people. He had long lived in the normal world, though his
skills with magic far exceeded most of the wizardry world, he believed them cause lack of focus and
preparation. He used them only as a last minute necessity, and only then. Alfred, on the other
hand, used it to keep Potter Manor, or Godric's Hollow, in such spotless condition. After the
ceremony at the hospital, there was to a banquet here, as he wanted as many people to like him as
possible.

He had just become the owner of the largest potions company in the Wizarding world. That and he
was owner of the largest aerospace company as well as had a think-tank that worked for him,
creating new ideas and such. But for the most he owned countless of smaller companies he had no
idea what they did, but knew they were doing it legally. That was all that he cared about, that
things were done fairly and such at his places of work. However, he had done some of his own
work.

While examining the think-tanks inventions, he had come close to combining technology and magic.
All it took was the right spells to get the gears to move and such, and he'd find a way to work
it all out.

Finished dressing, Harold headed to the parlor, where Alfred was waiting for him. “The car is
ready sir.” Harold nodded, and grabbed the coat offered to him. Following Alfred out of the door,
he stepped into the back seat of the waiting car. Alfred moved around front to the driver's
side.

“How long will it take to get there?” Harold asked, relaxing in the back seat. His mind began to
go over the layout of the hospital to ensure that he could leave if one of those reporters got too
nosy or if he needed to assist in an evacuation. Luck favors the prepared.

“Another ten minutes sir,” Alfred said as he concentrated on the driving. Harold nodded and
allowed his mind to fall into a routine he had done many times before. The public needs not to
suspect the intelligence behind the mask of Harold Potter…

**I0I**

“So who is this guy?” Ronald Weasley asked his current lust of affection, Hermione Granger. She
rolled her eyes, wondering why she even bothered accepting his invitation to this dedication/ball.
He had changed over the last few years. Sure he still was a jerk sometimes, but he was nice to her
now, after she saved his butt the previous year during the finals.

The Weasley's had offered to take her to the dedication of the new wing at the hospital, but
it was with the stipulation, or rather that was how Ron had put it, that he be her date. Figuring
that it would be fun, she accepted, only stating that she would be going with him as friends,
nothing more. Even then she was not sure if he wanted to be friends with her.

“I don't know, Ron,” Hermione repeated. She looked down at the program given to them at the
beginning.

This “Harold Potter” was some businessman, young apparently, but reclusive for the last eight
years. That was the extent of the knowledge she could find from recent articles. Beyond that, he
had bought up a great deal of smaller companies and inventors, and consolidated them into Potter
Industries, the largest Muggle and Wizardry chemical/potions company in the UK.

He had invited basically the entire Ministry and some of their family to his estate back in
Scotland after the dedication. He had to have a great deal of money, and the only thing Hermione
could think of was Malfoy, the slime of Hogwarts. Malfoy was said to be the richest child at
Hogwarts, from his mouth. Yet something told Hermione that his father spent more money prostrating
himself into the good graces of the Ministry.

“Bet you he's a git like Malfoy,” Ginny said. She was the only daughter in the Weasley
family, but that did not stop her from voicing her opinion.

“A git? Do you even know this man?” A handsome fellow was standing beside them, drinking from a
champagne glass. Hermione and Ginny both stared at him as Ron answered back. The man gave them a
disarming smile, causing them both to blush deeply.

“What does it matter? All those people with money are alike,” he said. “They just try to buy
their friendships, and then go turncoat.” The handsome man ran a hand through his black hair,
giving them a glimpse of a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

“Really, hmm, never thought of that, though I don't like to judge a book by its cover,” the
man said, scratching his chin. Hermione looked beyond the black-rimmed glasses to see a twinkle in
his emerald eyes.

“What's there to judge?” Ron asked, shrugging his shoulders. “Its not hard to figure any
rich guy is only doing this to get his name in the paper and further himself so he can get a few
more ladies to screw.” He quickly received a slap on both of his arms from both Hermione and Ginny.
“What? Its true.” He said.

The man nodded for a moment, smiling to himself before looking over at the speaker who came to
the podium. “Would Mister Potter please come to the stage? Everyone, please move forward, and the
presentation shall begin shortly.”

“That's my queue,” the man next to them said. Before Hermione could get his name, the man
pushed his way through the crowd.

“Bugger, and I didn't even get his name,” Hermione said softly, crossing her arms over her
chest.

“Come on,” Ron said, not noticing her current state. “We don't want to miss the show do we?”
He pulled on her arm, practically dragging her over to the rest of the redheaded clan.

“There you are, come on, we must get so he can see us,” Percy Weasley said. He was among the
most egocentric members of the family, with Ron coming close second Hermione figured. Shaking her
head, Hermione scanned the crowd for any signs of the man they were talking to earlier.

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen for attending tonight,” a man said before them. He must have
been the press agent of the Ministry. “Without further ado, let us begin.”

Everyone by now was crowded stage that had been set up in the enlarged entrance to the hospital.
The Minister, a pompous jackass named Cornelius Fudge stood up, saying a few unimportant words
about the day. Most of the reporters remained ready, with cameras and Quick-quote quills ready for
the man of the hour.

“And now, I'm happy to present, the benefactor of the evening, Mister Harold Potter,” the
press agent said once more. Hermione felt her jaw drop as the man stood up from his seat, the same
twinkle in his eyes.

“I must say, it's great to know I've made such an impression upon all of you,” Harold
said, his smile widening, `without actually being here.” The room filled with slight chuckles at
his joke. “I'd like to thank you all for coming. This opening means a great deal to me, to my
family.” He looked around the room, as if making eye contact with everyone there. As if making them
all know they were important to him. “My mother was prominent advocate to human rights and
protection of those rights. I have found that these wizarding hospitals and hospices are below par,
beneath the average needs of many of the people here.” His face turned somber at the moment.
“Through the use of magic, many of the population here has become lazy and uninterested in human
advancement.

“The money I have donated tonight is not meant for the rich, but for those that can not normally
afford the awful rates here,” he now spoke with distain. “I am appalled at the attention some of
the patients received here and I hope that the treatment of patients shall improve with the
addition of this wing.” He looked back at the wing behind him, smiling slightly. The room had grown
quiet. He turned back to them and stared at them once more.

“I've been told I do not understand the culture here, the way of life,” he said smirking.
“That you know how to live as a wizard better than me. While that may be true, I do believe that
there is much to be learned for leading a normal life. I've discussed it already with the
governors, and they have agreed that my admission into Hogwarts shall be accepted.” There were a
great number of mumbles and discussions going about in the room, and Hermione felt herself being
drawn into one.

“Can he do that? He's what twenty, twenty-one?” Ron asked his momentary forgetting the
embarrassment he caused himself.

“I don't know,” Hermione said, going over the school rules she had memorized. “I didn't
think so.” Harold stood at the podium, a smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes as if he knew
something that everyone else did not. It was those same eyes, or similar ones that had comforted
her those lonely nights that third year at Hogwarts.

“Now that I have all of your attention,” Harold said with a large smile. Hermione heard many of
the girls around the room sigh at the smile. She glared universally around the room, for a reason
she could not explain. Turning her attention back to Harold she watched his eyes look at her stare
at her for a moment.

“He's looking right at me,” Ginny said, giddily. Hermione shook her head, slightly, though
no one noticed.

“There is a great deal to learn, from anyone willing to teach,” Harold said. “I want to learn
from the best, though, if it means giving up some of the privileges of private schooling so be it,
though I doubt the food will compare.” Chuckles filled the room as Dumbledore, the Headmaster at
Hogwarts rose from his seat.

“Mister Potter,” he began. “I assure you, the food is the reason the ghost still are hanging
around the place.” His smile matched Harold's as they shook hands. “May I be the first to
welcome you back.”

“He's coming to Hogwarts?” Ron said, still in shock.

“Mister Weasley, I believe you have a question,” Harold said as he walked off the stage. There
was slightly laughter in the room as he walked toward him. “I look forward to being schoolmates
with you all this upcoming year, though I doubt I'll be any good.” His smile cause both of the
girls to blush again as he looked at Ron, holding out his hand. Ron glared at it for a moment
before shaking it wildly, or at least trying to.

Harold caught his hand and shook it gracefully before pulling back. “Might fine grip you got
there,” he said, shaking his hand. There was some more chuckles going around the room as Harold
went about, hobnobbing with the other guest.

“Bull,” Ron said shaking his hand. “He's the one with a grip like a vice grip.” He muttered
to himself. Hermione could not help but laugh slightly at Ron, causing him to glare at her.
“You're my date, you're supposed to side with me.”

“No, dance with you maybe,” Hermione said, giving him a combination between a smirk and glare.
“Side with you, I doubt we've done that at all during our interim friendship.”

“Maybe I shouldn't have invited you at all,” Ron said to her, glaring at her. “I'm sure
Lavender would have sided with me.” Hermione felt tears come to her eyes for a moment before
shaking them away, not giving him the satisfaction. However before she could respond, Harold did
for her.

“Mister Weasley, while I take jokes against me in good favor, I do not take insults against my
guests as such,” he said, his arms crossed. “I suggest you learn to bite your tongue before a woman
takes it out for you.”

“I'm sorry for my son's behavior, Mister Potter,” Ron's father began.

“Mister Weasley, I honestly believe this has nothing to do with your parenting skills, yours or
you wife,” Harold said, his demeanor changing. “You're daughter was very polite to me earlier
in a conversation we had, and those twins of yours really have a eye for business.” Mrs. Weasley
appeared to have wedding bells in her eyes at the mention at her daughter, but Hermione noticed
that Harold's eyes did not move to Ginny at the statement, rather to her. That and twinkle that
glowed in his eyes at the mentioning of George and Fred's business.

“Well, Ms Granger is it,” Harold said, taking out a piece of paper. She nodded, slightly
surprised at him mention her. “I read you're piece on Elves rights, in the Daily Prophet,
wonderful piece.” He put the paper back into his jacket, as if checking something. Hermione tried
to hold back her blush but failed. “If you must excuse me, Miss, there are some other matter that
need my attending before we leave for my place.” With another dazzling smile, he left the
Weasley's and Hermione standing in awe.

“A man like that and he's only seventeen?” Mrs. Weasley said aloud, voicing the two similar
opinions on the other girls' minds. Ron began to mumble to himself, though now one was paying
attention. George and Fred were currently wrapped up in a conversation with their father regarding
their successful business.

Snapping herself out of her fantasy about the man who just left their presence, Hermione opened
her purse, touching the small pocket watch from her first friend. She hoped that one day, she'd
be able to find him again and tell him how much that little watch meant to her.

**I0I**

As Alfred prepared the house, Harold stood in his bedroom once more, looking back at the
portrait, as he had done every night. A smile crossed his face. “One step at a time, mother, one
step at a time,” he said before leaving the room. After all, he had a party to host.

-->



3. Chapter Two
--------------



**Chapter Two: Appearances**

Harold looked around from the entrance from the Hall to the ballroom. Fixing his glasses that
were mainly for show, he looked around the room. Everything was going as planned. They saw him as
frivolous with his money and of medium intelligence. Planning on keeping his image as it was, he
casually took a champagne glass and made his way into the crowd. Greeting people, he shook hands,
smiling as best as he could, though from the looks of it he had to have been doing a good job.

“Minister Fudge, glad you could attend,” Harold said, making his way over to the Minister. He
shook the Minister's hand, and then looked at the woman next to him, who had just cleared her
throat. “Undersecretary Umbridge correct?” she nodded holding out her hand as if he should kiss it.
Instead, Harry held back a smirk and just shook it. “Glad you could both be pulled away from your
busy jobs to join me tonight.”

“Our pleasure Mister Potter,” Fudge said, putting a bulge of an arm him. “I was wondering if I
could talk to you about some deals I have going.”

“You'd have to talk to my business manager,” Harold said smirking as he took another sip. “I
honestly don't know where most of my money is. Held up in a lot of companies I think, some
property, I'm not sure. You're really going to have to ask him.” Before Fudge could say
anything, Harold spoke up again. “I couldn't tell you his name either at the moment. Alfred
just put away all of my business folders cleaning up this place. Contact my office for the name
they might have it. They practically run the company without me anyway,” he shrugged his shoulders.
He walked away, talking to more of the guests. He had the Minister's interest, for now.

“Mister Weasley, glad you could attend,” Harold said, walking up to the eldest Weasley, head of
the clan. “I'd like to welcome you, if there is anything you need, feel free to ask.”

“Thank you Mister Potter, your hospitality has been more than kind,” he said is response.

“Think nothing of it,” Harold said with a smile. “And please call me Harold. Mister Potter is
something only Alfred calls me.”

“Call me Arthur then, Mister makes me sound too old,” Mister Weasley said. “My sons, Bill,
Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ronald. This is my daughter, Ginerva. And my lovely wife Molly.”
Harold shook hands with each of them, stopping slightly at Ginerva's hand and Molly's
kissing the knuckles lightly on each of them. He turned and looked at Hermione for a moment.

“Miss Granger, I doubt we've been properly introduced,” he said looking at her for a
moment.

“Sorry, Hermione Granger,” she said, holding out her hand, half-heartedly hoping him to do the
same he did to the other ladies.

“It is a honor to meet you,” he said, kissing her hand lightly. “I do not believe you get the
recognition you deserved for the article you wrote.” She blushed at the statement, however before
she could say anything in response, Mrs. Weasley had cut in.

“Harold, how old are you?” she asked.

“Ma'am, young enough to be going to Hogwarts,” he said with a smirk as he felt someone grab
onto his arm.

“Can you do the honor of giving me a dance?” Ginny said. Harold was slightly put off by the way
she clung to him, but nevertheless, edict dictates.

“I'd be delighted to,” he said, taking her hand off his arm and leading her to the dance
floor in the ballroom. A majority of the people had begun to move their as he had set up some
gambling booths, which he had a license for, and already people had begun to dance. The crowd
stopped for a moment as Harry led Ginny out onto the floor. Placing on hand on her waist, and
picking up the other one, he began to slowly begin the ballroom dance that was playing, forcing
Ginny to follow him.

“What do you know about Hogwarts?” she said, a smile growing on her face.

“Not much,” Harold said. His eyes said otherwise, but Ginny seemed not to notice. “Care to tell
me?” Ginny blushed and put her head down.

“I don't know much about it, I haven't read Hogwarts, A History, yet, but okay,” Ginny
said, trying to smile.

“That's alright,” Harold said returning the smile. Ginny began to slowly explain everything
he already knew, though, he did not let her know that. He had read the book, several times in fact.
It had become one of his favorite non-fiction novels he had read. That and the theatre he
enjoyed.

“There are four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin,” Ginny said.
“Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw the smart, Slytherin the clever and sly, and Hufflepuff for
the rest of them.” Harold smiled back at her.

“I bet I'm going to end up in Hufflepuff,” he said with slight embarrassment, or that's
what it appeared to be. “I'm certainly not that brave or smart, though I must say, to be in
business you have to be a bit shrewd and sly sometimes.”

“You don't want to be in Slytherin,” Ginny scoffed. “All the gits and Death Eaters' sons
and daughters are in that house.” Harold raised an eyebrow as the end of the song.

“Well, all I know about your Death Eaters is they are people who have chosen or forced into the
wrong way of life,” Harold said releasing his hands from her. “It is wrong to generalize like that
Ms Weasley, for I believe it is the same thing your brother did with me, and do you believe what he
said about me?” She shook her head, blushing slightly. “Thank you for the dance.” He picked up her
right hand and kissed her knuckles once more. “The pleasure was all mine.” He let go of the hand
and made a turn to walk out of the room, before being swept up by another woman. It was going to be
a long night.

**I0I**

Hermione watched as the night went on all the women that danced with Harold. Dinner had come and
gone, and Harold had yet to stop to eat. How she wanted to dance with him. So much for being a
Gryffindor, huh? She could not bring herself to ask the man of the hour for a dance. Especially
with all of the other woman swooning around him. Sighing to herself, she resigned to the fact that
no one wanted to dance with, not even her date, Ron.

As soon as the chance came, he jumped up to dance with one of those highbrow women. Now she was
left alone at the side of the ballroom, as Ginny once again danced with Harold, who to her, looked
like he was starting to struggle to smile. Ginny did not seem to notice. Finally, as there was a
lull in the music, Harold declined another dance with her. For whatever reason he looked around the
room for a moment before his eyes directed themselves at her and he began to walk toward her.

“Anyone sitting here?” Harold asked, motioning toward the seat next to her. Hermione shook her
head. “My feet are killing me.”

“You throw a lot of these parties?” Hermione asked as she handed him a glass of water. Smiling
as he accepted it, Harry shook his head.

“My parents did, though they had a great deal more friends then I did,” he said sullenly. He
shrugged his shoulder before taking a drink of water. “Thank you for the drink.”

“Thank you for the company,” Hermione said, returning his smile.

“Would you like to dance?” Harold said, his eyebrows raised.

“You're probably tired, and I wouldn't want to bother you,” she said, looking down at
her feet.

“Nonsense,” Harold said standing up as another song ended. “Besides, I noticed that you've
yet to dance. A row with your date perhaps?” he said extending his hand.

“I wish it was that complicated,” Hermione said, shaking her head at Ronald's actions. “He
just blew me off for those women over there.” Hermione pointed to a group of women that had dance
with Harold at least once apiece, but now were surrounding him.

“Them,” Harold said smirking. “They are among the richest women in the country, and pride
themselves with issues such as blood.” He scoffed at his last word, as if it was something
horrible.

“You don't agree with those ideas?” Hermione said, taking his hand. He had her
attention.

“Not at all,” Harold said. “A person should be measured by the strength of their heart, not the
strength of their blood. My mother taught me that. Her parents were normal.”

“By normal you mean Muggle,” Hermione said, smiling at her personal victory. She was a
Muggleborn too, like Harold's mother.

“I prefer normal, cause that's what it is to me,” Harold drawing her out onto the dance
floor. “Wizards and witches are the ones with something special going, so why make everyone else
seems lesser with a different name.” Hermione looked at him in shock as he placed one hand on her
waist and lifted the other one up in his own. “Do you mind, it's tango, and difficult to get at
first?” Hermione shook her head, getting out of the thoughts going through her mind.

“What?” Hermione asked as he smiled.

“Just let me lead,” was all he said as the music started. Hermione found herself lost as Harold
began to tango with him, surprised at the closeness of their bodies. She had danced with Victor,
her only other date, only once when they had the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts in their 4th
year. Ron ruined the night for her, and she never got to truly enjoy it. Now, however, it seemed
different. Hermione could not explain, and just let her self be lost in the dance, twirled about
and spun into Harold's arms.

“That I must say was the most fun I've had all night,” Harold said laughing, causing her to
giggle slightly.

“Me too,” Hermione smiled back at him, causing his grin to grow.

“What house are you in?” Harold asked as the dance slowed down, coming to a halt.

“Gryffindor,” Hermione said with a smile. “I don't think you'll have a problem getting
in, you were brave enough to go out here with me, even if I did step on your toes once or twice.”
She looked embarrassed at this.

“Nonsense,” Harold said, shaking his head. Leaning over, he picked up her right hand, and spoke
softly, so only she could hear him. “What is a little pain to dance with such a beauty?” He kissed
her knuckles lightly then pulled back. “Thank you for the dance. I hope to see you at Hogwarts.”
Smiling, Harold walked over to an old man, holding a tray beside the main doorway. “I must be off,
though I hope you continue to publish. You do remarkable work.” With that, he walked away, fending
off any more dances from the hordes of woman.

“How did you manage that?” Ginny asked with a slight scowl on her face.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, sitting next to her again.

“You got him to tango,” Ginny nearly screamed. “He refused to do it with me, and I know how to.”
Hermione blushed slightly.

“He just offered to dance with me,” Hermione said, trying to hide her blush.

“Well,” Ginny said, looking in the direction he left. “Just stay away from him, he'll
probably break your heart or something.” Ginny glared at Hermione for a moment startling the girl.
Hermione understood that Ginny was after Harold, and from the look on Mrs. Weasley's face, she
intended the same thing. Sighing, Hermione let it go, wishing for her childhood friend with emerald
eyes to return and try to explain some things even she did not understand to her.

**I0I**

Harry fixed his tie as he looked on into the mirror. The night before was a success. Women loved
him, men wanted to be him. His training was increasing; he understood magic at the seventh year
level, though planned on only outputting at the sixth. He did not want them to think he was who he
wanted to be. The world is but a stage, to paraphrase Shakespeare*, and now I've stolen the
spotlight, and intend to hide in it.* He thought, smirking as Alfred came into the room.

“Master Harold, how will you manage as this school if I stay here?” Alfred asked.

“I'm getting better,” Harold said, letting the old man take over.

“That is to be seen, sir,” Alfred said. Stepping back after finishing the tie, he looked at
Harold, then at the trunk at the end of the bed. “You have everything Master Harold?”

“If I don't, I'll contact you from the school,” Harold said, holding back his smirk.
“All the clothes ready?”

“I packed them for you last night sir,” Alfred said with a sigh. “You really must go, sir?”

“I'm afraid so, Alfred,” Harold said. He looked at the old tired butler. He had been the
family to him, when no one else cared. He was the only family Harold ever knew, and now, for the
first, he was leaving his family behind. “I need to do this Alfred. I need to go there and see if I
cannot learn something about living that I know I've missed from the past ten years.” Harold
smiled for a moment, turning away from the older man, though they both knew there were tears in the
other's eyes too. “I want you to take a holiday Alfred.” He turned back, the tears now gone.
“For as long as I've known you, you've never done so. Why is that?”

“Because, Master Harold,” Alfred said walking forward to him, “there are more important things
that vacations at times. Like the happiness of a small child.”

“Now, there are more important things Alfred,” Harold said, putting his hands upon the old
man's shoulders. “Like the well being of a my closest friend. You need this vacation, Alfred, I
want you to relax and not worry about me for once.” Alfred had an appalled look upon his face.

“But sir, that is my job, to look after you and care for you,” Alfred said. Harold smiled,
giving Alfred a hug before lifting up his trunk. “Now, you want to drive a small child off to
adulthood.” Alfred smiled, and placed on his hat. “Ready, Master Harold?”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Harold said, following the butler out of the room and down to
the ground.

The ride to King's Cross was silent one, as Harold was mentally preparing him mind for the
toll it would pay through the year. Harold Potter was not a person he admired and planned on being
for the rest of his life. Though now, he was unsure who HE truly was, and what he was to do with
his life. He had all these skills, all this power, and he still did not know what to do with
it.

-->



4. Chapter Three
----------------



**Chapter Three: Riders of the Storm**

“That is everything sir,” Alfred said, stepping away from the trunk now placed upon a trolley.
Harold smiled, sharing a mischievous look with his old friend. “Anything else sir?”

“Thank you Alfred,” Harold said, his hands going over his coat pockets. The jacket was black and
long, longer than one would probably need for a warm, but the cooling charm subtly placed upon it
prevented him from overheating. He found the list and pulled it out, “accidentally” pulling his
wand out as well, letting it drop to the ground with a slight clang.

“Master Harold, you must be more careful,” Alfred said, picking up the wand, and handing it back
to a sheepishly smiling Harold. “There are those that must not see this.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, putting the wand back into his pocket. He held back the smile in his
eyes, and turned away before he lost control.

“Master Harold, stay safe and try not to cause too much trouble,” Alfred said before turning
back to the car. Harold motioned toward the man they hired, a wizard who needed some quick
galleons, and they began to walk toward the platform

Harold relaxed and allowed his eyes to go out of focus. His eyes could see the aura that wizards
and witches, magical beings in general, generated naturally. That was how he found his temporary
employee. And that also was how he saw the man before him.

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters?” Harold
said, a smile playing upon his face.

“Who are you?” the man scoffed. Harold took a look at the man before him. Draco Malfoy. Son of
Lucius Malfoy, a man dismissed of all charges or treason against him. Heir to a small empire's
worth of money, or so the ledgers say. His aura was bright with potential, but tainted, as if
something was trying to corrupt him. It was not to late for him however.

“Harold Potter,” he said, holding out his hand. There was small shock in Draco's eyes, but
only one with Harold's awareness may have caught it.

“Draco Malfoy.” He responded with a firm handshake. “I apologize for not being able to attend
your celebration and the ceremony. My father was out of town on business.” Harold smiled, hiding
his knowledge of the truth.

“Not a problem,” Harold said as they pulled apart. “Though this something that I wanted to talk
to you about.” He made a motion of searching his pockets, as if looking for something. “I'd
give you my business card and tell you to call my people to set up a lunch, but I don't seem to
have my card.” He went through the motions again, getting a scoffing look from Draco.

“About what?”

“Well, it's not for wandering ears,” Harold said, still making an act of looking through his
pockets. “Just have your people contact my people, and we'll do lunch or something.”

“Why?” Malfoy said.

“Because I probably understand the pressures of wealth better than anyone else here,” Harold
said, smirking now. Game and set. “So, care to point me in toward the Platform?” Draco only smirked
and turned away. Harold didn't care, to him it was bright as day. The same platform he stood by
three yearning years in a row, wishing to be one of the wizarding children, even normal would be
fine. But one thing Harold Potter was not was normal.

Sighing, he made his way toward the platform, watching a family of wizards pass through it,
looking at the normal trains with distain. He smirked to himself and calmly walked through the
barrier, the train before him. Allowing the temporary employee to take his trunk, he paid the boy
as he said he would, a little extra on top of it before climbing onto the train. Finding the first
cabin empty he entered, and let his façade relax.

Sitting down, he withdrew a book from his coat pocket, enlarging it slightly so he could read
it. He began to relax, allowing himself to slip into the book. He had always loved it, ever since
he got if from his friend. He had come to memorizing the book and not far from it either. His mind
when in a relaxed state, stored more information, and that was a considerable amount even when he
was under pressure. It helped when the cover of the book had in large bold letters “DON'T
PANIC.” It was hard not to relax with such a statement.

“Anyone in here?” Harold looked up from his book to the familiar voice to see Hermione poking
her head into the cabin. “Oh, sorry, just the door was closed and so silent…I'll just leave and
let you be.”

“There's more than enough room for us both,” Harold said, motioning toward her, a smile on
his face. It was good to see her again.

“Thank you,” Hermione said sitting down. He could tell her gaze was one him, though he did not
say anything. After a few more moments of silence Harold began to look at her, although he hoped
she did not notice him. Her bushy hair was still the same, and the smile still as bright.

“Still don't remember me do you?” Harold asked, smirking. He looked up from the book he was
reading, catching the blush on her face.

“I do, I met you at the party,” Hermione said. It was obvious to him that she was trying to hide
her blush.

“We met before that you know,” Harold said, moving next to her. “We were friends.” Harold felt
slightly put out that she did not remember her, but the spark in her eyes told him otherwise.
Before he had a chance to respond, he felt her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He tried not to
let her notice the fear in him; he never had much emotional contact, after his parents' death.
Shoving those thoughts to the side, Harold concentrated on the crying girl now in his arms.

“It's okay,” Harold said, wrapping his arms around her. “It's okay.”

“I never thought you'd come back,” Hermione said as she only hugged him tighter. Harold was
amazed to say the least. Someone cared about him, enough to cry over him. They sat like that for
several moments before Hermione pulled back. Harold reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a
shrunken cloth. Resizing it, he handed the large towel to her, letting dry her tears. She choked
back a giggle as she looked at the towel in her hand.

“I see you took the advice of the book rather seriously,” Hermione said, holding up the towel.
He waved his hands slightly, as if waving away a fly. The spell was up.

“Hey,” Harold said, pushing her slightly but wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She moved
closer to him, relaxing next to him.

“Can I still call you Harry?” The shook was over her as she sat up, and he removed his arm from
around her shoulder. There was a short burst of sadness in her eyes when she did this, but Harry
did not think about it too much.

“Why not?” he said, laughing at the thought. “But let's make it our secret okay.” Harry was
surprised as she giggled along with him, nodding.

“Why did you have to go?” Hermione asked after several moments of childish laughter. Harry
looked at her, pausing at the sentence. Why did he go? Could he tell her?

“There were things that I had to learn,” Harry said, smiling down at her. “I'm back though,
and I don't plan on leaving for a while.” Hermione smiled for a moment. Harry could not help
but return the smile. She grabbed her book and began to read it, smiling to herself.

She seemed different then when he saw at his party. At the party, she acted as if she was ready
to twist away from him at any moment. Now, it was as if she was a completely different person.
Except for the eyes. No matter how relaxed she was, Harry could see there was still some fear
within her eyes.

He finally glanced down at the book in her hands. “An excellent choice I must say.” She looked
back up at him slightly, blushing under his gaze.

“You ever read it?” Hermione asked, looking up from the book. Harry nodded.

“It was one of the books I read about before going off into the world,” Harry said, putting his
feet up on the opposing seat.

“I thought you told Ginny you didn't know that much about Hogwarts,” Hermione said in shock.
Harry just smiled, letting his spirits rise.

“Comparatively speaking of course,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I mean, I've only
read it once or twice, but I think the Headmaster, or authors would know more than me. And I'm
currently doubting that I know as much as you.” His straight face began to crack as he laughed,
causing her to laugh in mirth with him.

“I can't believe you lied to her,” Hermione said, hitting his arm lightly but laughed along
with him.

“I didn't lie; I just merely left out a few things,” Harry said as he calmed down.

“Hermione!” Ron said, bursting into the room. He ran over to her, his face covered in false
care, almost demand. There was almost this anger in his eyes toward Harold as Ron walked with Ginny
coming up behind him. “Where were you? I was so worried?” He got up and moved to the opposing seat.
He shrunk his book and towel, placing them back into his coat.

“I can take care of myself Ronald,” Hermione said, pushing away his arms which were asking for a
hug.

“Harold, I can't believe you decided to sit with us!” Ginny squealed, sitting next to
him.

“I believe it was you who decided to sit with me.” Harold said, smirking as he removed a pair of
dark sunglasses. He put them on as the train slowly rolled out of the station and began to make
their trek to Hogwarts. He did not want them to see his eyes, but wanted to watch them, not
trusting the two red heads entirely.

The door slid open, letting in two people, a short blonde and a medium man of height and build.
He let his eyes slip out of focus, allowing the auras to build around them. He looked carefully at
everyone in the room, no moving his head, but rather, shifting his eyes into his peripheral
vision.

Both Ginny and Ron had average potential and skills; the medium build boy, Neville Longbottom,
had a greater potential than the other two, however his aura was by far the smallest of anyone
there. The blonde, one Luna Lovegood (daughter of the owner of the Quibbler), had about the same
skills and potential as the Weasleys, though there was a flicker or two in her aura that lead him
to believe there was a bit more to her than she showed. He'd find out.

Hermione was another story however. Her skill at the moment was slightly above average, but her
potential was limitless to him it seemed. Although she may not be able to complete
*everything* she takes one to the fullest, it would not stop her from attempting to do so.
There was also an animalistic sense to her aura, flickers like Luna's, but unlike hers there
seemed to be some noticeable pattern to Hermione's. He planned on looking it up once he had the
chance.

“Neville Longbottom,” he said holding out his hand. Harold stood and shook it as it was directed
toward only him.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Harold said as Neville quickly shook his head.

“No, Mister Potter,” Harold opened his mouth to interrupt but Neville continued, “The pleasure
is all mine. I can't thank you enough for what you did for my parents.”

“It was nothing,” Harold said, sitting back down. Neville sat down next to Ginny, leaning
forward to continue his conversation.

“What did you do?” Ginny asked with awe. Hermione gave him a queer look, as if she too wanted to
ask the question but did not voice it. He silently thanked her.

“He has been providing donations for research into curing my parents,” Neville said.
“They're so close now, I can't thank you enough.”

“My mother started it,” Harold said, looking past Neville for a moment before continuing. “And
I'm just continuing her work.” He stood, making sure the glasses were still upon his eyes.

“Where are you going?” Ginny said, her arm shooting out and gripping his.

“I've some business to attend to,” Harold said, then moving his gaze down to her hand on his
arm. Ginny just stared at him.

“Will you be back?” Ginny asked him, a pleading look in her eyes. Harold looked up at her again,
hiding his half-hearted disgust. Why did woman do this to him? Demand him to be theirs like his was
some treasure. Happened a great deal overseas as he thought back.

“If you removed your hand, there is a greater chance,” Harold said, returning his pointed look
to her face. Ginny released his arm; he silently thanked the Lord that he did not have to resort to
some of his training. He still did not understand woman.

Leaving through the door to the compartment, he saw Draco standing outside of it, a glare
superimposed upon his face. At the moment, Harold did not care if they saw him talking to Draco,
and shut the door behind him, slamming it almost.

“You wanted to talk to me,” Draco said, glaring at him almost.

“Your reputation precedes you, Draco,” Harold said, smirking in return. “I've yet to meet
your father in my business dealings, and quite frankly I do not plan on doing so.” He paused for a
moment in thought. “There is much of your father in you Draco, but I refuse to allow a man such as
your father into my companies.”

“What do you mean?” Draco said after another silence. Harold knocked the window behind him, and
the sound of someone falling was heard. Both of them smirked at this before Harold answered.

“I mean is that there are certain qualities that you have obtained from your father, however,
there are others that I refuse to allow into my company, which is why I refuse to allow your father
to work for me, despite his nagging,” Harold said, letting everything sink in. If Draco was
surprised, he did not show it.

“You want me to work for you,” Draco said slowly. Harold nodded, and Draco's smirk turned
into a smile. “You know this would piss off my father, right?”

“Isn't that why you're accepting it?” Harold said. Draco nodded, holding out his hand.
“I've yet to decide where you'll work for me, but it'll be near the top. I don't
have a head for these types of things.” He spoke half-heartedly, knowing that Draco had come over
to HIS side, where things were to be done. Harold knocked the door behind him once; another thud
was heard.

“Then we have a deal,” Draco said as they shook hands. “So I just contact your people, and
we'll do lunch.” Harold nodded, as Draco walked away.

“Just use one of those owl things or something. I think that's how it works.” Game. Set.
Match. He knocked on the door once more and once again there was a thud. Opening up the door, he
held back his laughter at Ron on the floor.

“What was that all about?” Ginny asked as Ron scrambled back onto his seat.

“I told you business,” Harold said, relaxing and attempting to mediate. “Now if you excuse me, I
must sleep.” With his glasses still over his eyes, he knew they would not question him. Relaxing,
he let his mind slow down with the click-clack and chug-chug of the train.

**I0I**

“What did he have to talk to Malfoy about?” Ron asked once Harry was asleep. Hermione looked
over at Harry, all worried etched out of his face. She held back her smile as she pulled out her
book to begin reading again. The storm outside was growing, and it was best if she tried to ignore
it.

“Is it really a part of your business?” Hermione said, not looking up from her book.

“Aren't you a bit curious?” Ron asked, trying to get her attention on him.

“I am, but I respect him too much to ask,” Hermione said casually flipping page in her book.

“What's there to respect? The money?” Ron scoffed.

“You just don't know him like I do.” Ginny said, moving to take his arm. Hermione stifled a
giggle, as Harry turned from Ginny, as if he knew it was coming. He scratched his nose and turned
as if he was looking out the window. Ginny crossed her arms with a *hmph* and scowled at
Harry.

Hermione closed her book and brought her knees to her chest. The storm was too close to the
train. Too close to her resurfacing memories.

“Are you okay Hermione?” Luna asked, the only one to notice. Ginny was still scowling at Harry,
and Ron and Neville were in a conversation about what Harry had talked to Malfoy about.

“Yeah,” she lied, her voice reflecting her mood. Luna gave her an odd look as the train slowed
down. Hermione began to shake her head. *We can't stop, the storm is almost here; we
can't stop.* She thought as the lights flickered around them.

“Wands out I reckon,” came a cold steel-like voice. Hermione looked up from her knees to see
Harry standing tall as the others were against their seats. A light was seen from outside their
door, and murmurs could be heard from the other side.

“The Dark Lord shall rise again,” one of the voice yelled as they threw open the door.

“Only to trip over his feet in the dark,” Harry said in his normal voice. Hermione, despite her
fear, giggled slightly, causing the strangers' wands to be pointed at her. Harry's voice
was steel once more. He grabbed her by her hand and pulled her behind him. “Harm anyone in this
room, and you may not live to see the morning.” Hermione shivered at the phrase, but somehow felt
safe, as if he knew was he was doing. Three other men appeared in the room, all their wands now
pointed at Harry.

“Gather up their valuables,” one from the back said. Harry moved his wand toward the center,
stopping them from moving. Hermione's hand went to her pocket; the pocket watch Harry gave her
she still carried everywhere.

“Leave us,” Harry said. There was nod from somewhere in the back.

“REDUCTO!” A chorus of voices sounded. Harry turned and pushed her down to the seat. Hermione
could only watch as he turned back to them, his chest held out front as the spells connected with
such a force it sent he through the window, and out into the pouring rain.

“HARRY!” She screamed, only to be held back by Luna. Ron was protecting Ginny and had gotten up,
shaking the dust from his body. Neville must have been protecting Luna.

“It's okay,” Luna said, attempting to comfort Hermione. She shook off the arms and hugged
herself, before smiling slightly at Luna. The younger girl nodded. Despite their differences, over
the last two years the two of them had become like sisters. And right now, Luna understood,
Hermione just wanted to be left alone.

“Move!” A voice commanded. Ron helped Ginny out of the door, while Neville did the same with
Luna, who gave her a look back as Hermione stared out into the stormy woods, tears falling like
rain.

**I0I**

He woke up, the pain in his chest manageable by all means. He smirked, letting his thoughts
returned. The hybrid worked. Kevlar and dragon hide, a remarkable achievement indeed. Shaking his
head, he ignored the bruises and pain throughout his body. *Get up. GET UP*. He ordered his
body as it slowly rose. Removing the battered glasses from his eyes, he felt the rain surround him,
drowning the train out as it sped away.

He reached into his torn jacket removing both the towel and his book. Neither were damaged in
the fall, luckily. He slid the miniaturized book into his belt as he clothes transfigured into his
fatigues. He tied the towel around his head, transfiguring into a sort of mask to cover up some of
his eyes. His smirk was lost to the wind as he took off, ignoring the pounding pain that was sent
through his legs.

He reached the tracks, watching the train get smaller and smaller. Taking the chance with a long
shot, he guesstimated the distance and concentrated on his compartment. His body felt like it had
been hurtled across miles as he landed on his feet in the compartment. Damn that Ministry. They let
this train go without Anti-Apparation ward.

There were quick yells echoing down the halls. He listened carefully, knowing now what they were
speaking of, but knowing their intent. If they hurt her…….

He entered through the hallway, surprising one of those men that attacked him. With a quick grab
of the man's wrist, the attacker was on the floor and he had two more attempting to get him.
Doing the math quickly, he turned and grabbed one of the two strangers and threw him into the
other. Both were knocked out. *That's three, probably more*. He thought. Looking down the
hall, he knew was he had to do. Take out their leader, cripple them. He went back into his
destroyed compartment, and began to implement his plan.

He reached through the hole now in the wall and grasped the roof, despite the rain. Pulling
himself up, he felt a flashing pain through his right shoulder as he got himself onto the roof. By
no measures was he a superhero, but he had a score to settle. Training had paid off, as the pain
despite the enormity of it all, was only in his mind. He'd rest when his job had ended.

His feet slipped from beneath him as he traveled the car tops. Gripping the railing on the side,
he pulled himself up then shoved his shoulder back into the socket. They were going to really pay
now. Moving his right arm, he noted the pain did not lessen. Taking a small salve out of his belt,
he drank it as he quickened his pace across the top of the train, with the voices growing louder.
The pain in his shoulder had dulled, almost not unlike a bruise the refused to heal.

The voices were easily heard now. They were in the car below him. The Prefects car. Holding back
a smile at his personal joke, he held onto the railing at the top and slid down to beside the
window. He could see the students, huddle in the expanded room. It was crowded, lessening his room
for movement. There would be men outside the room, possible by the engine as well.

He had memorized the plans for the train already, knowing the layout of the engine room. He went
back to the roof, and made his way toward the engine. The smoke filled the air, making it harder to
cling to the top in combination with the steady rainfall. He slid to the side once more, looking
into the cabin of the engine room. Two men stood there, talking as if they had nothing better to
do. Faces hidden by masks meant nothing to him. All they did was hide the pain.

At the crash of the thunder and lighting, he went through the window, knocking one of the two
men through the other one before the other could respond. With a roundhouse kick to the back of the
others head, the boy is out cold. Kicking the boy's pulse, he summoned a set of ropes, locking
him to a pipe running from the ceiling to the floor. He used a syringe to put him under, preventing
him from waking for at least another few hours. He took a quick look at the train engine.

It was designed to run until they reached the station, without any assistance. He had less then
an hour to clear these men from the train, before they hurt the townspeople as well as these
children. Slowing the train down, he turned and left the same way he came in. He needed to get the
men at the entrance of that compartment.

Traveling back was easier as he let his body slide slightly along the top. There were two more
of these attackers, though this time he took them both out through the window, forcing him to
expend more force than he wanted to. Taking a deep breath, he minimized the pain that was crashing
through his body in waves. It had been too long since his training sessions. He'd have to
practice more often if he wanted to-

The door crept open slowly, as if the wind pushed it open. No one came out, but he was in a
ready stance to take them on if he needed to be. Looking through the opening, he counted six men,
standing by the west end of the compartment. The leader stood back, away from the window, much to
his chagrin. He needed to take out their leader, at the same time, not injuring anyone.

Saying a silent prayer, he climbed out of the cabin, but not before locking the door to the
prefects' compartment. He needed them to stay in there. He made his way to the window where the
attackers were standing. *No need to hold my breath.*

He dove through the window, crashing into one of the muscles before quickly rounding onto
another one, knocking his count of threats to four. He stood faced the remaining intruders. He did
not let them see his fatigued breathing.

“A mask huh? Hiding something?” the leader asked. He caught the glimpse of an shimmering object
in the Leader's pocket. A pocket watch. His pocket watch.

“I believe you should be asking yourselves that,” he said, responding as two muscles began to
move behind him. He was tired, and could not stop them from locking him in their grasps. He felt
the pain rush through his body as his right shoulder dislocated once more from the force. He hid
his smile of joy.

“I believe we have you trapped,” Leader said. Muscle 1 and 2 both laughed, but Tightlips only
watched from afar. He knew that was the one to look out for.

“I believe you are sorely mistaken,” he said, with as much force as he could, he swung his legs
upward and driving his feet into the Muscle's faces. Both were out for the count. His right arm
hung limply at his side as he watched the other two men stare him down, or attempt to. He shifted
his arm back into the socket, the pain not life-threatening but hell it hurt.

Ignoring the pain, he began to calculate his options. His care must be great, for the children
around him could not protect themselves, for reasons he could not fathom. They were wizards were
they not.

The echoing sounds of a gunshot told him otherwise. He felt the blunt object hit the hybrid
armor, the force knocking the wind out of him. So Tightlips did have something to share. Screams
filled the room as the two intruders approached cautiously.

“The Dark Lord shall rise again!” Leader said. He waited and waited. *Now!*

He grabbed the foot that was sent toward him, and with a quick twist, brought Tightlips to the
floor and broke his ankle. His body felt like it was on fire, as he stood he knew he was on the
edge of his strength. Grabbing Leader by the throat with speed that surprised the room, he held
Leader a foot off the ground.

“Get off my train,” he said with venom and spite. Using what strength he had left, he lifted
Tightlips and the other downed intruders magically off the ground before throwing them out the
gapping hole of a window. “Take the rest of your stooges with you. And if there is so much as one
injured child, prayer your Dark Lord kills you, because I'll make you wish you were dead.” He
reached into the man's pocket, removing the watch before tossing him, almost, effortless out
the window. Looking around the room, he spotted her.

“I believe this belongs to you Miss,” he said, holding out the pocket watch. Hermione starred at
awe at him before he turned and jumped out of the window. The train was only a few miles from its
destination, and he had a long walk ahead of him.

-->



5. Chapter Four
---------------



**Chapter Four: Arrival**

“It'll be okay Hermione,” Luna said. Aurors had rushed the train once it reached the
station, and the frightened first years carried off quickly. There were no injures, save one and
they were currently searching for the infamous Harry Potter. “They'll find him. Maybe he's
already started to walk here, found the tracks.” Hermione nodded, trying to dry her eyes.

“Just get over it Hermione,” Ron said, shaking his head. Hermione glared at him opening her
mouth to say something, but it was stopped by someone else.

“Where is he?” a worried old man said, coming through the crowd. Hermione recognized him
immediately. There was a great deal of fear and sadness in his eyes, but no other emotion. “Why was
I contacted?”

“Mister Pennyworth, please, excuse us, we need to do our job,” an Auror said, brushing him off.
The old man glared at the young one, his stony look coming over to him.

“Have you seen him, miss,” Mister Pennyworth said, directing the question toward Hermione, who
only started to cry harder. She shook her head through the tears.

“He stood up and stopped them from hurting me,” Hermione managed to get out. “They've yet to
find his body.” A smile appeared on his face. He held out his arms, showing the compassion not
unlike a grandfather would. Hermione fell into to them, letting herself relax as the old man, who
knew Harry so well, tried to calm her down.

“Then be proud Miss, you saw him at his rarest,” he whispered softly. He pulled back and smiled
once more. “He is alive.”

“How do you know that, sir?” Hermione said as the man let her go.

“Call me Alfred, and they have yet to find his body,” Alfred gave a grim chuckle. “He is too
stubborn to die.” He walked away, toward the school, as if already knowing something. Hermione
stopped crying, watching the odd man walk toward the school.

“You,” an Auror said, pointing his wand toward them. “Move along.” The group was pushed toward
the carriages, which Luna said were pulled by Thestrals, though Hermione never saw them. It only
proved what Alfred had said. That Harry was alive, because only those who witnessed a death could
see them.

**I0I**

Harold walked beside the tracks patiently. He had seen the scouts, but they missed his by miles.
His body felt like it was on fire and knowing the plans for the school, knew he only had another
hundred yards before reaching his breaking off point. There they either had to find him, or
he'd have to sprint the remaining mile through the forest to get to the school.

The storm had passed, not long after he left the train. It did not feel right for him to stay
there; it did not feel normal to let them see him like that. His clothes were back to their torn
form, with his towel and favorite book back in his expandable background. His body was on fire, and
he did not have the strength to put his right shoulder back into the socket. It slapped against his
leg as he walked, ignoring the pain.

The tracks were gone; he'd have to spring now. He did not have much strength left, and only
knew that a straight path was his ticket out of this place. He hoped there were no trees in his
way. Looking up at the moonless sky above, he took off, the fires upon his muscles even greater
than ever during his training.

Dodging the trees, he paused after a moment, catching his breath. Normally, his mile was under
six minutes, he was halfway there and it was already five minutes. He had to make it; he had to
make it. He would not miss his first day at school because of some damn attempt on his life. He
looked at the broken watch on his arm, cursing his great misfortune of the evening.

The dark night had surround the woods, and Harold felt himself encompassed by it as well. It was
all around him, feeding on the fear of this new creature in the woods. He walked down, not having
the strength to run. Each step echoed in the dimming woods, and each step brought forth more fear
into the forest. The ground was less stable as he walked, but in having no choice, he continued
forward. Until…

The ground suddenly fell from beneath him, as if it ended abruptly. He had no way of knowing how
far he was falling; only that pain lit the end of his tunnel.

**I0I**

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, as the first years were lead into the room. Her eyes were
red shot with worry, matching the children from the train. Ron sat next to her, wrapping his arm
around her, trying to comfort her. She barely noticed him. Ginny looked scared and worried, but
part of Hermione knew it was not for Harry, but for Harold, the man with the money.

Harry was going to be all right. There was something about Alfred that made her trust him, not
unlike Dumbledore. At least he would be, after she was through with him. She did not understand why
he did that for her, why he pushed her out of the way, when he easily could have moved them both
out of the way.

The first years were more frightened then ever. Hermione reasoned that must have been the reason
for so few Gryffindors. Who ever the attackers were, they must have been only intending to strike
terror.

“Evening,” Dumbledore said, rising from his seat. “I wish to welcome you all back to another
year at Hogwarts. The situation on Hogsmeade has been taken care of, though our mysterious
assistance has chosen to remain as such. I apologize, for Hogwarts, I believe, is no longer the
safest place for studies.” He was unable to continue, a look of shock stopped him.

“I wouldn't say that.” Hermione turned to the back to see a dirtied man limping his way
toward the head master. She froze as his battered face attempted to smile. “I mean the ride here
was hell, but hey, I'm safe now.” Before he could fall, Alfred was holding him up. His right
arm hung limply at his side.

“I've got you Master Harold,” he said, as Harry looked up at him.

“Sorry for worrying you,” he said in a soft voice. Hermione felt the urge to walk over there,
but Harry started to limp his way to her, only to stumble slightly. Alfred caught him. Hermione
stood up and walked over to him, tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she managed to get out. He just smiled at her; to anyone else, it may have looked
like a grimace, but to Hermione, his grin was gold. She wrapped her arms him careful as to not
cause him any more pain. He returned the hug awkwardly, with only one arm though much harder than
she did to him.

“Anything for a friend,” whispered Harry. He was being held up almost completely by Alfred at
the moment. The room around them was silence, and Hermione pulled back, blushing. Harry just smiled
at her, and with Alfred's help turned toward Dumbledore as Madame Pomfrey rushed into the
Hall.

“You know how to make an entrance, Mister Potter,” Dumbledore said, chuckling slightly. “I'm
glad to see that you were not injured greatly.”

“Me too,” Harry said. “So, sort me, or whatever it is you do.”

“No, he has to go to the infirmary immediately,” Madame Pomfrey said, putting her arm on
Harry's. He gave her the same glare that he gave to Ginny, causing her to back down too.

“Sort me first, then we can do whatever needs to be done,” Harry said.

“I believe that can be arranged,” Dumbledore said.

“Want to help me Hermione?” Harry asked, pointing toward the stool. She tried to hold back her
blush as his piercing green eyes as she nodded. Alfred and her helped Harry walked toward the
stool; it looked like it took a great effort, Hermione thought, to get Harry on top of the stool,
but he just smiled as he sat there, placing a hand on both her shoulder and Alfred's to hold
himself up.

“Too stubborn for his own good,” Alfred mumbled, belaying the smile on his face. Harry chuckled
to himself.

“Mister Potter are you ready?” Professor McGonagall said holding the hat above his head. He
nodded, and Hermione felt the grip on her shoulder tighten. He did not know what to expect, and
placing her hand over his, he calmed down, slightly. The hat did something unexpected though. It
spoke aloud his statement to Harry. Hermione watched his reaction as the Hat spoke.

“*A quandary have I, no?*

*Then must look deep, into the night*

*House to put you undecided is it*

*Cunning shuns bright*

*In your heart, a thirst to prove*

*Oneself, of the fame and glory untold*

*But bravery, your strength greater*

*Than any darken tale told*

*Such a question,*

*To ponder I must*

*Ah not long did I think, the answer lies*

*In the heart of lost*

*In GRYFFINDOR,*

*Young man you will recede*

*IN GRYFFINDOR*

*Shall you fate be decided.”*

The room that once was silent, which Hermione had to admit was nice for a change, broke into
murmurs and distinguished voices of anger and hatred. A lot of Slytherins were making a commotion,
but not Malfoy, who nodded slightly, as if expecting this. Never before had the Sorting Hat spoke
the house twice, and never before, to her knowledge had spoke its thoughts beyond the Sorting Song
to the students.

“That's it?” Harry asked, causing some people, including Hermione, to chuckle/giggle a
bit.

“Very well, I shall have Ms Granger assist you should there be any trouble,” McGonagall said,
looking at Hermione. She nodded, knowing the Harry would need help, despite reading Hogwarts, A
History.

“Before you go Harold, let me explain a few things,” Dumbledore said, as Alfred began to help
Harry get up. Hermione moved to do so as well but stopped at Dumbledore's words. “As some of
you students may have realized, the Head Boy was not chosen this year. The Governor's board has
chosen another student, who has recently just entered into Hogwarts to be the Head Boy. I present
to you Mister Harold Potter, your Head Boy.” There was loud applause, especially from the female
population, and a few males as well. Hermione kept her smile to herself as she realized they share
a common room and the Head duties together.

“That all?” Harry asked this time standing up completely. His body seemed to be a bit strong, as
if the rest helped.

“I believe the rest we can go over with out you,” Dumbledore said his eyes twinkling lightly.
“Though tomorrow morning I will need to speak you in my office.” Harry nodded, and Hermione
squeezed his hand once more as he was lowered onto a conjured stretcher.

“Now will you go?” Madame Pomfrey said. Alfred gave her a stern look as he put his hand on
Harry's shoulder. They were out the door and Hermione followed them, wanting to make sure that
Harry was alright, and following McGonagall's orders.

“I shall be caring for him Madame,” he said in a tone of finality.

“I shall not let some old coot operate on my students,” Madame Pomfrey said. Alfred stopped the
platform and in a calm voice, spoke to Madame Pomfrey as if she were a child.

“This man you have in your care has been under mine for the last seventeen years,” Alfred began.
“His body does not take to your damn spell crafts, a resistance he's had since birth. His body
need normal healing, natural healing. Potions and spells can only further harm his condition. If
you do not let me attend to my charge, he will die. You attend to him, you will be charged with
murder, that much I will see to.” Madame Pomfrey stared at Alfred for a moment before he turned to
Hermione. “My dear, you my leave us, I can guarantee that he is in the safest hands possible.”
Hermione smiled before hugging the surprised butler.

“You better or you'll have a angry friend after you,” Hermione said as she pulled back.
Looking back at the Great Hall, she decided against returning and went to her room, located by the
Gryffindor tower. Alfred would look out for Harry, and in turn she would look at for him during the
school year.

As she walked though, her mind wander back to the man on the train. The masked man. She could
not help but wonder if he was okay or not. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him. Like
where he came from? How did he survive that gunshot? Was he available? She stopped herself and
blushed at this thought before shaking her head. He was not the type of man you wanted to take home
to your mother, that much she as sure of. If only he could be more like Harry, then maybe….

But Harry was way out of her league. Hermione knew there would be no way he'd fall for a
girl like her. After all, she was a bookworm.

-->



6. Chapter Five
---------------

**Chapter Five: Event Horizon**

Harold lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind was reeling from the pain his body had
been thrown through. Alfred had patched him up and his body had begun its healing process. He hated
hospitals, so dull and so eerie, like it was just waiting for the next person to die. He was there,
he remembered the night of his parents demise. He was sitting there, waiting for Alfred to come get
him, as his parents were pronounced dead. Shaking his head, he rolled out of the bed, planning on
leaving. His arm still in a sling, his shoulder racked with pain, he left the infirmary.

The hallways were dark, the torches dimmed as he walked toward the Gryffindor tower. He still
had the torn remains of his pants on, throwing his jacket over his shirtless chest. He began to go
over the day and all. In the words Alfred had often told him, it is best to start at the
beginning.

The train ride, what hell that was. Harold’s program would have to be restarted, if those
monsters kept trying to attack his peers, and his friend. His body was no where near it needed to
be. The previous day had proven that. Pain was only in his mind, and that could be avoided, if he
prepared. His hybrid vest had been shrunken done, and placed in his jacket.

Death Eaters…he’d have to research them to find more about that. It sounded much like the
terrorist cell that had been attacking both London and Diagon Alley recently. There had to be more
on them, especially in the library here. At Potter Manor, it was not as extensive as he’d care for
it to be.

Alfred must have called off his vacation, which it was more likely that he never took, to have
come here. Harold was thankful for that beyond words. His body was resistant to magic beyond the
point of using healing spells upon it. Besides, the normal way taught him not to do make the same
mistake again. And onto the final note of the night….

He was Head Boy. Great. More fame he needed like slug needed salt. Hermione was the Head Girl,
from the pin on her robe he’d have to guess. At least she’d be his friend.

“Its you again,” he said, stopping in the darken hallway. “Why not leave me alone?”

“Because I can’t,” a haunting voice said. Harold knew it was behind him, knew that the beast who
he first met when he was six was there, that he meant only hours before in the forest. “We’re one
and the same.”

“Creatures of the night, ridding it of its bugs?” Harold said, his head hug in shame. “I will
never be normal will I?” The rustling sound behind him was his answer. “I’m not ready. I need more
time.”

“You were ready tonight, without a thought,” the beast said. “I believe you are.”

“The world is in pain, we both feel it,” He turned back to face the darkness and the bright
yellow eyes staring back at him. “The monsters are coming back.”

“Then take back the streets, take back the night,” the bat said to him. “Take back what was
stolen from you.”

“You mean by you,” Harold said, turning away. “It’ll happen. When I’m ready.” He continued
walking down the hall, only to see Hermione walking toward him.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked, the surprise on her face gone. His night vision was
something that he found useful.

“Myself,” Harold said truthfully.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the infirmary?” Hermione said, stepping closer to him. She touched
his arm, looking at him surprised. The sting was there, but pain in all in the mind.

“I let myself go,” Harold said smirking. “I really don’t like hospitals.” Hermione’s eyes lit up
like she wanted to ask a question but she didn’t. Harold just smirked at her. “You want to know
why, but edict dictates you don’t ask, correct?” Hermione blushed as he grabbed her arm, and turned
her around. “How about this? You show me to my room, I’ll tell you why, alright?” She nodded, as he
threaded his arm though hers. They walked in silence for a moment or two before Harold began.

“Well, I spent a good deal going to therapy at a hospital as I was younger,” Harold said as
Hermione had them turn.

“Why?” Hermione asked before blushing at the outburst. Harold felt his mind go over the
memories. The green burst, the painful screams of his mother, the haunting fog. He shook his
head.

“I’d rather not talk about it, but it in part has a reason to do with me being an orphan,”
Harold said, a sad smile on his face. He was surprised for the second time that day, or was it the
day before, with a hug from her. He returned it with one arm.

“I’m sorry, I never knew,” Hermione said. She pulled back, and was surprised to say the least.
He gave her a sad smile, knowing she was telling the truth.

“It’s okay, I think few do, especially someone who was raised in a normal atmosphere,” Harold
said. Hermione relaxed a bit before pulling back and blushing. He could not help but feel sadden.
Love and affection were in short demand after the ceasing of his childhood.

“You can tell me, when you’re ready,” Hermione said, as Harold put his arm through hers
again.

“I might just take you up on that offer some day,” Harold said.

“I’m supposed to show you around the school,” Hermione said, Harold gave her a knowing smirk. He
figured this was going to happen, and let the cards lie as they fell.

“I think the rest of the tour can wait for tomorrow,” Harold said, causing her to laugh. “If you
just show me to my room….”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Hermione giggled, much to his surprise. He smiled larger, probably larger
than he ever had done. She blushed under the smile, but she returned it.

They walked in a comfortable silence to the staircase adjacent to the one that led to the Fat
Lady. “We’re up here,” Hermione said, as Harold looked around. He took everything, memorizing them
as fast as he could. The stairs moved, at what seemed to be random intervals. He’d find the math
involved at one point of another.

“Dark Night,” Hermione said, causing Harry to smirk. “Just the times we live in.” Hermione said,
looking down. He nodded, liking the sound of it for some odd reason.

*It becomes you*.

He looked behind him, looking for the source of the voice. Hermione did not hear it, that much
he was sure of, but the voice he knew was there. Shaking his head, he turned to take a look at what
would be his “home” for the next year.

**I0I**

Christmas was almost upon them, and the Death Eaters had increased activity. Hermione had wanted
to check out any books on them at the library, but someone had beaten her to it the first day back,
before all of the attacks. They were yet to be returned, and all the information she had was from
the papers, which did nothing to aid her quench for knowledge on the subject. Harry seemed to be
about the only other person who was worried though.

Sighing her thoughts drifted to him, as they had done for the umpteenth that semester. He was
not the best wizard, but that did not matter to her. She had to tutor him a great deal, and more
often than not, he’d pull “**A**cceptable”s instead of “**O**utstanding”s on his homework
assignments, with maybe the exception of Potions. Straight Os for that class.

The tutoring was about the only time she got to spend with him, as he was often out entertaining
some girl. The look on his face when he came back told her enough about him. His was polite man,
sometimes too polite. He often said “edict dictates” before going off on another one of these
dates. All of the girls he dated loved it, ate up the attention that they got for it. He had been
off with at least six girls since school began, but the relieved look and relaxation was reserved
for Hermione.

Every morning, the man was up before her, by at least a good hour, and he did not go to be
before her, ever. In all the time she knew him, he did not sleep more than five hours a night,
choosing to nap during the day instead, like during lunch.

Life so far had this year had been good to her. Harry would sit and listen anytime she needed
it. He had blown off a date before, after a confrontation from Ron. She often thought that was the
reason he did not date Ginny, was because of Ron actions told Hermione. Which made Ginny hate her
just about as much as Ron did. They had stopped talking a long time ago, and often she’d hear of
plans Ginny was making to get Harold to notice her. In private, Harry had told her woman who threw
themselves at him did not last long. That single statement caused Hermione to suppress a giggle
every time she saw Ginny.

Right now, she was going over her Arithmancy homework, making sure everything was perfect.
Nothing less. The students were all excited to go home and enjoy the holidays. Ron still was trying
to get her to go out with him, but so far it had failed. He had even invited her to go home to the
“Burrow” with him, whatever that was. She told him no, and had now no place to go. Her parents were
off at some conference in the States.

“Don’t move,” a soft raspy voice said to her. A hand covered her mouth prevented her from
screaming. “I’m going to remove my hand, and if you scream, you’ll just make it worse for
yourself.” She nodded, tears falling down her face. “Good girl, good.” A spell was placed upon her,
that much she knew, but she could not tell what it was. His hand was removed, and she opened her
mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“You’ve been showing off like a little slut for the last three months,” the voice said. She
began to shake in fear, wanted to beg for mercy, beg to let her live. “Now I figure that means you
owe me three months worth.” Darkness rose……

**I0I**

Harold tore down the halls, not caring who he ran into. The note he just got scared him
shitless. He had never been so scared before in his life. He finally agreed to go out with Ginny,
with the promise that if he didn’t think anything was going between them, he wanted her to give up.
She agreed, and they were off to Hogsmeade for a “date.” And had received the note on the way to
the carriages with those god awful horses. Ginny, no doubt, would complain to him about blowing her
off, but some things are more important.

*Got to find her*.

He ran to the library, knowing she was there, but praying she was safe. He was faster than any
would have thought. That was the only reason he could explain what he saw next. Why he got there in
time.

Harold had run to the back corner of the library, where he found her countless times before.
Some bastard had his back turned to him, his wand held over her bent over back. Her torn skirt and
underwear were on the floor. Taking in that single piece of information, he lost all knowledge of
any skills he had learned, any thought regarding the training he received.

“GET THE HELL OFF HER!” His voice was not his own, not even the cold hard one he used the night
of the attack on the train. He rushed the bastard, sending him into a wall. Harold heard the
cracking of bones and stood ready to hit him again. “Get up!” He screamed, as the man attempted to.
“Get UP!” A bookshelf fell onto the man as the room around them shook with unrelenting fury.

“H-h-h-h-arr-ry,” a struggling voice said. He turned, all anger gone from his body. Her eyes
were bruised, black and blue closed, and her body was shaking in fear.

“Hermione,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. She clung to him tightly, her body racked with sobs.
Keeping at least one arm around her, he slide his jacket around her, before pulling her closer.
“Did he?” He could not get the words out, fear racking his body. Only one of other time had fear
done this to him, only once before….

She shook her head, clinging to him even tighter. He turned, trying to not let his pent up rage
flow out again as he noticed the bastard was gone. “He won’t hurt you again, Hermione, I promise,”
Harry said, holding her tighter. Now was not the time to go after that bastard, Hermione needed
him. “I’m taking you to Madame Pomfrey, then you’re coming to the Manor with me.”

“What?” Hermione said, hiccupping between tears. Her mind was pulled away from it, temporarily.
She had to calm down.

“I’ve owled you’re parents, earlier this week, asking if you could join me for the holidays,” he
said calmly. His exterior betrayed his heart and soul, but he needed to keep his anger in
check.

“Really,” Hermione said, her tears almost stopping. Harry could not help but smile at her.

“Yeah, it took some convincing, but I think with the fact that I got them to trust me helped,”
Harry said. They had reached the infirmary, causing Hermione’s tears to return.

“You won’t leave me will you?” Hermione asked, as Harry nodded toward the door, causing it to
open inward. He shook his head as Madame Pomfrey came rushing over to him.

“Never.”

“What happened?” Madame Pomfrey asked, fear across her face. Harold looked at her for a moment
before carrying Hermione over to a bed, letting her down gently. She clung to him tightly, not
letting her arms release his next.

“Let the Madame check you out, I’m going to get Dumbledore,” Harry said, brushing some of the
hair out of her face. Her eyes were closed shut, tears falling down from them.

“No, you said wouldn’t leave me,” Hermione said, shaking her head once more. Harry smiled a bit,
before closing his hand. Silently summoning her/his watch, he opened his hand once more.

“I’m here,” he said. He placed the watch upon her chest slowly, not wanting to scare her. She
opened her eyes at the weight before looking at him in wonder. He placed his pointer finger to his
lips, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll be back.” Hermione let go of his neck, in obvious wonder
of what he just did, or what she thought he did. He turned to Madame Pomfrey, and his eyes grew
cold like steel.

“You help her, heal her,” he said coldly. “Harm her anymore, and what Alfred promised you will
be ten times easier compared to what I will have in store for you.” She nodded under the gaze, and
as quickly as it came it passed. Kissing Hermione’s forehead lightly, much like a child, Harold
turned and walked out of the infirmary, his dark gaunt directed toward Dumbledore’s office.

He patiently waited at the gargoyle, smiling politely at the girls who passed him by, causing
them to gush and giggle over him. He walked calmly up the rotating steps to the Headmaster office.
He quietly shut the door of the office, and looked at the Headmaster.

“Good evening,” Dumbledore said to him.

“There is nothing good about,” his voice was void of emotion as he spoke. Dumbledore gave him a
queer look. “I believe that you once said the Headmaster knew most everything that was carried on
in his school.”

“That is correct,” Dumbledore said slowly. He sat down at the chair in front of the Headmaster,
steepling his fingers.

“Then example to me why in about five minutes I will have to hunt down one of the students,
rendering him unconscious before deliver him to Azkaban?” His eyes glared across the table.

“What? Why?” Dumbledore managed to get out.

“Rape is a very serious crime, as is attempted rape, and assault,” he rose from his seat before
giving Dumbledore a final look. “I never was here, I never told you any this. I will deliver the
scumbag to you, but you will tell the world it was the same man who was one the train.”

“That being you,” Dumbledore said. He nodded, before turning back to the door. “Why hide, why
hide when you can do so much good?”

“I’m not ready to take back the night, make it safe again,” he said, his shoulders hung low.
“But I am ready to make it safe for my best friend.” His voice was softer, calmer as he spoke the
last part before it froze once more. He dropped the note upon Dumbledore’s desk letting the old man
read it. “He will not die, Professor, I will not harm a hair on his body. His mind, however is mine
to destroy. Alfred trusts you, and so shall I.” He left, the cloud of darkness following the dark
night.



7. Chapter Six
--------------



**Chapter Six: The Sun is Setting…**

Hermione awoke to the sound of screams. They were not her own, though they sounded just as
terrified. She hugged herself, wishing Harry would return. “I'm here,” a voice in the dark
said. It was calm, and she reached out for him immediately drawing her close. “It'll be
alright.”

“Harry?” Hermione said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“It's me,” he said, hugging her back.

“Tell me it as all a nightmare,” she begged, but his silence told her the answer. Sobs overcame
her body as she hid her face in his neck.

“It'll be fine, he won't hurt you again,” Harry said. She looked up at him, the watch
still in her hand.

“How do you know, you don' t even know who did…..” her voice broke off into sobs again. She
wanted to push away from his arms, thinking she was not worth him, but the push only caused him to
hold her even more.

“Because the man guilty of this crime is laying strapped to the bed down the hall,” Dumbledore
said. Hermione looked out of the safety of Harry's arms to see the thrashing body of someone,
his silenced screams showing on his face.

“What happened?” Hermione asked. Harry wiped away a stray tear on her face, causing her to
blush.

“From what I understand, he had a confrontation with a bat, told him to turn himself in,”
Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. “Now, I believe you need to rest.” He put his hand on her
shoulder. He gave her a soft smile before giving Harry a knowing look. Harry did not return it,
instead only concentrating on her.

“You going to be okay?” He asked her, letting her rest against him once more.

“Maybe,” she said, comforted once more. “Do you still like me? After what he….”

“Sssh,” he said, putting his finger over her lips. “You're my friend, my best friend.” Harry
said, pulling her closer. “My only friend. I don't know what would happen if I lost you.” He
hugged her tightly. Her fears were temporarily forgotten as she looked at his sadden eyes. The
darkness and sadness clouded him emerald eyes like the night covering the valley. Like a small
child who had lost his parents…

“Thank you.” She said, hugging him even tighter. “Can I still come over?” Hermione asked,
looking ashamed at herself. She didn't want to impose upon him; he had already done so much for
her.

“I don't think I could spend a holiday alone, knowing you were here by yourself,” Harry
said. “I've got to contact Alfred, have him prepare a room for you.” He stood up, letting the
safety ebb away. He took one look at the man tied up at the bed and scowled, ever so slightly,
Hermione was unsure if he even did in the first place. He looked back at her and smiled. “Want to
come with me, to our commons I mean?” She nodded, looking up at him slightly.

“Could you carry me? I don't feel like I've got much strength to walk,” she said, the
blush evident. He nodded, lifting her with ease. “How did you get so strong?” She asked, surprised
at the little effort he put into carrying her.

“When you're alone most of your life, you find things to occupy your time,” Harry said, not
looking back at the strapped down, screaming man. “Reading and working out. Makes a man strong both
in body and mind.” Hermione smiled, and wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling closer to
him.

“Thank you Harry, for everything,” Hermione said. “Thank you for being my hero.” She said,
letting her aching soul and body rest. She knew he'd be there for her in the morning, when the
nightmare became too much.

**I0I**

Harold stood in front of his fireplace in his bedroom at the manor, staring up at the portrait
of his parents. The break was hard on him, but more so on his best friend sleeping in the next
room. Her nightmares were contained, for the most part, but every night she'd relieve a part of
it, if not the worst part, only for a moment or two. She'd come find him, often his was up
reading. Like he would to a small child, he opened his arms, accepting her into his lap. There she
fell back asleep. Placing her on his bed, he'd leave he alone for the night. Except for
tonight. Christmas Eve.

He looked back at the peaceful slumber that had fallen upon her. She was so peaceful and calm at
the moment, often how she was whenever he was around. Sighing he looked back up at the portrait. He
had exampled to her the party he was throwing for the Ministry, and she was his invited guest,
though she had her doubts about attending, after he agreed not to leave her side for too long,
she'd attend.

It had been made public what had happened to her, after the bastard, as Harold had taken to
calling him, was taken to Azkaban, awaiting trial. He swiftly was sentenced, and there was an
implosion of sympathy and cards for Hermione at Hogwarts. Luckily, they were not there.

She had taken to the library at the Manor like a duck takes to water, though Harold never said
it like that around her. He had read most of them, but at the moment was content to reading them
again. Hermione had mental regressed, as a self-defense mechanism to what happened. She had begun
to act like a scared ten year old, in an effort to forget what happened. He did not want to involve
the psychiatrist and psychologist he often employed, rather, working on it on his own.

He had come close to getting through to her, but had to pull back. It hurt him to see her in
such pain. At the point when he should've pressed hard, and gotten through, the tears were
unbearable to him. It was Christmas Eve now, and by the end of the break, he was going to push
through to her, even if it meant canceling the party he was going to through.

He had consulted both Alfred and Dumbledore on this, not knowing what to do. For the first time,
since the end of his childhood, he had no idea what to do. He never did around her; it made him
feel lost, and other things he could not put a finger on. But tonight, his gift was the ending of
her pain. Simply with a promise, one that he hoped she'd take.

“Why are you still up?” She asked, a childlike tone to her voice. He turned back and smiled. He
walked over to his bed and sat down on the side. “You should be in bed.” She scolded him now.

“I would, but I don't sleep much at night,” he said. She looked at him for a moment before
looking at the painting above the fireplace.

“Who are they?” She asked him, pointing to the portrait.

“They are my parents,” Harold said. Hermione looked down at her hands, which had settled in her
lap.

“Where are they?” she asked, pausing afterwards.

“They died, when I was younger,” he said, looking back at the portrait. He felt two arms go
around his neck. He turned back to see her hugging onto him tightly.

“I'm sorry Harry,” she said. She pulled back; he could see it in her eyes. The mechanism is
gone. She remembered everything, but was taking the moment to comfort him. “How did it happen?” She
pulled him back onto the bed, so they were resting against the headboard. He looked at the portrait
again, knowing he had to tell someone.

**~Flashback~**

*Harold was in-between his parents as they walked along the streets of London. They had just
come out of the theatre. This was their routine with him once a month. Dinner at his favorite
restaurant. Movie of his choice. But that night was even more special. They had announced over
dinner he would be attending London Academy for two years before moving onto Hogwarts.*

*“It's time to face the world,” his father told him, while his mother fought back the
inevitable tears. “There is just so long we can protect you from it.”*

*That night they saw Zorro, and Harold could not remember a time that he was happier, not
before at least……*

*“That was incredible! Those black and white movies are the best!” Harold said moving in front
of his parents and air-sword fighting with pretend bad guys. “swish! Swish! I wanna be him! I wanna
be Zorro!”*

*“Last week you wanted to be John Carter. And before that is was Sherlock Holmes,” his mother
said, laughingly*

*“Now Holmes - there's a role model I can approve of. A thinker of the first rank,” his
father said as they turned down an alley.*

*“Yeah, but Zorro's clothes are cooler,” Harold said.*

*“He's got you there, dear,” his mother said.*

*“You can't right wrongs with a fist or a sword, Harold. It just doesn't work that
way,” his father said as they turned another corner down the darkened alley.*

*Maybe not, but it sure would be great if it…did…?” Harold stopped mid-sentence as a thug of a
man held up a gun to his face.*

*“Not a word.” He articulated. Red burning eyes stared them down. “Itsss been a long time,
Jamesss.” The voice said in a snake's hiss. “Hiding out with the Mugglesss and
Mudbloodsss?”*

*“What do you want?” his father stepped in front of them. The man lunged forward, knocking
James for the ground. A stick was pointed at him as he grabbed the pearls around his mother's
neck.*

*“Let her go!” his father screamed. He lunged at the glowing eyes of the man.*

*“Avada Kedarva!” The thug said, pointing a stick at his father. The thug ripped the pearls
off his mother's neck as his father fell motionless to the ground. Before his mother had a
chance to scream once more, she two was hit by the light of green. “I hate it when kids cry.” He
shot one more green bolt. “I hate it.” There was a pause, as Harold felt the tears falling down his
face. The bolt hit him, that much was sure, but he stood there, staring at the lifeless bodies of
his parents.*

*“And I…..hate….you!” he said, moving his eye toward monster. A brilliant light shot forth
from his body…that was all he remembered…*

*~***End Flashback~**

“An ambulance arrived, took them to the hospital,” Harold said softly petting her hair. He
watched the fire ahead of them, unconsciously keeping her close. “I grew up that night.”

“I'm sorry,” Hermione said, hugging him tightly. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay, those demons don't haunt me much anymore,” he said, returning the hug.

“You grew up a childhood alone,” she said, looking up at him.

“I was never alone,” Harold said, confused. “I had Alfred. He's always been there for
me.”

“But you had no friends, no one close to your age.” She looked into the fire, tears falling
slowly. “Did they ever find the man?” The tone of the conversation changed for a moment as Harold
stared back into the fire.

“No, the only evidence that he was there was the stick, which I later learned was a wand.” He
looked over at the clock by his bed. “Come on, time to get up.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, surprised at the sudden giddiness in his voice.

“Its Christmas,” Harold said, confusion on his eyes. “We've got a great breakfast
downstairs.”

“That's correct, Master Harold,” Alfred said. “I figured that you both would be up now,
though why puzzles me.”

“Because you know early to bed, early to rise, makes a man health strong and wise,” Harold
said.

“Ah, yes, that must be it,” Alfred said, smirking slightly, causing Hermione to giggle.

“Come on, we're eating in the kitchen today,” Harold said, pulling Hermione out of the bed.
“Christmas is about family, and if you can't have it with yours, we're having it with
mine.”

“Alfred, everything set?” Harold called out to the butler who was ahead of them by several
feet.

“Yes it is Master Harold,” Alfred said. Harold turned and beamed at her. He began to pull her
arm, as Alfred turned in another direction, toward the kitchen.

“Harry, what's gotten in to you?” Hermione said, giggling happily. “The kitchen's the
other way.”

“I know where it is,” he said, still pulling on her arm. He stopped at the door to the den,
where he kept a mountain of books on the shelves. “Close your eyes.” He said.

“What?” He sighed and put his hands over her eyes, covering them.

“I don't want any peeking,” Harry said, laughing lightly. He had not felt this good in
years. It had taken a few days prep work, but he hoped she liked it. He had never really done this
type of thing before, and only remembered what his mother and father did. “Ready?”

“Harold James Potter,” she giggled, trying to be stern. She nodded her head, almost as giddy as
he was.

“Ready,” he said, trying to keep his breath even. He pushed open the door, careful to keep her
eyes covered. Slowly he removed him, and moved around, letting her take everything. He could not
help but let his heart leap as he watched her reaction. Her eyes glossed over slightly in tears as
the sight before her.

He and Alfred had made up the den in a grand Christmas tree. He had given him the day off,
though only after they both agreed he'd make the food. Although Harold wasn't bad at
cooking, it just was easier for Alfred to make his way around the kitchen.

“I didn't over do it did I?” Harry asked, turning and looking at her. He looked over at the
tree, unsure of what to say. “Alfred helped me with it, and I was unsure if we put enough lights on
it, and then we had to decorate the rest of the room.”

“It wonderful,” Hermione said, holding her hands up to her heart. He looked back at the tree and
could not help but smile once more, though uneasiness came over him. He ran his hand through his
hair, and looked at the ground.

“I think I overdid it with the gifts,” he said, scratching his neck. Hermione giggled, and he
looked up at her. She nodded, but her smile was large.

“Its okay,” she said. “Thank you.” Hermione rushed him, but this time he was ready with open
arms. He laughed as she did, the smiles plastered on both of their faces. He had never felt so
alive.

“It me who should be thanking you.” Harold pulled back, wiping a tear away from her “thank you
for just being.” They both laughed again, at the awkwardness of their position and the silliness of
the statement. She hugged him once more.

“I don't think my present can match all this,” Hermione pulled back and looked at the mound
of presents directed toward her. His smile just grew larger.

“You being here, with me, is the only thing I asked for this year,” Harold said, causing her to
blush. He did not want life to change, not from that moment. Not ever.

-->



8. Chapter Seven
----------------



**Chapter Seven: The Promise**

The rest of the holiday went off without a hitch. The party Harry had thrown he cancelled,
sighting a temporary conflict of interest with the Ministry. Many were disappointed, though Alfred
admitted he was not one of them. Hermione asked him once why he stayed on with the Potters for so
long, he just smiled and said there are sometimes people we need to look after in this world, when
they can't do it themselves.

She found out, though Harry did not want her to, who attacked her. He did not stop her and only
consoled her when she read the papers. Her break had been difficult, and although she was unsure
about returning to Hogwarts, with Harry by her side, she figured she would be able to survive
it.

The papers tore through Neville so fast, questioning him and his actions against her. Hermione
herself still could not believe it was Neville. He was so quiet and calm around her. How could he
do something like that?

Harry studied the papers, and everything about the case, coming to his own conclusions before
the authorities, which were the same thing. She was surprised often at the intellect that Harry
showed when he wanted to apply himself. His potential seemed limitless, but he always hid it,
rather to pretend to be something he wasn't. As he was reading through a journal in the
library, Hermione figured it was time to approach him on the subject.

“Harry,” she sat down across from him, while he peaked over the book. “There is something I need
to talk to you about.” He set down his book and sighed.

“You want to talk about why I am “suddenly” so smart and intelligent, despite the way I act at
Hogwarts, correct?” Hermione felt her jaw drop He smirked and continued. “Let's add to that
physically fit, instead of the slightly clumsy man I was there too, shall we?” She nodded as he
moved over to her side. “People will only see what you want them to see,” Harold said. “I've
done what I needed to ensure that they do not see me the way I see me.” She looked at him,
questioning his sanity almost. “After Hogwarts, I'll be leaving, on a world tour so to speak.”
Silence filled the room for a moment.

“What? Why?” Hermione asked, shocked by his statement.

“Because there are some things that I've yet to learn that I need to learn, that night on
the train proved what I've been worried about all this time,” Harry stood from his chair and
walked to the fireplace. The picture above it was of his parents but this time, the portrait
included Harry as a child of eight.

“But why can't you learn them here?” Hermione asked, moving next to him.

“Because what I need to learn is not taught here,” Harry said, turning to look at her. “There
are some things that I can't learn at a school like Hogwarts, a lot of things actually.”

“Why did you come back in the first place then?” Hermione said, searching for the answer. He
just smiled lightly.

“I wanted to know if I had at least one friend on this planet beyond Alfred,” he said, before
walking away, putting his hands in his pockets. For the first time that she met him, he looked
ashamed, embarrassed almost of what he had said.

“Harry,” Hermione said rushing him in another one of her bear hugs. “You have to promise me
something.” As he always was with her hugs, he was slightly taken back but quickly hugged her in
return.

“Anything,” he said, and the sincerity in his eyes caused he to blush slightly.

“You have to promise me no matter what happens, you'll always be my friend, and you'll
come back to me, understand,” Hermione said, forcefully. He stared at her for a moment, as if
contemplating it before nodding. “No matter what happens, no matter how long it takes, you'll
have to come back to me, understand?” He nodded once more the smile spreading on his face,
contagious with her as well.

“I'll come back, that much is certain,” Harry said. He made a movement like he wanted to
stand up, but stopped, instead choosing to relax on the floor for a moment. “But it may be a few
years.”

“Why do you have to you have to go? She asked again. He sighed once more, happiness that was
there gone.

“Someone once asked me if I like to dance with the devil in the pail moonlight,” Harold said. HE
was back, the man that women wanted, but not the man Hermione wanted to be with. Harold hid
himself, secluded the world from his fears and pains. “I'd like to tell him no if I ever get
the chance to, but rather than let someone else dance, I'd choose to be the devil's dancing
partner.”

“So you take up the fight, when no one else can?” Hermione asked, watching the pain in his eyes
return. He solemnly nodded. “Is that what this training if for?” When he did not answer, she only
hugged him tighter. “When you return, I'll be ready for you.” She would train as well, not
knowing if it would do any good. But she had to try, she had to be

**I0I**

Harold looked out across the sea of students, now graduates of Hogwarts. The year finished
without fanfare. Hermione stayed close to his side, and despite the many dates he went on, they
seemed to grow closer. He could not explain it, but had come to the conclusion he did not want to.
She was there for him.

“I must admit, I'm not really good at this,” Harold chuckled, trying to see through the
flashing photographer's cameras. “I'd rather let Miss Granger here give you a speak, but I
think the reporters have bothered her enough. So I apologize once more for my speech. It isn't
poetry, let me tell you that.” Some more chuckles and laughter in the crowd. “This year has been an
experience for me. Every day is an experience if you think of it. There is no tomorrow, because it
never comes, we are always one day behind, and we always are trying to speed our way through life,
trying to ensure that we make it to tomorrow. But it never comes. I've found that even with my
life of extravagant living and such, that there was nothing better than the life I have here,
because I found some things to cherish and hold onto.

“Life is a rat race, there is no doubt about that,” Harold said. “I don't got much more to
add beyond take some time to smell the roses, and visit old friends. Maybe those are the two things
worth stopping for some days,” he gave a heart warming smile for a moment before sitting back down.
The crowd applauded for him, the reporters taking shots for the paper.

“That was really good,” Hermione said as he sat back down.

“Yours would have been better,” Harold said, smiling slightly. She returned the smile, before
turning her gaze out onto the floor.

“You really have to leave don't you?” Hermione said, looking at her feet.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “And I know if I don't leave soon, I never will. But I
need to go Hermione, I need to. There are no two ways around it.”

“When are you going?” She asked quietly. He put a finger to his mouth, motioning her to be
silent for a moment. Dumbledore rose to speak, but Harold tuned him out. He had to remain stoic
about this. He could not let his feelings, personal or otherwise, get in the way of business. He
owned Potter Enterprises, a successful potions company by the ripe age of sixteen. He had mastered
the art of theatre and could practically talk his way out of any situation, his fault or otherwise.
Then why, for the life of him could he not tell Hermione the truth that he was the “knight” covered
in darkness that night on the train. He was the one that caught her assaulter. He was a hero to say
the least, to some degree at least. Looking at her, he realized that is was something else there,
something in her eyes that made him open up Christmas morning. Why could he not tell her
everything?

Dumbledore's speech was over, Harold realized, and it was time. Smiling at Hermione for a
moment, he reached up, like all of the other graduates, grabbing the hat on his head, and with the
rest of them, threw it up into the air. Hermione giggled at him for a moment afterwards as the hat
hit him in the head. He returned her smile, letting himself get lost in the lessons of
adolescents.

“When are you going?” Hermione asked, once the reporters had stopped hounding him for
pictures.

“Soon,” he said cryptically. “As soon as I'm sure that you're alright.” Hermione blushed
at this, and he could not help but blush as well.

“I am, its just, as soon as you leave, the sooner you get back,” Hermione said.

“Trying to get rid of me now?” Harold asked, trying to hold back the slight pain in his chest at
that statement. The shocked look of horror on her face when he said that cause the pain to go away
though.

“Oh, Harry, I'm sorry, its just that I….I don't know what it is,” she managed to get
out. The crowd had died down, and he was done with pictures for the day. Pulling her aside, he
pulled her into an awkward hug, the first he had ever really initiated.

“Its alright,” Harry said holding her close. “I don't want to leave either but I have to
Hermione, I have to.”

“You will come back to me right?” Hermione said, gazing up from his chest. Her tears were
evident in her eyes, and he felt them welling in his. He wiped away a stray tear on her cheek,
before nodding. “Promise me?” She was pleading with him now, and he knew that there was no place he
would rather be. He had to go though; the world needed him to prepare.

“I promise,” He said smiling slightly. “I promise I will return before my twenty fifth
birthday.” She returned the smile as well. He gave her a definite, something chose to rarely do in
the first place. He would return before then, even if he was not ready.

**I0I**

*Five Years Later*

Hermione sat behind the counter of the county library, reading the newspaper. She found it hard
to concentrate at the moment. There were just so many things that had happened to her since she
graduated Hogwarts.

She had begun to attend the University, majoring in Medicine. Her mother had remarried the
Commissioner of Scotland Yard, after her father had disappeared. Both had been pressuring her to
quit her job at the library, but she could not help it. She enjoyed being around the books. If
Madame Pince had not been so stubborn and decided to stay after her death, then she would have
gladly taken the job as the Hogwarts librarian. But being in the normal world had its advantages,
that she had to admit. She had also taken up judo and started calisthenics to get her body into
better shape.

Death Eater attacks had increased, as did the normal world's knowledge of the wizard
culture. The breach between the two was so large, that her stepfather, James Gordon, had just been
hired by the Ministry as a joint effort to reduce crime not only in the wizarding world, but the
normal world as well. However, Hermione soon learned though, her stepfather was also fighting the
crime within the system, all the corrupt cops and Aurors there were in the greater London area were
working against him, aiding the enemy.

But that wasn't what caught her eye the most. It was sporadic at the moment, but the
intervals were coming closer and closer together. This figured had been taking down criminals,
mainly petty thugs at the moment all across London it seemed. The criminals had little in common,
but all were saying the same things about this masked vigilante.

*“It's a demon I tell ya, a demon,”* one man said as the police took him away.

*“B-b-b-b-bat, man,”* another barely croaked out. That one was hung from a ornament
alongside a building at least twenty stories above the street.

The Batman as the papers had taken to calling the creature of the night. She disregarded it at
first, as another one of those crazy loons that seemed to be popping up every where. But even her
stepfather, a conservative, whose opinion Hermione came to value greatly, believed he was doing the
city some good.

*“I will never condone vigilantism,”* he said over dinner at her parents' house one
evening. *“All I'm saying is it's about time that someone stepped up in this town to
fight the good fight.*”

Hermione settled back into her thoughts. The Batman seemed familiar to her. It reminded her of
the man who saved her class on the seventh year train ride to Hogwarts. She looked at the watch to
her left, touching it lightly. He even had time to return the watch from her dearest friend, her
only friend at the time.

“Hello miss, can you help me find something,” a voice said. She did not look up from the papers
at the person at her counter at the moment.

“Yes what is it?” she said, going over the article again.

“I was wondering if you could find me an open date in your calendar to have lunch with an old
friend,” he said smoothly. Hermione looked up at him, ready to tell him off. This was a library,
not a dating show. She felt her jaw drop at the handsome man in front of her.

“Harry?!”

-->



9. Chapter Eight
----------------



**Chapter Eight: Ascension**

Harold Potter stood before one Hermione Granger, letting the shock seep into her. He had told
her he'd be there before she turned twenty-five, and so he had. He grew a few inches these past
few years, leveling out his frame at 6 feet 2 inches with 210 pounds. The training had done him
well, though he knew he had ways to go. There was however, no time for that, experience was the
extent of his training now, and that was what he returned to gain. Hermione had changed a bit, he
quick assessment showed as well.

She had grown into her feminine curves and he would wager lunch on, he was buying anyway, that
she was no more than 5 feet 10 inches, a tall girl. Her baggy clothes hide the muscles he saw
twitch when he first approach. She had been working out, but what style it was uncertain to
him.

“So, do you accept?” he asked again, smiling. She squealed, causing some commotion in the
library, as she ran around the counter to hug him. “It's good to see you again.”

“I missed you so much,” she said, as Harold tighten his hug around her. He could tell she had a
gymnast's body, just from the way she fit into his arms.

“What's you answer?” He asked, keeping his arms around her. She blushed, though he could not
tell why.

“Yeah, but not now, maybe later,” Hermione said through her blush. She seemed to remember
something, but what Harold could not tell.

“Alright,” he said, pulling back from the hug. She seemed sadden almost for a moment, but it
disappeared behind a façade. “Here,” he withdrew a business card from his pocket as well as a pen.
He quickly wrote something down on the card before handing it to her. “My number is on the back.”
Before she could ask any questions, his cell phone rang. “Sorry.”

*“Potter, where the hell are you*,” A voice said across the line.

“Checking out a few books,” Harold said, with a sigh. “What is it now Draco?” He could see the
shocked look on Hermione's face and held up a finger to hold back her question.

“*You need to get your arse down here now,”* Draco said. Sighing once more, Harold hung up
the phone and turned to look at Hermione with a smile.

“If you want to know what that was all about, you'll have to join me for lunch sometime,”
Harold said. He smiled at her, still trying to push the issue. She finally nodded, agreeing to him.
“I've got to go Hermione. It's been great seeing you again.” She moved forward, hugging him
once more.

“You're back, just like you promised,” she said. He pulled back and there was a question in
her eyes, but from her body language, the question was not directed toward him. He let it go. He
started to walk away, but shook his head, coming back to her.

“I almost forgot,” he pulled out an invitation from his jacket, handing it to her. “I'm
holding a banquet this weekend for a friend of mine. Harvey Dent, the Chief barrister for the
Ministry and the Magistrate.” Hermione nodded, her mind working on recognizing the name and
everything else about him no doubt. “I figured you'd like to come.” She smiled for a moment,
before blushing.

“Could I have another one…for my boyfriend?” Hermione asked, looking embarrassed slightly.
Harold gave her a look, not letting his emotion show. There was something that hurt inside, right
in his chest. He could not explain it. He smiled for a moment, successfully hiding his pain.
Another thing he learned while away.

“Give it to me,” he said. She handed it back to him, fear in her eyes. Taking his pen, he
quickly scribbled an addition onto the invite. He handed it back to her, still smiling. “Just show
them that at the door with your date, and it'll be fine.” She hugged him once more, this time
tighter than before.

“You don't know what it means to me that you're back,” she said, her arms still around
his neck. He just smiled at her, and spur of the moment took over, kissing her on the cheek as he
let go. She began to blush as she pulled back as well.

“I'm just glad to be back,” Harold said, turning to walk away. “Just call me when you've
found an available date. I'll clear my schedule then.” He smiled at her once more. Her blush
became more prominent as he stared at her for a moment or two. “Aren't you going to get back to
work?” She blushed once more, nodding slightly. “Alright, see you around Hermione. And remember to
call me.”

Harold walked out of the library with a new sense of purpose. He had to meet with Malfoy, then,
since Alfred insisted that he eat, he would have a sort dinner, before heading out for the night.
Yes, that was a good plan.

**I0I**

Hermione stood in front of the mirror, making sure that everything was in order. Her dress she
bought, but never wore, not even for her boyfriend. It was something she had been saving, something
she did not honestly know if she could wear it, even looking at herself at the moment. She was
going to meet her boyfriend at Potter Manor, despite his demands that he drive her. She was going
with her mother and stepfather, since they too had been invited. It seemed like a good idea at the
time to wear this dress.

“We're going to be late,” her mother said. Hermione looked at herself in the mirror once
more.

The black spaghetti strap dress hung to her nicely in her opinion. It was the low neck she could
have done without. The embroidery running across it elegantly gave her a sense of class she
thought. In general though, it was not a dress she would normally wear. Sighing, she picked up her
black purse and her high heel black shoes. “Coming mom.” She said, walking as fast as she could.
She did not like high heeled shoes, seeing as she already was taller than some of the boys. Putting
on the two-inch high heels made her taller than most she knew. Even if she wore them, she was
taller than her boyfriend. Something he flat out refused. Which was one reason why she was wearing
them tonight. He was so controlling at times, always wanting to make sure that he was in control of
the situation. This was one time, he would not control her in public.

“Finally,” her stepfather said. He gave her a look over once.

“You look lovely honey,” her mother said. “Let us not keep your date waiting.”

“Its not the date she wants to impress,” Jim said causing her to blush.

“Dad,” Hermione said, finally comfortable with calling him that. In essence, he was more of
father to her than the one who she grew up with. He was there for her when she needed him, right
after Harry left her. “I just felt like it was time to wear it.” He gave her a look, shaking his
head.

“Whatever sweetheart,” he said. “Let's get moving.” Hermione followed them out of to the
car, letting her stepfather open the door. The ride to Potter Manor was filled with idle talk,
mainly regarding Hermione's life update. Her stepfather worked odd hours at times, and her
mother had taken over the office, forcing her to come home late. Hermione could not help it, but
relax a bit. Maybe the evening would help her get her mind off the Batman.

**I0I**

Harold straightened his tie, or rather had Alfred do it for him. “Will you ever learn to tie a
tie, Master Harold?” Alfred asked, tying it quickly and expertly. Harold just smirked and looked
into the mirror one more time.

“Why learn when you do it so well?”
“Very well, Master Harold,” Alfred said, holding back a smile of his own. “Nervous, sir?”

“Why would I be?” Harold asked, looking back at the mirror, trying to put down his unruly hair.
“I mean, it's just a banquet for Harvey. No big deal right?”

“Will she be attending?” Alfred asked, picking up the jacket Harold was supposed to wear for the
evening.

“What?” Harold said, taking the jacket from his mentor. “Yeah, she's coming.” He paused for
a moment, letting the grimace appear for less then a second. “With her boyfriend.”

“Ah, well then, I shall prepare for that,” Alfred said, walking out of the room.

“Hey,” Harold said, throwing on the jacket, going after him. “What's that supposed to
mean?”

“It means sir, that I must prepare for the mess you shall make once the banquet has concluded,”
Alfred said without stopping. “You were gone for five years, sir, and if you don't mind me
saying, she has every right to move on.”

“I don't fancy her,” he growled. Why did that old man insist on meddling in his affairs?
Looking at one of the mirrors in the hallway, he straightened his tie. He could not fancy her.
There was work to be done, work that could not involve her.

“Master Harold, the guests have begun to arrive,” Alfred said. Harold gave himself one last look
into the mirror, letting himself fall into the role he had made for himself.

Walking down the stairs, Harold watched as Harvey entered with his wife. He was slightly shorter
than Harold, but both of them had grown up together. Harold had attempted to keep in contact,
throughout his journeys, but he had failed miserably.

“Harvey, its great to see you,” Harold said, walking over to the man.

“Harold,” Harvey said, turning to him as Alfred took the man's coat and his wife's. “It
has been a long time.”

“Too long, I would think,” Harold said as they shook hands. Both men wore large grins on their
faces as they shook hands. “It's good to see you again Harvey, you must tell me about your
job.”

“Its not much, just working for the government,” Harvey said modestly. His wife laughed.

“As if,” she said, leaning over to Harold who obliged by leaning closer as well. “He's just
about has enough information put away Salvatore Maroni.”

“That's great Harvey,” Harold said. Salvatore Maroni was a known mafia boss, one that he had
been watching for quite some time. He controled the underworld, or a corner of it. Now the factions
were more split and less concentrated on their efforts. The crooked police did not aid it. Harvey
was one of the few, along with the commission that still believed in his work.

“let's not talk about my business Harold,” Harvey said. “Let's talk about yours instead.
Potter Industries have certainly done very well. I didn't know you had it in you.”

“Neither did I,” Harold said, jokingly. “All I did was entrusted it in some other broker's
hands so that they could do what they wished.”

“Master Harold, Mister Draco Malfoy,” Alfred said as Draco approached him.

“I'm glad you could make it,” Harold said. He did quick introductions, but was pulled away
from the conversation as the host. He waited at the front of the room, casually addressing the
people as they walked in. He played the part of unknowing billionaire bachleor so well. That was
until he saw Hermione enter the door. He knew his jaw must have dropped slightly, but quickly
regained his composure.

“Thank you for inviting us Mister Potter,” Gordon said to him, shaking his hand.

“The pleasure is all mine. Harvey has informed me about how much you've done for this city,
and it would only be right that you join us tonight,” Harold said. Gordon beamed slightly at this,
and Mrs. Granger kissed him on the cheek lightly. Hermione gave him a smile, that caught him off
guard slightly. As her parents where lead away by Alfred, Hermione quickly hugged him, kissing him
on the cheek.

“Thank you for that, he knows what good friends you are with Mister Dent,” Hermione said as she
pulled back. She still shorter then him, but not by much. She stared back into his eyes directly,
but a cough interupted anything he wanted to say.

“Mister Krum I believe it is,” he said, holding out his hand as Hermione moved over to
Krum's side. The man put a possessive arm around her, but she shrugged it off smoothly, almost
like she had been in some of the circles he ran in, like one of those princesses he met on the
mainland. He caught a bit of the conversation that was quickly played between the two of them.

“I thought I told you not to wear those heels,” Krum said sternly.

“They're the only heels that go with this dress,” Hermione countered. She turned back to
Harold, who pretended like he never heard any of this. “Thank you for inviting us,” Hermione said,
though the glimmer in her eyes told him more.

“It was my pleasure,” Harold said, finally shaking Krum's hand. The man did not have as
strong of a grip as Harold thought, betraying his physical appearance. Glamour spell possibly?
Harold kept it in the back of his mind as Alfred appraoched him once more.

“Master Harold, I believe the party is waiting for you,” Alfred said.

“Ah, thank you Alfred,” Harry said. “Excuse me.” Harold said to them as Alfred took their coats.
He caught a glimspe of the interaction between Hermione and her date, how Krum seemed angered at
Hermione for one thing or another. Shaking his head, he moved toward a conversation between Harvey
and the Commissioner, something that he thought would be instramental in finiding out more current
information.

“I believe he is doing something good for this city,” Harvey's wife, Alysia said.

“There is only so much you can do as a viligante,” Harvey disagreed. “Harold, what do you
think?” He took a drink of his champaigne, pausing for a moment before answering.

“I think a man who dresses as a bat,” Harold said, spinning his fingers near his head,
“isn't all there.”

“That may be true,” the Commissioner said. “Sorry, looks like my wife wants to dance.” He was
pulled away by Mrs Granger, causing everyone to laugh once more.

“Wonderful party, Harold,” Alysia said to him.

“Why thank you Alysia, though I must admit, Alfred did much of the preparations,” Harold said.
“I was told the time to show up and look good.” He got the crowd to chuckle once more, and he
scanned it quickly as the Commissioner was talking with an Auror. He knew Alfred would catch the
conversation, the gentleman's gentleman had a nack for being everywhere and hearing
anything.

“Master Harold, I have been told that we need to open more wine,” one of his other hired workers
for the night said.

“open another twelve cases sound good,” Harold said, looking between them all. They all knew he
had bought the wine in bulk for the evening, but the shooked looks on their faces told him they did
not expect that much extravegance. “Twelve cases is good.” The hired help looked shocked but nodded
and went off to carry out his orders. “What?” he said, smoothly taking a drink from his glass to
hide his smile.

“You're really out done yourself,” the Minister of Magic said. Harold looked back at the
minister, containing his smirk.

“What can I say,” Harold said, shrugging his shoulders. “I must admit though,” he said looking
at sevearl younger women who walked past him. “That the perks are definitely worth this.” He saw
Alfred motioning him toward his study. “If you must excuse me.” He said, moving past the Minister
without a further glass. “There are some lonely ladies waiting for me.” They scoffed at him, aiding
in his growing playboy image.

“Sir, I believe there is some business you must attend to,” Alfred said quietly. Harold nodded,
looking back at the party.

“If Hermione asks, tell her that…” Harold was at a loss for words. He couldn't lie to her,
he never could.

“I shall think of something Master Harold,” Alfred said. “Now go.” He shooed Harold away into
the parlor as he continued out the main ball room. He could only hope that Master Harold came back
in better shape than he had the previous night.

-->



10. Chapter Nine
----------------



A/N: I apologize for not getting this out sooner. I had a huge writer's block, and then a
huge vacation. Read and Review please.

**Chapter Nine: Industrial Sabotage**

The Batman stood upon the rooftop, his binoculars in his hands, looking down onto the group of
thugs and assailants that were breaking into the Potter-owned compound before him. The men were
moving quietly, as if to no draw anyone attention. It was too late however.

He replaced the binoculars back into his utility belt before drawing his wand. He placed the
grappling hook on the end of it, casting a banishing charm on it. With practiced skill, it latched
onto one of the pillars within the compound. Swinging upon the grappling line, he was over three
stories above the ground the where the height of the compound was at two. His silhouette was cast
upon the ground from the full moon.

“What are we going to do here?” one of the thugs asked.

“A little industrial sabotage upon this building, we're supposed to steal some secret
formula these men just discovered, and had it over to the boss,” the leader said to them. “Just
follow my orders and stop asking questions.”

“What if the Batman shows up?” another asked. The leader turned back and sneered at them.

“The Batman is a lunatic dressed up in a costume,” he said to them. “There is no way he could
stop us. He's mortal, like the rest of us.” He turned back to the door in front of them,
proceeding to break into the compound.

He stood on the roof, moving through an open sky panel, readily landing upon the rafters of the
building. He crouched, looking down at the thieves as they entered. He knew the Commissioner and
the Aurors would be arrive, ready to take on the problem, however he knew from experience the
criminal mind was two steps ahead of the police. He was three steps ahead of the criminals.

He watched them move around toward the office building. He was not sure why they were there. For
all he knew this compound contained nothing of importance. All of the formulas were all housed in
the main complex at the Potter Industries building. He waited to see what they were going to do,
though it would probably come back to haunt him. He was not in a position to attack or to take any
of them down, and at the moment, movement would alert them to his presence.

He looked toward the main entrance, a clear view from his vantage point. He watched as the
Commissioner and a group of officers ready to take on the thugs. Though they were poorly out manned
and out gunned. He turned his direction back toward the thugs who had moved toward the office area.
Still in no position to move, he waited.

“Its not here,” the leader cried out in anger.

“Boss, you said it would be here,” the one with a red hat said.

“I know,” he said for a moment. From here, Batman saw who the leader was. Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy.
The father of one of the chairmen at Potter Industries. Batman turned to look at the Aurors once
more, waiting for them to start their attack.

“This is you last warning, surrender now,” the Commissioner said through a bullhorn.

“Damn it's the cops,” one of the thugs said. The Batman watched as they all drew their
weapons, guns and wands. He placed his hand on his belt waiting for the opportune moment. He could
see the commissioner dictating his men to certain areas. There were weaknesses but considering the
circumstances, it was a well shaped plan. However…

He moved across the rafters quickly, letting his shadow be cast upon the thugs and Malfoy. They
flinched and moved down the piping and railings toward their exit. Landing softly in front of them,
his cape flattened behind him. He stood up slowly, letting them take his body shape in, and spread
his arms slightly, letting them see the symbol upon his chest. They would aim there, or at least
that is what he hoped for.

“Its Batman!” One screamed, firing off a round. He took it in the chest, falling to the ground.
It was charade, and as they approached him, he sprung upward, taking one of them by the ankle,
twisting it quickly enough to snap it as well as incapacitate the man. The Aurors rushed his
position, and he fled to the rafters once more. The other men they could take care of. He was after
Lucius.

Moving swiftly on top of the rafters, Batman landed before Malfoy, ready to take him one. The
enemy raised his wand, and cast a spell, a stunner at first. He moved gracefully out of the way.
Another curse was fired upon him. Using his wand, he shut a wire, attempting to capture Malfoy,
though the elder man had chosen a less empathetic route.

Malfoy dodged to the left, though the choice was poor, immediately both men knew it, though
Batman overestimated Malfoy's intellect. The man slid over the railing and over the vat of
chemicals. Batman was standing over him, holding him by the gloves. There was fear in Malfoy's
eyes, and the Batman started to pull him up. But Malfoy's hand was moving inside his glove,
almost as if.

“NO!” His unearthly voice screamed as Malfoy fell into the vat of chemicals.

The police noticed him and where on both sides of him. “H-hands up!” one of them managed to get
out. Batman raised his hands, and with a trained slight of hand, grabbed a small metallic ball as
he brought his hands up. Before the police could do anything else however, he dropped the ball, it
shattering against the ground as a smoke filled the air. Holding his breath, he raised his wand,
banishing his grappling hook to the roof. With a practiced ease, he was pulled upward and out of
the factory. With even more ease, he skidded across the rooftops to the car that awaited him. If
you chose to call it a car. It was more a tank when one looked at it.

The treads were massive, and the combination of technology and magic was deadly. Inside where
hidden weaponarny. The car had been built to build bridges in jungle and arid terrain. The car
could basically jump, for lack of a better term, and make it to the other side, creating a bridge.
However, the bridge part never completely worked out, and the idea was scraped. Until he found it,
and now….

Sliding into the tank, he relaxed, letting the police frequencies echo in the car. Starting the
autopilot, he let it return him to the Batcave. He slumped in the chair. Removing the mask, he ran
his hand through his black hair, letting his emerald eyes reflect against the polished covers. His
mind was lost in thought of how the media would think of him now, and what greater evil he had
unleashed upon the world. Malfoy was too stubborn to let something like that kill him. And revenge
would be the first thing his wanted.

**I0I**

Hermione sat at her couch, enjoying a large bowl of ice cream. She had just come from the ball
with Krum, who was once again trying to control her. It seemed that rocky road was going to have to
comfort her again, and she'd work it off in the morning. Her stepfather had made the news once
again, and she sat up, leaving the spoon in her mouth. He had left early, and Harry did not make
another appearance that evening in regards to a break in. Him and a few other of the Aurors
stationed there that evening.

“Commissioner Gordon, it appears that you've broken up a large gang, is this correct?”
Gordon was asked.

“No, you've been misinformed, we broke a group that we believe to be apart of Maroni's
mob,” he said in a calm voice.

“Is it true that reports of the Batman's assistance?” the woman asked him. Gordon frowned
lightly.

“Yes it is true that the Batman assisted us in the capture of these criminals, however, I must
reiterate that I do not approve of vigilantism,” he said with a sigh. He knew where the
conversation was taking him. Hermione recognized it as well. She sympathized with him, and thought
about calling her mother when she received a phone call.

“Hermione Granger speaking,” she said, lifting it from the receiver.

*“Hi, its Ron, Ron Weasley*,” he said. Hermione nearly dropped the phone at the name. She
hadn't spoken to him in five years, purposely. *“I wanted to talk to you.”*

“Why?” Hermione said, thinking of no reasons why she shouldn't hang up the phone.

*“Because I wanted to apologize for being the git I was back at Hogwarts,”* he said softly.
Hermione's jaw dropped when she heard the sincerity in his words. “*I thought maybe we could
get a cup of coffee some time, maybe catch up on life.”*

“That would be nice,” she said, trying to return the man's enthusiasm, but found herself
unable to. “But my schedule with the University is rather full.” There was a pause of silence on
the other end.

“*It was nice talking to you Hermione,”* Ron said, the enthusiasm gone. *“But I've
got to go, maybe some other time?”* He asked.

“Sure, maybe some other time,” Hermione said, trying to sound bright. She heard the click and
hung up the phone. Her life was just turning around. She had a great boyfriend, who at times was a
little controlling, but she loved just the same, her best friend had just returned to her, and her
studies couldn't be better. Now…the world was changing, that much she knew was happening.

**I0I**

The vat of chemicals led to a depository, a sewer system that was defiled by the creatures of
the dark, both magical and not. If someone had been there, they would have heard the groaning thud
of a heavy object being carried from the factory. A man was slumped over, leaning against the wall.
The chemicals dropping off him as they mixed with the water. It all was washed off of him, but his
screams of anguish were torture for the rats that followed him. Soon, though…..the screams were
replaced with an insane laughter, one that echoed through the sewers. The man continued his walk,
knowing full well that money could fix what the Bat had started. He was alive, and the Bat…the Bat
would be dead. Hahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaa!

-->



11. Chapter Ten
---------------



**Chapter Ten: Beginnings**

“Let me SEE!” A platter of surgical equipment was sent across the cramped room. The platter
clanged against the wall as a man that appeared to be a doctor gave a man a mirror. His face had
been removed of the bandages, and the doctor stood frozen.

“I-I-I did the best I could,” he said, “but these tools,” he pointed at the remaining ones on
the surgical table, “they aren't no good. I-I-I-” A bandaged hand went up to the man's
throat, squeezing tightly. Laughter filled the room, as the doctor was thrown against the wall, a
crack sounding the breaking of the doctor's neck The man stumbled from the chair, only one
thought in mind, revenge!

**I0I**

The Batman stood onto of the Auror/Police headquarters. He watched the crowded streets lessen in
the dead of night. He was waiting for someone, his only ally in his fight. “You're late.” He
said in an even, but dark voice.

“Sorry, had to calm down the media,” Commissioner Gordon said. “Crime Alley has gotten
worse.”

“Arkham is yet to be filled,” came the even voice from the darkness. The Commissioner could not
see him, but neither was fazed by the lack of sight. The Batman had long adjusted to living in the
night. He was taking it back from **them.**

“Yes, we've received countless reports of your activities, picking up mainly the small
timers,” the Commissioner said. “The big guns have yet to come to London I suppose.” He paused for
a moment. “But I believe that one has already come here.” He held out a piece of evidence. It was a
report, but Batman returned it immediately. “I take it you've already read it then? Very well.
There have been a great deal of smuggling going on in by the docks, and with a town this crooked, I
don't know if there is much I can do about it, but,” the commissioner turned in the direction
where Batman was. Or at least, his silhouette was. “I hate it when he does that.”

The Batman swung upon his grappling hook to the next building, disappearing so quickly that on
would think he was but a shadow. He head down to the docks, using the Batmobile to finish the route
toward the docks. He planned on being there for the delivery.

The men on the docks unloaded boxes upon boxes of what looked like rabbits and teddy bears. He
had collected one of each earlier in the week, finding that they were used for different things,
but there were far more teddy bears then rabbits, leading him to believe that the rabbits were for
another person's use. He watched as one of the crooked cops from Gordon's precinct made his
way toward a mob car. The same car of the Boss Maroni, a man he had been trying to get for weeks
now. A man who was the cause of the corrupt business in the town.

He moved closer, hopping across the crates that were stacked at the docks and down onto a lower
one. He did not care at the moment of the conversation, knowing that he would not be able to listen
to them, and with the windows tinted, he could not read their lips. He instead moved toward the men
who were unloading the crates, and onto the truck. He moved onto another stack of crates, catching
the thugs attentions. Good.

“What was that?” they all looked up, trying to figure out what was going on. They began to
spread out, the Batman chose his target, the straggler closest to him, with his back turned to the
rest. Their backs were turned to the straggler as well, making him the easy target. Attaching his
grappling hook to the crate above him, he jumped down, and within a second, repelled back up, the
unconscious man now on top of the crate.

The men began to fire at random into the air, though it was unnecessary, the fired shots aided
in his landings from one crate to a next. This time, as he jumped down before the thugs, he did not
repel back up. He stood slowly with his cape draped around him as the men froze before him in fear.
In less time it took to enter the scene unnoticed, the thugs were down and most likely not getting
back up.

Swiftly he moved back toward the car where Maroni waited, ready for him. Maroni had stepped out
of the car, looking in the direction of the fight he just finished. Landing on the ground, he took
out the driver from the car, laying him down on the side of the street before Maroni had
returned.

“Get going,” Maroni said as he stepped back into the car. He was still looking out the window
and took him a moment to notice the absence of his driver. Maroni removed a shotgun underneath the
seat in front of him. He never got a chance to use it though.

“Lets talk,” the Batman said in a voice that would haunt Maroni for the remainder of his life.
With that, he took Maroni into the air with him, hearing the sirens of the police that he called
coming. He would have smiled if he could, both at the screams of terror in Maroni and the justice
about to be served.

**I0I**

Hermione had heard from her stepfather that they had managed to capture Maroni, finally. It was
all after a raid upon the docks where Maroni had received a shipment of drugs. They had succeeded
in not only getting the drug possession on Maroni, but also several murder charges and gang related
charges. She let out a sigh of relief now that the maniac was off the streets, his control ending.
There were still problems with the other gangs in the city, and the corrupt Aurors and cops, but
she understood the necessity that her stepfather was pushing for.

With a sigh, she relaxed after her evening run. She had just come back from another failed date
with her boyfriend. She had only gone out running because she was trying to blow off steam, and
nothing in her house. He was just so controlling, and he didn't want her around her parents or
any of the friends she had managed to make at Oxford. She wanted to call it quits so badly. But the
last time she tried, he had threatened to hurt her mother. She knew he could do it too, and
probably get away with it. It was the only reason she stayed with him. He did have some redeeming
qualities, but for the most part, she avoided the bad ones. Now it seemed that some of his poorer
qualities were coming into the limelight, and she did not care for those too much.

She looked over at the phone, debating if she should give him a call. She just needed a friend
at the moment, and she didn't know if he really wanted to talk to her. But that had been mainly
her doing as he had tried to contact her several times to set up a lunch date with her after the
ball he held, and she kept putting it off, coming up with reasons after reasons. None were all that
good either. Summoning her calendar from her bedroom, Hermione did a quick check of the week's
schedule, finding an opening on Friday. Plucking what courage she could, she hoped that he would be
willing to take her out to lunch or, she thought with a blush, dinner.

Dialing the number, Hermione waited with baited breath for the phone to be picked up. She was
not all together disappointed when Alfred picked up, figuring that he must screen Harry's
calls.

“Alfred, its me, Hermione,” she said, after the butler introduced himself.

“Ah, such a wonderful surprise,” he said. Hermione smiled at this, happy that Harry was there at
this hour and not out on some date.

“Can I speak to Harry please?” There was a pause on the line. She assumed that Alfred was
getting Harry at the moment.

“I'm afraid he is not in at the moment,” Alfred said with a saddened voice. “He is out on
business, attending to a shipment that was late I believe.” Hermione let out a defeated sigh that
Alfred must have picked upon immediately. “I'll have him call you when he gets home, though it
must likely will be early tomorrow morning.” There was a pause in the conversation, as Hermione
gathered up her courage.

“I wanted to know if Friday would be a good day for our lunch,” Hermione said. She almost
blurted it out and was blushing as she waited for Alfred to respond.

“If it isn't I'll clear his schedule,” Alfred said with a sense of finality. “He needs
to get out of the house a little bit more, Ms. Granger. Frankly I'm worried about him.”

“Me too Alfred,” Hermione said. They spent a few more moments with pleasantries before each said
their good nights. Hermione turned to look toward the window of her flat. There was a storm brew
outside; she wrapped herself in a blanket as he walked to the window. In a bolt of lightning, she
could have sworn there was the Batman was outside her window, watching her. But in the next he was
gone. She let out a sigh and went to bed, dreaming of the man who had saved her twice. She only
wished she could thank him for what he had given her.

**I0I**

Harry slumped against the elevator as it carried out of his cave and into the library. He made
his way toward his bedroom, which conventiantly was located two floors up and on the other side of
the manner.

“Master Harold,” Alfred said, spooking Harry slightly. He jumped and was in a position to attack
almost immediately. “I am surprised you made it in before dawn.”

“It was a rather long night,” Harry said with a sheepish look on his face.

“Well, I best say we get you up the stairs then,” Alfred said. With strength beyond his age,
Alfred assisted Harry up the stairs. He managed to change for bed without Alfred's help, but
getting into bed had been a different story.

His entire body ached, and it happened from a fall that occurred slightly before Maroni's
capture. While he normal was able to keep his footing on anything, slippery or not, the shot to his
chestplate in combination with the slick rooftops as he made his way toward the docks created
danger for him as he fell almost thirty feet onto a group of metal boxes. No doubt by now they
would have a slightly body impression of him in the police records. He would have to be more
careful from now on, it almost cost him Maroni.

“Master Harold,” Alfred said as Harry relaxed. “I am to inform you that you have a lunch
scheduled for this Friday.” Harry ran over his schedule in his mind and opened to say that he
couldn't, he had a board meeting, where he had to pretend to be bored. “I've already
notified Mr. Malfoy about it and he says that he will cover for you. You will not miss this, and
that is an order.”

“Yes sir,” Harry managed to get out. A sense of relief flooded him and he was surprised at it.
He did not even know who he was having lunch with, but there were rare times that Alfred ever
ordered him to do something. And most of the time it was for his health. If Alfred thought it was
okay and safe, then Harry believed him. After all, there were only three people he trusted more
than Alfred in the world, two were dead and the third probably hated him.

He was slightly upset at Hermione and felt hurt she did not want to see him. She had done
everything she could it seemed to brush him off each time he called her. Now, it seemed that it
didn't matter. She really did not want to see him, and he had lost one more friend. Was he
truly that bad of a person? Maybe he had been too pushy and needy, it was probably better for him
to back off just for a bit. And give her the space she deserves. After all, he only just returned
and she seemed ecstatic then. Maybe all she needs is time. With his resolve strengthened, Harry let
sleep overcome him

Alfred watched his ward go to sleep and shook him head. He knew that Harry was killing himself
for what had happened with Hermione, and the lack of progress at maintaining their friendship. He
hoped that the right pushes would get him the love he deserves. He had been alone for so long. He
deserved a little happiness in his life, not the mask he wore. He turned toward the window, where
the symbol that Maroni made upon the searchlight lit up upon the clouds. A bat floating the sky.
Alfred shook his head. There were a many of dark nights ahead of Harry. He only wished that Harry
did not have to go alone.

A/N: I don't write many of these, but from here on out. I'm separating the storyline
into “Comics” with ten chapters in each. I don't know how far I'm taking this, and if it
seems slow, tell me and I'll see if I can do something about it. But this comic was for
background info, the first in the series. You met the characters for the most part already and
soon, you'll meet the rest of the ensemble and how they are going to interact with the rest of
the world. Thank you for the patience with this story. I'm just happy to finish this part of
it, and being able to continue on with it. I'm sorry for waiting for so long to post, but this
has been a difficult chapter to write, just creativewise. Later and thank you all for reading and
review. Thank you.

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