Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

West of Here

Story: West of Here  
>Storylink: s10015981/1/  
>Category: Harry Potter<br>Genre: Western/Romance  
>Author: MK-ONE<br>Authorlink: u/2840040/  
>Last updated: 0918/2014  
>Words: 82127<br>Rating: M  
>Status: In Progress<p>

Summary: Harry Potter accidentally disappeared to another place and time the night his godfather fell through the veil. Voldemort has taken over and Harry is needed now more than ever to fight the growing evil. The only trouble is that Harry Potter is no longer a teenage wizard, but a full grown territorial marshal who uses weapons of a simpler, harsher time period, somewhere- west of here. *Chapter 1*: Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**West of Here**

**Chapter One: Back to Oz**

Snict…Snict….Snict…Snict… Snict…

The pair stared vacantly, still struggling with their varying degrees of shock as he loaded his guns with mechanical precision, oblivious to the bodies strewn about the room.

The quiet of breaths held in fearful anticipation previously was as nothing compared to the ominous quiet that replaced the jarring violence and chaos that reigned mere moments ago. It was as if the entire territory went as still as crickets on a summer night in the presence of a predator nearby. Make no mistake, the residents of this dusty hamlet knew a predator was in their midst and were instantly vigilant of the violence that could erupt if foolishly provoked.

The marshal carried on his dread duties with grim resolve. In these parts you either kept prepared or you died unprepared. It wasn't a matter of if, but when. No matter how fast and sure you were, a misfire or empty gun could spell the doom of even the fastest, surest gun. For all that there was no one purportedly faster or surer than Marshal Jamie Black.

Despite his young age, his reputation was one that even the old timers at the barber shop brought up on regular occasion when swapping stories of hard times and hard men.

Jamie was hard, but for all that he was known to be a fair man and not easily riled, but for all that… he wasn't someone you took lightly; at least not unless you didn't want to live long enough to swap tall tales with the rest of the old codgers down at the barbershop.

Jamie gave everyone a chance, but just one chance. After that you were asked to leave-nicely. If you decided that leaving wasn't in your immediate future plans, then Jamie explained it to you. By _explaining, _I mean the benefits of a long life in greener pastures was clearly laid out for your consideration, that, and the disadvantages of staying were equally _explained_ for your consideration, sometimes brutally so, dependent upon the person's ability to assimilate new information.

If after that you still insisted upon a contrary point of view to the Marshal's, well then,.. you often found yourself in one of two places.

The first being the territorial prison: Stonegate. Now Stonegate too had a reputation, one that was well known throughout most of the entire western territory. Hard men were worked until they became pliable men; ones that could be remolded into conscientious and productive members of society that they hadn't been previously. In other words: they were broken and remade. Useless became useful. Impatient became abiding. Aggressive- gentle and so on.

When you left Stonegate you were either a new man, one that could and would contribute to society, or you didn't leave, at least not in the way you envisioned.

That is to say… you left dead; whether by a broken body brought on by endless toil, old age or uncertain acquaintances, but dead just the same.

If you went insane… you were put down like the rabid dog you were. Even in madness you found no reprieve at Stonegate. There were no 'paid for' pardons, no escapes, and certainly no releases only to return after having committed further atrocities.

Stonegate was your one chance for redemption in these parts. After Stonegate there were the territorial marshals. If you failed to redeem yourself once having left Stonegate's merciful climes, then the marshals were brought into the mix. Once a marshal was set on your trail your future outlook became muddied faster than that of a herd through a shallow pond.

Instead of gold or silver, cold unforgiving lead became the only metal you would ever collect, and the faster you worked for it the more you'd receive.

A quick spin of the hilt bringing the barrel up to eye level was followed by the click of his hammer being pulled back as he checked to make sure the barrel beneath the hammer was empty. Once satisfied, the hammer was returned and the colt returned home into the holster at his right hip.

The holster itself was as black and as well broken in as the boots on his feet, each for different reasons, and neither having anything to do with fleeing danger. His black Stetson was pulled down to the rims of his eyes, the shadow it cast hid his face, all except the cool gleam of his raptor sharp green eyes.

Despite that, the younger of the two onlookers was desperate to leap forward and pull the marshal into a rib cracking hug, despite his obvious trepidation over the recent slaughter he'd witnessed, and yes... it had been just that- a slaughter.

Six well-armed men positioned in advantageous locations around the saloon had been as nothing to the lightning reflexes of the territorial marshal.

They had lain in wait for the marshal's arrival. Unlike others, who tried and failed to avoid pursuit until they ran their mounts into the ground, this lot had decided on plan B. They thought to avoid their just, albeit _harsh _punishment, by eliminating the hand that was sent out to deliver said punishment.

They may have succeeded initially; had they drawn the attention of any other marshal save Jamie Black. Black, though young, was the only marshal that had never failed to bring in his quarry- alive or otherwise.

Every fast gun in the territory had marked Jamie Black as the man to stake a reputation on. Every one of said deluded prowess, in the territory, was now either dead or fled. Each of them had been given a chance to walk away. Those that chose poorly had the scars that proved their bad choice. Those that chose poorly twice, well… let's just say that they wouldn't be complaining over any mere scars, as the last one they'd received was the last one they would ever receive.

**Five minutes previously….**

"Reggie Taylor… John Pierce… Clyde Monroe… James-Jimmie Royce…Michael Taylor and Clavin, aka Red Royce…This is Territorial Marshal Jamie Black. By the authority of territorial Judge Lucas Finch you are hereby ordered to surrender yourself to appear before Judge Finch at his earliest convenience. Disarm yourselves and come out with your hands up."

"He-He-He...What if we don't feel much like.. what was it? Oh, Yeah…disarming ourselves and coming out with our hands up?" the one named Red challenged.

A pair of wand hands disappeared beneath a nearby table, but otherwise made no move to interfere with the unfolding drama. They would only act in defense of themselves. Though they were light wizards, this was not their fight and besides, nothing could take precedence over their mission-nothing.

"This is the only warning you will get, gentlemen. I suggest you take it," the young, but calm voice of authority returned from outside.

"Blow it out your arse!" a man with a rifle threatened as he cocked his weapon and turned over a nearby table to use as a makeshift shield.

The younger of the two wizards gave his partner a questioning look, but was met with a subtle shake of the head, staying his hand from interfering.

"There's six of them," the other argued, eyeing the criminals as they mobilized to go on the offensive and the other patrons decided they had more pressing business elsewhere- perhaps in another county.

The barmaid was the only person seemingly unconcerned by the unfolding mayhem around her. If anything she looked begrudgingly expectant as she huffed and grumbled under her breath, scrubbing at her glasses with more vigor than was required.

"If this Black is who we're searching for, then let us see what time and experience has done for our young charge. If he cannot handle even these, then what possible use will be in the war against Voldemort?' the elder suggested calmly in hushed tones, his blue eyes twinkling in anticipation.

For six months and more he and his younger counterpart had searched in vain, until stories had reached their inquisitive ears regarding the almost _magical _abilities of a young Marshal in Wyoming. Thus they found themselves in this charming hamlet: Bryer's Gulch.

The younger of the two snorted in disapproval, but otherwise made no move toward interfering, however much his instincts told him to do just that, especially given that his enhanced senses detected a scent that he hadn't noted for more than ten years.

Ten years… it was hard to believe it was already ten years since Sirius died and Harry disappeared. Years and years spent fruitlessly searching until all hope was exhausted.

Ten years ago he'd held Harry back from going into the veil after Sirius in the Death Chamber in the Hall of Mysteries. It was now ten years since Harry had broken free from his own grief laden arms to presumably go after Bellatrix Lestrange, only to have never been seen again.

They'd thought he'd been captured, turned to the dark even, but no… surely Voldemort would have gloated over and rubbed their faces in such a turn of fate.

They then thought he'd run away; his grief having got the better of him. So he and the order had searched the world over without the barest sign of his presence or passing by.

It was only after the unfortunate Death Eater who'd been captured within the time stream in the Hall of Time, (from that night when Harry and company stormed the ministry in a supposed rescue attempt), had finally been removed from his unending torment, that a glimmer of a clue had been gleaned regarding the possible whereabouts of one: Harry Potter.

Hermione Weasley had been instrumental in the removal of the Death Eater who was held captive in the time stream. His head going from infant to ancient and back again… over and over for nearly a decade before he was finally, safely removed. If one could call it that, as he'd been safely removed, only with a teenage head upon his mature shoulders.

Hermione had discovered that a time shift of some ten minutes had occurred, at least that was what the control panel had been set for. However, the Death Eater captured in the time stream had acted as a ripple, causing shifts in the time/space continuum. Ten minutes had been altered as the Death Eater de-aged. Ten minutes had become minus a hundred and ten years… Not the ten minutes initially hoped for.

Given the time of the original setting, it hadn't taken much of a stretch to unravel the mystery of mysteries.

Harry had attempted to go back ten minutes in time to prevent Sirius falling through the veil, only to have inadvertently got caught in the time stream and sent back a hundred and ten years, give or take the ten minutes being a matter of complete indifference at that point.

They hadn't found any evidence of Harry the world over because he no longer existed in this point in time.

Once discovered, Dumbledore had petitioned the courts and the ministry to allow the search for Harry to continue in the past.

He was met with uncertainty, as many argued that the time stream itself may have already been catastrophically altered, and if not; then certainly the addition of still more displaced individuals in the past would certainly accomplish that unthinkable outcome. And so; Harry Potter would remain exiled to the annals of history.

That was until Voldemort had overcome all avenues of resistance and now was on the brink of total victory over magical Europe, let alone England.

The people, those that hadn't already fled the continent, cried out in terror for a savior to rid them of their evil.

The savior they cried out for was far beyond their reach, _currently._

At the brink of defeat, the ministry had recanted, seeing little difference by destruction and subjugation at Voldemort's hands over the possible altering of the timeline spelling their doom. One was a certainty, the other a possibility.

The revelation of the ' Potter/Voldemort's prophesy' had been all the convincing Dumbledore had needed at that point.

The rest, as they say, _is history_.

Dumbledore held Remus Lupin's forearm in a death grip beneath their table. They dared not interfere lest they cause ripples that would destroy the future in its entirety. That being the case they could well return to a void, trapped in endless night for all time, or worse, a future ruled by foulest evil.

The saloon doors parted and a lean figure wearing a black Stetson that shadowed his face, peered through from between the parted doors.

He wore a dark brown duster, well-worn jeans and a pair of black dust covered boots that made them appear milky gray at best.

Hands of the pursued drifted toward pistol grips, halting nervously when the young marshal spoke out in warning.

"Last chance Royce?"

"A noose is waiting for us compliments of Finch, Black. One way's sure, the other's a sure thing," he threatened with more bravado than he currently felt.

Few men had ever stared down Jamie Black and fewer still had lived to tell it-whole.

"One way's possible, but at least if worse comes to worst you'll get a last meal, and maybe even a sympathetic whore before you take a hard drop and hear the muffled snap of your neck before you're off to see Jesus. My way and you'll get neither, but you'll still have to square things with Jesus after," the marshal warned.

_Some people can't see the forest for the trees_.

Hands went to holsters like all hell was riding herd on them.

The air filled with gun smoke at the deafening report of four colts, a Winchester and a double barreled twelve gauge, filled the silence of the saloon. Splinters of wood filled the air as the doors to the saloon were blasted to pieces. Windows shattered and gouges of wood tore up the walls as the gunmen emptied their weapons into the front of the saloon, leaving nothing to chance, as word was the only thing worse than Jamie Black on your tail was a _wounded_ Jamie Black on your tail.

As the last deafening rapport echoed away into the countryside, a throat clearing from behind had the outlaw gang spinning on their boot heels in disbelief.

There was Jamie Black calmly sipping a drink, leaning against the far end of the bar. His eyes were shrouded by the brim of his Stetson, but the smirk of his jaw was unmistakable.

Exclamations of stunned surprise gave way to yelps of panic. Hands hastily flew to gun belts, retrieving bullets that their shaking fingers could scarcely dislodge let alone stuff into their guns' waiting chambers as fast as their fear of hell demanded.

The marshal finished his drink and returned the glass to the bar. He smoothly pushed away from the bar, standing upright. With a practiced ease his hands pulled back the lapels of his duster, freeing his pair of colts. His hands slid down to loosely grip the butt of each colt jutting out of the body of each holster as he waited with grim resolve.

Bullets filled chambers and cylinders spun as hammers were pulled back and rifled barrels came up with deadly intent.

The outlaws never got off a shot despite having cocked and leveled their weapons first. Not a single round was fired from them as guns fell from hands that were now intent on trying to staunch the flow of precious blood from already dying bodies.

The marshal strode forward, stopping at the gasping form of Red Royce who was mewling despondently on his knees, his hands grasping his abdomen as blood seeped from between his trembling fingers.

"Help-p...p-please…" he begged pathetically, his haughty behavior from moments before having fled in the face of his waning mortality.

"Judge Finch and a new rope suddenly seem a better option to you, Red?" the marshal asked facetiously ,as he blew out the powder residue from the still smoking barrel of his left hand pistol, he'd never even drawn the right and he was purportedly right handed.

"A-Anything…" the man whined, adding fretfully, "I d-don't wanna die!"

"Then you shouldn't have taken to killin, Red. You got to like it in the war and thought to make a living out of it after. Now, you're finding out the flip side ain't to your liking. Tough shite! We all die, Red. You best get on with it as there ain't no stopping the reaper when a man's gut shot. That dark blood spilling out of you is from your liver and there's only one way to go from there...six feet down," the marshal promised with grim certainty.

"I…I'll see you in hell…. B-Black...ughh…" with that last gasp, Red Royce pitched forward and fell face first into a puddle of his own blood.

"Most likely," Jamie Black answered his already cooling adversary.

**Present…**

His guns reloaded and re-holstered, Jamie went back to his spot at the bar and recollected his glass, shooting the barmaid a pointed look.

With a weary sigh and an indulgent roll of the eyes, the bar maid refilled his glass and held out her hand expectantly.

The Marshal passed her a silver coin, but her fingers made a grasping motion as she reminded...

"The damage?"

He smirked at that. Three gold coins followed the silver one which the maid snapped her hand close around before he could change his mind.

"Thanks Jamie," she chirruped, smiling for the first time.

"Sorry about the mess, Amy. " He tipped his hat, scooping up the bottle with one hand and a spare pair of glasses along with his own in the other.

"Don't be," she chastised. "Red was a pig. He and his gang of turds roughed up some of my girls pretty bad. Sally's over at Doc Haverson's getting patched up."

The marshal paused and turned back toward the matron. He set down the bottle, pulled another gold coin out from beneath his duster and placed it firmly into the matron's protesting hand, instructing..."Make sure Sally gets taken care of proper."

Reluctantly the matron accepted the offer, complimenting as she did, "Always the gentleman, Jamie."

The marshal snorted derisively at that, as he tipped his hat and turned back and collected the glasses and whiskey bottle.

Without any hesitation he walked over to the two waiting wizards, pulled out a chair and seated himself, pouring each of the two several fingers worth of bourbon. He tipped his glass to the two and downed his drink in a single go.

The elder sipped at his glass experimentally, his younger counterpart mimicked the marshal and paid for it as he coughed violently on the harsh liquor.

The marshal clapped his parents' last true friend on the back several times until he regained his composure.

"Can't be worse than wolfsbane potion, Remus?" he chuckled.

"Harry, it's you...it's really you?!" Remus gasped, excitedly trying to peer under the brim of the marshal's hat to get a better look at his face.

"It's Jamie, Remus. There ain't no Harry here; hasn't been for a long time. Besides, Harry Potter isn't a fittin' name for a territorial marshal. Jamie Black sounds a lot more imposing, dontcha think?" He smirked at that.

"Indeed yes," Dumbledore agreed, his own eyes twinkly madly as he continued to sip at his drink, deciding he liked it more and more with each trial.

Remus was trying desperately to keep from jumping forward and engulfing his once pseudo nephew in a rib cracking hug. He was held at bay by the dark vibe coming off Jamie Black, in that he didn't give the impression that he would appreciate such a gesture.

They had expected to find a much younger and far more gracious Harry Potter, but time is an uncertain thing and despite their best efforts they found their wayward savior grown and much changed from the boy they once knew.

Harry Potter didn't carry a wand, but a pair of guns, something that was anathema to any self-respecting wizard.

Once each had had a chance to organize their thoughts, Albus started the conversation, or in his case- recrimination.

"Was it necessary to kill these men? Were there no more readily available and more morally acceptable alternatives than just common murder?" he both accused and lectured in the same breath.

His views were unasked for, and by his supposed charge's reaction,unwanted.

"I'm no longer a school boy in your charge so save your lecture for your awe struck, if not misguided, students and leave the work of men to men-bureaucrat," he rebuffed with a distasteful sneer. "I was ordered to bring in these men alive if possible, dead if necessary, but either way- death was in their imminent future. We give just one chance, around these parts, to redeem yourself. You blow it, you die. Either a public hanging or a more violent, albeit, more expedient death, awaits those the marshals are tasked with bringing to justice. Around these parts you don't buy or connive your way to freedom. You earn it. After that it's up to you whether or not it's a permanent thing or merely temporary. Bottom line; Dumble-do-gooder… keep your pansy-arse morality standards to yourself, and shut your furry gab over things you don't and can't possibly understand." He bit off warningly that last.

Dumbledore's eyes went wide in surprise; shocked that for the first time in recent memory anyone had dared challenge his authority, let alone not show him the utmost respect.

This was not the pliable and appreciative Harry Potter he'd expected to find.

"Harry…!" Remus interjected, obviously aghast at the way his mentor was being received."You should show the headmaster more respect. He…"

Jamie Black held up an impatient hand halting Remus' reprimand, "He ain't my headmaster, nor is he the judge I answer to. He's a nosy old man who's here only because he wants something, not because he wants to give something. Let me guess… trouble with Tom Riddle, aka-Voldemort?" He sneered suspiciously, knowing before they could answer that he'd hit the mark. A long time ago he had cometo the realization that no one was coming to rescue him, and if they did, it was only because they wanted something, not because they actually gave a hang about him in the first place.

Remus nodded his head solemnly, but Dumbledore took up the opportunity to plead their case believing he could work on Harry's compassion as he'd done on numerous occasions as a child.

"Tom Riddle is slowly, but inexorably, taking over Europe, whilst England grows weaker by the day, fighting a losing battle to try and hold his forces in check, let alone actually repel or even defeat the man. The Weasleys are living at headquarters as the Burrow was destroyed in a firefight that took both Percy and Charles, leaving the rest of them homeless and despondent. Hermione's parents were killed shortly after you disappeared and she's never been quite the same since, having already taken your loss very hard. Neville Longbottom lost an arm in one such encounter with Death Eaters, but he and Luna are still fighting the good fight and…"

Dumbledore halted his pitch at Jamie Black's raised a hand for him to desist.

"Not my problem," he commented with grim resolve.

"Not your problem?" Remus blurted aghast, raising his voice to press on, "Not your problem?! This is your home and your friends we're talking about. You can't possibly turn your back on…"

Jamie talked over the man, Remus' tirade dying in his throat. "Not-my-problem." He pressed on with deliberate assuredness. "They're not even born yet and I'm long since out of sight and out of mind. Tell you what though, since you've got such a hard-on for all things Voldemort, I'll make a point of visiting the bugger after he hatches and putting him out of your misery. So, head on back and see what's what in a "Voldemort free world" when you get there." That said, he pushed himself back from the table and calmly walked away before either could even begin to entreat him further. By that their next gambit would be either to beg , coerce or downright threaten, though what they could possibly use as leverage was another matter entirely.

Jamie tipped his hat to the barmaid on his way out, who shot him a wan smile and a shake of the head for his trouble.

Moments later the sound of hooves trotting away heralded his departure from the two shocked wizards who were still contemplating Jamie Black's dread intention.

Jamie rose and re-holstered the colt he kept to hand under his pillow whilst he slept. Only a fool kept his guns out of reach whilst sleeping. The people he dealt with weren't big on common courtesy, ie… they'd shoot you in the back or kill you in your sleep rather than meeting you face to face.

These were desperados, not duelists.

Using a hand pump at his kitchen sink, he washed his close-cropped hair and face, along with any other parts he could readily reach.

His cabin wasn't much, but it was his. He had an eat-in kitchen with modern conveniences such as a magical cooling cupboard and a hand pump to draw water directly from his well.

A small but comfortable living room, with a leather sofa and an arm chair before a stone fireplace, and one bedroom with a magical water closet and magical laundry attached.

It wasn't elegant, but it was comfortable and it was his, along with the dozen acres of land it sat on, which included plenty of water access and a variety of magical and non-magical game; one such he'd developed a working relationship if not friend ship with.

Donning buckskin pants, wool shirt and snakeskin boots, he belted his holster on and tied down his guns, to ease the action of his draw primarily, but also to not hinder movement if pursuit was required.

Black Stetson pulled down low over his brow, he went out to greet the new day's adventure.

The adventure was, unfortunately, waiting for him when he opened the door.

"Pleasant day to you, Har, er…I mean Marshal Black," Dumbledore hastily amended at seeing the immediate glare his use of the given name instilled.

By the look of things, the two had spent the better part of sunrise waiting for him to emerge from his cabin, as they were making themselves at home on his porch furniture, taking the liberty of turning the furniture toward his doorway so as not to leave their backs exposed.

He had to give them one for being wisely cautious.

"Can't you find something better to do with yourselves?" he scowled irritably. "I said I'll take care of Voldemort when the time comes and I will. As that should readily conclude our business, piss off and go bother somebody who gives a rat's fart for your hardship."

He tipped his hat and stepped down off his porch-stair, intent on leaving them where they stood for however long they decided to stand there doing nothing. He couldn't care less how long that was as he was confident they couldn't breach the wards on his cabin and he intended to be gone for the next month or so anyway.

"We did go back and things are the same; Voldemort's still alive," Remus complained hollowly.

Black stopped in his tracks, his back stiffening at that bit of information. He was surprised given the fact that he had truly intended to kill the bastard and wasn't just blowing smoke to get the pair off his back.

He never turned around, but spoke slowly and succinctly so as there would be no misunderstanding between them.

"That means I didn't survive long enough to finish him first."

"Or you just didn't bother to try?" Remus suggested darkly.

Black turned around slowly at that, and fixed Remus with the steely gaze that most would avoid at all costs around these parts.

"I don't say what I don't mean, unlike this old geezer here," he thumbed in Dumbledore's direction for emphasis, inwardly gladdened to see that his intentional barb unsettled the old man.

Yes, he knew that Dumbledore had been setting him up to be his willing dupe all along.

Before Dumbledore could try needlessly to diffuse his ire with some feigned grandfatherly act, he asked pointedly: "So what now?"

Dumbledore recited the prophesy verbatim, following with: "As you can plainly see, it is beholden on you to come back with us and face your destiny in destroying Voldemort as you were prophesized to do," Dumbledore suggested with nothing of a suggestion, but more of a demand in his voice.

Black tipped his hat up so they could see the incredulous look in his eyes. "It says nothing of the sort. Only that I have _the power_ to do it, not that I'll succeed. If I didn't make it to his first birthday party then obviously I wasn't meant to succeed in the first place. As usual Dumbles, you're interpreting things to suit yourself for your own warped version of the "Greater Good," he bit off, contemptuously drawing quotation marks in the air.

Acting shocked and dismayed, which he probably was but to a lesser extent, Dumbledore beseeched in his best grandfatherly voice, "I have only ever done what I felt was necessary for the benefit of all concerned, and while I may not have done exactly well by you Harry, I fail to see what I could have possibly done to have earned such contempt for my person on your part?"

"Sure you do" Black returned sarcastically. "I'm supposed to believe that the great puppeteer suddenly doesn't know what strings he pulled which directly destroyed several lives? You must think me the foolishly naïve fifth year I once was. I suppose it messed up your game plan finding not a pliable boy, but a full grown and fully trained wizard, who was **not** waiting for your overdue arrival to save the day?"

"Harry… I…please, you wound me… I…" Dumbledore's stuttering attempt to implore forgiveness or at the least forbearance was abruptly cut off.

"Save it. I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, let alone fight your battles for you."

Dumbledore stood staring blankly, his mouth wordlessly working through the confusion over someone not wholeheartedly accepting him at his word, let alone not readily acquiescing to his requests without a thought to the contrary.

This was new and unexplored territory to the famed "Leader of the Light".

His eyes softening slightly, Black turned his attention to Dumbledore's stunned companion. "I can't say it isn't nice to see you once again Remus, though I am sorry for your lot, but I won't help. I did that once and many times over. All I have to show for my trouble is an empty family tree. My advice to you is to get out and explore new horizons. Britain may be where magic began, but it's not where it ends, not by a long shot. There are other people and other cultures that are for more understanding than dreary old England. Find acceptance, Remus. Grab on with both hands and never let go. Give yourself the life you deserve, not the life that England's intolerance forces upon you and yours."

That said, Black tipped his hat and turned to leave. He put his fingers to his lips and blew a piercing whistle that echoed out into the hillside.

"Har… er… I mean Jamie, wait, I have something for you." Remus hastily amended his name, holding out a note for his consideration.

Black eyed the note suspiciously before blowing out a long suffering sigh and accepting the missive.

"Hermione, right?' he asked, already knowing the answer as he recognized the penmanship denoting his given name.

Remus nodded hopefully.

Unfolding the note he found a short but poignant reminder of what once was.

**Dearest Harry,**

**I know from talking with Remus and Professor Dumbledore that you have chosen to remain in the past and that you have pledged yourself toward eliminating Voldemort before he grows into the monster he will become.**

**The fact that you are reading this now shows that you were unsuccessful in the attempt. Knowing you, as I once did and hope still do; this means you either died preceding his birth or in the attempt.**

**Either way, our lives here are still a misery. Every day the shadow Voldemort casts grows darker, more cold and unforgiving. Every day our numbers decrease and soon we will join our fallen family and friends. I do not say this to guilt you or try to manipulate you, I merely state the facts of what is and what soon will be.**

**Perhaps I am even dead by the time you read this; a strange concept, as by your timeline I have yet to be born.**

**I wish I could go back in time too, but our lives and our fate are here. My parents lived and died here and I feel I owe it to them to fight in their memory. I respect your decision and I don't blame you, not for a second; you did all that could have been expected of you and far more than anyone should have ever expected from a teenage wizard.**

**I hope you find in the past what you were denied in the future, Harry. The one consolation I take with me is knowing that when I die; you will already be on the other side waiting for me. That thought comforts me more than I can possibly express in a few written words.**

**Until we meet again,… all my love, 'Mione**

It had been ten years; ten long, lonely, difficult years, and now it was as if his once friends were reaching out to him and the ministerial battle had taken place only yesterday. In his own defense, he had forgotten what it was to be needed, cherished even, by the friends you made and called your family once upon a time.

That time was over a hundred years away, but it still happened, or would happen, either way, they were there and they needed him.

He didn't owe anyone anything here. He made sure of that as he paid his debts when he made them or as soon as possible thereafter.

He did owe his friends something though; they had fought and suffered without even having been asked to help. They had done so because they were his friends.

No, they are his friends. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna were his friends and like before, only in reverse; they weren't asking, but could he do less than what they had done freely and of their own accord for him?

He couldn't.

Carefully he folded up Hermione's note and tucked it into his shirt's chest pocket.

To Remus he instructed: "I'll be coming back with you Remus. I need a few days to put my affairs in order, though. "

"Of course, Harry, er… Jamie… and thank you," Remus returned gratefully, his face looking extremely relieved by this change of heart.

"Excellent, Excellent…" Dumbledore began to bluster, clapping his hands together expectantly.

"Don't get you knickers in a twist old man. I'm not going back to make you look good and there are conditions to my assistance."

Dumbledore visibly deflated at that. "Conditions?' he asked worriedly.

Black nodded. "I take care of Voldemort my way, in my own time. That done, I'm returned here to this time and never bothered by you and yours again."

"But Harry, you can't expect that…" Dumbledore began to argue, but was cut off before he could get up a head of steam.

"No interference and I return here after the job is done, non-negotiable, " he reminded sharply.

"If I refuse?" Dumbledore responded coolly, fingering his wand to emphasize his intention to take Harry with him either way.

"Then Remus will have to make do with taking your corpse back in my stead," Black warned, lowering his palms to just above the handles of his colts.

For split second Dumbledore contemplated stunning the young man and returning him against his will.

For split second, Black thought Dumbledore was about to find out that his expiration date had at last; come due.

Along those lines he gave the old man fair warning. "You'll be gasping out your last trying to plug the leak in your guts before your wand tip even starts to glow."

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Dumbledore lived up to his reputation and _wisely_ pocketed his wand within his robes.

"Agreed," Dumbledore accepted the terms with a note of resignation.

"I assume you're still head of the Wizengamot?"Black inquired.

"I am," the old man acknowledged.

"Then I want it in writing. Again, non-negotiable," Black insisted.

Sighing wearily, Dumbledore withdrew some already prepared documentation from his robes and proffered it cautiously, in a non-threatening manner, forward.

With an incredulous snort, Black cautiously waved a hand over the document, startling the two wizards when the document glowed blue indicating it was free of hexes, port keys and the like.

They were stunned speechless by such a casual display of wandless magic. Clearly there was more to Black than either had even remotely considered.

Black accepted the document and proceeded to read it.

He hadn't even started before Remus asked the obvious;"You can do wandless magic?"

"Obviously," Black returned absently. as he carefully continued reading the document.

"Then why even bother with _guns_?" Remus blurted out, that last word as if it were vile to the tongue.

"Looks can be deceiving," Black replied mysteriously. He'd finished the document and murmured "acceptable,", pocketing the document alongside Hermione's missive.

Remus was still waiting for more of an explanation, but was wasting his time asDumbledore knew. He'd spent his life dealing with and being cautious of such men as Jamie Black was proving to be, and he was right in that; this was not Harry Potter. This was indeed: Jamie Black.

They had badly misjudged and misinterpreted their quarry from the outset. It was not a mistake that Dumbledore intended to make again. Begrudgingly, he was beginning to respect Mr. Black as was his due.

"Alright, I've got things to do and places to be. Meet me here at first light three days from now. You don't show, I don't go, which will be fine and dandy by me." He was about to abruptly turn away in dismissal as he intended to go about his business, but thought better of it and held back, turning toward Remus. He tapped his shoulder with his palm and a brief red glow enveloped Remus for a split second, fading as abruptly as it came.

Before Remus could ask, he explained.. "I've set the wards to accept you. You're welcome to stay here if you like." That said, he turned his attention to an anticipating Dumbledore. "You ain't welcome in the house, so it's the stables; if Shade will have ya."

Dumbledore's mustached mouth drooped in disappointment, but he recovered slightly to venture… "Er, Shade?"

"My horse." Black smirked, enjoying the look of outrage that ghosted across the old man's face.

"Ah, couldn't he just room with me?" Remus came to the old man's rescue.

"No." Black cut him off without a moment's consideration.

"He ain't nosin' about my place unsupervised. Bad enough that Shade has to put up with him as it is, though I recon he'll keep the old goat in line well enough." At that, Jamie Black laughed conspiratorially, put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle.

A night-black mare with glowing red eyes whinnied as it galloped up from around the edge of the cabin. The mare came to a halt directly in front of Black and nudged him fondly with its snout.

"There's a good girl," he complimented fondly patting her flank with one hand as his other hand slipped into his pocket and retrieved a cube of sugar with which to treat his mare.

The two wizards stared goggling at the horse, their eyes sliding back and forth between the marshal and his mount in stunned disbelief.

Finally Remus blurted out the obvious. "A night mare!"

"Isn't she a beauty? Takes after her mother. Which reminds me… Shade, I'm going over to the res for a spell, you wanta come along and visit you're kin 'cause otherwise you'll have to share your stable with that furry old lady over there?". He thumbed toward Dumbledore, who held a distinct look of waning patience, but otherwise held his tongue.

It would not do to be upsetting Black, lest he return home empty handed again. That, and he was decidedly wary of Mr. Black's talents. Judging by his reflexes and speed with the firearms he carried, Dumbledore was not wanting to risk a sample of either those or any other talents as yet unrevealed.

The way the boy he once knew carried himself as an adult bespoke someone who was entirely confident in his abilities.

All that aside, there was no way that he was going to share any sort of confined space with something as notably unpredictable as a nightmare. They were outlawed in Britain and with good reason.

Nightmares were said to be able to run so fast that they could even traverse water for short distances. They were legendarily temperamental and rarely if ever bonded with humans, not that any self-respecting wizard would foolishly seek their company.

Nightmares, as their names implied, also had the ability to enter dreams and act as a spirit reason they were named as such was because they often revealed the absolute worst possible present and future probabilities, so much so, that many of their hosts died in their sleep from heart failure.

It was with a new found respect that Dumbledore considered Marshal Black, as historically, only the pure of heart could risk bonding with nightmares and survive continued encounters for any length of time without suffering lethally from the experience. That, and or, Harry Potter's legendary courage was on a scale as yet unheard of.

Shade eyed the old man, who fixed her with his most innocently innocuous expression. Shade snorted a few times, sniffing the air around Dumbledore, before decidedly shaking her head in the absolute negative as she snorted in absolute contempt over the prospect.

Dumbledore, despite his relief, showed a hint of his own likewise feelings on the matter in that he wanted nothing to do with the er… _horse._

Black settled his mount with several reassuring strokes along its gleaming neck. "Can't say as I blame ya; the old geezer used to give me nightmares too."

"Alright then, fetch your saddle and we'll be on our way," he instructed, and the horse trotted off happily with an added swish of its tail in Dumbledore's direction to show its continued disdain.

"Well really?" The old man grumped, offended.

"Good judge of character, nightmares." Black chuckled darkly.

The mare returned with the saddle in question dangling from its maw like a retriever bringing its master the evening newspaper.

Black strapped on the saddle whilst his mount waited patiently. No sooner was the saddle cinched into place before he pulled himself up into the saddle, tipped his hat in Remus' direction, and clicked his tongue whilst giving the reins a quick shake. The mare whinnied, rearing up, pawing its hooves at the air before launching forward in full gallop. A blink of an eye later, no more than a dust cloud on the horizon signaled their departure, leaving the two wizards gaping in consternation.

Remus availed himself of his host's hospitality, finding his cabin a charmingly comfortable, if somewhat quaint, lodging. He passed the time reading from Black's humble though somewhat thoroughly well stocked library, which consisted solely of a three shelved case built into one wall, but for all that, he'd managed to collect many ancient texts on magical theory and practice, along with a smattering of many literary classics.

Additionally, there were several manuscripts that appeared to be written in Black's own hand, if memory served regarding Harry's scrawl,though the language was something he couldn't begin to decipher, had it not been for a few strategically well drawn pictograms which provided clues to specific spells and conjurations. Many of the works appeared to center on a more spirit form of magical practices, raising Remus suspicions regarding just what his friend's son had been up to these past many years.

What he didn't know but suspected, was that Harry Potter had hardly been idly in the time he was disconnected from his previous life.

He'd grown up, and had definitely grown out, from the time he'd disappeared as a grief stricken fifth year to the young, but well matured and highly competent, man they'd surprisingly found.

The only question wasis he still was a practicing wizard or had he foregone magic for a simpler, more direct means to an end? He was after all, for all intents and purposes, living in a more rustic era.

Albus was greatly troubled by one,Jamie Black, Remus far less so, though neither knew much about him other than what they based on the boy he'd once been by comparison to their rudimentary first impressions of the man he now was.

Albus based his opinion thus far primarily on what he'd viewed in that Marshal; Jamie Black was a man of intense, crude violence. At least that's what he perceived to be the case. His version of the "the greater good" was that, _his version_. Many of the Order, Remus included, had found to their regret that Albus Dumbledore's archaic notions of perpetual forgiveness for heinous crimes had contributed greatly to their current predicament. They were losing a war to criminals that had been incarcerated time and again only to either buy their way to freedom, or just plan escape confinement, to commit further atrocities and get no more than the same previous sentence once apprehended, and thereby repeat the cycle over and and over again.

Remus had great respect for Albus Dumbledore and all he'd accomplished and attempted to accomplish, but for all that; he was not who and what they needed if they had any chance for their society's survival. There was a reason Harry Potter was named in _the prophesy_ to defeat Voldemort. Just as there was a reason that Albus Dumbledore was not the 'Chosen One'. That reason had nothing to do with age or infirmity, but with ability and along those lines, the conviction to win a brutal war by whatever means necessary.

Voldemort was a cruel megalomaniac with a sadistic streak a mile wide. Monsters of Voldemort's caliber were not defeated mercifully, or moralistically for that matter. Rabid dogs were put down harshly and expediently for a reason.

Remus saw with more than his eyes; he saw with his heart. He saw the boy he once knew in the man. He saw first and foremost a survivor. He couldn't fathom how Harry could have survived being displaced a hundred plus years into a simpler yet harsher time period with no viable means of support, not even a completed education to fall back on, and certainly not one that could have prepared him for this drastic a change. Most would have ended the victim of fate or taken their own life out of fear and despair. Harry though, Harry was made of sterner stuff.

Next, and quite telling, Harry had taken the names of his two fathers and made them his own. Remus knew that this had little to do with how Jamie Black rolled off the tongue and more to do with honor and remembrance.

Odd, that, given that James and Sirius had yet to be born, their child claimed their names to remember them. Yes, odd, for anyone but Harry Potter.

Remus had no qualms in calling him Jamie Black as he preferred. He was the product of two men he admired. Yes, Remus saw with his heart, and what he saw thus far was by no means a disappointment.

Harry may not show Albus Dumbledore any respect; which immediately made him unworthy in the elder man's eyes, but then again, maybe Harry had good reason for the way he felt and acted.

One could claim on one hand that their friends and family had survived thus far as a result of Dumbledore's guidance. On the other hand, one could claim they'd suffered the losses they had directly due to the old man's mistakes.

It was more than that though; Harry had seemed to instinctively dislike Dumbledore from the moment they reconnected. Apparently Harry had done some soul searching as he matured and the end result left Dumbledore wanting in his eyes.

Yes, apparently Harry had come to the same conclusion as many of the Order, only it had taken him far less time to do so.

Tomorrow would prove to be an interesting day once they returned to England in the present.

**Tomorrow**

**Sploosh**

"Ack Gaaaa!" A drenched Dumbledore came awake gasping and holding his chest as if to ward off a cardiac arrest.

"Wake up ya fuzzy slacker. Morning's half gone and you're still a-bed?" "Jamie Black scolded, tossing the now empty water bucket aside.

"It's the middle of the night?!" Dumbledore complained, pointing at the starlit sky outside the barn's open shuttered window.

"England's eight hours ahead of our present location, or did you fancy returning in the middle of the night and trying to explain our _after hou_r presence to the Unspeakables on guard? Probably end up locked in a holding cell? Not that it wouldn't solve the problem of what to do with a useless old cogger like you once we return, but me… I've got better things to do than to monitor your senile old arse."

"Now see here!" Dumbledore blustered indignantly, his eyes ablaze and the air around him crackling with magical discharge.. "You start showing me the proper respect and I mean right now…urp!" Dumbledore's eyes crossed staring down the barrel of one of Jamie Black's colts. He didn't know what he found more unsettling; the fact that someone, anyone, was actually daring to threaten him, or the fact that Black had moved so fast that he hadn't even registered the movement until far too late to prevent his current predicament.

"Save your intimidation tactics for school children you decrepit old bungler." Jamie pulled back the barrel from beneath Dumbledore's nose and spun the colt backward at a terrifying speed, sliding it, without a hitch, into its holstered home.

Dumbledore blinked twice in shocked surprise. He hadn't thought it possible that anyone could move so quickly, not even a former seeker with Harry Potter's exceptional reflexes.

How he wished he showed such familiarity with a wand. They might actually have a chance to win the war if that were the case.

He couldn't know how wrong he was on both counts.

Dumbledore drew and displayed his wand slowly, in a non-threatening manner, mindful of Black's narrowed eyes watching his intentions closely. He waved his wand and dried his sodden moon and star robes.

"All ready to go, my boy," he pronounced in his best grandfatherly tone and re-pocketed his wand.

Black rolled his eyes. "I was hoping those were pajamas," he groused. "I see you still dress like you're going to some medieval costume ball, and I ain't 'your boy'." he warned, enjoying the way the old man's moustache drooped on both counts.

Black was dressed in heavy jeans with dark brown, near black, boots, that matched the color of his Stetson hat and the scaled duster he was wearing. The lapels of his duster were pulled back over the holsters of his colts, freeing the action. He wore a dark, near black-green, cavalry shirt with golden buttons securing one flap over the other, that could be opened in warmer weather and buttoned back on the other side of his chest. He wore a gleaming golden badge over his heart. The badge was unlike the one they first saw him wearing, but Dumbledore failed to take in account that the inscription too was different and not just the color.

Jamie turned away from Dumbledore without comment, fully expecting the headmaster to follow in his wake.

Much to the chagrin of the headmaster, he did just that.

Black paused to heft a, well broken in, saddle up over his left shoulder and hold it by it horn with his left hand. He did so with surprising ease, despite what was probably a good seventy-five pounds of leather and silver accent buckled fastenings.

"Surely you don't intend to try and bring your mount back with us?" Dumbledore gaped incredulously, thinking to take the opportunity to enter into lecture mode and put the insufferable man in his place.

"The time portal is only calibrated for we three individuals and the added mass of a horse could see us fused in death at worse or hopelessly castaway in another time and place."

"Don't be daft," Black admonished with a roll of his eyes, turning away disgustedly from Dumbledore as he moved to the door of his barn and called back over his shoulder…

"The saddle's for you, ya stupid old mule." He chuckled darkly, leaving Dumbledore shocked into speechlessness.

**Present**

The portal opened with a deafening crack as if the fabric of the very universe was tearing open - and so it was; blueish-white light filled the chamber as three man-shaped forms walked forward, their shapes solidifying and becoming more distinct as they seemed to be walking right out of the afterlife.

The figure in the middle was larger and more indistinct than the other two, and Hermione feared that something had gone wrong in her calculations, causing some form of fused mutation, or perhaps they had mistakenly tried to bring back two persons instead of one, thereby corrupting the time steam calibration.

Her worry, she realized, was misplaced, as what did it all matter anyway;it was far too late, and they were all dead already.

The light paled and winked out, leaving those present in the time chamber to shake their heads, trying to dispel the cobwebs and flashes before their over stimulated eyes.

When their vision cleared, a black uniformed Hermione Granger sighed both in relief and disappointment that she had performed her task correctly and had safely, or _supposedly safely,_ returned the three to their present time. The indistinct blob, she realized, was a heavily jacketed man with a cowboy hat, holding, surprisingly, a saddle over his left shoulder.

She couldn't see his face until his hat tipped upward and intense green eyes caught her own liquid brown ones.

Her breath hitched in recognition. Despite the endless years that had separated them, she would have known those eyes anywhere.

No longer painfully thin and drawn, a broad shouldered, lean, Harry Potter stood before her. His face was a tad on the thin side, but still full, with high cheek bones and a strong jaw.

The cute boy he'd once been had grown into a handsome, rugged man.

As ecstatic as she was to see him, she wished he hadn't've come. The warning of which was reflected in her eyes.

Piercing green eyes narrowed suspiciously as his nostrils flared, catching the scent in the room even faster than Remus' werewolf enhanced senses did.

According to his senses there was only one female in the room as his eyes could plainly see, but there was four other men that he couldn't see as well.

Two in front of them, one to either side of Hermione. as her shifting eyes indicated, and if he were a betting man, which he was, there were two stationed just behind, all of them under invisibility cloaks.

Black dropped his saddle and before it hit the ground he had already drawn his colts. The report echoed deafeningly through the stone chamber as both pistols fired, and blood sprayed out of nowhere to either side of Hermione who was too shocked to move. That's what Black originally thought in that split second before he launched himself into the air, twisting around as he flew bodily toward Hermione.

He had realized that she was under a _petrification curse_ and could neither move nor defend herself. His body shielded her's as he fired several times toward the left rear wall, behind where they had emerged Remus already firing his wand into the right rear wall, his enhanced sense of smell betraying the general location of his adversary.

A_ reductor curse_ caught the cloaked Death Eater, but didn't put him down as he managed to fire off a cutting hex that caught Black's right shoulder, spraying blood into the face of a petrified Hermione who was silently screaming in both fear and worry for her once friend.

_Once friend?_ She hated herself for even thinking of their friendship in the past tense. Theirs was the sort of friendship that transcended time, as current events now indicated. They had been and always would be the best of friends.

Twisting back from the impact, Black bit back a growl, and fired off a hurried shot in the spot where he'd seen the spell originate and to the left and down, tracking the direction of Remus' spell and extrapolating the angle of decent that a body would fall after having been hit by said spell. He was rewarded by a scream cut short and the sound of a body falling dead immediately after his third shot.

"Remus?" he called out in concern.

"I'm alright. I wasn't hit." Remus growled predatorily, his senses still on high alert.

Jamie nodded in relief before barking out at an obviously appalled Dumbledore, "Make yourself useful and save your morality speeches for later. Cover the door and cut down anyone that you even suspect has dubious intentions." In after thought he added, "Don't worry about saving any souls, just move them along to the next 'great adventure.'" Jamie chuckled darkly at that.

He nodded Remus toward the spray of blood where his bullets had intersected the idiots and Remus immediately set about de-cloaking and checking their adversaries.

That done and Dumbledore finally getting his head out of his arse, Jamie turned his attention on Hermione whose eyes were both silently pleading for release and still held a profound sense of worry for him and his.

He smiled disarmingly before signaling for secrecy by putting a finger to his lips, before waving a hand and a hastily cast _cleaning charm_ instantly cleaned off the blood splatter. He then touched her forehead and uttered a word in a strange language that she couldn't identify, but whatever he did; she could feel the _paralyzing curse_ dissipate, and she instantly launched herself into his arms. sobbing in both worry and relief.

The words just poured out of her as she vented her worry, relief, fears, and a multitude of emotions, not the least of which was joy at reuniting with her lost friend.

"Oh, God… I prayed you wouldn't come and now… you're hurt. I-It's too late…the ministry's already fallen. Voldemort tortured the minister and found out our plan. I'm sorry I couldn't warn you. I tried to hold them off, but one of them eventually stunned me and then…then you came and I thought I'd have to watch them murder you.. I was so s-scared…" She hiccoughed, the words just pouring out of her mouth as tears fell from worried eyes.

"Shush, now." he cooed gently, holding her tight and shushing her fears. "I'm just fine and glad I came if only to keep you from getting killed,,,or worse," he added pointedly, silently berating himself for his slip as she stiffened at the image his words put in her mind.

Changing tack, he gently pulled back to admire the fretting woman with an appraising eye.

"M'ione you're beautiful. I always knew you'd be a stunner one day. Ron's a lucky fella, that is if he's got his head outta his arse yet?"

"Ron, but we haven't told anyone and... there's a war on, we've no time for any romantic…" Hermione blustered, self-consciously smoothing down her rumpled uniform with one trembling hand while the other tried to comb through her disheveled chestnut locks.

"Oh the hell with that," Black admonished. "There's always time for a kiss here and tickle there, especially if there's a 'war on.' He drew quotation marks in the air, chuckling as she blushed under his scrutiny.

"Same old M'ione… only fooling yourself, God love you for it." He walked around his fidgeting friend, eyeing her critically.

"Nice and lean, long legs and firm backside by the looks of it. Yesiree, you've grown into a fine filly alright."

"What?!" Hermione gasped in mortification as Harry continued his appraisal undaunted by her bristling. " make a good ride with the right training put in…" he commented off handedly, more to himself than her.

"Of all the nerve!" Hermione spun around, covering her bum with one hand and the other poised to slap him across the face.

He caught her hand without the slightest effort, complimenting,"There's the M'ione I remember, but save your claws for the Dung Eaters as I'm sure there's more scattered about that need our immediate attention," he smirked, throwing her a wink that clearly stated a 'Harry Potter' type adventure was about to begin.

She gulped hopefully, (and worriedly), at that, before utterly deflating. "I wish, but it's too late. They've taken the ministry and the Dark Lord has appointed himself minister. England's through. Everyone we know has already fled its shores. I would've left myself when the last battle started, but I couldn't, you were suppose…" the words trailed off fretfully, but he caught the gist of it.

She would have fled with the Weasley's if she hadn't've had to make sure that he had a chance to arrive without being immediately murdered.

He grabbed up her hands and placed a kiss of both appreciation and affection to the back of her them.

Releasing her hands he set about discarding his used brass and reloading his pistols with a practiced ease that was frightening.

Once finished, he ran the cylinders of each down the length of his arm, checking as they spun that each held a bullet in readiness.

"So it's just us then?" he commented off handedly, as he scrutinized each gun before re-holstering and moving on to the next. He held two colts at his hips and another colt was holstered under each arm. He made sure the draw of each was unhindered, and once satisfied he turned his attention toward the tear in the shoulder of his coat.

"Is it bad?" Hermione asked worriedly, moving toward his shoulder with reaching hands.

"Hell yes, I just made the damn thing and _side winders_ ain't easy to come by in these parts," he groused as he scrutinized the gash in his shoulder.

"Not the coat, your arm-_side winders_?! Hermione gasped in alarm, suddenly catching the reference to the hide his coat was supposedly made of. "You mean the snakes that can supposedly fly and spit venom that's acidic? But they're supposed to be extinct!"

He snorted at that. "Like I said, hard to come by." He took a pinch of something that was yellow and pasty out of a leather pouch he wore around his neck, and pressed it into the wound in his shoulder, hissing in pain, before catching himself and sheepishly putting a finger to his lips calling for secrecy, mumbling… "Tough guy," to which Hermione rolled her eyes.

After a moment he sighed in relief, and then proceeded to wave his hand over the tear in his scaly coat and it closed and sealed right before her startled eyes. She was further shocked that the scales were in perfect alignment, something that she couldn't have repaired so perfectly even on her best day and she considered herself quite adept with a wand.

She chanced a look back toward the headmaster and Remus,who were watching the hall and checking the fallen respectively, oblivious to his display of wandless magic, of something that was theoretically impossible.

He caught her eye, and again put his finger to his lips calling for secrecy. Haltingly she nodded her agreement.

"This one's still alive," Remus called out, turning over a groaning Death Eater that had a bullet wound in his upper right shoulder and another gash along the ribs on that side.

"Is he now?" Black acknowledged in feral delight, smiling predatorily.

He stepped over toward the pair, with Hermione in tow, just as Remus was pulling off the groaning man's Death Eater mask and pitching it to the side as if it soiled his hand to touch it.

"Flint," Remus acknowledged, remembering his once-student from years ago.

"Hey ya, Flint," Black greeted, as he tipped up his hat to expose more of his face for the Death Eater's recognition.

"Potter," Flint spat back in disgust, although his eyes took on a fearful, wary edge despite his tone.

Black returned a lopsided grin, pleased to be remembered. "Actually it's Black now, but that isn't really gonna matter to you. No sir, what's about to occupy your undivided attention is the questions I ask and the either positive or negative reinforcement you receive as a direct result to how you do or do not answer said questions."

Remus snorted half a laugh in appreciation to that, whilst Dumbledore vented his outrage in "Mr. Potter?!"

Before he could begin yet another unwanted lecture, Harry drew his gun left handed, and had it pointed at Dumbledore's head without even having to look in his direction, knowing his aim was spot on. His undivided attention was currently occupied with watching Flint squirm.

"I've already made my feeling known regarding unwanted criticism." He cocked his revolver meaningfully and added, "or had you forgotten?"

A gulp and a hurried shuffling of feet as the headmaster returned to his post was all the answer he required, and much more appreciated than any verbal apologies.

"Harry… you can't just threaten to… " Hermione began to plead on the headmaster's behalf.

"Leave war to warriors, Hermione," he cautioned, re-holstering his gun without taking his glaring eyes from Flint's cringing form.

"How many are you and what's the current location of that turd you zealots so blindly follow?"

"The Dark Lord will kill you all. You'll beg for release a thousand times before he finally grants oblivion," Flint blustered like the fallen bully he was.

Harry snorted at that. "Talk about a bad apple not falling too far from the diseased tree!"

Considering Flint with a calculating eye before reaching a decision, and sighing in resignation, he promptly stuck a finger right into the bullet hole in the Death Eater's shoulder.

"Argghhhh!" The Death eater screamed and convulsed; blood and spittle dribbling from his mouth as he thrashed and bucked, trying to pull away from the maddening pain, but Black's finger held him in place like a pinned insect.

After several long minutes filled with Hermione gasping in shock and Dumbledore blustering impotently in protest from behind, Black withdrew his finger, wiping the blood and gristle on Flint's Death Eater robes with a casual disregard that was horrifying to the fallen man. In those moments,Flint realized he was soon to learn the true meaning of agony. Something he had far too often instilled in others, but was finally about to fully appreciate the knowledge first hand from the victim's point of view.

Now, when it was already too late, he was considering his life's choices.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time, Flint, and if I don't get a concise and immediate answer, I'm gonna take out that bullet and stick it in the other side, after that, I'm gonna get creative." He paused and gazed deeply into the terrified man's eyes, willing him to see the dread certainty of what he promised he would deliver, and in spades.

Once satisfied that the lesson had sunk in, he asked again: "How many are you and where's Voldemort holed up?"

"Seventy-seven. Voldemort's declared himself minister and is occupying the minister's office currently. M-Most of us are spread throughout the ministry, but there are two guards currently searching each department of the Hall of Mysteries."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. _The superstitious creep was still hung up on the power of magical numbers like seven._

Begrudgingly he had to admit that so far things had gone his darkness' way, though that was about to change.

"Are all the aurors and unspeakables dead?" he asked next, noting the way the man's eyes glazed over worriedly at that.

"A...A lot of them are, the rest either escaped during the takeover or were captured and are being incarcerated in holding cells that we liberated our supporters from beforehand. S-Some are…" he paused uncertainly, his eyes shifting towards the door that Dumbledore was guarding as if he was considering the vain possibility of escape.

"You'll never make it," Black cautioned, cocking the hammer of his colt meaningfully, casually holding it poised over his vulnerable chest.

"You were saying?" Black prompted.

"Some of the more d-difficult ones were in the process of being passed through the veil."

Hermione whimpered at that and Remus' face paled dramatically. Voldemort was purging any and all opposition.

Black digested the information and asked cautiously. "You twerps still carry spare wands and emergency port keys?"

"Yes, but… the port keys won't work inside the ministry 'cause The d-dark lord put up wards to prevent any unauthorized access to the ministry."

"Has he now? And just what is the activation code word for said port keys?"

"_Blood supremacy_, but didn't you hear me? You can't port key in or out with the wards in place, you'd be splinched at best, maybe even…oh?" Flint finally caught on once understanding the feral gleam of appreciation in Black's eyes.

"No you can't, I'll stop... unghh!" Flint foolishly tried to go for the spare wand he had in an ankle holster, but was relieved of his worry by the butt of Black's revolver slamming into his temple.

Black re-holstered his revolver and chuckled dryly. "Well that takes care of our immediate concerns, but now to test a theory… Remus, would you care to do the honors?"

Remus shot him a puzzled expression that cleared up with a pointed look from Black.

"Don't you dare!" Hermione gasped in sudden realization of what he intended, but Remus had already activated the unconscious Death Eater's escape port key.

"Blood Supremacy!"

"**Crack…Splat!"**

The Death Eater literally exploded in a cloud of gore that splattered Remus and Hermione.

"Ewu!" Hermione gagged, pulling a blood soaked strand of hair away from her face.

"Haw-Haw-Haw!" Black guffawed at the scene, as Remus was hurriedly casting _cleaning charms_ over his gore covered self and Hermione was coughing and gagging in revulsion, too shocked to even think to do the same.

"Mister Potter!" Dumbledore drawled in outrage, beginning to go into full lecture mode on mercy and fairness etcetera…

"It's Black!" the marshal spat back, silencing the man before he could effectively begin his rant.

"That's one less in the opposition. One less for you to stun and incarcerate, then either let go after some despicable bribe or have escape due to the same or the ineptness of your auror guard. One less to murder and rape, only to have us either catch and start the process all over again, or catch a killing curse in the back from, relieving us of the burden imposed by war. If you can't stomach it then piss off and let those that can-do! Better yet…why don't you make a port key and rid us of your foolishness?"

That said, and Dumbledore pale and significantly cowed, he cast an off-hand wandless _cleaning spell_ over Hermione, who sighed in relief.

"You up for this Hermione or would you like to stay and help Dumbledore continue to guard the door from his own unwise future intervention?"

Her eyes shifted uncertainly from the headmaster's pleading visage to the blood stained floor at her feet.

It was harsh and grisly what had been done, but for all of that she could see the necessity. They had been losing and had effectively_ lost_ the war by being fair and merciful. It was more than time, if not too late already, to try a different more harsh tack.

"I'm with you, Harry. I always have been and I always will be," she declared with dread certainty, meeting his steely gaze and holding it.

Black nodded, not bothering to correct her on his naming preference. His eyes shifted toward Remus who was currently adopting a Death Eater's spare wand, seeing the logic and necessity of the tactic.

"I'm with you, pup. It's high time we treated this war as a war."

Black nodded again before shifting his eyes warily toward the headmasters' pleading visage.

"Isn't there some other way…?" Dumbledore beseeched.

"No."

"Stay here and wrap the cowardice you call morality around yourself and leave the fighting to those with the stomach for it." That said, and Dumbledore reluctantly nodding in resignation, Black added a warning: "You get in the way or try to interfere in any way, and I'll put a bullet in your head without the slightest pause. Your job is to now guard my means of returning home. If you find yourself getting lonely in the meantime, conjure a mirror so you can talk to the person you admire the most."

Remus snorted a laugh at that, while Dumbledore's moustache drooped to an all-time low.

Black rechecked the draw clearance of his colts while Hermione and Remus broke the spare wands littering the chamber and donned a spare pair of invisibility cloaks whose former owners would no longer be needing the use of. They left their hoods down, awaiting further instructions, though each was pretty sure they knew what Black had in mind.

"Alright sir and mam, you know the magic words, so let's send these idiots back from the land of Oz to Kansas, shall we?" The two nodded with feral grins of anticipation as they pulled their hoods up and completely disappeared.

Voldemort's necessary paranoia was about to be exposed as the tactical disadvantage it was.


	2. Chapter 2: A hellova show

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**West of Here**

**Chapter two: A hellova show.**

"You okay?" he asked worriedly, tipping back his hat up to take a better look at the flame cutter that had grazed her ribs, tearing a through the limited protection of her unspeakable's uniform.

"Of course I am." She replied with more reassurance than she felt as the room hadn't stopped spinning until she sat back down. "How does it look?" she asked worriedly, holding back a hiss of pain when he pulled her tattered uniform to the side to get a better look at her wound.

He smirked at her attempt to look strong. _Same old Hermione. _

"It looks like it hurts like hell." he answered her question grimacing at the wound.

"No, it's fine." she said trying to stand. "Let's get started on the next chamber."

"Remus is already scouting a head to the room at the end of the hall, you know, the one with the brains floating around in those tubes." he informed, smirking at the way she shuddered in revulsion at the memory from fifth year. Though she was an Unspeakable there were certain areas of research that even she preferred to shun- the brain room was one such.

Her resolve to push on faltered after that and he easily shoved her back down into her chair, rolling his eyes at the groan of pain she tried to stifle as her body protested the change in direction.

"Will the balm you've got fix this?" she gasped, paling from the exertion.

"It's not a balm and yeah, it will, but.."

"Well then use it already for heaven's sake." she demanded irately, cutting him off before he could finish his explanation.

"You're sure?" he balked.

"Do it." she ordered, her patience diminishing with her pain tolerance.

"Alright then." Harry ripped her top aside, exposing half her chest.

"Hey, what're you playing at?" she tried to pull her top back to cover her modesty, but his hand impatiently slapped hers aside. "I have to get at it, besides I've always been curious. What say we kill two birds with one stone?"

"What're you on about?" Hermione asked uncertainly, trying to fight the urge to cover her exposed breasts, but was unwilling to play the damsel in distress and lose some measure of respect in his eyes.

"I'll fix your wound whilst you inadvertently satisfy a teenage boy's once fantasy."

Hermione's questioning face took on an indignant scowl "I'm engaged to your best friend you git."

"You're engaged to my horse?!" he asked in stunned disbelief.

Hermione grimaced in disgust at the visual. "You sad, sick, sorry little man. I'm talking about Ron, obviously."

"Ron's a horse?" he snickered at that and the look of waning patience she afforded him. "Isn't that like, I dunno, _illegal _in this day and age?" he guffawed at his own off colored remark, enjoying another look of disgust at his expense.

"I suppose it isn't back in yours." she returned pointedly with a smug expression on her face.

"Just fix it already would you- hey OWE!" Hermione shrieked as he roughly worked his own concoction into her wound. Obviously he wasn't above returning like for like and then some at the cost of her previous insinuation.

"Urg.. oh.. that stings something fierce!" Hermione hissed and whined as the ointment did it's work, cleaning starting to knit the skin back together without a trace of scarring.

"Would you like me to kiss it and make it all better?" he asked hopefully in anticipation, smacking his lips for effect. "Saliva, if administered properly, has pain relieving effects." He went on convincingly with a serious expression.

"It does not." Hermione scoffed, pushing back from him and dramatically pulling her top close to cover her modesty. "How thick do your think I am?"

"I could ask you the same?"

She puzzled at that briefly before her eyes went wide and she gasped, taking a swipe at him. "You sick pervert!"

He waxed rhapsodically as if emotionally wounded. "One day a hero in the public eye, the next vilified as a contemptible lecher. Will I ever be wholly understood, let alone appreciated, for the complicated Renaissance man that I truly am?"

Hermione began giggling at that, suddenly pulling up sober in realization that the excruciating pain of moments ago was completely gone.

"My side, it.. it's completely healed!"

"You're welcome."

"You too."

For what? he asked not catching on immediately.

"For my having satisfied a school boy fantasy." she returned haughtily.

He snorted at that, offering. "Would you like me to return the favor?"

Hermione pulled a withering expression, deciding too quickly. "Tempting, but no."

"Spoil sport."

"Actually, Ron says I'm a very _good _sport." she contradicted loftily.

"Ron's used to making do with little to nothing, er um.._ financially speaking_ , of course." He reiterated immediately at the look of outrage and the epitaphs about to be hurled in his direction.

"Bastard." she hissed, too insulted not offer at least that much in return.

"You have no idea." He returned, but she could see by the hollow look of regret in his eyes that he was no longer bantering with her but quite serious.

Her heart ached for what his life must have been like initially and what it had obviously cost him on so many levels.

She would ask him more later, if they survived that is.

The sound of muffled voices growing louder and the grating of a steel door as it began to grind open over the flag stone alerted them to a new arrival.

She was about to offer to disillusion him before herself, but was surprised to find that he had already vanished from sight. She hastily followed suit applying the charm to herself and stepping back to the side of the opening doors.

"Lemmego you bastards!" a struggling female spat angrily as a pair of unmasked Death Eaters carried her struggling form toward the ominously waiting doom of the veil at the other end of the chamber.

"This one's got spirit Walden, what say we break her before we send her through?"

His partner nodded, adding… "I like the feisty ones especially when they finally give up and starting pleading for their virtue and or lives as if we'd not help ourselves to either or both regardless."

"Argh!" His chuckling partner screamed in pain as the struggling woman's fingernails racked the side of his face, leaving welts and a trail of blood bubbling up through the broken skin.

He backhanded the woman whose head twisted over her shoulder from the blow which is when Hermione inadvertently gasped in recognition: _Katie Bell! _

Her gasp alerted the other who twisted back toward the door, bringing his wand to bear before Hermione could do likewise.

Despite being disillusioned she knew her chances were poor of not being hit as she was only a few feet away and the wand was trained directly toward her, a green light of an AK glowing at the tip.

Crack!

"Urg!" the one called Walden grunted in pain as his wand suddenly flew from his broken hand and shattered against one of the stone benches lining the rows of the amphitheater shaped room.

Katie twisted away from the other who lost his balance, between trying to still maintain his grip on the thrashing girl and turn his wand on the unseen threat assailing his partner.

Omphh! Katie hit the cold flags with a grunt of pain.

"Ahh…." her captor's head hit the edge of a bench as he fell, knocking the man out cold, his body falling to the flags with a last sigh and stilling. By the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth it was doubtful he'd be getting back up anytime soon, unassisted.

Marshal Black shimmered into being looming over Walden Macnair who was gingerly probing his already swollen hand.

"I..I think it's broke?" he whimpered piteously, the bully showing his true colors.

"Hear, let me see it?" Jamie offered compassionately.

"Aghhhh!" Macnair screamed as Jamie squeezed the man's hand in his own, crushing the fingers together, heralding a series of _snaps _as the bones broke even further- one after another.

"Yep,.. it's broken alright." he confirmed with a satisfied grin of distinct pleasure as the man paled dramatically in pain, crumpling to the floor, cradling his ruined hand.

Jamie Black bent down to give the whimpering bully a better look at his face though his vision was clouded by a haze of pain. No recognition flickered in his teary eyes.

"Don't remember me, huh? You should, Macnair, as we fought in this very chamber some ten years back. It didn't go much better for you that night either. The only difference is that this time you're not going to prison only to buy your way out, nor are you going to be sprung by a bunch of your Death Eater buddies and the Dark Dick they all kowtow to."

"W-What're you going to d-do?" Macnair stammered his eyes shifting about searching for avenues of escape.

"Me…?" Black pulled, cocked and pointed the barrel of his gun between Macnair's eyes so fast that the man cringed back in terror, his eyes crossing as they fixated on his imminent demise.

"I'm gonna watch you apologize to the lady and if I'm anything but wholly convinced of your sincerity, I'm gonna make you beg for another chance to try again. After that I'm gonna give you your pick of possible _releases_."

He stressed that last causing Hermione to gasp behind him in dread anticipation of what was to come.

Macnair's face took on a disgusted smug set as he growled out defiantly. "I'm not lowering myself to beg from some half- blood whore. She can go..mmmphhh!"

Jamie's fist hit him so hard that his teeth broke inward and his fist disappeared into the blustering fools ruined mouth.

"Ug-ahhh- gaaa…!" Macnair struggled to speak.

"Interesting sensation isn't it; me holding your tongue and you struggling to breath without swallowing your teeth and, or blood into your wildly pumping lungs? Here let me clear out your gab so you can apologize properly now."

A horrific tearing sound filled the chamber and echoes off the cool stone walls as Black yanked back and tore the man's tongue right out by the roots.

Macnair writhed and gagged up bloody frothy as he choked on his blood eventually stilling after a last shudder of horrific resignation.

"Apology accepted." Black intoned hollowly, toeing the man's body aside as if it were a piece of offal staining a busy side walk.

Still holding the man's bleeding tongue in his fist Jamie walked over to the other, mindful of the way that Katie's eyes were glued to the bloody appendage as she shifted bodily away to avoid any possible contact with it as if it would come alive at any minute and renew its assault on her person in one form or another.

Harry smacked the fallen Death Eater a few times until the man groggily started coming to.

"W-Walden..?" he gasped, struggling to get a clear look at the man looming over him, hoping it was his comrade.

"He's right here." Black answered, proffering the darkening tongue forward. "At least the part of him that substituted for courage and common sense."

"Gaaa..!" The man pulled back horrified.

Given a moment, the man found enough semblance of courage to ask tremulously. "Who're you?"

Black smirked. "I'm called Black. Marshal Jamie Black. Round these parts I was once known as: Harry Potter."

"Potter?!" The man gasped, paling dramatically in recognition of both the name and now the man looming over him threateningly.

Katie too had gasped at that, only hers sounded more pleased and hopeful in nature.

"You've heard of me, how nice." he smiled with something far less than congeniality in the offing.

"I have a few questions, think…" at this he waved the hardening tongue in front of the man's face for effect, reiterating. "Think.. carefully before you answer." He warned and by the look of the way the man was shuddering violently- the message was well received.

Jamie proceeded to ask several question regarding the opposition. Once satisfied that the man had told him everything he wanted to know, including some things he didn't, Jamie proceeded to offer him a choice.

"Your magic or your life?"

"Huh?" the man gapped stupidly in misunderstanding.

"Simple; you can either forfeit your magic or you can take a walk, crawl or a friendly toss through that _veil_ over yonder. You can take your chances as a muggle or you can take the coward's way out. Either way; your usefulness, or uselessness, as the case may be, is at an end."

"What, but,.. but you can't…? I have the right to a trial.." the man began to plead in terror only to have Jamie interrupt.

Jamie pulled back the lapel of his coat to display a very telling badge in the wizarding world, one that hadn't been seen for many years but still was recognizable by the vast majority through storied legends and historical accounts. Obviously the man recognized the symbol of office as his mouth hung open in both fear and astonishment and the blood drained from his face.

"The coward's way it is." Black pronounced the man's final sentence with cool certainty. That decided, he heaved up the blubbering man and tossed him bodily into the waiting veil that fluttered hungrily for several moments before stilling.

The man's scream of horror abruptly cutt off the instant he made contact with the unseen threshold between worlds.

"Harry you just can't play judge, jury and executioner. That man had rights." Hermione interjected at seeing the cool resolve with which he'd dispatched an unarmed criminal, guilty or no.. he still had the right to due process in her eyes.

"Sure I can." Black reassured without the slightest hesitation. "You folks all wanted me back here to deal with this shite, well congratulations- here I am!" he proclaimed winningly, dusty his hands off from the offence of having to lay hands on said criminal.

"But…?" Hermione was about to argue when Jamie pulled back his lapel to display for her consideration the same badge he'd just shown to the subject in question.

Hermione gapped wide eyed at the golden badge. She'd only ever read about such instances when people of extraordinary ability were empowered by such, but was unaware of any current wizarding bodies who could grant such vast authority to a single individual.

"How can…?" she hesitated trying to puzzle through such an impossible circumstance. "The council hasn't existed for nearly a hundred years…. Of course!" she smacked her own forehead in revelation. No one could grant such authority since the Wizard's Guard had disbanded with the last of its appointee's death some hundred years ago, but Harry was from a hundred and ten years ago, give or take. He could have been appointed and if so.. the world was about to change. Guardians were lifetime appointees to serve the public in establishing and maintaining both peace and justice by _any_ means necessary- the world over.

And no one- NO ONE, but the Guard had the legal authority to either censure or abolish a guardian's designated posting and,or authority.

He was a law onto himself in this day and age as no other Guardian's but himself existed. He had carte blanche to meet out justice in any way he saw fit.

If it were anyone but Harry Potter, she would be absolutely terrified over such an occurrence as they could all very well be facing not one, but two potential tyrannical dictatorships. One was an illegal terrorist, a monster by all accounts. The other was once a kind and noble soul, but what exactly was Jamie Black?

Had they just traded one future of death and enslavement for another, perhaps even darker one?

Silently understanding, sympathizing even, with the track of his once friend's thoughts and the dilemma she was considering, Jamie attempted to reassure her.

He closed the lapel of his jacket, hiding his badge from scrutiny as he explained. "It's to protect me as well as everyone else, Hermione. I'm only here to serve and protect. Granted my methods are harsh, but no less effective,… and permanent. I'm here to do a dirty, horrific job. To do so requires a very unforgiving attitude, one of extreme prejudice. That said; my posting also protects my interest in that I will not trade my personal freedom and livelihood for a public unwilling to rise up and take back what's rightfully theirs. In laymen's terms: I'm not going to be jailed or put to death as a reward for doing a dirty, filthy job that everyone else is too cowardly to do for themselves."

She mulled over his words and wanted to accept them at face value, but she just couldn't. "And what's to protect us from you once said _dirty, filthy _job is over?"

It was a valid point, but for all of that his face fell in hurt disappointment. Eventually he sighed and abruptly approached her, grabbing up her hand before she could shirk back out of reach. He removed his hat and held it at his waist, taking her other hand and pressing it firmly beneath his own, over his heart.

Intense green eyes held tremulous brown for the longest moment before he spoke. "You and Ron were my best friends in the whole world. You were my world. I would never do anything to hurt either of you and what you're suggesting would do just that. I'm not the same Harry you once knew. I'm a grown man now and I've shouldered burdens and faced horrors beyond your wildest imaginings. Those things have shaped and tempered me into the man that I now am, but for all of that, I do know what's right and what's wrong, Hermione. I may be a harsh and hard man, but I'm not cruel and inhuman."

Tears began to leak from the corners of Hermione's eyes. Tears for what was and what could have been and even a bit for what yet may be.

Those tears became a torrent when he vowed. "On my magic and on my life I shall forgo Guardianship upon the demise of Voldemort and his Death Eaters if that is what is asked from me."

A flash of silver enveloped both him and Hermione, by proxy, as magic accepted his vow.

Hermione melted, crying guiltily as she fell into his arms murmuring apology after apology.

Katie Bell, all but forgotten, watched the scene unfold with varied emotions ranging from fear to joy, Never,.. never in her wildest dream would she have ever thought to have laid eyes upon the person of Harry Potter again.

Some thought him a coward that had run away in shame to hide from the Dark Lord_- bollocks that!_ She and anyone who knew Harry or had ever ever met him knew better. Harry Potter was courage at its purest most awe inspiring form.

Many thought him dead and she, herself, were among those that had thought this as nothing else could or would keep Harry away from coming to their aid when he was so sorely needed.

Dozens of other outlandish theories had been spun regarding the disappearance of the light's most fervent hope.

And now… He was right here in front of her and she hadn't a clue how or why, but she did know one thing: her heart still fluttered whenever he was near. No one had ever made her feel safer than, Harry. The cute boy he once was had grown into a tall, lean, ruggedly handsome man. The once so expressive eyes had changed in that they now gave little away, but they were far more intense than they had been, almost frighteningly so.

She couldn't fathom for the life of her why he looked and talked with a distinct western accent like one of those cowboys in the movies, but that only added to the allure of his persona.

She startled from her current train of thoughts, finding herself being closely scrutinized by the object of her intense interest.

Brown eyes went wide at the sudden realization of the close proximity of intense emerald green that seemed to be looking into her very soul. He was leaning down over her, his eyes swept up and down her trembling form searching for any hint of injury other that a bruised ego.

"You okay, Katie?" he asked in a gentle tone laced with concern.

She felt herself nodding dumbly until she finally managed to blurt out.. "Fine,.. I'm fine, just a bruised backside.

"Want me to take a look?" he asked in a hopeful tone, catching her off guard.

She colored at that, not something easily achieved with her already dark complexion. The crinkle of amusement at the corner of his eyes put her at ease and she soon found herself chuckling along with him, easing the tension of previous.

He proffered her a hand and powerful arms had her on her feet in a trice.

"I don't have a wand?" she hesitated before they reached the outer door to the chamber, informing them that she had no means to defend herself.

Black shifted his eyes to Hermione, how she knew she couldn't guess, but he was right in his assumption as she rolled her eyes and drew a backup wand from a sheath on her right calf and presented it handle first to Katie whose hand closed gratefully around the oaken shaft.

Katie gave the wand an experimental swish and a modicum of bright green sparks flew from the tip. It wasn't a perfect match' but it would work fairly well for her for most spells.

Hermione nodded in satisfaction as Katie shot her a look of appreciation for the loan.

Luckily, Remus stole into the room shortly after such that they didn't have to go in search of him.

"The lab's secured, well,.. sort of anyway." He volunteered with a shudder of revulsion over what he'd witnessed.

In answer to their questioning looks, he added. "There's these brain like creatures and well, they got out er, _somehow_ and are currently er_.. _they're_ feeding_ on the Death Eaters trapped in there." He shrugged noncommittally on just _how_ the Death Eaters got trapped in there and how they brain creatures managed to get set free, eliciting a chuckle from Black and shudders from the women in apprehension.

That only left the Hall of Prophecies unaccounted for.

In answer to the meaningful look Black shot him, nodding toward the door to the right, Remus answered. "There's a few Death Eaters in there cataloging the prophecies in there. They'll be at it all day at the rate they're going." He ventured unconcernedly.

Black quirked an eyebrow in consideration before deciding he'd rather be sure that the Death Eaters didn't get curious and catch them unawares from behind.

He pulled, what could only be described as the biggest knife Katie had ever seen, from a sheath at his waist and poked the tip of his thumb, drawing a rivulet of blood. He proceeded to draw an ideogram in blood, that even Hermione's puzzled expression told the others that she didn't recognize, on the door, chanting as he did so. When he was finished the door glowed red for an instant than faded back to normal.

"A blood seal?" Hermione assumed, her voice tinged with something akin to reverence.

"That ought a hold 'em for a while." Black remarked in satisfaction before guiding the others back to the Hall of Time.

They arrived back to find a weary Dumbledore securing two unconscious Death Eaters and the place an absolute shambles; complete with the time turner blasted to shreds.

Black growled low in his throat as Katie ran to the Headmaster, overjoyed to see what she assumed would be their salvation.

"Ah Miss Bell, how nice to see that you are at least safe in all of this unfortunate business." he ventured congenially, intentionally keeping her between himself and what he knew would be a very disappointed: Marshal Black.

Jamie toed the sad remains of the time turner's instrumentation panel, growling in frustration over what he could see was a total loss. There would be no getting back to his time from this location, but at least there was another and he pointedly mentioned it to halt the irritating platitudes that Dumbledore was readying to use for excuses.

"It was most unfortunate that I was unable to subdue my assailants before they caused such irreparable harm to your only means of returning home. I am indeed profoundly sorry for your hardship, my boy." -Forgetting himself, in his unwanted familiarity, at that last.

"I aint your boy and _I'm sure_ it was just a simple accident." Jamie scathed unconvinced by the headmaster's sincerity. "As for my _only_ means- sorry , but I hedged my bets before we returned here. Jamie Pulled back the lapel of his slicker, revealing the golden _guardianship_ badge over his left heart. Dumbledore's eyes goggled momentarily before his moustache drooped in understanding.

"Fortunately the Guardian's Keep has another such devise." he reminded the headmaster.

"Yes, fortunate." Dumbledore agreed with something less than enthusiasm in his voice.

Now even Hermione, as well as Remus, were looking at Dumbledore with dubious intent.

"I'm confused." Katie ventured.

"Don't fight it." Hermione offered with an indifferent shrug that they all chuckled at.

"What you are is in the middle of something that you and the others need to get out of and fast, if you have any hope to survive to 'fight another day'." Black quoted meaningfully.

"Indeed, we are too few to affect any meaningful harm upon our enemies." Dumbledore added.

"We could harry their flanks using guerrilla tactics?" Remus suggested.

"Ultimately we'd be cut down one by one and then Voldemort would hold England unopposed." Black disagreed realistically. "Youfour need to get outta here and now, while the getting's good."

_You four_…? Hermione cottoned on quickly to his factoring himself out of the equation. "You're coming with us." she hadn't asked, but demanded in a voice that would brook no argument.

Jamie shook his head. "Not if you're to get away, I'm not. You need a diversion to get beyond the apparition wards and I'm it." At this he turned toward Dumbledore and asked. "What's the Order's primary point of retreat?"

"Grimauld Place, but that's undoubtedly compromised by now. Hogwart's is our second option which is where our remaining operatives would have retreated to in that instance. It's become a haven for those fleeing persecution and death. "

Black nodded in understanding before instructing them: "I'll buy you the time and distraction you need to breach the Ministry entrance. Once you safely away I'll be hot on your trail."

"No,..You're coming with us." Hermione demanded stepping up face to face with her once best friend.

Jamie pushed up the brim of his Stetson. Piercing green eyes held pleading brown ones for a long moment before he grasped her shoulders gently, supportively.

"The three of you need to get Katie and yourselves outta here and that's not gonna happen with the Ministry lobby crawling with Death Eaters and lord knows what else. **I will** buy you the time you need to get away and **I will** follow after." he reassured her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead and adding, "Besides I want to see the look on Ron's face when you tell him how I fixed your owie."

Hermione gasped at that and swatted his arm playfully as she pulled away feigning outrage.

"Now I'm confused." Remus ventured.

"Don't fight it." Katie suggested with a chuckle to which they all laughed, relieving the tension in the room.

"Remus take point, Dumbledore and Hermione cover the rear. Keep moving no matter what. Don't stop for anyone or anything. I don't care if Molly Weasley is being tortured in the middle of the lobby- you don't stop until you're safely back to Hogwarts!" he commanded, his eyes catching and holding each until they nodded in compliance.

"But what are you gonna do?" Hermione nearly whined in worry for him.

"I'm _gonna_ get reacquainted with a few _old friends_" he offered with something bordering on absolute mayhem radiating from his very pores."

Stealthily they made their way back to the entrance to the Hall of Mysteries, encountering no opposition as everyone in the ministry was currently under the illusion that they held complete and unchallenged control of the wizarding government.

They were about to learn just how dangerous false illusions of complacency were.

Jamie cracked open one of the French doors that lead to the ministry lobby . Quickly he scanned the lobby before closing the door and switching to the other side to take a peek in the other direction.

The place looked like the Black Sea; there were so many Death Eater cloaks milling about.

He closed the door and placed his back against the French doors as he checked his colts.

A well versed eye examined each gun, spinning the cylinders down his arm as he made sure that each was completely loaded and ready. His hands twirled the colts forward, then abruptly reversing direction as he twirled them right back into their holsters without the slightest catch.

He pulled a pair of navy colts from beneath each arm, held in place by shoulder holsters. He checked each weapon as he did the first pair, only once satisfied; he twirled the guns horizontally across his body guiding them home with a gently rasp of leather announcing their return.

Hermione gasped at the display, whilst even Dumbledore and Remus goggled in appreciation at the untold amount of practice and diligence that must've been involved to reach such intimate familiarity with one's chosen weapons.

There was little doubt in anyone's minds that they were in the presence of a master. What sort of master was another matter entirely?

"There's a support pillar at the right of the receptionist desk." He detailed pointedly. "Each of you hit it with the strongest blasting hex you can muster. I want you to bring down the balcony on that side as that's where the heaviest concentration of Death Eaters are congregating at the moment." He left it unsaid what was currently holding their interest. They were torturing a prisoner who was already dying by the look of things.

Each nodded save Dumbledore who hesitated.

Black's vivid green eyes caught and held pale blue. "If you have another one of your timely and unfortunate accidental misses, you can be sure that I won't miss in return. Got it?" he warned.

To which the aged Headmaster sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement.

War was upon them and the time of stunning spells and rehabilitation was long since passed, even Dumbledore could finally acknowledge that.

"Don't look back. Keep your eyes fixed on the exit doors. If anything or anyone gets in your line of sight-blast it out of the way with extreme prejudice." At this he was heartened to see even Dumbledore nod his agreement.

"What about you?" Katie asked worriedly.

Black smiled a dark, cold smile that promised a world of hurt for the opposition. "I'm going to be otherwise preoccupied. Death's a coming and it's gonna be a helluva show!" he promised intently.

Jamie twirled his colts into his hands and held them up to each side of his face as he concentrated.

Thinking he was hesitant, Katie ventured. "You don't have to do this? There may be some other way to…"

A wry smile etched his mouth as he reassured her. "I'm not scared Katie, I'm envisioning the battle in my mind."

"Don't you get yourself killed, pup." Remus warned.

"No way in hell." he returned without pause.

"On my mark… Three ….Two… One… NOW!"

Black turned and kicked the French doors open.

"REDUCTO!" two pairs of shouted blasting hexes sounded from either side of his person as the left most support pillar of the balcony overhead vaporized in a cloud of marble shards that tore into the Death eaters nearby as tons of concrete rained down , crushing the Death Eaters caught below the collapsing balcony. A dust cloud rose up from the destruction and Black used the cover to full effect.

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM….

Jamie's colts cut down the distracted opposition where they stood. Barely a scream left surprised lips as the slugs tore through heart and brain in a torrent of destruction.

Remus had made good use of the destruction to guide the others to the Lobby entrance, having only had to blast a single surprised Death Eater out of his path. Whoever it was; his days of cringing before Voldemort were over as he no longer possessed a head to beg with.

He ushered his companions through the door, breaking his word for a scant second to turn his eyes back toward the way they'd come. Jamie was twisting and twirling about as hexes and curses flew past like a maelstrom, all the while his guns emptied death into the Death Eater ranks without the slightest pause.

One such green tinged curse ripped his black Stetson from his head, himself turning toward the responsible part and firing a shot from each pistol that ripped the Death Eater from his feet, bowling him backward into his fellows that were crowding the railing of the other balcony that was still intact.

With a last wan grimace of worry, Remus, followed in the wake of the others. As much as he wanted to he knew another wand would do no good and would probably only serve as a distraction, not that his once pseudo nephew had any chance at all. He was probably dead already in the short space of time it took Remus to turn away and let the door fall close behind him.

_He couldn't have been more wrong._

"Enough!" a cold dark voice, (used to giving commands and being immediately obeyed), bellowed from above. All wands ceased fire immediately at their feared master's command. The object of their vehemence wiped a sleeve across his sweating brow in grateful reprieve, his general form becoming clearer with each passing moment as the concrete dust settled or was banished by a multitude of cleaning charms.

He retrieved his hat, examining it with a scowl as his finger poked through the now hole that was torn through the right side.

"Which one of you turds ruined my hat?" he demanded, completely oblivious to the hush that had fallen over the chaos that had reined moments only ago.

"No one, huh?" he scanned the railing above and over the few remaining Death Eaters that were struggling to remain on their feet around him. No one appeared willing, let alone able, to own up to his personal loss.

"Who are you?" a cold sneering voice laced with contempt called down from above.

"My current name wouldn't do you any good, Tom." Black responded casually in the familiar, knowing that both would agitate his once and current nemesis. "Better off asking me who I was." He suggested.

He tossed his hat aside giving it up for a lost cause as the dark magic that had ruined it would prevent any attempts at repair. That decided, he waved his hand over a pebble whilst being careful to keep one hand in contact with the handle of his colt at all times. The pebble transformed into a dark grey Stetson.

Disappointed that it wasn't black, he decided that beggars can't be choosers and donned the newly transformed hat pulling down on the brow both in front and back to shape it as he liked. Satisfied, he waited patiently for the inevitable.

"Who were you, then?" Voldemort snapped back impatiently, trying himself to cover the surprise at how effortlessly the man seemingly used wandless magic.

"The wronged son of parents and god parents murdered by your own blood stained hands, Tom Riddle Jr."

"I have killed many parents and their mongrel offspring." Voldemort sneered, eliciting chuckles from his emboldened followers, made so by their master's presence among them. "What makes you any more noteworthy that any of the rest -my soon to be extinct acquaintance?"

"Probably because we've gone down this garden path before, Tom. You failed to off me in the past and your odds aint looking too good just now either."

Many of the Death Eaters gasped in outrage over someone daring to affront their master, but Voldemort waved them to silence.

"Such insolence and from one so inconsequential that I cannot even recall having ever met him before?" He sneered condescendingly whilst at the same time letting his mental probes loose to assault the mind and memory of his challenger.

He immediately pulled his probes back with a startle of surprise. It was as if there was no one standing there. If he couldn't see him with his own eyes and hear him with his own ears; he would have thought him no more than a fever induced hallucination at best. The mans' mind was a clean slate, a great black endless vacancy that had threatened to pull him in and set him falling through blackness as if down a bottomless pit.

"Didn't like what you found, eh?" Black assumed, instantly recognizing the Dark lord's failed attempt to infiltrate his mind.

"I know not of what you speak?" The dark lord feigned ignorance so as not to lose face amongst his followers.

"Sure you don't." Black returned skeptically. Deciding that his charges had more than enough time to make their escape, it was time to end the charade and get down to brass tacks.

"Just so we're clear on a couple of things, Tom. I aint here to collect for some charity and I aint here to bow and scrape before your knobby half- blood knees. I'm here to put a bullet in your useless head; one would be good, three would be better. That done, the rest of you malcontents can surrender yourselves for summary execution on a charge of treason among, what I'm sure, are many other horrific crimes. Either that, or you could just kill youselves, like the cowards you are saving the rest of us the trouble. By the look of you I'm guessing you're far too cowardly and craven to accept the inevitable and off your useless selves."

Growled epitaphs and hurled insults rained down at that, Voldmeort let his minions vent their ire unhindered, knowing the fools demise was fast approaching and deciding to be generous a bit longer as he was more amusing than most.

"Alright then, the hard way it is." Black decided. He casually pulled each colt and reloaded them with a practiced ease as he readied to show his hand and lay all his cards on the table.

He re-holstered his colts and prepared to make the coming slaughter official.

"By the power vested in me by the Guardian Council…" gasps of denial mixed with apprehensive swearing followed this announcement. Black continued to pull back his lapels over his colts whilst simultaneously displaying his golden badge as he announced. "I, Harry Potter," at that even Voldemort looked shocked to his core as Black continued to lay down the law. ".. deem you all under arrest for subversion and terrorism . You will surrender immediately or face summary execution, by mine own hand, which will it be?" at that final word his hands drifted to his gun handles.

The light of a green killing curse streaked past his left shoulder as the firs answer he'd received to his inquiry.

"Just as good." Black pronounced and drew his guns so fast they were as a blur. The twin rapports of his colts shocked the Death Eaters, freezing them just long enough to watch their leader pitch back head over heels as the two slugs ripped through each side of his chest, spraying blood across the wall behind that the dark lord hit and slumped against before sliding unceremoniously to the floor, leaving a bright trail following his path down.

Black knew the shots had hit as intended- he didn't miss unless it was on purpose, like now. He knew Voldemort would most likely survive his wounds if these fools knew enough to get him to a healer before he succumbed. Either way, he'd bought himself the time he would need to affect his permanent demise as Voldemort would be in no fit shape to continue his terrorist activities for quite some time as he struggled to recover.

By then, Black would be more than happy to put that one or three bullets in his head as promised.

Several Death Eaters lunged forward to go to their master's aid, whilst the rest recovered enough to level their wands on the _figures_ below.

There was no longer a single Jamie Black, but a dozen such, each dodged and twisted away as a a multitude curses _seemingly_ flew by harmlessly while in turn he fired not just bullets from his pistols, but a plethora of blasting curses and the like, decimating Death Eaters numbers until they grabbed up their fallen leader and retreated, fleeing their hard won Ministry coup as quickly as they had originally gained it.

Each Jamie Black merged into the likeness closest until only one remained. That one smiled wickedly and disappeared.

* * *

><p>Jamie Black reemerged at the gates of his once school. Torn and bloodied, he managed to remain upright on sheer will alone as he slammed the door knocker home once-twice-thrice.<p>

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK! The school's door knockers slammed against the enchanted wood reverberating throughout the entire school announcing a visitor. He grimaced in pain as each hard pound of the knockers sent a wave of agony crashing through his torn and battered body. His sidewinder coat had absorbed a great deal of spell damage, but his body had been stuck with paying the total bill. He'd managed to dodge the harsher, more lethal curses, but as a result he'd had to sacrifice his body to the damage caused by the sheer magnitude of lesser curses cast his way. Jamie Black was good at what he did, he knew that, but nobody was good enough to beat those odds and come out unscathed.

He'd paid the price, glad it hadn't been higher than it was, though right just now it seemed pretty high . Each movement was a new agony. His bones seemed to shift in the opposite direction he wanted to go telling him that he'd undoubtedly broken several ribs and his thoracic support was compromised as the rib muscles were slowing pulling away from the bone.

Blood dribbled down from his right hand which lay limp at his side, the shoulder lower on that side than the left- signifying a dislocation from some _bludgeoning hex_ he hadn't managed to dodge entirely.

His jaw ached up into his left ear as if the bone were rubbing on bone- probably broken or at the very least jammed into its joint needing to be pulled back out to free the hinge.

_Christ_, he felt like he'd fallen during a stampede and unfortunately lived to remember it.

He was struggling to lift his hand to give the knocker another futile rap when the door creaked open and a shaky wand pointed into his bruised face, shadowed by his grey Stetson.

"Password?" a no-nonsense voice, that triggered distant memory, asked abruptly.

_Damn Dumbledore would just conveniently overlook mentioning said security measures!_

"Don't have one and don't care professor." He growled out through his pain. "So either use that wand or lose it. I need.. to see.. Pomfrey…right…quickkkk.. ugh!" his strength finally abandoned him as his eyes rolled up and he pitched forward into Professor McGonagal's trembling arms with a final groan before unconsciousness blessedly claimed him .

The Great Hall of Hogwarts serving more as a refugee camp than either a school or even an organized resistance became a hive of activity shortly after Professor McGonagal's call for assistance, more so to a fever pitch when the identity of her charge was learned.

Eyes that hadn't shown without anything even resembling hope now glowed with feverish intent. Torn, bloodied and broken though he was he was that much more a miracle.

Few had dared hope that Dumbledore and Remus would have been successful, but they had and beyond anyone's wildest imaginings. If the rumors were true and the wizarding wireless was for once reporting accurately than dozens of Death Eaters had been killed and Voldemort himself was mortally wounded and believed dead or at the very least-dying!

* * *

><p>Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue disapprovingly and grumbled as she scanned and rescanned his broken form. Many were the times she tended the wounded of this senseless war, but never had she beheld so much damage to one poor soul before. Whilst none of his wounds were mortal, in and of themselves, the sum total, however, were beyond belief and inherently mortal for that reason alone. By her reckoning he shouldn't have survived half of them due to the blood loss alone. How he managed to make it to the school while still upright was more a miracle that even his return to their present time.<p>

How she'd missed her once favorite patient. Many were the times she'd comforted the rest of the Ministry survivors in the wake of his disappearance- none of them believing for a moment that he had run away and left them to their fate as was the popular opinion.

It was all that Remus and Minerva could currently do to keep them and many others back and out of the way whilst she and Ginny Weasley worked feverishly to try and close a multitude of wounds. They'd already doused him with more blood replenishing potion than was safe, but blood trickled out of him faster than they could put potion back in.

If he lived through the night it would be a miracle and he would live, she would not contemplate otherwise. Once his wounds were closed and his blood pressure stabilized than the agony of _skel gro_ potion would come next. Never had she previously have to have given as much as she knew would be required to repair his many breaks.

_Merlin above how could he have held himself upright for even a second with so many bones broken and shattered! _

Tears streamed down from Ginny Weasley's eyes as she closed wound after wound, she was suffering almost as much as her patient. She'd become a healer after finishing Hogwarts, or at least almost a fully qualified healer as she had yet to take her final exams to become a licensed healer- the war had stalled those plans.

Pomfrey thanked the powers that be she had her as Ginny's assistance had voided many near tragedies and allowed many of their dwindling numbers to 'fight another day'.

Eventually there were no more 'other days' as Voldemort had decimated the light and taken control of the Ministry. Only Hogwarts was left as the last bastion of hope and even it would not stand for much longer. They had all but surrendered to the inevitable when the Wizarding Wireless blared out that the Dark side had suffered a catastrophe and that catastrophe was currently lying on that same cot that Madam Pomfrey had adorned with a plague years ago as reserved for him alone. She was both gladdened and regretful that it was once again filled by her favorite patient. Both reasons, however, gave her and the rest of Wizarding Europe a reason to hope.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

West of Here

**Chapter Three: Culling the Herd.**

Green eyes peered over the rim of his coffee mug while his nose relished the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. It had only been an hour since he'd made his escape from the infirmary. There'll be hell to pay for sure once Madam Pomfrey rose and found her charge had absconded without her final approval for release. More to the point- he woke up first and snuck out.

Then again, she might appreciate the reprieve brought on by the daily circus within her sanctuary. He'd been unconscious up until a few scant hours ago and woke to find himself naked beneath a sheet, his body covered in gauze and pastes and unguents of all get out.

_Lord above, but modern medicine was no more advanced than the Spanish inquisition._

A quick shower later and a fresh pair of enchanted clothes and he'd be right as rain in a day or two, three at most. That and free of the many scars Pomfrey's tender mercies would have left him with.

He'd learned long ago from another wizened man the art that was true and natural healing and he'd made good use of it in his violent career choice. Why bother with medicinal gauzes and the like when all one needed to do was enchant ones clothes to do the same. No mess-no fuss.

That and your clothes remain hygienic far longer and predominantly cleaner and fresher than the best of cleaning charms could duplicate.

* * *

><p>The sun, rising over the Forbidden Forest cast the tree line in a multitude of color as the sun peeked here and there through the leafy canopy.<p>

He'd found over time the value of simple pleasures- what choice had he in that television and movies weren't even a glint on the horizon in the era he'd made his life in.

You learned to appreciate the intensity of a sharp game of cards, the slow burn on the way down of a decent whiskey and a woman's charms at a barn dance which were few and far between, an attractive girl of age an even rarer commodity in the parts where he'd begun to set down roots.

His was a lonely, but necessary existence, given his chosen career.

There were girls about sure, like Amy's lot, but those girls weren't exactly the marrying type, not unless you wanted to spend the rest of your days defending their rather dubious honor from a multitude of past costumers.

A hint of movement at the tree line caught his attention and though it was probably no more than the shadows retreating from approaching dawn it had set his hackles to rising. There were lots of things that go bump in the dark and he didn't care much for most of them. He'd keep a wary eye out and do a bit of scouting about tonight just to be on the safe side.

_Maybe he'd invite Remus along, give them a chance to catch up proper?_

He still had his seekers reflexes and sharp vision,(now without glasses), but he'd honed them to razor sharpness aided by years of suspicion that was of a necessity if one wanted to live long enough to swap tall tales with the older crowd down at the barber shop.

Speaking of old; he wondered if Moody was still creepin around or if the 'king of rampant paranoia' had finally gotten caught with his pants down.

A door creaked open behind and his free hand ghosted down to the hilt of his colt. Even though he recognized the scent of his newly arrived guest, he'd learned the hard way to take nothing for granted.

_Again, Moody would be proud._

"Mornin, Katie." he announced in his best disarming tone, smirking slightly at the hitch in her gate over her initial surprise that he'd recognized her without even turning around.

"It's your scent.." he explained. "it smells of vanilla and oranges- refreshing." he complimented as she pulled up alongside him, a faint tinge on her darkened cheek.

Katie Bell had always been an intelligent witch, nearly as much so as she was stunningly attractive, but more in an approachable, every day sorta way that most fellas readily clamored to though they weren't exactly sure just why.

"Madam Pomfrey's got the whole castle in an uproar searching for you." Katie half warned, half explained her reason for searching him out.

"And here I was hoping that you were looking for me for more personal reasons? Ah well, a fella can dream I guess?" he lamented, his eyes twinkling as they caught a hint of her previous blush darkening from his intended flirtation.

He'd always had a bit of a secret thing for Katie Bell. What bloke in his right mind within the castle hadn't? He was of a mind that there were some girls that God put her just to brighten the place up- Katie was one of these.

He didn't know what God or the Fates had in mind with throwing Katie into the mix at the Ministry, but he took it as a good sign,.. a very _good_ sign.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, er,.. recovering I mean?" Katie amended her original train of thought, blushing even more so at the image that had splashed across her mind's eye. She's seen his naked, wounded torso and despite the wounds.. she'd definitely liked what she'd seen.

_Skinny, scrawny little Harry Potter had grown into himself quite nicely._

"There's recovery and there's recovering" he ventured with a dry chuckle, adding flirtatiously that.. "If you want me to get back in bed so you can make it all better, all ya had to do was ask, Katie?"

"W-What, but I.. huh?" Katie stammered before slapping at his arm whilst he guffawed. "Oh, you!"

Once his laughter began to subside, she found she couldn't contain herself any longer and asked the first of literally a 'thousand questions' that everyone had on their mind since the miracle of his return.

"What happened to the shy, stammering, gentle boy I used to know?" It wasn't exactly her most prominent inquiry, but it was a starting point and a seemingly innocuous one.

She was somewhat wrong in that his good humor fled and his face darkened slightly as her question took root in his mind, bringing up images of a past that he mostly wished he could forget.

"Lots of things, Katie and most of them unpleasant." he answered vaguely in a hollow tone of voice.

At seeing her fallen expression he put her at ease by asking. "I assume you and whomever it may concern know that I got trapped in the past?"

Katie nodded dolefully. "So many thought you'd run away or that you'd been captured and killed. It was years before Dumbledore, Hermione and few others were finally able to solve the mystery and longer still before we could even make an attempt to try and rescue you." she offered in half an apology for what he must have suffered.

Harry nodded at that, appearing to mull things over before offering in return. "I was hoping to shave off only a few minutes so that I could prevent my Godfather's death, but I screwed it up like I usually do, or did,.. when I used to be so foolishly impulsive." He smirked wistfully at that, gladdened that this was no longer the case and that experience had taught him the necessity of patience.

"I ended up in another age, one that I was sorely out of place in. I only had a few galleons and my wand to my name. The ministry jailed me at first, thinking I was some sort of subversive element. They're as paranoid and mistrustful a lot back then as they are still today. Anyway, once they decided that I wasn't some sort of spy they just took me for a common thief and cast me out into the streets without so much as a by your leave, let alone any promise of continued schooling let alone food or shelter. I was willing to work. I'd have done anything really, but they just scoffed at me. They said I was making up the whole 'time displacement' story to try and get attention. Sounds pretty familiar, doesn't it." He chuckled darkly.

Katie nodded her head in agreement, remembering the way Fudge and his toadies had vilified him as an attention seeking brat or tried to discredit him as delusional at the least

"I lived off the streets for the first few months, picked through garbage for what food I could find, even stole some times. It's amazing what you can lower yourself to when you're starving."

Katie's hand ghosted supportively to his shoulder, though he pretended not to notice it. He was more concerned with the slight snuffling and the way her eyes became moist. He hadn't meant to upset her.

"W-What about your family?" she stammered hopefully, thinking the Potter's would have never turned away one of their own.

He pulled a face at that. "I'd considered that too so I looked up the Potters. They thought I was some sort of con man or something. Can't blame them really as who'd buy a story like that, true or otherwise?" he scoffed. ""My Great- Great Uncle, Reginald; he at least gave me a chance and signed my on as a deck hand on one of his trade ships. The work was hard, but at least I was well fed and was able to make a bit of money. We traded with the Americas a lot and after several visits I got restless for something else so I took my chances in the states. I got myself into the Salem Institute, but was only able to afford a year's tuition. The Headmistress took pity on me and put me through an accelerated course and I was able to finish in just over a year. I got a job in the kitchens and was able to make enough to set out on my own after graduation. Everywhere you went everyone was advertising about life out west. They painted it like a dream come true, so I decided to head out with the rest of the fools that thought the land a veritable leprechaun's treasure-rife with gold. Truth is it was as hard a life as any you could imagine."

I didn't make it a month before I was thieved blind one night by natives. From then on I was starving again, but at least I knew enough magic to get by, otherwise I would have died a dozen times over. I stumbled upon a tribe of natives, who for all I knew could have been the ones that had robbed me in the first place, but they ended up taking pity on me and we became good friends over time. The fact that I'm standing here today is in no little way due entirely to their kindness." He left off wistfully smiling at these happier memories.

Riveted by the story so far, Katie prompted curiously. "Then what happened?"

Harry smirked at that, answering vaguely. "I was enslaved."

"Enslaved?!" Katie screeched wide eyed and gapping.

"Yeah, for a bit, but not long. This is where my story gets interesting, but we'll have to pick it up another time and we're about to be interrupted.

On cue Dumbledore, McGonagall and varied others barged onto the astronomy tower, shouting to their fellows that they'd successfully found the person they we're searching for.

Katie gapped at him in consternation, not fathoming how he could have possible known the headmaster and company would arrive before they had.

He merely shrugged his shoulders and answered vaguely with a smirk.. "It's a gift."

After a battery of tests which he sat meekly through so as not to prolong the agony by angering Madam Pomfrey further; he was officially discharged from the infirmary with many unanswered questions that the impatient, but still tenacious Healer was determined to glean at a later date.

* * *

><p>An apparently oblivious to his surroundings; Harry Potter, sat in blue jeans and cavalry shirt pulled to one side displaying a hint of his hairy , well-muscled chest that Katie was trying and failing not to sneak glances at from her vantage point to his right. He was rocking quietly in front of Dumbledore's desk in a rocking chair that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, surrounded by the remnants of the Order of Phoenix. Hermione was there staring questioningly at him, nearly bursting with curiosity, but determined to not usurp the Headmaster's authority in his own office.<p>

Ron and the rest of the remaining Weasleys had made it to the relative safety of France and were secreted away by the Delacours. Hermione had managed to get word to them and vice versa, allaying the fears of both parties. Apparently, at hearing of his surprising return, many of them, especially Ron, were champing at the bit to return and take up the fight against Voldemort. He told her to send word to 'stay safe and heal whilst he did what needed doing'. She giving him a curious look at that and was beside herself as she desperately wanted to know just what he was planning,(if anything), to do. Though cautiously optimistic, even Hermione had to admit they'd or more properly-he, struck a serious blow to the opposition. On the surface his abilities seemed entirely muggle in nature, perhaps honed to a razor edge, but still mundane. That was on the surface, but underneath it all, Hermione suspected they'd summoned something extraordinary and things were about to get very interesting.

The fact that a living, breathing Guardian was seated before her was beyond astounding, even for Harry Potter.

Harry never once batted so much as an eye as Dumbledore hurled question after question his way regarding his unknown background since the time of his disappearance. A few times Katie Bell looked about to blurt something out, but she caught herself and feigned ignorance along with her peers, contenting herself with stealing coy glances his way when she thought that he didn't notice. Harry, for his part just sat rocking and idly whittling away with a Bowie knife that looked like it was made for severing limbs rather than whittling. Several members of the Order thought wrongly that he might accidently cut off a finger any moment as they watched him fashion what appeared to be an intricately designed wand.

Dumbledore was about to try yet another of his patented tacts when the door to his office burst open and an unwelcome blast from the past made his presence known.

"Headmaster…I have urgent news. I finally was able to glean the extent of the Dark Lord's losses, but not the er, actual perpetrators of the deed." Without missing a beat, Snape puffed himself up broadly as he recanted a total of the dark side's losses as if he himself were responsible for them. "Twenty seven Death Eaters were killed in total, some twice that number wounded along with the Dark Lord, himself, who was mortally wounded."

"No he wasn't." Harry answered coolly in contradiction.

Snape's beady black eyes turned his way, an insult on his lips already forming at having been interrupted.

With his hat tipped strategically low, Snape was unaware of the newcomer's identity, but that didn't stop him from still being him.

"If you don't know of what you speak than be silent, fool. I myself both saw and brewed a multitude of healing potions for the Dark Lord. He suffered some form of piercing hexes to both his right and left chest."

Due to the secrecy inherent in returning "Harry Potter" to the British Realm, even Snape was apparently unaware of the plan to _supposedly save_ the magical realm from terrorism.

Harry smirked at the irony that Dumbledore's prized confidant was kept in the dark for security's sake. Apparently Snape's loyalties were no longer without question.

Harry's rocking chair abruptly halted at the insult. The wooden wand, he was carving ivy vines into, was used to push up the brim of his Stetson giving Snape a view of his smoldering green eyes.

Snape's face went from curious to puzzlement to outright alarm in final recognition of just who was sitting before him.

"Potter!" he hissed out in utter contempt.

Harry nodded slightly in unnecessary answer, a smirk forming at the edge of his mouth.

"Voldemort is suffering from two gunshot wounds; one to each side of his chest. They are not mortal wounds per se as I knew that magical healing, if administered expediently, could successfully treat such though he would be quite a spell convalescing from his injuries."

"Gunshot wounds?" Snape sneered incredulously, still not wholly cottoning on. "No muggle could have possibly wounded someone as powerful as the dark lord with so crude and vulgar a device."

There were several intakes of breath as the room readied itself for what was to come and his foolish slight.

Snape barely registered having heard the faint rasp of leather before he was looking down the barrel of Harry's colt, his green eyes shining malevolently from behind the barrel's sight.

"It wasn't a muggle, but as far as that goes; I know many a muggle who could kill that malevolent imbecile and easily so. I found him easily dispatched myself."

"But you missed? Twenty seven dead and you missed the one person who most needed to die?" McGonagall scathed.

"I don't miss." Harry answered without the slightest hint of arrogance.

"Then why is the Dark Lord still alive?" Snape sneered incredulously.

"Because I want him that way, at least temporarily." he added the "temporarily" with cool certainty that had several in the room shuddering in dread.

"Why?" Remus asked, finally making his presence heard from the alcove next to Hermione.

Harry fixed Dumbledore with a long suffering look of disdain as he accused. "Never told them-huh?" he shook his head disappointedly as many around the room shot the headmaster questioning looks whilst McGonagall was the first to find her voice and ask: "Albus?"

The headmaster balked at answering shooting a pleading look Harry's way, beseeching his silence on the matter.

If he was worried about losing his support to panic then he was long past due as the majority of the once prodigious Order was whittled down to a few tenacious witches and wizards who were still valiantly fighting an already lost battle.

Harry smirked at the Headmaster's silent plea. "He doesn't want you to know how Voldemort has gone about securing his supposed immortality. That and he's probably worried that once my part in things is revealed that I'll bolt and all his precious planning and manipulations will have been a waste. That about right, Professor?" he sneered Dumbledore's title with what could be only described as the utmost contempt, shocking the room full of 'Dumbledore zealots'.

"Harry, please… I implore you…?" he attempted to dissuade Potter from revealing Voldemort's secrets openly, mostly for security's sake, but also so as not to lose his hold over his remaining supporters.

"That you've only done what has been done for the greater good?" Harry questioned doubtfully, shocking the others by his mistreatment of their idol. "Yes, I'm sure you've told yourself that many a long night when you plotted and schemed to offer me up as the sacrificial lamb."

"Show the headmaster some respect, Potter." Snape warned coming to his supposed meal ticket's defense.

"Why?" Potter asked innocently, the others in turn realizing that he was being completely candid and not just sarcastic as one might suppose. "I suppose that we could argue that his age alone is a valid reason to show a modicum of respect, but his actions belabor the point."

The room appeared more shocked and outraged than previously, though several, like Hermione, Remus and Katie, looked more puzzled and skeptical than anything else.

Something important was missing from the equation and whatever it was it was clear that Dumbledore, (by the way he balked and fidgeted nervously), did not wish to discuss the particulars in an open group.

"This is a topic best discussed in private so as not to…"

"Alarm the others?" Harry guessed, finishing the Headmaster's sentence. "I agree that the topic is alarming, but it is for all intents and purposes a moot point where I am concerned."

"I couldn't disagree more. You are the **crux** of the situation and always have been, my boy." His stressed the word **crux **knowingly, accurately guessing that Harry had become aware of the existence of Voldemort's horcruxes, though how this came about he couldn't possibly imagine. Dumbledore went on to placate to try and resume control of the situation and turn things to his desired advantage.

"Whilst I agree I have made many mistakes where you are concerned, the fact still remains that you are an integral component in permanently defeating Voldemort and certain sacrifices must be made for that to come about, distasteful as that may seem it is imperative for the- Greater Good." He stressed that last vehemently, surreptitiously hinting at his belief that Harry was to sacrifice himself to save everyone else.

Harry did not share his viewpoint.

He pulled his Stetson from his head and lifted his bangs off the right side of his forehead showing – unblemished flesh.

"It's gone and with it your sacrifice for the "Greater Good." Harry drew quotation marks in the air for sarcastic emphasis.

"Your scar- it's gone?!" Hermione nearly shouted in surprised happiness, many others joining her sentiments of surprise and relief that his connection with Voldemort, and the suffering it incurred, was at an end. They couldn't know how very right they were in that.

"B-But how?" The headmaster stammered in disbelief, starring at the unmarred skin of his forehead in awe.

Harry only smiled disarmingly and leaned back into his chair and resumed rocking. He kept the matter secret, refusing to divulge anything further on the matter. He did this solely because he knew it would aggravate Dumbledore more than anything else. If there was one thing he remembered it was that Dumbledore liked to have all the answers solely for his own selfish and arrogant reasons.

Selfish in that he knew knowledge was power and used his secrets to manipulate others.

Arrogant because he truly believed in his own propaganda in that only he; The Great Albus Dumbledore was solely capable of understanding and using said knowledge to its full benefit.

The man was truly a legend in his own mind as well as the wizarding public- both for the same reason in that he wished it so. Many hurried discussions broke out around the room though Harry ignored them as he held the headmaster's gaze in a look that clearly stated that the game was nearly over and that the headmaster was about to find himself in check-mate.

It was not a look that Dumbledore could have ever remembered having quailed beneath found it wholly dissatisfying.

Harry finished his ministrations with the wand he carved, passing a skeptical eye over the wood looking for any signs of imperfections. He made a little knick here and shaved off a hair there, but finally having seemingly satisfied, he put his knife away. He spun the finished wand in his hand as fast as he spun his colts and maybe a hair more so. Satisfied with the feel and balance, he pricked a finger on the tip of his Bowie, from where it stuck out of the sheath, at his waste, and rubbed a drop of his own blood over the wand. The wood appeared to soak up the blood, slowly turning it to a rich burgundy color, His eyes flashed and the ivy vines he'd carved turned emerald green, the same color of his eyes.

Every eye in the room was mesmerized with wonder and curiosity as he went about his task with keen interest and a sharp eye for detail.

His spare hand went to his the medicine bag around his neck and retrieved a pinch of the strange paste he carried with him at all times. He rubbed the paste over the wand and chanted something foreign under his breath. The wand glowed a a silvery hue and when the glow faded the wand appeared perfectly finished and ready for use, which was of course impossible as there was no core within the wood to focus magic from its user.

It was no more than a replica, a well fashioned one, but a replica just the same. Still it was a nice bit of workmanship and would make a good practice wand for a child that wasn't old enough to yet cast with a real wand as most assumed was his intent.

Snpae for one, scoffed at what he considered a complete waste of time and energy.

"Katie?" Harry called the dark skinned beauty forward proffering the wand to her, handle first, which elicited another scoff from Snape at what he perceived as a foolish attempt at gaining attention.

_As if they would be fooled into believing he could fashion a magical wand from plain wood and no magical core?_

Harry ignored the man's impatience and placed the wand in Katie's slightly trembling hand. "Sorry you lost your own wand back at the ministry. Since we have no ready options available to procure another more compatible wand, as we can hardly go strolling down Diagon Alley in the current clime, this will hopefully be a better fit than some Death Eater's twig."

Katie's eyes went wide in wondrous surprise when the wand warmed in her hand the moment it made contact. She shrieked in happiness when she swished the wand and the room filled with stars and glimmering bubbles.

Gasps of surprise and stunned disbelief filled the room as Katie glowed with happiness, the wand Harry had fashioned not only powerful, but obviously a perfect match for her magic, not to mention aesthetically beautiful.

"That'll do for now." Harry commented in satisfaction, rising from his chair and motioning for Remus to join him as he moved toward the exit of Dumbledore's office. Witches and wizards barely registered his leaving as they were still babbling over the wondrous and seemingly impossibly viable gift. Dumbledore , himself, kept running his wand over Harry's fashioning, becoming more and more astounded with each diagnostic result.

"I wonder, Miss Bell if I might borrow that wand for a bit of experimentation?" he inquired hopefully, but was soundly rebuffed when Katie blatantly told him to: "Get your own!"

"That's a neat bit of a trick." Remus complimented as they made there way down the hall from the Headmaster's office.

Harry shrugged, shooting his friend a smirk as he added cunningly. "Useful for Katie, but it should also hold Dumbledore's immediate attention while you and I see to other matters."

Remus chuckled at his pseudo nephew's ingenuity. "So what's up?" he asked at length.

Harry paused to swipe a nearby painting of a portly monk across the eyes telling him to: "Beat it, for I get me some paint thinner and do a job of it."

The monk howled epitaphs in his wake as he sought sanctuary in distant paintings.

"Now that Dumbledore's spies know how things stand, we can talk more freely." Harry explained to which Remus nodded his understanding though he admonished, "Such behavior and to a man of the cloth?"

Harry sniggered at that. "By the way he was yelping I'd say I reconfirmed his faith."

The both shared a chuckle at that. Once their shared humor subsided, Harry got down to business.

"You get wind of anything this morning toward the south side of the castle grounds near the Forbidden Forest?"

Remus pondered the question absently until Harry reiterated. "Near where Hagrid's hut used to be?" he clarified.

Remus noted the way his friend's face fell slightly at that. "He never gave up on you, you know, not for a second. He searched everywhere and anywhere, hoping he'd find you**.** "

"And got himself killed for his trouble." Harry added with a note of finality. Hagrid had died searching for Harry in their present time, having run afoul of one of Voldemort's death squads. Gryffindor and good man that he was; Hagrid took the lot of the scum with him.

"He loved you." Remus added simply, as if that explained everything.

"And I owe him for that and a whole lot more." Harry acknowledged to which Remus grabbed his shoulder bracingly in support.

"We'll see he's avenged, you and I." Remus offered the younger friend accepted with a firm nod of agreement.

"Regarding this morning, to answer your question…?" Remus returned to the subject of previous. "I was otherwise occupied with er…"

"The company of a rather pretentious, albeit clumsy auror?" Harry surmised with a smirking hand.

Remus swatted his arm but otherwise made no attempt to deny the assumption.

Getting to the point, Harry explained that he'd causght just a hint of movement at the tree line that could have been anything and probably was benign but,.. his gut was telling him otherwise.

"What do you think it was?' Remus asked suspiciously, himself now eyeing the distant tree line through the window.

Harry cocked his head in thought as he scratched at the stubble on his chin.

"Something that either doesn't want to be revealed, and or, doesn't like the sunlight?" Harry guessed.

Remus growled low in the throat at that, a hint of his wolf's persona coming through. Disappointedly, he acknowledged,.."I won't be any help as it's still several days until the full moon." the man had immediately cottoned on to Harry's suspicions.

Harry smiled a cunning grin of knowing as he suggested. "That's if you want to wait and go through all the bother."

"If you've got a better idea I'm all ears." Remus ventured curiously especially given the way Harry was looking calculatingly at him.

"How'd you like to change and still keep your wits about you?"

"Wolf's bane potion is good and all, but it still only effective on the full moon when I transform.

"I aint talkin _wolf's bane_ and there's no reason you have to wait for the full moon, let alone go through all the pain that comes with a forced change?"

"What then?" Remus asked puzzled, splaying his hands, entreating his friend to continue.

"Changing when you want, whenever you want, day or night and without pain; that sound like something you'd be interested in?" Harry enticed.

"Who do I have to kill and how soon?" he all but begged for the opportunity.

Nodding his head, Harry draped an arm over his friend's shoulder and detailed what he had in mind, starting with.. "You ever heard of skin walkers?"

* * *

><p>In another part of the castle, Katie, Hermione, Tracy Davies and a few other refugee ladies from nearly the same year were holding court discussing Katie's good fortune.<p>

"Ohmygod, Kaite,..I can't believe,.. if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I would have never believe it?" Tracy gushed, staring pointedly at the wand clutched tightly in her friend's fist that was practically humming with power.

Katie swept the wand in an arc, squealing in joy as rose petals drifted down around the room, filling it with their sweet scent.

"You'll have to keep that one in mind for your wedding night." Hermione suggested with a wink toward her friend, which had half the ladies in the room looking puzzled, the other half sharing knowing looks and bright smiles toward Katie.

"Huh?" Katie asked dumbly.

"Harry, you,.. wedding night…sex!" Tracy snapped her fingers in front of her friend's face getting her attention as she explained.

Katie's face blushed crimson. "What, but we,.. he..?" she stammered embarrassedly.

"He's got a thing for you." Hermione commented knowingly.

"And how." Susan Bones added smiling brightly, glad to find something to celebrate in all the misery they'd endured over the past several was until the clouds parted and a ray of sunlight burst through in the form of a guardian-Harry Potter.

"No he doesn't?" Katie argued without enthusiasm as she was fervently wishing otherwise.

"Yes-He-Does." Tracy disagreed succinctly, poking her with her finger to accentuate every word.

Hermione nodded going on to explain. "He used to sneak looks at you all the time in the common room when you weren't looking."

"He did?" Katie gasped in surprise.

Hermione nodded. "Ron said that there were only two reasons that Harry played quidditch. His two great loves, as it were: Flying and Katie Bell."

Katie gapped stupidly at that as the rest of the witches around her giggled.

"R-Really?"Katie stammered hopefully, a slight grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Uh-Huh." Hermione gushed teasingly.

"That wand proves it." Tracy pointed out. "It's like an engagement present."

"How do you figure that?" Katie asked incredulously, staring at the beautiful wand in her hand and not even remotely seeing the connection.

"He was looking at you the whole time he was carving it with that big arse knife of his. I swear I though he was gonna hack a finger off any second. You couldn't see from your vantage point, but he was looking at you from beneath the brim of that sexy hat he wears." Tracy colored slightly at that.

"It true." Susan confirmed. "I swear that when he, well.. whatever he did, but when his eyes flashed and the ivy on your wand turned the same color as his eyes- It was so cool."

"And romantic." Hermione confirmed. "It was like he was painting some masterpiece on a canvas that only his heart could see."

Susan began fanning herself at that, her eyes shifting between the knowing, wistful look on Hermione's face and the hope filled eyes of Katie Bell.

"But we just.. he's been gone for over ten years and even before that we hardly ever spoke and he, those eyes… and wow…?" Katie was rambling now as her heart and her mind warred for dominance.

Hermione smirked and added more fuel to the fire. "His Godfather said that Potter men are blessed with an uncanny knack at finding their perfect match, their soul mate. They usually do so at an early age and once that happens they're yours forever. His father never wanted or even looked at another woman after he met Harry's mother that first time and I'm given to understand that was when they were first sorted into houses. He used to get teased mercilessly by his friends over it, but he never cared because he loved her that much, even though she didn't return those same feelings until several years later when they were seventh years."

"But it's been ten years and even before that we never were more than even just friendly acquaintances toward one another. Why didn't he ever, you know.. show any interest or anything?" Katie balked.

"He was terribly shy back then and maybe even then it was nothing more than a passing fancy or a crush. Now, however,…?" she left off pointedly.

It was sometime before Katie found her voice, though she was obviously not wholly convinced though a part of her wished she was. "But he's a _guardian_ he could…?"

"He can do whatever he wants." Tracy interrupted pointedly. "Guardians are a law onto themselves. He could drag you off and have his way with you any time he wants and there's no one to say boo about it." Tracy sniggered at the picture she'd elicited as several ladies sucked in an apprehensive breath and the other half almost growled predatorily at the notion.

The voice of reason, however, interrupted their plaintive musings. "Harry, is not going to drag anyone off and have his way with them." Hermione scoffed.

"Awe…" several ladies vented their disappointment at that.

Hermione shot them a look that clearly said she was a bit disappointed herself, but continued to placate. "While I admit he's far different than what I, er,.. any of us may have expected, he's still Harry Potter and despite whatever adversity he's faced in the time he's been gone; he's a noble soul and my father used to say that noble souls aren't made, but born into the world. Harry will do what's right for everyone, even at his own expense. It's up to you, Katie, to see that he understands that there's more to life than just service to others. I've done a bit of research and _Guardian_s are not forbidden love and marriage.

"What do you mean?" Katie asked for clarification.

Hermione proceeded to detail the magical vow Harry had made in that he would forgo Guardianship after Voldemort was gone if he was asked by the public, namely Hermione herself, to do so. He'd left it to Hermione's unflagging conscience to decide when the time came.

The room filled with gasps of wonder that he could and would so readily abdicate such absolute and legal power.

Tracy brought everyone back to reality and Katie more so than the others. "Bottom line is that he's showing some form of interest and it's up to you, Katie, to reciprocate if you so desire?"

"In other words: Get off that shapely behind and use it for what God intended-bait!" Susan Bones growled out suggestively the women clapping and laughing along in a show of solidarity.

Her resolve was hardening but she was still hesitant, probably more so becausde this was Harry Potter they were conspiring about. 'The boy who lived', 'the chosen one' and now-a 'guardian'- _for Circe's sake?!_

She grasped Hermione's arm and pleaded for a bit of inside information. "Is there anything else you can suggest, a bit of advice maybe?"

Hermione pursed her lips, pausing thoughtfully. "Harry was and is ferociously courageous, but he was also very loyal, kind and unassuming. He was very clueless regarding women and as we both know witches are another matter entirely. What I guess I'm trying to say is that: Harry was never very confident regarding his emotions and feelings. He would profess that he didn't know what _love _was- not really, however,… If there was one thing that I or anyone close to him knew for a certainty, it was that nobody knew it better."

Katie's hand pulled back from Hermione's arm and covered the gasp that escaped her mouth as the witches around them all had various positive, wistful reactions to that.

* * *

><p>"I don't think I'm going to get this?" Remus complained, his disappointment evident.<p>

"You'll get it." Harry reassured his pseudo uncle.

"Not by tonight?" Remus pointed out incredulously.

Harry snickered at that. "I never said you'd get it by tonight. Rome wasn't built in a day-Remus." He guffawed loudly at that. "Get it.. Rome..? Built..? Romulus and Remus?" Har-Har-Har!" he slapped his thigh as another wave of laughter doubled him over.

"Yeah, I get it. You're a riot you are." Remus sneered. He'd heard that one before, thanks to his old pal Sirius who was the last person who should have ever been making fun of someone's name, what with being named after a dog star.

"Figures I'd get stuck with the least humorous Marauder- if there even was such a thing?' Harry mused as his mirth dried up.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Very droll"

Harry just shrugged and reiterated his previous point. "It's gonna take a bit to learn to transform at will and you're going to need a bit of guidance initially. I'm just trying to get you to lower the block on your transformation. Right now you're a slave to the lunar cycle, but that will change soon enough. First I'm going to force the change a few times so you get a feel for it , then I'm going to bring in a bit of _expert advice _to offer a bit of counseling and direction."

"How exactly are you going to _force_ the transformation and just what expert are you referring to: McGonnagal?" Remus returned uncertainly on both counts.

Harry grinned knowingly at his friend's dilemma. "My how the tables have turned?" At seeing his friend's puzzled expression he explained. "It must suck going full circle and once again being the student- eh.. Professor?"

Remus scowled at that, partially because that was exactly the sort of frustration he was feeling just now.

"At least I never laughed at you and always gave you chocolate after you tried to produce a patronus." He reminded his younger friend.

Sobering at that, Harry immediately goaded. "Awe, does wolfie want a treat?" he proceeded to pull a bone from behind his back and brandish it temptingly at his friend. "Here boy-Here boy… get the bone- get the bone!" he threw the bone across the lawn and smirked knowingly at seeing Remus take a sudden step in the proffered bone's direction before pulling up short, chastising himself for almost giving into his wolfish instincts.

Harry stalked over and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "That's what I'm talking about ,Remus. Let go of you inhibitions, your humanity if you will, and let the wolf take over."

"Remus pulled a worried face at the notion. "That's what I'm afraid of. I can't control the wolf without the wolf's bane potion. I could hurt or even kill someone."

"You won't."

"How can you be so sure?" Remus asked skeptically, wishing he could believe that.

Harry patted his friend's shoulder reassuringly. "All transformation comes from the soul Remus. You're a good man, a noble soul, and your wolf is the same. It won't kill unless it has to, same as you, because you will be in control. The wolf is just another facet of your magic, which is just another part of the whole- yourself. James was always described to me as a proud and courageous stag- a leader. Padfoot was a reflection of the hound that Sirius was want to be, but for all of that he was a faithful friend. Peter's rat was the reflection of his innermost character: a conniving, scavenging, craven survivor who let fear rule rather than guide him. Wolves are intelligent creatures as are you, Remus."

"I wish I had your faith." Remus rasped hopefully.

Harry smirked knowingly at that. "You already do, Remus. You already do."

That said he suggested his friend get some food and rest as it was going to be an interesting night.

"What're you gonna do?" Remus balked, not wanting to leave Harry stuck doing all the work. He really didn't like the whole role reversal thing.

"Whittle a bit, maybe make a friend or two whilst I get a feel for the place again, maybe even say a prayer for a bountiful harvest." He left off airily as he tipped his hat and turned in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

"Maybe I'd better come along just in ca…"

"I'll be just fine, Remus." Harry interjected, tapping his palm to one of his colt handles suggestively.

* * *

><p>It was nearly sunset and a lone figure was rocking gently back and forth surveying the castle grounds from a strategic point of advantage atop the Astronomy tower. Atop meaning just that as Harry was as near the top as he could possibly get without his rocking chair tipping off the edge and even then one would've expected the liberal use of sticking charms if it wasn't for the fact that this would have prevented his rocking motion.<p>

As it was Katie couldn't fathom what was keeping him upright despite his legendary balance on a broomstick.

Across his lap was a long barreled rifle that he had canceled the shrinking charm on after retrieving it from his saddle bags. A pair of ammunition belts were strung crisscross over his chest with the shells ready to hand for reloading at a split second notice. He wished he had brought two such rifles with him, but three days had not proved sufficient to find such a well crafted and highly in demand weapon and he was loathe to settle for an inferior replacement. Even though the Winchester was a fine weapon, it didn't have the range and power of a Henry rifle.

Katie's scrutinizing eyes gapped wide when she followed the sound of the creaking and found him at his sentry point for that was exactly what it was and it didn't take a tactical genius much of a leap to realize he was waiting in obvious anticipation. He was dressed in his usual garb only she noted the glint of a reflection from the toe of his boot and the spurs that he now wore, all of which appeared to be made of silver. Absently she thought this quite odd given that he was perched on a rooftop instead of a horse what with the spurs, but she chalked it up to just another of his many idiosyncrasies that usually had a very usefu purpose once that purpose was revealed.

_Merlin only knew what the man was up to this time._

She shielded her eyes from the setting sun that was at his back to try and see his face though between the sunset and his Stetson she couldn't quite make out his shadowed face. "What're you doing?" she asked, stating the obvious for no more reason than it was a place to start their conversation.

"Waiting" he returned stoically.

"Waiting for what?" she continued undaunted despite his short reply.

"Waiting for something bad to happen."

"Are we going to be attacked?" she quickly asked, starting to get worried.

"Not you, me or more aptly put: Remus, though I intend to make my presence known. Share the wealth, so to speak." he chuckled dryly at his jest.

"Remus?... but where is…."

**AHHH-WOOOOO**

Her question was cut off by a long, lonely howl from within the forest to which Harry smiled in dread anticipation.

He tipped up the brim of his hat giving his eyes an unfettered view as he cocked his rifle, advising Katie to leave as he readied himself. "Katie, I think it's time you stepped in for the night. We can continue getting acquainted tomorrow, 'k?"

Katie's hands brushed nervously down her sides, fighting to keep from grabbing at the handle of the new wand which she kept in a wrist sheath. Her eyes shifted between Harry and the distant darkening forest. "But how can you even see…?"

**AHHHH-ROOOOO**

This time the wolf's howl had more of a blood thirsty predatory sound to it as if it was on the trail of some game.

Thinking better of the situation,Harry pulled off his hat and tossed it down to Katie. "Take care of that for me won't ya? I'll be along to collect it in the morning, now off with ya." He directed, his shoulder tilting meaningfully toward the door she'd arrived by. "Lock it mind?" He reminded as Katie hesitantly did as instructed, trusting that he knew what he was doing, though she was becoming increasingly alarmed as several shrieks from within the forest were no answering the wolf's challenging howl.

After the door closed and his ears caught the sound of the bolt being tremulously throw in place; Harry did a quick sign of the cross. "For what we are about to receive let us be truly grateful."

Harry smiled grimly as he vanished his chair and lowered himself onto his belly, bringing the barrel tip of his rifle to bear.

"Bring em in, Remus." He whispered as his right eye sighted an as yet nonexistent target in calm anticipation.

The howls of the wolf changed in timber and took on a more anxious almost frightened sound and Harry could hear the sound of frenzied pursuit now tracking the wolf instead as it tried desperately to retreat. It's hunt forgotten, now only its inherent instinct for self-preservation fueled it's madly pounding legs as it broke the tree line.

Katie was right about one thing-it was damn dark out this time of year, not that it would matter to him.

His prey, on the other hand, were creatures that existed solely within night's warm embrace.

That embrace was about to take on a distinct chill and they were about to receive night's final embrace, if he had anything to say about it.

Harry tapped a finger to his temple and muttered an incantation known only to a certain lost tribe of magical folk that had taken in and nutured him when he'd been lost and destitute. By taken in he meant: enslaved,.. but why cry over spilt milk.

His green eyes took on a strange silvery gleam and suddenly the dark sky was alit with a myriad of colors to his enhanced eyesight. Day light alone never boasted such intense clarity, even in the brightest of sunlight.

A large black werewolf with a spattering of grey flecks in its coat was running across the expansive lawns of Hogwarts as if all hell was on its heels. As fast as the werewolf was it was slowly losing its lead over the pack of blood thirsty vampires that was bearing down on it. From Harry's vantage point he did some rough calculations and grimaced in the realization that the werewolf would not make it to the border of safety he'd laboriously established this afternoon in planning for tonight's_ culling_.

Now, to say that Harry was more than a fair hand with pistols was a glaring understatement to any that had the pleasure of first hand witnessing his unique talents. He was just as good with a rifle, however, these vermin were moving fast and their feral lust to be first to the kill had them vying against each other which meant they were constantly weaving about to try and get a better vantage point on their fellows.

In layman's terms: "Shite", Harry swore under his breath knowing that he'd have to be very lucky just to hit the bastards let alone make a kill shot to the head or heart.

That left him with the lesser of two choices; plan B.

He'd have to buy Remus time to make the boundary and then take the fight up close and personal with the survivors.

Unfortunately, he'd carved the majority of his supply of wooden bullets for the Henry rifle and had only enough left to fill his pistols leaving nothing available for even a single reload.

That gave him twenty four rounds, which he'd only originally intended for mercy's sake; to finish off the wounded.

By his reckoning there were a bit more than two dozen vampires ghosting across the lawns in pursuit of his friend and he doubted that Remus alone could handle that many left overs.

"Always the hard way." he grumbled as he took aim down the sights of his rifle and set to work.

**Blam..Blam…Blam..Blam**

The distinct and ear splitting repeat of the fifty caliber repeater shook the castle's windows, initially freezing its occupants in the dread fear of misunderstanding.

"What the bloody hell?!" One of the halls diner's voiced what most of them were already about to exclaim in fear wrought surprise.

"It must be giants trying to break down the gate." A witch screeched, pulling her children close and staring wide eyed at the Great Halls imposing doors, already fretting they would never hold when the supposed giants arrived.

Wands filled hands as several lieutenants amongst the Order's remnants barked out orders and mobilized into action.

**Blam..Blam…Blam…**

"Come on Remus,… come on!" Harry barked under his breath as another two vampires howled and went down only to immediately right themselves in that strange fluid like way they moved and pelted back after their pack as it closed in on the tiring werewolf.

Thus far Harry had managed to keep the closets pursuers at bay giving Remus some breathing room. The wooden bullets were hurting the vampires but not killing them as he'd yet to make a head shot or pierce one of the creature's hearts. This was mostly by devise, but at this point, when they were so close to the boundary, dropping a few permanently would be a good thing as they moved with a speed and grace that was inherent in the more mature vampires. Those that were newly turned did not recover quite so fast from being pierced with wood, nor were they this fast. A coulpe of the buggers were even able to take to the air briefly and glide a bit… this was something that only the more mature and exponentially more deadly vamps could do.

**Blam…Blam…**

"It's Harry!" Katie Bell announced in alarm, skidding into the Hall with her wand drawn. "He…He and Remus…V-Vampires…" she gasped in report as she tried to catch her breath, bent over with her hands on her knees, struggling to pull in more air.

"Vampires!" several voices rang out even more worriedly than previoulys whilst others looked more revolted than actually fearful.

"Calm yourselves!" Dumbledore barked out, fanning his hands emploring the crowd to return to their seats as he placated further.

"Do not panic. The castle is in lockdown mode and I'm sure that Guardian Potter has the matter well in hand."

"Are you mad?" his second scathed, looking at her aged friend and mentor as if he'd gone completely senile.

"Vampires-Albus?" she reiterated in alarm. "Fighting vampires at night is sheer folly. It's never been done!"

"Oh, it's been done, though never very successfully I grant you." He returned bracingly.

"You can't leave them out there –alone?" Hermione Granger pleaded from his other side.

Dumbledore sighed and his eyes lost some of their twinkle as the rapport of Harry's rifle still rattled the windows ominously as he reaped an unholy harvest upon the night stalkers outside.

"What would you have me do?" he beseeched in return. "I am doing as I was instructed to do by Harry, himself. Even I cannot disobey the command of a Guardian and he was most clear in his threat of what would befall me if I should do so." There was a note of intense trepidation connected to that last and his eyes went vacant at the recollection.

Hermione gapped, along with McGonagal at the headmaster's worried state.

_What could Harry Potter have threatened someone like Dumbledore with that he would so blindly place his beloved school under the Guardian's command?_

Harry tossed aside his rifle and scrabbled to his feet. Remus had about a two length lead and at the rate they were traveling; the vampires would hit the boundary in less than a few seconds. He put his fingers to his lips and blew a long shrill whistle that echoed out across the night sky. Trusting in his friends, he launched himself feet first down the castle roof, sliding on his backside toward the ledge and a drop of some hundred feet or more to the ground below.

He hit the ledge and in a leap of faith spread his legs wide as he vaulted out into the dark expanse with only a hard stop waiting on the unforgiving ground below.

"Ughhh!" he grunted on impact with the thestral's back. The creature he'd befriended only this afternoon had answered his call faithfully a trait for which the creatures were well known, as was this particular thestral as it was the very same one that had carried his younger self to the Ministry nearly eleven years ago. He could tell by the star like blemish it had beneath its left eye.

"Good boy, Starlight. "Harry complimented the horse like creature patting the side of its leathern neck appreciatively as the horse like creature neighed low in it's throat.

Screams of pain and outrage filled the night as the vampires crossed the line of the boundary some hundred meters or more away.

Some of the creatures burst into flame and crumpled to ash in a heartbeat whilst others shrieked and clawed madly at their pale faces and blood red eyes as smoke rose from their blistering flesh, the very ground seemed to be roasting them alive.

This was_ hallowed ground_.

Harry had spent part of his day performing a sacramental blessing over a section of the lawn, making of it a deadly trap for the unholy denizens of the night. Muggle movies were wrong in that Vampires were repelled by religious icons, though sacred ground both weakened and physically hurt them, thus they avoided churches, grave yards and the like.

**Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam….**

Dozens of faces were glued to the outer windows watching enrapt as Harry Potter swooped down out of the night sky aboard a thestral as he unloaded his pistols into Vampires as they were struggling to rise from the ground whilst Remus Lupin, in his werewolf form, harried their flanks, herding the foul creatures into a tighter group so that Harry would have an easier time dispatching the fiends

Heads exploded and the remains burst into flame lighting the area for meters around as Harry's face lite up with each discharge of his firearm, hovering above the massacre.

Some few tried to break away thinking to make the safety of the distant tree line only to be dragged down by werewolf jaws and razor sharp claws. One managed to leap snarling into the air, intent to dislodge the thestral's rider from its back.

A glint of silver flashes as Harry wheeled his mount about and his silver spurred boot heel tore out the creatures throat sending it tumbling down to the lawn where its blood hissed and spit on contact with the sacred ground. Finally it stilled and burst into flame, igniting one of its fellows along with it. This second inflamed vampire whirled madly about in panic tearing and gouging at its fellow pack members in its desperation to escape its burning torment.

**Blam-Blam-click**

"Damn!" Harry swore as his pistol announced the end of its usefulness.

He leapt from the thestral's back and into the dying fray. His Bowie knife slammed up to the hilt down into one hapless creature's left shoulder, breaking his fall. The creature screamed an unearthly wail as he tore his knife blade free and the vampire crumpled to the ground, igniting on impact with the cooling grass that was like acid to the creatures.

His duster whirled about him dancing on the breeze as he twisted out of the path of one vampire and slashed another across the throat with his left spur in a perfectly timed wheel kick that sent his foe spinning into the night. By the sudden feral growl of pleasure and the tearing sound of rending flesh as the creature gurgled in terror… Remus must have sportingly finished the night fiend.

Harry's Bowie slashed and stabbed, its enchanted blade glowing a silvery hue from beneath its iron wood back. Its design readily apparent to the onlookers glued to the castle's windows that were clouding over from moisture of so many exhalations.

"Holy shite!" One gasped in awe as the last of the vampires fell beneath Harry's blade.

"What's he doing now? One asked, wiping the condensation from his breath off the window to try and get a better view.

"It..It looks like one of them is still alive?" one of the onlookers commented uncertainly.

"It burns…It Burns!" The wounded vampire wailed in misery as Harry cast and immobilizing charm over the vampire. It wouldn't hold the creature forever, but then again, the creature's survival rate was pretty low and dropping off the scale with each passing moment.

Harry tipped back his Stetson and wiped a sleeve across his sweaty brow to try and keep it from stinging as it ran into his eyes. His hat had absorbed a great deal of perspiration, but even its cotton headband liner could only hold so much and tonight's activities, while brief, had been intense.

"I expect it does." he commented darkly as he conjured up a chair and planted the legs of it across the pale creature's writhing chest, further locking it in place.

"What's your name?" Harry asked, leaning slightly forward lso that one of the chair's braces bit cruelly into the vampire's chest and neck.

"In life I was Edmund Gwynn, but that was long ago and my mortal family has long since ceased."It bit out challengingly, knowing his captor could not use and familial relation against him.

"I could give a rat's arse about you past,.. what's your vampire name?"

"I..I am called L-Lysander." The creature hesitated, but gave in, deciding there could be no harm in this simple tidbit of information.

"What clan do you belong to?" Harry continued coolly.

"My clan lies dead about me, scum. I am alone now." The vampire spat back in utter contempt.

"That's a shame." Harry said sympathetically, his tone anything but. "I'm gonna make you a one time, non-negotiable offer, Lice. You tell me how many other clans of vamps Voldemort has command and where they're located and I'll turn you loose…"

Seeing that the vampire was about to argue the validity of his promise Harry held up a finger in warning, silencing the creature as he continued. "… with the proviso that you never again prey on humans. Cows, dogs rats, whatever strikes your fancy is fine, but no humans- got it?"

"And if I refuse?" The vampire challenged staring daggers up at his tormentor.

Harry pulled a small crystal vial from the breast pocket of his duster and held it meaningfully over the vampires face. The vampire's slit like nose sniffed before it's head pulled back in revulsion and it's fangs protruded threateningly to try and ward Harry away.

Harry smirked a cold, cunning look of appreciation for the creature's discomfort. "Then this holy water is the last thing you'll ever drink. Personally, I'm sorta hoping you take that option as I'm curious just now. I've seen what holy water does to a vampires skin many times, but I'd really like to see what happens if a fanger has some poured down his yap?" he chuckled darkly at that as the vampire writhed and twisted, struggling to break the charm that was still barely holding it in place.

A feral growl to his left told the vampire that escape was probably not going to happen as Remus loped in bearing his fangs threateningly.

"Hmm, seems that my friend here wants first dibs? Maybe I'll let him gnaw on you a bit until you're feeling more receptive."

The vampires face paled dramatically at that which was no easy feat as the creature was already ghostlike.

He readily divulged the names and locations of two other clans as his own instinct for self-preservation was suddenly quite overpowering. Harry couldn't blame them as the animosity between vamps and werewolves went back thousands of years and had only grown more virulent over time.

Harry eased back his chair and was about to cancel the charm, or at least the vampire thought he was.

"How will you know whether or no I've kept my part of the bargain. I could feed on humans till my heart swelled to the size of head and you would never know." It challenged sarcastically.

"Oh, I'll know alright." Harry confided as confused the creature more by asking…"Did Voldemort mark you like the rest of his gang of fools?"

The vampire bared his fangs and hissed venomously. "He did not. He considers us beneath mere wizards, besides, our bodies heightened healing process will not hold the mark on our person. It would heal before it could set in and activate.

"That's what I thought?" Harry confirmed his suspicion as he pulled out his Bowie knife. Without warning he carved a runic symbol into the creature as it hissed and twisted beneath him trying to escape the maddening pain. "Your body won't be able to heal this as the blade is imbued with both silver and ironwood." He explained as he finished carving the rune. He then turned the knife on himself and made a twin of the carving, only miniture by comparison, on his forearm, letting the blood from the creature stain it before dipping the tip of his blade into his own blood and jabbing it back into the carved symbol on the vampire. The rune flashed molten red on the creature and blue on Harry's arm.

"If a single drop of human blood traverse your fanged gab, I'll know." He warned. "All I'll need to do is touch my wand to this symbol and I'll be able to find you no matter where you hide. When that happens…" Harry brandished his knife threateningly with a cold leer of anticipation. The vampire's yellowed eyes went wide in fear and it shook its head desperately in understanding. "I'll also be able to call you in return and you'll feel an irresistible pull drawing you back to me if and when I should have need of you." He smirked cunningly at that.

"You tricked me Human." The vampire snapped in contempt.

"Not so. " Harry argued. "I am letting you go." He pointed out. "That's not to say I might not get lonesome for your company somewhere down the road." He chuckled darkly.

Harry eased back his chair and cancelled the immobilizing charm with a wave of his hand. He remained in his seat, forcing the vampire to wriggle out from beneath him to win back its freedom; it was a simple reminder of who was in charge.

With a last snarl of contempt, that turned to a yelp of fear when Remus snapped his jaws snapped threateningly in return, the vampire slunk away into the night.

"Why'd he let that one go?" Susan Bones asked no one in particular, her face still pressed to the windows like dozens of her fellow refugees.

"I'd say he's probably got what he needed and besides he may have just made an ally or at the least an unwilling pawn that may come in handy down the road." Hermione suggested, satisfying the others as many nodded their agreement with her summation, which was as usual, spot on.

About ten minutes later a pair of weary and hungry men strolled into the castle, despite the many charms that supposedly had the castle secured for the night. They made their way into the Hall thinking they'd hit up the elves for some food and about a galleon of fire whiskey to wash it down.

They hadn't made it two steps into the Great Hall when they pulled up short at the hundreds of eyes staring at them with varying states of awe and appreciation.

"What?" Harry asked, making a show of checking over his clothes thinking he must have missed a bloody stain or two.

His head shot back up and both he and Remus gapped in surprise when the entire Hall rose and applauded their efforts.


	4. Chapter 4: Uncomfortable Reunion

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**West of Here**

**Chapter Four: Uncomfortable Reunion.**

BLAM-BLAM

He twisted in the air, log rolling horizontally to the ground whilst his twin colts fired down into the startled eyes of the vampire that had just tried to cleave him in half with an ancient looking scimitar. The sword missed as he'd rolled right over the blade as it swung in an arc beneath his rotating body, managing only to cleave empty air as his assailant brought both colts to bear and fired two shots point blank, one to the head the other two into the heart.

The vampire never had so much as a split second to scream before he burst into flame and was no more than a smoldering pile of ash as Jamie's booted feet hit the lawn. Without missing a beat he twisted his trunk missing the slash of another vampire's clawed hand, firing another burst of two rounds into the creature's chest, lifting him up into the air where he burst into flames, screaming as his body imploded and disappeared like dust motes on the breeze.

Remus' wand had just dispatched the last of the feral brood, never having a so much as a split second for Jamie to assist his transformation into a werewolf as the vampires had lain in wait for them and attacked the moment their port key deposited them on the Goyle estate.

Snict-Snict-Snict-Snict….

Remus watched mesmerized as his friend reloaded his revolvers with mechanical precision. He never grew tired of it as Harry's fingers danced deftly about their work like a ballet dancer upon a stage.

His attention to detail was staggering and for the many something time Remus wondered just what his younger friend had gone through that seemingly every moment was devoted to combat readiness as if he expected life threatening danger around every corner.

He did.

It was that expectation that had insured his survival thus far. He told Remus that grave yards were filled with those that relied on luck. The good lived a might longer. The cautious longer still and the very good became living legends; Living being the goal in that statement.

Remus shook his head as he surveyed the still smoldering carnage around them. He'd felled maybe three or four of the vampires on his own, but his friend had accounted for the rest and in the same space of time as himself. Jamie had dispatched some sixteen vampires, among them a master and a couple lieutenants.

By all accounts a very good night's work, but their night was only beginning.

"Just how many bullets did you bring with you?" Remus asked incredulously as by his accounting Harry should have run out of ammunition long since.

Jamie smirked at the question. "Enough for tonight and maybe another skirmish or three. After that I'll pop over to the states to procure what I need for the long haul."

"Pop over to the states? You can't just pop over to the United States, no one can apparate that far?" Remus asked doubtfully.

"Don't be so literal." Jamie chastised. "I never said I was gonna apparate, mind. I plan on making other, more reliable arrangements."

"You planning to fly over?" Remus assumed.

"Uh-huh" Harry agreed vacantly to which Remus rolled his eyes in exasperation, deciding he probably didn't want to know the logistics as it undoubtedly held an element of danger that he wouldn't approve of.

Most things with Jamie Black, or Harry Potter, depending what he chose to call himself from one day to the next, was that most of his activities held a certain modicum of risk, though he seemed to be oblivious to the fact. Either that or he was lucky, but as Jamie seemed to discount luck in anything he did. Remus realized after time that Jamie was just extremely capable and radiated the confidence inherent with this.

"Are you sure what we're looking for is here?" Remus asked uncertainly as the rest of the estate, including the manor house seemed ominously dark as if abandoned.

"Looks are deceiving; you know that better than anyone, Remus." He returned, eyeing the mansion across the unkempt lawn of the estate.

The fact that he was referring to the taboo associated with Remus' lycanthrope as not being the measure of the man had touched Remus greatly and he nodded his thanks toward his younger friend.

"While we're on the subject you want me to transform you? I could set you loose in the manor house to raise wholly hell with whatever fools are lying in wait for us. They wouldn't be expecting a werewolf without a full moon. The results could be quite interesting?" Jamie conjectured, smiling evilly at the notion.

"Merlin, what goes on in your head?" Remus asked, shaking his head dubiously. Though he had to agree that the suggestion had tactical merit, it was still a nasty business to turn a werewolf loose on mere humans. Even someone like Fenir Greyback, who could partially transform without a full moon, would be no match against a fully transformed werewolf.

Remus nodded agreement though he felt some pity for what he was about to reap.

Jamie's hand drifted towards his medicine bag expectantly before Remus grumbled. "I wish I could transform on my own already?"

"You'll be able to soon enough. I'm getting you some help that should get you over the hump."

"Who?" Remus asked curiously as Jamie began rubbing the ashy paste he used so frequently on Remus forehead, drawing a unique runic configuration that Remus, and even Hermione, had yet to be able to decipher.

"A friend. I think you'll appreciate what they have to offer." Being facetious, he never bothered to intimate that it was a mutual friend he was referring to as he didn't want to give away the surprise.

"How do you know there's a horcrux here?" Remus asked uncertainly, hoping they weren't risking themselves needlessly.

"I can feel it this close, but to answer your question we've got friends who have been keeping tabs on Voldemort's activities and the locations of all of his horcruxes are already known."

"What friends?" Remus asked for the seemingly hundredth time regarding the mysterious assistance that Harry seemed to have for practically every venture.

"Good friends" Harry answered adding in reassurance that…"You'll see, just be patient a day or two longer."

"Then what?"

"Then we'll see what there is to see." Harry conjectured.

"Git" Remus skulked to which Harry just shrugged indifferently.

Harry finished his runic drawing and chanted low under his breath in a strange language that both Remus and again-Hermione, had yet to decipher.

Remus could feel the need to change growing in the pit of his stomach and spreading outward making his extremities tingle in anticipation. The changes that Harry was guiding him through were becoming easier and less painful with each new attempt. Remus was close to managing the transformation on his own, he could feel it bubbling just beneath his skin, but as yet he'd not managed it. He was blocked and was stumped how to get past it, though he seemed to have a niggling in the back of his mind that he should know what he needed to do. It was like some lost memory that he couldn't quite recall and it was making him barmy trying to remember.

He wished Sirius and James were here as he could use their animagus expertise just now. That and he missed them terribly, though Harry was helping immensely to fill the hole that their passing had left in his heart. Harry was great and all, but he wasn't his father or Godfather. It wasn't that Remus wasn't grateful for what he had, he was and immensely so, but.. it just wasn't the same.

Jamie seemed to pick up on this, but out of respect he didn't bring it up and Remus appreciated that more than he could say. Having disillusioned themselves to be on the safe side, the two made their way stealthily across the Goyle Manor grounds until they were perched at a service entry off the kitchen.

Remus considered using the front door, but figured the open space of a foyer would be the most heavily fortified as it allowed for a greater number of Death Eater bodies over a more confined space like say- a kitchen. Hell, most purebloods didn't even know where their kitchens were located, never deigning to do a day's menial labor in their over privileged lives.

"Do you think there's anyone guarding this area?" Remus whispered as the window shades were all drawn so tightly that they couldn't get so much as a peep inside the kitchen.

"Why don't you see for yourself and take a peek in the door?' Harry suggested smirking. Though Remus couldn't see his face, he knew by his tone that he was being a smart arse.

"Thanks no, I like my head still attached where it is." he returned drolly.

Harry smirked again and before he even gave so much as a "heads up" he kicked the door in and ducked as a barrage of _reductors_ and _AK's_ sailed over his head and blew out the windows, showering them with glass shards.

"Not very friendly." Harry groused.

Remus heard a strange scratch like sound followed by a continual hiss like a snake. His first thought was that Harry was going to use his talent at parselmouth to have a snake reconnaissance the area.

A hissingl flaming trail tumbling end over end through the door way had him dropping and covering his head with his arms.

_Crazy Bastard! _He groused silently in alarm.

**KA-BOOOM!**

The stick of dynamite Harry had thrown into the kitchen leveled the place tearing a great hole into the wall beyond giving them a view of not only blood stains, body parts and wounded Death Eaters dragging away their wounded bodies, but a great deal of hurried movements and shouts of alarm from the adjoining dining area. Notably, none of the wounded were rescued by their fellows, but were seemingly left to the clemency of their adversaries.

Harry canceled the disillusionment spell on himself, with Remus following his lead a moment later.

"You could've warned me?" Remus groused.

"And spoil the surprise?"

Remus rolled his eyes as Harry grinned evilly, the moonlight glowing off his exposed teeth.

"You're up" Harry announced, hitting Remus with a transformation spell that was so fast Remus never even saw him use a wand, one of the many mysteries concerning his best friend's son that he just begrudgingly accepted. Begrudgingly, as Harry would never offer any explanation when Remus asked.

"Don't bother with the wounded; just kill, wound, or at least scare the piss out of as many Death Eaters as is inhumanely possible-Got it?" Harry commanded to which the werewolf growled low in his throat by way of an answer.

"Alright boy- sic em!" Harry barked, chuckling at his own joke to which the werewolf paused low enough to growl menacingly at Harry in a show of no appreciation.

Remus launched himself through the debris that was once a beautifully kept and well stocked kitchen with a howl of predatory delight. It wasn't more than a few scant seconds later that menacing growls and barks began to herald desperate cries for help and pleas of mercy that were blood chillingly silenced by the gurgle of throats being ripped out.

"NO-NO…Please-Arggggg!"

**Ahhhh-Roooooo**

Harry shook his head at the irony that Remus deigned to assume he was the more ruthless of the two, not that it was a matter of contention, more like a competition.

Harry drew his pistols and jumped into the fray. He kicked a broken chair out of his path and rounded the door to the right and into the dining room.

"H-Help me…p-pleaseeee?" a hand ghosted up from the floor and grabbed at his leg begging pathetically for assistance.

"P-Puh-lease…I d-didn't do anything." The female gasped, her face and hair splattered with blood and gore and her other arm was missing and both legs were badly mangled from the dynamite blast.

Harry snatched up the wand that was laying just out of reach and waved it before her vacant eyes asking.."Yours?"

"Y-Yes" she managed to croak out, her voice puzzled despite her pain, but still hopeful that she would be spared the fate of her fellows who were lying in pieces around her.

Harry waved his hand over the wand casting a supposedly wandless _prior incantatum_.

The wand displayed two previously cast AK's.

Harry scowled down at the pleading female. "Didn't do nuthin huh?" he snapped the wand in two and tossed the pieces down atop the now sobbing wretch and moved on without a backward glance.

A glow to his right caught his attention and Harry threw himself forward and rolled over the dining table as a _cruciatus curse_ blew past the spot that he'd just vacated with extreme expedience. He banished the entire oak table back in the direction the curse had come from and was rewarded by a grunt of pain from the disillusioned Death Eater that had tried to ambush him.

Not bothering with niceties Harry fired several rounds into the exposed underside of the table about a foot below where he gauged the sound had originated from.

The scream and gurgle following the wood splintering beneath his lead rounds told him he'd guessed right.

He didn't bother to explore further as the enormous table toppled over on top of his victim pinning he or she beneath a half ton of heavy oak where whoever it was moaned piteously in anguish.

Harry tipped his hat in good bye and left the villain to their well-deserved fate not sparing a moment to waste a bullet for mercy's sake.

In his experience most threatened and bragged until they were met by someone a might tougher than themselves, after that it was begging and whining that they themselves had too often relished or at least ignored. He wouldn't spare a second thought for this sort of foul ilk.

**AHHH-WOOOOO**

"OMIGOD! No…Don't…!"

**Grrrrr**

"Mommyyyyy-urk!"

Harry shook his head incredulously. He couldn't blame the man for being scared shitless, but really…'Mommy?'

_Now really, what good does it possibly do to cry out impotently to your mother as if she can possible help you let alone is even in the near vacinity?_

"Jimmy….Jimmy..where are you sweetheart? Omigod…Noooooo!" a womens voice echoed down miserably from above.

Harry shook his head again, this time at the irony. _I stand corrected._

**GRRRRRR**

"Get away you beast…Jimmie…Help meeee!" the woman scream out in terror.

_Must be a family trait? _Harry considered in morbidly.

Harry sidled up the stair, keeping his back to the wall and his guns trained in opposite directions up the stair and down the way he'd come.

His eyesight had barely cleared the top of the last step when a glint of silver caught the moonlight at the end of the hall in the direction of Remus' thrashing and barking.

_Uh-ohhh…can't have none of that now. _Harry worried over his friend, knowing that in his feral distraction he'd never see his own demise until it was upon him. It was shattering that something so overwhelmingly deadly as a werewolf could be dispatched by even the merest contact with silver to its blood stream.

As good as he was reputed to be and his own faith in his abilities notwithstanding, he knew he'd never hit the rat's paw as it scurried along; what with its speed and distance away coupled with the poor angle he had and the scant amount of time he had to work with, only two options were viable. He'd either have to kill Pettigrew outright as he could easily hit a rat , even at this distance, or he could wait until Peter transformed back into a human and eliminate the threat his silver hand posed, hopefully before he managed to strike Remus with it.

One was a bit of a gamble, the other a sure thing. The gamble would provide several opportunities if successful, the sure thing nothing more than the satisfaction of knowing Peter would destroy no more lives through his treachery.

Resigning to the fact that he could still kill Peter outright if he couldn't get a clean shot at his hand, Harry launched himself down the hall drawing his navy colt from beneath his right arm just as he threw himself into a feet first slide down the polished hall floor. He slid into the doorway just as Peter transformed back into his human form, poised to strike the werewolf's unprotected back with his silver hand. He couldn't quite get the angle he wanted so he put a round in Peters right shoulder that spun him around and gave him a clean shot at his silvered hand.

**BLAM….BLAM**

The first shot twisted the pudgy man around, his eyes blinking in shock, not registering the wound to his shoulder just yet.

"Aiii-YEEEEE!" Peter screamed as his silver hand ripped from his arm in a spray of blood instantly drawing his attention just as the pain from his shoulder registered.

"Uhhh-errrr-ohhhh" Peter mewled as he dropped to his knees cradling his stump as he looked on in growing horror as his life spurted away onto the manor's floor.

"GRRRR" Remus growled low in his throat, recognizing the sight and scent of his once friend and stalking forward to finish the vermin off.

"No" Harry barked smoothly rising to his feet. "I've got plans for him that we'll both appreciate." He promised.

Harry chanted something under his breath and his navy colt's barrel heated up until it glowed red.

Without preamble he yanked Peter's bleeding stump forward by its forearm and rolled the burning steel across the gapping wound, cauterizing it instantly.

**SISSSS- **The flesh burned and cauterized, stopping the bleeding. Peter screamed in pain, his face paling as he slumped to the floor unconscious.

"Wuss" Harry grumbled under his breath in disgust. To make sure he stayed unconscious, Harry spun his colt around and bashed Peter across the side of the head with the butt of his gun.

Remus cocked his canine head in surprise as Harry explained. "Stunners can be nullified, this can't and besides… this is more fun."

A quick _miniaturizing charm_ and Peter was safely pocketed away-literarily so.

Now Harry couldn't be sure but the way the werewolf leered and hissed a bark, he could swear that it was laughing.

Snict-Snict-Snict….

Harry quickly reloaded his colts and suggested.. "Find us some more playmates would ya?"

The werewolf barked once and loped off down the hall with Harry following after, his eyes carefully scrutinizing every nook and cranny for any possible unwanted surprises.

The place had been a trap from the get go as evidenced by the obvious number of assailants lying in wait: A vampire clan guarding the perimeter and a large numbers of Death Eaters strategically placed within the manse.

He was just grateful that the opposition hadn't brought a dragon into the mix though he wasn't necessarily discounting that unwarranted possibility just yet as there was quite a bit of mansion to go over yet.

**AHHHH-ROOOO**

_Ah , hell what now?_ Harry griped as he hastened toward the werewolf's alarmed baying.

The sound of violent crashing about sent him into an uneasy trot. Harry rounded the corner to find Remus tearing and clawing his way up a troll's arm to get his slavering jaws close enough to rend the brute's throat.

Harry wouldn't have paid the troll a second glance as he was quite confident that Remus could easily dispatch a single troll, his fellow, however, was another story.

The first troll howled and slapped at the werewolf trying to knock it off its shoulder. Its club lay forgotten on the floor, discarded in its blind panic to escape the maddening pain of the werewolf's claws.

Its fellow appeared the smarter of the two as it was lining up its club for a killing blow utilizing the werewolf's distraction and it's comrade's victimization as bait.

_Honest to Pete, just how many flunkies does that turd Volemort have?_

With an impatient sigh Harry drew his colt and called out. "Hey, Dipshit! Have a looksee at what I got here!"

The troll looked up stupidly, taking its piggy little eyes off its intended prize just long enough to give Harry a perfect shot.

BLAM-BLAM

No more piggy little eyes, just two gaping holes as the troll fell face forward without so much as a groan as it was dead before it even started to topple over.

_That damn thing was about as bright as Malfoy, speaking of.. I wonder when I'll run across that little prick?_

He figured it was more of a _when_ than an- _if _as undoubtedly the ponce had sided with his daddy and daddy's evil turd of a master.

He was distracted from his wistful musings when the floor shook beneath his feet as the first troll had fallen to its knees and pitched forward gurgling its last as Remus finished ripping out the thing's throat.

Harry pulled a face at the carnage, wiping a sleeve across his sweat stained brow before he trotted off after the werewolf as it had gotten wind of something or other down the far side hall.

_Probably that dragon I was_ _hopefully discounting?_ He considered bleakly as the werewolf howled again, more alarmed than previous.

A titanic roar shook the walls and floors, shattering the windows and knocking pictures from the walls.

The werewolf howled in panic and came scrambling back his way just as a gout of flame shot across the railing, singing the creature's retreating backside.

**Yipe-Yipe-Yipe **

_Jesus-Jessup-Palomino!... What a stench._ Harry complained silently as the smell of burnt dog assaulted his nose.

Another roar echoed from down the hall.

_Now how in the hell did they get a dragon in there?_ Harry wondered as the rooms ahead trembled as something titanic shifted its weight and bellowed in challenge.

Remus, having satisfied his initial curiosity, was whimpering from under a bureau cabinet down the hall whilst liking it's burnt backside soothingly. Harry being naturally curious himself, decided to have a look for himself just so that he could save the memory of what a dragon stuffed in a sitting room looked like.

Cautiously he made his way down the wall toward the railing across from the crashed in door, his colts cocked and poised, though what good they were against a dragon he couldn't guess, but still- they made him feel better.

He peeked around the edge of the door, his eyes going wide in surprise.

_Well,… that aint no dragon_. He finally decided after sever moments of fearful scrutiny, but just what the hell it was he didn't have a clue.

It was big and ugly, that was for sure. What he thought was a tail ended up being some sort of large serpent that twisted and writhed like it was trying to slither out of the furry thing's arse.

The beast twisted around looking for prey and Harry got a good look at its face, or faces as the case may be. It looked kind of like a lion's face blended into a goat and … _awe Christ!_

Harry dived to the side just as a gout of flame incinerated the wall he'd been standing in front of.

_A chimera. _At least that's what he thought it was as even Hagrid hadn't been fool enough to bring one of those damn things to class.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Harry pulled out another stick of dynamite from the folds of his overcoat. He broke the ten second fuse in half, lit it and threw it around the edge of the door frame before he beat a hasty retreat.

**FOOOOM**

Harry skidded to a halt and turned to admire his handiwork. Blood and gore littered the hall behind, so much so that a team of elves couldn't clean up that mess in a month of Sundays.

Deciding he'd had enough of falling into one trap after another, he walked back the way he came deciding he'd grab up the horcrux and deal with the rest of the joint's surprises all at once.

He paused at the cabinet that Remus was cowering behind. "Come on Moony yah scared-e-cat, it was only a chimera!"

Remus' werewolf form peeked out and after deciding it was safe to do so, joined his companion with a growl at the slight.

He couldn't blame him, a chimaera was something he was not hoping to see again –ever!

Two floors up he found what he was looking for in an old trunk that wasn't even locked let alone warded. Begrudgingly he admired Voldemort's cunning as the famous Hufflepuff cup looked nothing so much as a tarnished old family heirloom in a trunk full of mismatched goblets in varying states of tarnished disuse.

Deciding to take advantage while he could; Harry transfigured another steel goblet into a box that he tossed the horcrux into and then dropped a lit half-stick of dynamite in. He ran off to the other side of the room with Remus hot on his heels. Harry conjured a brick wall and he and Remus had just enough time to duck their heads down when the box blew sending shards of white hot metal careening across the room, blowing out windows and tearing into walls.

Harry peeked up over the brick wall in time to see a groaning cloud of black shite dissipate into the cool night air as the sky outside was just starting to lighten to gray on the horizon.

That done, he decided to make use of the blown out windows to make good his escape without having to pick his way through the house of horrors below. He rubbed some of his pasty ash on Remus' furry forehead, drawing an intricate rune whilst the werewolf growled, grousing from the contact, but otherwise not threatening anyway else.

"Shut yer hole" Harry warned. "Or I'll turn ya inta a poodle, yah furry ingrate."

**GRRR**

Harry smirked at his friend's displeasure as he articulated the command for change.

Remus' body elongated as he stretched upward stepping forward into his human form.

He shook himself to work out the kinks, checking his limbs to make sure he was all there.

Harry snorted at the look of relief that ghosted over his friend's face every time he gratefully found himself completely hole.

Without further comment the two apparated back to the ground outside. Remus was about to apparate again, but Harry held him back.

"Gimme a minute."

"What for?" Remus asked in surprise, eager to return to Hogwarts to get some food and rest.

"I can't leave the place a mess." Harry balked, thumbing toward the heavily damaged manor in near ruin.

Remus's surprised face turned to one of mischievous glee when Harry extracted the rest of the dynamite from his coat, tied it together in one bundle that he lit a fuse to and threw into one of the manor's broken out windows.

"There, that's better." He smiled in satisfaction as the two apprated away laughing fit to bust.

The two figures ambled up the early dawn path to Hogwart's front door conversing over the night's events with a distinct note of satisfaction.

Eventually Remus got around to asking that which he was most curious about.

"How exactly did you learn to do wandless magic and can you teach me to do it too?"

"I thought wandless magic was supposed to be impossible?" Harry deflected.

"Apparently not." Remus countered pointedly.

"But I'm not doing wandless magic." Harry denied, seemingly sincere.

"Then how in the world are you doing it?" Remus shot back suspiciously.

"Ah,.." Harry shrugged. "That's easy enough,.. I'm using a wand, er,..sort of."

"You are not." Remus shot back sarcastically. "There isn't anything in your hand when your casting. In fact, the only thing I ever see you use is your…oh?" A distinct look of dawning realization brightened his friend's puzzled face into one of revelation.

"You didn't?" Remus gasped pointing knowingly at his friend's waist.

"I did and I'm glad I did as it has proved extremely handy."

"That's genius, sheer genius." Remus complimented.

Harry had taken his wand and fashioned it and another one into the wooden grips of his colts. All he needed to do was make contact with one of the handles and he could cast with the other hand or directly through the gun he held. A bit of concentration and he could transfigure his bullets from led to wood and so on, but that usually took more time and finesse than he could afford especially whist in a pitched battle.

The two were strolling down the path toward the waiting castle and the promise of a hot meal and a warm bed when Remus suggested tentatively.

"I think we were set up. The whole night went from'out of the frying pan and into the fire', if you ask me."

"You got that right." Harry agreed without adding anything further.

"Do you think we have a traitor among us?" he asked his young friend in growing concern.

"Traitors more like." Harry conjectured.

"More than one?" Remus' gait hitched as he asked warily, growing more concerned by the minute.

"Yup" was all the more of an acknowledgement that Harry would offer.

"What're we gonna do?" Remus prodded.

"Kill two birds with one stone." Harry left off mysteriously, though the knowing grin on his face betrayed his sense of confidence that the matter would be quickly remedied.

Remus immediately relaxed. He had learned well enough, since Harry's return, that when he looked like that he was already in the process of solving a worrisome problem.

"I'm gonna eat til I bust then sleep for a week." His stomach grumbled hopefully along with his eager expectations.

"You're gonna eat light and then we're gonna finish your training after we've gotten a few hours sleep." Harry corrected.

Remus' face fell. "Can't see what difference s if we fill up and get a good night's sleep?"

"Because I need you tired tonight and if you overfill you'll only throw it all back up later." Harry explained tiredly.

Remus was about to ask for more clarification, but the sideways glare Harry shot him settled the matter.

The two quietly took a spot at the Gryffindor table and several dishes of breakfast items instantly appeared, steaming hot. It was too early yet for most so they were afforded a meal in peace without being subjected to the unceasing scrutiny of Hogwart's many refugees in residence.

Remus reached for the sausage and ham, but Harry pushed it pointedly out of reach without comment.

"Awe, come on?" Remus complained bitterly. "My wolf want's meat and it wants it now." He demanded.

Harry merely shoved the scrambled eggs his way suggested in a tone that was anything but a mere suggestion. "Eggs and toast is plenty and you control your wolf, not the other way around."

Remus sighed dejectedly while he loaded his plate with eggs, grousing again when Harry pulled away the tray before he could take more than was necessary.

"Eat light" he reminded his friend.

"Awe, come on Harry, I'm starving over here." He complained, to which Harry answered by plopping a medium sized apple down in front of his plate to settle the matter.

"You whine over food like Ron used to." Harry chuckled. "I wonder if he still eats like there's no tomorrow?" he mused.

"You can ask him yourself one of these days, I expect." Remus pondered, buttering his toast and warily watching his partner to see if he was going to deny him condiments as well.

"Probably sooner rather than later." Harry agreed, nudging away the butter dish after Remus took another swipe with his table knife.

"I told 'Mione to have him to stay put with his family in France until things quieted down, but he never was one for patience.

"You don't think he's fool enough to try and cross enemy lines to get back here?" Remus scoffed.

Harry chuckled at that. "I'm guessing he's already on his way, probably with Neville and the girls not far behind."

Remus shook his head at the foolishness of such an attempt, but knew Harry was probably right in his assumption. Ron would cross an ocean if he thought Harry was waiting on the opposite shore. He couldn't fault him his loyalty and envied Harry his friends. He'd had friends like that once… before Voldemort.

Remus' expression grew dark at that last thought. Voldemort had taken the entire world from him, all except for Harry. No matter what, he was gonna make damned sure that Voldemort didn't get that last.

* * *

><p>"Is it him "Mione.. is it really him!? Ron gasped, bobbing up and down excitedly on the balls of his feet as the two tried and failed to remain quiet so as not to wake their exhausted friend. Harry's hat was pulled down over his brow to keep the light at bay while he slept, propped half up, sitting against his backboard with a few pillows cushioning his back.<p>

"Shush Ron, or you'll wake him up. He and Remus were out all night on a mission." She reminded trying to get her fiancé to curb his enthusiasm before he woke his wayward friend.

"What're those things he's holding?"

"They're his six guns." Hermione hissed distastefully as she would much prefer her friend used a wand like a proper wizard.

"Guns?" Ron balked.

"I wrote you about this Ronald." She reminded her fiancé. "Harry's not like you remember him. He's grown up over in America during an age when men carried guns for protection.

"Is he any good with them?" Ron asked skeptically,, not fathoming how anyone would chose such a thing over a wand.

"He's very good with them." Hermione chuckled pointedly, realizing that statement hardly did justice to sum up Harry's abilities.

"Now let's go before he wakes up. You'll see him tonight at the feast, I expect.

"But .. can't we just…?"

"Can't you two find something better to do like mess with some of Snape's brewing potions or something?" a voice growled, as Harry tipped up his hat and Ron could see for himself that he had returned.

"Harry!" Ron chortled excitedly, grabbing up his friend in a crushing hug half pulling him off the bed. "It's you…It's really you!" Ron cheered, clapping his friend soundly on the back.

"Yah-Yah,.. It's really me and it's nice to see you too." Harry returned trying and failing to smother a grin as he patted his exuberant friend's back. "Now would ya beat it so I can get a little shut eye?" Harry griped, pushing Ron gently away before pulling back down the brim of his hat and settling back into sleep, advertising that their brief, but intense, reunion was temporarily on hold.

"Ah,.. sure Harry. I guess.. I'll see you later then…?" Ron sheepishly conceded to which only a faint snore answered as Harry was already fast asleep.

That evening the Great Hall was abuzz with chatter as many of the magical world's exiled "light" citizens waited in eager anticipation of the impending arrival of their _Guardian-_ savior as the Prophet and the Quibbler had been full of front page headlines proclaiming yet another victory over the Dark's forces in the mysterious predawn destruction of the Goyle estate's stronghold; a well-known launching point for many of Voldemort's more heinous raids during the last ten years. The papers proclaimed the entire mansion had been completely destroyed and there was much speculation over what sort of spell or combination of such could possible account for such utter devastation.

Booted footfalls from the stairwell leading down to the Great Hall echoed hollowly as the Hall quieted and breaths were held in anticipation. Harry entered the Hall in jeans,boots, a burnt grey cavalry shirt opened to the side showing a tantalizing hint of his well-muscled chest. His trademark Stetson was absent with his bangs instead held back by a tied off green handkerchief that drew attention to his intense green eyes.

As was becoming irritatingly usual; the Hall broke out into thunderous applause, his cohort in crime applauded along with the rest, himself already honored similarly, but with not quite the same level of intensity as their appreciation for Harry's efforts.

He walked through the aisle towards his once usual place at the Gryffindor table, fending off well-wishers and reaching hands that wanted no more than to be able to say in future times that they'd actually touched the 'boy who lived'.

His glare halted the clapping from his elder friend and elicited a warm chuckled from Dora sitting on Remus' right. Harry plopped down into his own seat in front of a madly grinning Ron and a smirking Hermione who was watching her fiancé fidget with excitement like a school child on Christmas morning, not that Ron wasn't still a child on every Christmas morning.

With a sigh of resignation as his childhood friend would not be quelled until he did; Harry found himself repeating a generic version of the events leading to and shortly after his departure ten plus years ago. Ron sat on tenterhooks absorbing the story, his own plate left on touched for the first time in memory as he was so riveted to detail of Harry's story.

"What happened then? Who captured you and why did they enslave you? How did you get away? What then? How did you become a guardian?" Ron blurted out each question rapid fire, one on top of the other, Hermione too caught up in his enthusiasm and she eyed Harry eagerly for further information, waiting with baited breath.

Pleasantly surprising Hermione, he actually answered Ron's initial query, something he had yet to do for her.

"I became the indentured guest of the Locuto tribe." Harry answered blandly returning his full fork to his waiting mouth after having done so.

"The Locuto?!" Hermione gasped in surprised disbelief. "But they're nothing more than a myth, a lost magical tribe of shape shifters and shamans that most scholars agree never existed in the first place." She lectured her friend and the table around her.

"Hmmphhh.." Harry snorted incredulously. "That switch Thundercloud used on me seemed real enough every time."

"T-They beat you?" Dora gasped in horror.

Harry nodded between forkfuls offering halfheartedly that…" Yeah, but only when I screwed up or didn't finish a job to someone's satisfaction. I learned rapidly to make a concerted effort to please." Harry snorted at his own joke as he continued to eat, oblivious to the trouble looks exchanged around him.

"But Harry that's barbaric. It's ..?"Hermione continued fretfully, but Harry cut her off.

"Over and done with. I earned my keep and in time I became an honorary member of the tribe and learned a lot from them, something that I'll always be eternally grateful for. I wouldn't have survived or have become the man I am today if not for Thundercloud, Wolf's Head and the rest." He admonished, finishing his meal and reclining back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, his belly full to bursting. He needed the fuel as tonight's activities were sure to drain him as usual.

Changing the direction and tone of the conversation Harry asked a pointed question of his own, already fearing he knew the answer. "Why did you risk coming back here, Ron?"

"To help you 'o course." Ron returned matter of fact, beginning to load up his own plate with an assortment of many contrasting dishes as Hermione rolled her eyes in a long suffering fashion.

"Help me do what, exactly?" Harry asked dubiously, himself more acutely aware and disgusted by Ron's gluttony than he had been as a child. The rest of the table likewise surreptitiously leaning back or scooting over to avoid the fall out of Ron's horrendous consumption.

"Fight Death Eaters." Ron acknowledged, thankfully swallowing before answering his friend's question.

Hermione was having some little success in his training apparently.

Harry's eyebrow rose in surprise. "I take it you've been training, then?" Harry inquired hopefully.

"Whatdaya mean training? I'm a fully qualified auror." Ron scoffed, putting down his fork and glaring back incredulously at his childhood best friend.

"So is Dora. "Remus admonished in reminder, adding that…. "But she doesn't go on either."

"Why not?" Ron asked taken aback.

"Because she's an auror, not a soldier, Ron." Remus lectured.

"Well neither are you, but from what I hear you go out with Harry every time since he returned.

"That's because Remus knows what he's about. He knows what it takes to win a war and he's not afraid to kill to affect those ends. That's as much of a soldier as I need." Harry answered coolly, shooting Remus an appreciative glance of respect that warmed his surrogate uncle's heart.

" I can do that and easily." Ron quipped. "I can't wait to take it to those bastards for what they did to Percy and Charlie." he blustered.

"Revenge is one thing, winning a war is another? You better think long and hard before you sign on with us, Ron." Harry suggested darkly.

"Anything Remus can do I can do just as well." He pointed his fork toward Remus and back towards Harry in a challenge.

"Really?" Harry asked, accepting the challenge at face value.

"Count on it." Ron returned, his temper flaring slightly as the tips of his ears began to redden.

"Can you take orders without question?" Harry pressed.

"No Problem."

"Then take out your wand and blast Hermione with a stunner." Harry ordered, the table going suddenly quiet.

"What?" Ron gapped in horror at the mere suggestion of potentially hurting his fiancé.

"Go on…" Harry goaded him. "Blast her right outta her seat." he demanded, his face not only serious but expectant that his friend would do as instructed.

Hermione gasped worriedly, fidgeting as she cast her eys wearily back and forth between Harry and Ron. Her eyes were silently pleading with both.

"Are you m-mental? I'm not gonna hex Hermione just to prove a point." Ron barked in outrage.

"Remus?" Harry asked blankly.

Without pause, Remus pulled out his wand and pointed it at Hermione who gulped in fright. There was already the glow of a red hued stunner glowing at the tip of his wand when Ron growled ferociously and grabbed for his own wand to try and defend Hermione.

Remus stunned Ron first, knocking the man back over and onto the floor where he sprawled unconscious as his wand clattered harmlessly away from his limp hand. Remus returned his wand toward Hermione, but Harry's hand snaked out and halted his cast at the last instant.

"Good enough, Remus." He offered proudly to which Remus nodded acceptance and pocketed his wand without further thought on the matter. Dora too was shining proudly next to him, her hand squeezing his forearm supportively. Whether she was pleased that he did what was necessary without pause or question, or if she was merely pleased with not to bear further witness to Ron's horrendous table manners was a matter of contention.

"Have Ron work on strategizing and planning raids." He suggested to a wide eyed Hermione who was still struggling with the notion that she had been a hands breath from potential injury for no more than a mere test of conviction and loyalty.

That done and the matter solved as far as Harry was concerned. He shifted his attention back to Remus.

"Meet me at dusk out by where Hagrid's hut used to be." he instructed his friend who nodded and returned to his own cooling meal as Harry left to finalize his preparations. Ron's unconscious form left forgotten where he lay in a heap.

People scurried out of Harry's way as he left the Hall with a cool detached look that clearly stated he was in no mode to further entertain fools and their foolish notions.

* * *

><p>Their camp fire, while bright, did little to hold back the encroaching dark of the Forbidden Forest as its dark shadows closed ominously around them. Harry was just putting the finishing touches on the tribal runes he'd painted across Remus' torso, before he put the activation rune on his forehead and said the ancient incantation of summoning.<p>

Remus felt, well he didn't know what he felt, but he did feel a strange sense of pulling away somewhat like that of a port key, but more intense and inside than usual.

He didn't have the slightest clue what Harry was about, but he trusted his friend implicitly and patiently kept quiet as Harry chanted in some foreign archaic tongue, his own body already painted identically to Remus'.

Harry finished the last rune on Remus' forehead with a painted fingertip. He then grasped Remus' forearms and instructed him to.. "Stay with me. Hear only my voice and ignore all else. Do not let yourself be led astray no matter how enticingly those you may long to see call out to you. They may or may not be what and who you wish them to be, but regardless; their intent may be as sinister as it is seemingly benign."

"What… but who are you talking…?" Remus began to question, but was cut off as Harry's eyes took on an unearthly glow and all turned inky black around him.

Harry's eyes glowed like beacons in the distance as he felt himself pulled steadily forward.

Remus tried to cough feeling as if he was suffocating, drowning in darkness. Just when he thought he was about to black out the whispers started, drawing his attention away from his distress. The whispers reminded him of something and eventually he realized it was like the whispering of voices from beyond the veil in the Hall of Mysteries.

Slowly the whispering became more defined and eventually Remus gasped in shocked recognition as one such voice from the right was that of his departed mother.

"Mum?...Mum, is that you…?" he called out hopefully pulling toward the direction of his deceased mother's voice.

Harry's glowing eyes instantly appeared before him, lighting the way as Harry instructed him … "Stay with me, Remus, hear only my voice. We are almost there."

"W-Where?" Remus stammered feeling himself being pulled forward. He felt as if he were floating along on an endless tide from one ocean to the next.

Eventually a soft ethereal glow winked into being ahead, pushing back the crushing dark and leading him desperately forward.

The shadows lightened and melted away as he found himself led by Harry's now distinct form into a clearing that appeared to be the same campfire and turned over logs they'd left behind hours, even leagues ago by the strange weary feeling he had as if he'd just walked hundreds of kilometers .

Harry paused, seemingly needing to catch his breath. "I'd f-forgotten…..how strenuous.. it is… to bring another.. over..." he huffed, taking deep breaths as if he'd just run a marathon.

Remus couldn't know how close he was in that assumption that Harry had traveled a great distance, taking him along.

Harry gestured toward a log for a seat. Remus perched himself on the indicated log and fixed his friend with a questioning, expectant look.

"He'll be along soon. I'll hold you and he here as long as I can so make the most of the time you have. Remember- you're here for a reason so don't squander this opportunity."

Remus nodded uncertainly, trying to puzzle out Harry's vague instructions. Harry walked off into the night and no sooner had he disappeared into the darkness than another ghosted forward out of the shadows.

"Hiya, Mooney!" Sirius Black greeted his friend who promptly fell over backward in shock, falling off the log he'd been sitting on.


	5. Chapter 5: Do you know how to dance?

*Chapter 5*: Chapter 5: Do you know how to dance?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.**

**West of Here **

**Chapter Five: You do know how to dance?**

"Merlin above!... You scared the shite out of me, Padfoot!" Remus grabbed at his chest as his heart hammered away whilst he goggled at the specter laughing away like a lunatic.

Remus managed to scrabble to his feet, all the while gaping in utter disbelief at the apparition of his deceased friend.

"Are you a ghost?" he asked warily, still standing a safe distance away so that he could bolt if the situation warranted.

"No more than you are," Sirius returned facetiously, grinning with immense pleasure over the situation.

At seeing his friend's dubious look, he amended, "Yes, I'm dead, and- no, I'm not a ghost. I'm currently a resident of the other side… you know…the 'Next Great Adventure'." Sirius made quotation marks in the air to emphasize his point.

"Is it?" Remus asked curiously.

"Is it what?"

"Is it great?" Remus asked pointedly.

Sirius pulled a face at that. "It beats fighting Death Eaters all the time and the women?!" Sirius' face nearly glowed in anticipation, before he hastily amended… "Er, um… I'm not supposed to talk about that, though," he added sheepishly.

"Why not?" Remus continued, his own interest peaking.

"I'm not supposed to give away any of this side's secrets. It's all about faith, but personally I just think nobody wants to spoil the surprise."

"Are you happy, then?" Remus assumed.

Sirius' face fell slightly. "I'd be happier with you lot, though it's great to be with James and Lily again."

"James and Lily? Where are they? Can I see them? Why didn't you bring them along?" Remus fired back excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet in eager anticipation.

"Whoa down there." Sirius fanned his hands downward to calm his friend, explaining… "This is Harry's show and only he can summon one of the er… spirits?... I guess that's what you'd call us, but I'm as solid as a tree stump for all that."

"How does he…?"

"Only he can tell you that, Mooney. Harry's not like what you remember," Sirius confided.

"You've got that right, not that –that's a bad thing," Remus returned, supportively loyal to his honorary nephew.

"No it isn't," Sirius agreed, glowing with pride over his Godson's achievements.

"Why didn't he, er… summon Lily and James as well?" Remus asked in surprise.

Sirius cocked his head to the side considering the question before he returned with political correctness, "Because it takes a lot of power to summon more than one spirit at a time; just as it takes a lot of extra power for a Spirit Walker to bring along someone to our side."

"A Spirit Walker… what's a spirit walker?" Remus immediately caught on to that bit of insight.

"It's what Harry is. He can walk among the land of the dead for short periods of time to converse with those on our side," Sirius responded, adding.. ."Though that's only one of his many talents."

Remus caught the inference and was about to ask more, but Sirius fanned his hands to redirect his excited friend.

"I know you've got a million questions, but Harry can't hold us here long so we need to get your transformations sorted out, and then if there's a bit of time left I can try and get you caught up;but understand Moony, I can't really give a lot of insight into this side, 'k?"

Remus nodded; though his disappointment was evident he was much more grateful for this auspicious opportunity.

"What am I doing wrong?" he asked pointedly.

Sirius smirked cagily at that. "Not a damn thing; you just aren't letting the wolf take over. You're afraid, Moony. You're afraid that the wolf is gonna control you so you aren't giving yourself over to the change."

"Then how come I can do it when Harry helps?"

"Because you trust Harry, but really, Harry isn't in control of you once you change, is he?"

Remus paused to consider that, shaking his head in reluctant agreement after a bit.

"You've got to want it, Remus," his friend continued. "I know it sounds easy enough, and believe me, it is and it isn't. It's a scary thing, but of all of us you were the one that we trusted the most. You never ever tried to attack or hurt any of us in the slightest when we were kids."

"But you were in your animagus forms," Remus countered.

"So? Werewolves don't just hunt humans you know? You and I used to chase rabbits, and not just for fun if memory serves."

Remus gaped at that, remembering the many times they hunted for game after the change.

"Is it just that simple?" he asked cautiously.

"It is," Sirius reconfirmed. "Harry knows it too."

"Then why didn't he ever just say so?" Remus balked.

"Because he thought that maybe you needed to hear it from a marauder… someone you trust implicitly."

"I trust Harry."

"He knows that Remus, but even you have to admit it's not the same as coming from one of us."

"Not that I don't appreciate the visit, cause I do… but why didn't he have James come instead of you?" Remus wondered; referring back to his friend's politically correct, but for all that, avoided answer of previous. There was something here about Lily and James that wasn't sitting quite right.

Sirius sighed, but with obvious reluctance he broached a subject that he truly wished to avoid.

"Because they don't get on," he answered with an air of utter disappointment.

"Harry and James?" Remus scoffed; flabbergasted that Harry would avoid seeing his parents if given even the remotest chance to do so.

Sirius pulled an even more discomforted face at that. "Not James so much, but Lily." he clarified reluctantly.

"Lily?" Remus nearly shrieked in shock. "She loved Harry and James with everything that she was. Lily would go through hell for Harry and I know he feels the same."

Sirius' face fell and he looked near tears. "Once I would have agreed with you on that and then some, but this … er… _that_ was when Harry was a baby. He could do no wrong then in Lily's eyes, but… she ah…she doesn't so much approve of Harry the man." Sirius struggled to point out what the issue between his friends and Godchild was without getting into specifics.

"Whadayamean she doesn't approve?" Remus griped back in outrage. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was the last thing in the world he would have expected from the way that Lily fawned over her two boys… over all of them really.

Sirius dragged a hand down over his face, displaying his own exasperation and discomfort over the situation.

"I really shouldn't…I'm not the one that should be explaining this, Moony," he balked worriedly, his eyes shifting out into the darkness as if silently pleading for approval.

"If not you then who? Lily and James are apparently unavailable," Remus scathed.

"Look…" Sirius splayed his fingers out as he struggled to give his best friend an abridged version of current events. "Lily and Harry… that is… when Harry summoned Lily and James that first time… it didn't go so well. She…well… you remember what Lily's temper was like?"

Sirius pulled a painful expression to which Remus nodded solemnly that he recalled the legendary temper of their red-headed friend.

"She, well she doesn't approve of how Harry lives his life and she…well… you know how she is or was… but anyway…she told him so."

Remus winced at that, before defending his nephew. "He's tough, I grant you. Tough as nails and then some, but for all of that; Harry's a fair and selfless person. He's fighting this war practically single handed. He's had to fight to survive his whole life and despite that he's a better man than most. What bitterness he carries, if he does at all, he keeps to himself. I've yet to hear him complain over his lot in life and I grant you; he's got more reason to complain than most." Remus waggled a finger at his friend as he'd fallen into a full lecture tone.

"Hey, you don't need to convince me, Mooney. You're preaching to the choir here," Sirius agreed. "But… well, Lily didn't want this for Harry, and she was quite set on telling him so. She lathered him up one side and down the other about spending his life chasing thieves and killers. She wants him to enjoy life, to have a family…"

"There's plenty of time for that," Remus argued. "Doesn't she see? He's a Guardian for Circe's sake! There is no higher form of public service in our world. No greater calling than to serve as a Guardian. How can she possibly take issue with his spending his life in the defense of others?" Remus railed. "I'd think they'd both be bursting with pride over such an accomplishment."

"They are, **we** are… Moony," Sirius interjected. "But Lily wants him to think more about himself. She doesn't like that he's forced to kill to survive - which he is, Moony," Sirius pleaded.

Remus nodded at that. "That isn't to say he wants to, but he has little choice in the matter. In battles people die."

"Yes, but Harry goes looking for trouble, Remus. It isn't forced upon him. He likes hunting down bad men and dark wizards. He enjoys his job, you might say." Sirius winced again.

"He's not a killer, Padfoot." Remus growled back in defense of his friend.

"He isn't a choir boy either, Remus." Sirius suggested plaintively.

"No he's not, but for all of that; he's a good man." Remus coolly returned that last in a tone that said this argument was over.

"But that still doesn't mean his mother can whole heartedly accept that. She wants him to enjoy his life, to have a family…all the things that she and James dreamed of but couldn't have. She wants her son to have those experiences. She said that until he does that he isn't honoring their s-sacrifice." Sirius stumbled over that last.

Remus gauged that for a few moments before he asked the next logical step, though he could well imagine what a man like Harry's reaction would be. "What did Harry say to that?"

Sirius trembled slightly at that, but he still answered albeit haltingly. "He… he said that, er… maybe if she had spent more time trying to um,.. _stay alive_ and less time _living her life_ that maybe she'd have not only survived to have a say in how he was forced to live, but that she'd have a better understanding of just what it takes to survive and be a little more gracious toward others who sacrifice for those who just want to _live their lives_!"

Remus gasped at that, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a coming migraine. Knowing Lily's fierce temper, especially when she thought she was in the right, he could well guess what her response would be.

He was wrong.

"What did she say to that?" Remus asked warily.

Sirius balked, shaking his head painfully, beseeching his friend not to press.

"What did she say, Padfoot?" Remus asked more firmly.

"She…she s-slapped him." Sirius swiped a sleeve across his moist eyes, obviously distressed by the memory.

"She what?!" Remus gaped in disbelief. He'd always known Lily's temper was the stuff of legends, but it never manifested as anything other than verbal recrimination. Lily was too much of a lady to ever resort to physical displays of anger.

"She struck him, Moony," Sirius confirmed, scrubbing more fiercely at his moist eyes. "I've never seen her like that. She was so enraged. He just stood there with this cool look of indifference on his face. He asked her if she was really that angry at how he lived or if it was more the case that she hadn't?"

"And…?" Remus asked stoically.

"She slapped him again and then burst into tears. I swear, Moony, she's barely stopped crying since. She's been an absolute wreck since then and that's over a year ago your time… time goes by a lot slower here." he ventured.

Remus just starred vacantly at his friend. Never, never in a million years would he have thought that Lily would have been anything other than absolutely one thousand percent behind her son.

Finally he asked the obvious. "And James…?"

Sirius shook his head dolefully. "She was wrong, Remus. Lily knows she was wrong and so does Prongs. But for all of that, he won't visit with Harry until this is resolved between his mother and him. He doesn't want to take sides even though he knows Harry's in the right, and he doesn't want to hurt Lily more by abandoning her."

Remus nodded his understanding of that, but still… the whole situation was intolerable.

He couldn't fathom what Lily could have possibly been thinking, that right or wrong, she would so lash out at her only son.

"Has he summoned her, since then?" Remus asked dejectedly.

"No," a stern voice answered from behind as Harry joined his two surrogate uncles.

"But, Harry, please? If you'd just give her another chance to…" Sirius nearly begged but was cut off.

"To strike the other cheek?" he assumed, to which Sirius' face fell. "Thanks, but no; I've had my fill of a mother's loving embrace. It wasn't exactly how I remember it, but still, given her dear sister's kindness to me I can readily see the family resemblance."

Both Remus and Sirius winced at that. Both knew Harry had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys, but until this moment neither had realized that physical abuse was part of the equation. They may have suspected, but hadn't truly known until now.

"Things were said in the heat of the moment, on both your parts," he reminded his godson.

"Despite that, I wouldn't have and never will strike my mother, just as I never did her bitter sister, though Merlin knows - Petunia deserves it."

"You can't possible compare the two and come to the conclusion that Lily is anything like her sister?" Sirius argued plaintively on his friend's behalf. He was desperate to seal the rift between mother and son - for both their sakes.

Harry ran a hand down the side of his cheek pointedly. "I think the comparison is rather obvious in its similarity."

"Please, Harry…if you'd just talk to her?" Sirius begged.

"No; nor my father either, as he chooses to cower by her side."

"Harry!" Remus admonished. "James is no coward. How can you possibly expect them to apologize if you don't give them the opportunity to do so?" he pointed out.

"I don't." Harry agreed. "Whilst I'm sure that my mother regrets having struck me, the fact remains that she did. I forgive her that, and you can tell her so, Sirius."

Sirius looked up with dawning hope at that, before Harry sent his hopes crashing down in flames.

"Regardless; I am obviously a disappointment to them and their approval is no longer something I care to seek as I intend to make no changes whatsoever to my current lifestyle. I like who I am and what I do. I don't need parental approval, nor public support or even so much as a pat on the back for a job well done. All I need is to feel good about myself in here." He thumbed his chest for emphasis.

"You can tell Lily and James that I forgive them, but I do not intend to seek them out in future. There's nothing to say, really." He sighed wistfully at that. "I was only a baby when they died and while I do appreciate their sacrifices, I don't intend to let it dictate my life. I survived them and I survived the Dursleys and neither am I beholden to them. I've survived other things as well you know, Padfoot."

At this Sirius startled, before nodding his head solemnly in recognition as having silently witnessed Harry's many other hardships over his teen and adult life.

"I intend to continue to survive as best I may and maybe one day, maybe I'll have that family my mother so desperately wants for me, but not because it's what she wants, but what I want. I wanted a lot of things once upon a time, but for all that I've come to accept what I have and be grateful that I'm still alive to have anything at all. I'm sure a lot of children don't live up to their parents' expectations, though I don't suppose a lot of them punish their children for it so literally. I hope to do better myself one day and learn from their example. Again, I hope to be grateful just to have children, healthy or no."

Sirius nodded his head in agreement at that, Remus along with him. Both registered that Harry no longer referred to Lily and James as mum and dad, but by their given names. The significance behind that was quite telling.

"Tell them I wish them well," he stated with a note of finality that Sirius was forced to agree with as Harry gave him no other options and the last thing he wanted was to ostracize himself, as well, as far as Harry was concerned.

Harry waggled a finger at his godfather, warning him to…"Behave yourself, you old dog. Women do not exist solely for your juvenile amusement."

Remus snorted at that.

The two caught each other up in a fierce hug, one that Remus mimicked shortly after. A last wave of farewell and the darkness blurred around them until he and Harry stepped out into the gray light of predawn in the clearing they'd originally occupied. The camp fire long since had died to smoldering coals, the grass covered with dew and a distinct chill in the air that the rising sun had yet to dissipate.

The two walked back toward the distant castle in companionable silence until Remus ventured, "I'll never be able to thank you enough for that."

"Don't mention it," Harry returned blandly.

"Still, I... I wish I could…?"

"See James and Lily?" Harry surmised, though his tone didn't show any animosity it was still coolly indifferent.

Remus nodded, not trusting his voice.

"When all this is over I'll help you to do so; if it will at least set your heart at ease."

"I'd rather not wait until it's too late." Remus suggested sparingly.

"If we die before then you'll be able to talk with them to your heart's content." Harry reminded, to which Remus at first looked puzzled before understanding and chuckling his agreement.

Breakfast was sumptuous as always, though either party could have done without Ron casting furtive, accusing looks between the times when his face disappeared beneath the edge of his bowl to inhale food in greater quantities than his fork could accommodate on its own.

Finally, after even Ron was finally satiated, he cast a pointed look across the table toward his fiancé and slid down a space or two to address the person or persons of his disputed interest.

"That wasn't nice, Harry." Though it was a simple statement of accusation, Harry couldn't help to admire the common forthrightness that Ron had finally acquired as he matured.

Harry fixed him with a bland gaze over the top of his coffee mug as he took a sip, pondering Ron's statement thoughtfully. Remus cast a glance toward Hermione next to him, but made no comment as he continued carving up a slice of ham.

"Would you have really stunned me if Ron hadn't intervened?" Hermione asked quietly of Remus.

Remus' fork paused on the way toward his mouth as he answered without reservation, "Yes"

That said, he continued eating whilst Hermione gasped in obvious surprise.

"Here now?" Ron complained. "You don't need to keep playing the role Remus, we both know you would have done no such thing if I hadn't intervened and given you an alternative target."

Ron's attention shifted toward Harry after Remus only smirked at his remark. "You were just playing us, right? You wouldn't have let him stun Hermione, right?" Ron waited impatiently for a second before prompting further…"Right, Harry?"

Harry smiled predatorily, setting Ron's hackles rising, as he said pointedly… "Remus?" and took another sip of coffee, waiting expectantly; all the while his eyes fixed on Ron's shocked face.

In slow motion Ron watched horrified as Remus' wand materialized in his empty left hand whilst he continued to eat. The glow of a stunner was at the tip, pointed in Hermione's direction.

"Don't you dare!" Hermione gasped half in outrage, half in growing fear, as she grabbed desperately for her own wand.

Ron's wand was already swinging in his direction, but never came to bear as a low **'thud'** preceded his chair flipping over backwards, sending him sprawling. Harry snorted in appreciation of both his well-placed kick and of the sound of Ron's wand clattering away across the floor. Ron first barked out in surprise, then swore as he scrambled for his missing wand.

"Ughh" Hermione grunted, as the stunner hit before she could protect herself with a shield. She slumped over her place setting, enjoying an unexpected nap.

Remus' wand disappeared as fast as it had materialized, and he continued eating without the slightest disruption in his rhythm.

"You dirty bastard!" Ron shouted, as he leapt up bringing his wand to bear in Remus' direction.

**Click**

The very distinguishable sound of Harry's colt being cocked and readied to fire, caught him in mid-curse with his eyes bulging in stunned disbelief.

"You couldn't have;not from that angle, not while still sitting? Your arm never even moved!" Ron argued his supposed advantage.

"I'll grant you it's no easy thing. It takes a certain knack. The question is; like you said - "from this angle"… are you willing to bet your nuts on being right?"

Remus chuckled as he wiped his mouth casually with his napkin, not making the slightest move toward his own wand despite Ron's looming threat.

Both enjoyed the way Ron's face paled as he looked down toward his groin before dramatically dropping his wand and holding his empty hands out in a show of surrender.

"Wise move," Harry congratulated, as he brought his own hand up from beneath the table and un-cocked his colt.

Ron goggled at that, both at what Harry had threatened and at the fact that he had never seen him so much as twitch a muscle of his arm.

_How can he be that fast? _Ron goggled at the notion.

"Pity that." Remus sighed disappointedly, as he tossed his napkin down over his finished plate. "Almost had dinner and a show."

Both snorted at that.

"That's not funny." Ron groused distastefully.

"Probably not from where you stood, but from our vantage point?" Harry referenced with that same predatory smile.

Ron gulped visibly, but had to ask, "Would you have really.. er… you know?"

Harry just held that same predatory look of intense anticipation.

"Have you lost your mind?" Hermione scathed having revived.

Remus had obviously hit her with a very low level stunner to recover so fast, and Harry cocked an eyebrow of disappointment over it.

Remus just shrugged and defended : "You never said to put her down for the duration."

Harry rolled his eyes at that, before he leaned forward to see more clearly around Remus so that he could address Hermione.

"I assume you're addressing me, and no…I've not lost my mind. One might say I've got a rather dark sense of humor, but for all that; I don't suffer fools well.

Hermione harrumphed, scandalized. She was either upset over being labeled a fool, or being the object of his "dark sense of humor", though which currently disturbed her more was a tossup just now.

"We're neither fools nor are we guinea pigs, Harry," she scathed pointedly.

"Then don't ask stupid questions without expecting a sudden and direct rebuttal," Harry suggested.

"Of all the nerve… if you think…" Hermione began to lecture,wagging her forefinger in his direction before being cut off.

"Excuse me, Harry?"

"Susan?" Harry immediately shifted his attention to Susan Bones. "Don't you look as lovely as always this morning." He complimented, to which Susan smiled brilliantly and Hermione's eyes narrowed. She knew that while he was being genuine with Susan, he was also taking the mickey out of her by so aptly changing to charming and accommodating to Susan, whilst ignoring her.

She fingered her wand suggestively, to which his own fingers brushed loving over the handle of his colt whilst his left eye shifted ever so slightly in her direction for a moment.

The warning he gave her was quite evident, but Hermione still considered that even _he_ couldn't be _that_ fast.

"H-Harry,,," Susan's voice caught slightly; he pretended to not notice her nervous demeanor as he nodded expectantly, putting her at ease.

"Um, you weren't here last night, but the Headmaster gave an announcement that Hogwarts is hosting a Lady's Choice dance this Saturday night," she began to inform him.

"What's a Lady's Choice dance?' he asked curiously.

"It is where the girl, er, I mean lady, um, _witches,_ ask the wizards instead of vice versa," she clarified. "It's an idea we have borrowed from the Americans; they call it a Sadie Hawkins Dance though."

"How interesting; a dance you say. He pondered thoughtfully until interrupted by an amused snort from Hermione's direction.

"Something on your mind?' he asked; leaning around Remus and fixing her with an incredulous look of impatience.

"Do you even know how to dance?" Hermione smirked somewhat challengingly.

He shot her a long suffering look before asking the table to…"Put your cutlery on your plates people, whilst I settle the , er…_lady's_ curiosity." He drawled the "lady" sarcastically.

He started clapping his hands rhythmically, encouraging others to join in with an encouraging nod here and there.

Once the table took up the beat, he half flew, half leapt, on top of the table and kicked up his boot heels country style.

It was a combination two step/tap dance, so that every time his heels cracked against the table everyone's cutlery clinked against their plates, adding to the rhythm of their clapping. Soon the whole hall started clapping and cheering along; the head table and even Dumbledore being some of the most exuberant among the gathering.

Harry started twirling his guns as he continued his dance along the table top, often clicking his firing hammers along with the melody. He slapped his pistols home and grabbed up his Stetson with a flourish as he launched himself off the end of the table in a backflip with a twist so that he landed perfectly as the crowd gave up the melody and applauded wildly as he pulled his Stetson back on and tipped his hat in appreciation. Amongst cheers and catcalls filled with requests for an encore, he swaggered up to Hermione and scoffed.. "Can I dance?"

"Very cute,"she sneered, "but I meant with a _lady_ on your arm; with grace and elegance." She copied his drawl on "lady" as he did, in obvious sarcasm; showing that she greatly doubted his ever having known someone who could even remotely qualify as a_ lady_.

He shot her a droll look for her benefit.

Hermione took up the challenge, in return calling out, "Ron" as she flicked her wand and the empty tables veered back out of the way. Another flick of her wand and chamber music filled the air.

Ron bowed formally to Hermione, who curtsied in return before Ron swept her up and they began waltzing around the space she'd cleared.

Harry tracked them with a look of consideration as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. He had to admit they looked very good together and he was not a little stunned by how well Ron had learned to comport himself.

They finished the brief waltz with a romantic dip that many ladies sighed to, before the Hall applauded once more, but more cordially and with far less excitement that Harry had received for his efforts.

"Now that's dancing," Hermione chided as she passed, waiting as Ron pulled out her chair in a show of proper decorum.

"Oh, so that's dancing? Well if you two can do it then it can't be all that hard." Harry ventured smugly. Before Hermione could vent her indignant comeback at his remark, Harry bowed formally to Susan and asked, "May I have this dance, milady."

Susan brightened, blushing slightly as she too curtsied and responded appreciatively. "I should be delighted, kind sir."

He was about to take her hand, but held back with a thoughtful look of consideration. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers in revelation and Susan's everyday robes transformed into an elegant pale green evening gown that gathered slightly at her hips before splaying outward; the train floating mesmerizingly as she twirled with a squeal of delight, and not realizing that her hair was in a formal up do and a large emerald colored pendent adorned her throat.

Harry snapped his fingers again and his own jeans and cavalry shirt instantly transformed into an elegant tuxedo, his boots became polished dress shoes and his guns notably absent. His Stetson had transformed into a flat back derby like hat that popped out into a top hat when he snapped his finger against the brim.

He bowed to Susan again, complimenting her appearance with a gleam in his eye that bespoke heartfelt appreciation.

Another snap of the fingers and the same piece of music started as before. The two twirled around the Hall not limiting themselves to just the cleared area, but gliding betwixt tables with a grace that was breath taking. The dance finished with Harry twirling Susan away with a flourish as he slid across the floor, in her direction, on his knees. He came to a halt at her feet and worshipfully kissed her hand as Susan blushed, her eyes shining brightly as she looked down with the most smitten expression.

She would remember this moment to her own children and grandchildren many times, all the while thinking that if Katie Bell didn't ask him to the dance then she would, and she'd never let him out of her arms the entire evening, nor for the rest of her life for that matter.

He escorted Susan back to her original seat, near where Katie Bell was gaping, wide eyed, at the two. Her eyes held both admiration and surprisingly, at least to Harry, what appeared to be a hint of jealousy.

He raised his hand about to snap his fingers to cancel the transformation of her clothes, but Susan's hand shot out grabbing his, and she haltedly asked….. "Please, don't."

Harry quirked his head and nodded appreciatively at that, before kissing her hand again and uttering his thanks for indulging him.

He turned and walked away, his chin held up proudly as the ladies squealed excitedly behind him, surrounding Susan as they whispered conspiratorially. Susan glowed beneath the scrutiny, and even shrieked in thrilled disbelief when someone pointed out the large emerald-like stone that hung on a delicate gold chain on her throat. That same reaction would be more pronounced in future when she learned that both were quite real and quite permanent.

Harry's outfit transformed back into its original state, sweat stains and all from his night's labors, without his making even the slightest gesture or uttering a single syllable of a spell.

Hermione was gazing dumbstruck at him; Ron blinking in bewilderment alongside her.

He swept off his hat and bowed asking: "Perchance milady will consent to honor this poor soul with a dance, herself , this Saturday?"

She was nodding her acceptance as her mouth hung open stupidly, her eyes watching his retreating back with a vacant, dumbstruck gaze, and now Ron had the both that same awed and jealous expressions warring on his face.

"Are you still the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot?" he asked Professor Dumbledore pointedly.

Why, yes, but… the court was disbanded, which is to say they fled for their lives when Voldemort seized the ministry." The old man answered, somewhat flustered by the younger man's inquiry.

"But you're still an official of the court?" Harry pressed on hopefully.

"Technically, yes, but as I said the court is in disarray, its members scattered; at least those not in Voldemort's pocket."

"Then you can still make official rulings, correct?"

"Well again, at least technically speaking I have the authority to hear a case, but you're a Guardian, a law unto yourself and thus are capable of meting out justice by any means necessary." Dumbledore reassured Harry that any input of a legal sense, on his part, was purely for posterity's sake as he did not legally require the Chief Warlock's permission.

"I know that, but I'm interested in seeing justice done as expediently and appropriately as possible."

"Very well; I will of course render assistance in whatever you require as I am duty bound to provide aid to a Guardian. To what case are you referring and what evidence do you present?"

Harry pulled a limp brown rodent from the pocket of his shirt and unceremoniously slapped the stunned creature on the desk of the Headmaster.

"I say… is that Pettigrew? Is he dead?' The Headmaster questioned dubiously as he poked the animagus with a nearby quill and was concerned by its lack of a reaction.

"Yes and no," Harry responded flatly. "It's Pettigrew and he's merely stunned, to ensure he remains in one place."

"Not in one piece however?" The headmaster grumbled irately, noticing the severed front paw with obvious distaste.

"Again, a necessary precaution as he was about to kill Remus with his silver hand when I relieved him of the offending article."

Despite his abhorrence of such displays of common brutality, Dumbledore did at least have a begrudging respect for the man's loquacious response, let alone his obvious effectiveness.

Harry had done in a span of days what he had previously been unable to accomplish in several years, in the destruction of several of Voldemort's obscene horcruxes. The most telling of which was the removal of the one from his scar. Even the Headmaster had been wholly perplexed about how to remove the thing and spare the boy's life in the process. Regretfully, he had decided upon sacrificing the boy, to see Voldemort's end, but yet again Harry had surpassed the Headmaster's expectations and then some.

He may not embrace his methods, but clearly Harry was succeeding whereas Dumbledore would reluctantly admit, (solely to himself), that he had utterly failed.

Though Harry's animosity was understandable, if regretable, and his treatment lacking in any reasonable respect for his person, Dumbledore had to admit to respecting the younger man's methods, if not his person.

They say respect must be earned and Harry had done just that. The Headmaster, however, realized that he could not lay claim to the same;at least not where Harry Potter was concerned.

He could at least attempt to bridge that gap when provided an opportunity to do so, as he realized with a hint of fondness, was what Harry intended.

Even after all this time he cared enough to want his Godfather's name cleared, so that his spirit could rest that much easier.

"I assume you wish me to question the prodigal marauder to exonerate Sirius of his wrongful persecution?" he said.

Harry nodded. "Sirius deserves it, and while I regret my part in his demise, I can at least redeem myself somewhat by clearing his innocent name.

The Headmaster nodded his consent and Peter Pettigrew was questioned under veritaserum, tried and convicted all within the space of an hour, followed immediately by the Chief Warlock exonerating Sirius' name of the charges of wrongful death of twelve muggles and one,Peter Pettigrew.

For good measure, Dumbledore abolished Peter Pettigrew's ,_supposed_ posthumous, award of the unearned Order of Merlin he'd received and granted instead ensuring that it be bequeathed to Sirius Black, posthumously.

To Harry's further surprise, given the Headmaster's penchant for forgiveness; he sentenced Peter Pettigrew to death for his crimes.

Peter sat bound to a chair, sniveling miserably. Whether it was due more to the pain of his severed hand or from his own self-pity, was a matter of conjecture.

All that was left was to see the sentence carried out; to which end Dumbledore shifted his gaze meaningfully toward Harry.

Remus, who had been sitting stoically off to the side, was startled when Harry asked if he would care to do the honors as Peter's crimes were of a more personal matter of contention between the once friends.

Remus merely shook his head in profound remorse, currently overcome by the magnitude of what Peter's folly had cost both himself and his treasured friends.

"Alright then." Harry took up the responsibility. "Were I in my element I'd hang you from the nearest tree you villainous vermin."

Peter paled ghostly white at that and started groaning anxiously, sensing his imminent doom was nigh.

"As we currently reside in a debatably more civilized age.I will let you name the manner of your own demise?" He offered what he considered a real mercy in spite of the circumstances.

'No… please..I…" Peter began to beg and plead but Harry would have none of it.

"Decide?!" he barked in outrage, clearly offended by the scoundrel's begging.

"A-Anything.. I'll do anything just…" he continued to plead desperately.

Harry pulled his colt out with deliberate slowness, appreciating the way Peter's eyes widened in terror at seeing his life's end approaching.

"Harry, p-please…what w-would your m-mother say if you…" he stammered, trying a last desperate tactic of playing on the man's sympathy's where his mother was concerned. It had worked once before when he'd used his father to plea for his despicable preservation.

**Blam**

Harry's bullet hit the man square between the eyes, pitching him over backwards, chair and all.

"James and Sirius would say I was too generous; whilst Lily would consider me a cold hearted bastard, beneath contempt," he surmised, shocking the room by the abruptness of his having dispatched Pettigrew and even more so by his conjecture of what his parents would think about his actions.

"Depending on one's viewpoint, I guess they'd all be right to a certain extent." That said, he holstered his colt, not bothering to exchange the spent round as was his usual mode of operation.

"Sorry about the mess." He apologized to Dumbledore, who for his part was resigned to the fact that his sentence had been carried out far more expediently that what was the norm, albeit even relatively painlessly, at that.

It was with a profoundly begrudging respect, and not a little remorse, that he watched the young man turn and walk out of his office without a backward glance;Remus following in his wake.

He envied the two in that they would undoubtedly drown their sorrows; commiserating in friendship.

For the first time since Harry returnhe found himself wishing that their once friendship had endured so that he could be welcomed among them, to mourn in good fellowship.

In another part of the castle a gaggle of witches were commiserating with each other, and for another, more benign, reason.

"How can I? I can't dance like that."

"I can't either," Susan confided.

"Then how did you…?" Katie splayed her hands helplessly, not knowing how to put her awe into words.

"I don't know." Susan shrugged helplessly. "The moment he took me in his arms I just felt like I could;though I guess if I was being accurate it was more like I was just following in his wake- albeit gracefully so."

"I'll say." Hannah snorted incredulously at that. "The two of you were practically flying."

"It was weird; not that it wasn't a glorious feeling, but it was like ...I don't know…like I could do anything," Susan continued, still somewhat shaken by the whole experience.

"Whoa… sign me up!"

"Me too!"

Many of the witches in the room vented their own desire to take a turn on the Potter express.

Katie's face burned in both jealousy and uncertainty at the interest Harry was eliciting. That feeling only intensified when Susan reassured her quite seriously that if she didn't get off her arse and ask the man out that she would.

It was nearing sundown the next evening and Harry was enjoying a pleasant reprieve, sitting in, what was becoming, his favorite spot, atop the astronomy tower. There was still a hint of warmth in the air as Summer was fading into Autumn, and sunsets were coming earlier and growing more beautiful with each passing day.

Rocking away in his conjured rocking chair; Harry was whittling something that roughly appeared the size and shape of a man's right arm. His Henry rifle was propped against the battlement to his right,(within easy reach), and a half-finished mug of beer was similarly within easy reach on his right.

The door creaked open behind him and if he was surprised by the interruption he showed not the slightest hint of it.

Tentative, uncertain footsteps came his way as a young female cleared her throat to garner his attention.

"Can I help you Miss Reed?" Harry asked, not bothering to turn around nor halting his activities in the slightest.

The young lady, for her part, was stunned speechless by not only the fact that he not only knew who she was without even needing to see her, but by the knowledge that he even knew who she was without them having been introduced to each other as yet.

Emboldened by the fact that he had bothered to learn her identity, the young witch, (two years his junior), got up the nerve to ask;

"W-Would you be interested in going with me to the dance this S-Saturday night?"

Harry paused in his rocking, a smile playing across his face. He guessed he should have expected some interest, but he had forgotten the women of this century were far bolder in going about obtaining the party of their romantic interest.

"Please have a seat, Miss Reed," he offered; conjuring a seat next to his own.

The young lady sat down hesitantly, her hands fidgeting in her lap as her eyes surreptitiously shifted hopefully toward him in expectation.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage in that I confess myself unprepared for such a tempting offer. You are a lovely young woman, Miss Reed and I find myself in a quandary," he began apologetically.

"A quandary?' The young woman asked curiously, still hopeful.

"Yes, you see…to be perfectly candid; I had hoped to catch the eye of another young lady who has, to my disappointment, has not yet returned my interest. My quandary is in that you present me with an option I had not foreseen, but for all that, very tempting," he intimated charmingly; casting her a sincere half smile of obvious appreciation.

She was a very pretty blonde witch who had been in Ravenclawa couple of years behind him;though he hadn't known her at all during his school days back then. More exactly, _hadn't known_, but had _known of,_ as what teenage boy did not _know of_ a pretty girl.

She had delicate features with a smallish nose, pouty lips and enticing blue eyes. Not to mention a slender, albeit, well rounded figure.

"If a young woman cannot get up the nerve to show interest in someone worthy of said interest, then she doesn't deserve the honor of said interest in the first place."

_Spoken like a true Ravenclaw_, he thought appreciatively. He had to agree with her logic though.

_Should he wait? Susan had intimated that Katie was not only interested, but had literally warned off other potential suitors._

_If that were the case, why had she as yet not made her play, and why had Miss Reed still defied said warning?_ He was beginning to think he'd hitched his wagon to a dead horse. That, and that Miss Reed was obviously made of sterner stuff.

_Ah well, a bird in the hand and all that_…

"I think you might have something there, Miss Reed," he agreed with her previous statement.

"Please…call me Angie…It's short for Angela." She blushed slightly.

Harry smiled warmly and cocked his head thankfully. "Both are quite lovely, thank you. As I was saying… perhaps pining away over affections unrequited is an utter waste, especially in our current circumstances." He was referring to the desperate times of a nation at war.

"Would you be insulted if I had a turn about the floor or two with some of the other witches? You, see…" he hastily amended at seeing the girl's crestfallen expression, "I've turned down a few other invitations with the promise of a consolation dance as a gentleman should."

"Oh…..OH! The girl almost squealed in delighted understanding before catching herself. " That would be fine as long as I can return the favor for a few wizard friends of mine?"

Harry nodded at that. _A Ravenclaw alright_. "I shall try to hold my jealousy to a minimum."

Angie blushed slightly at the compliment.

"I shall be delighted to except your most generous invitation, Angela, thank you." he accepted politely.

Uncertainly, he inquired…"Do I….. that is, am I to escort you, or given the turnabout way of invitation; should I expect you to call on me on Saturday?"

"How about we meet at the top of the staircase, second floor, and we can make our entrance from there?" Angela suggested.

"Excellent. I shall await your pleasure with bated breath, Angela," he complimented again; taking the girl's hand and kissing the back of it lightly, before she half stumbled, half flew from the tower to excitedly inform her friends of her success.

The news must have traveled faster than he'd anticipated, as it wasn't an hour later that Hermione made her presence known.

"I hope you're happy with yourself?" she scathed, storming up alongside his chair.

"I am actually." He proffered the wooden arm he'd whittled. "Should do the trick nicely, and oak gives it just the right flesh tone color." He admired his handiwork fondly.

Hermione batted the wooden arm aside, not bothering to inquire why in the world, he would even sculpt such a thing in the first place as it was rather creepy- a disembodied arm and all.

"Katie's been crying her eyes out," she spat accusingly.

"Something Ron said?" Harry assumed, to which Hermione's eyes narrowed irately.

"You just had to go and accept a date from Angela Reed, didn't you?" Hermione continued to rail at him.

With a sheepish expression of surprise, Harry apologized. "I'm sorry Hermione. Had I known you were interested, I would have waited for you to ask me properly. Oh, well…better luck next time." He patted her shoulder bracingly, before beating a hasty exit before his stunned friend could reorient herself and round on him again.

She would have too, once she heard his chuckling at her expense as he exited the tower door.


	6. Chapter 6: Making friends and enemies

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**West of Here: Chapter Six**

**Making friends and enemies**

"You just do as your told you eight legged, furry bastard!" Harry rallied swatting the giant arachnid across it's pincers with his Stetson.

_Chitter..click-click..chitter….click_

"Oh, you will, will you? You just do as you're told or so help me I'm gonna find me one big ass fly swatter and a can of pesticide large enough to kill off every creepy-crawly from here to London."

_Chitter-Chitter-Click_

"I don't care if they smell good, you lot can eat all the dark robed, white masked idiots you can get your grubby little mitts on, but anyone else is off limits."

_Click-Click-Chitterrrr? _the giant spider continued to argue.

"While I'm tempted to say yes, but the answer's still no,.. you leave the centaurs alone unless they attack you first., Got it?"

_Chitter…chit-click-click…. Chit? _The spider continued plaintively.

Harry pulled an exasperated face at that. "Hell-Yes, you can eat all the vampires and werewolves you can catch, but no unicorns-mind?"

_Click! _The clearly disgruntled spider turned and made a show of wiping its many feet in disgust before it slumped off back into the Forbidden Forest.

"Ingrate" Harry grumbled as he turned away and stomped off toward the distant castle. "And I thought his old man, Aragog, was a pain in the arse? Damn thing's the size of a cart horse and twice as hungry. I'm surprised the whole damn forest hasn't been cocooned and drained by that blood thirsty lot of malcontents."

"Who're you talking to?" Hermione asked as she and Ron turned into his path, distracted as he was he hadn't really paid any attention to their arrival.

"Myself mostly."

"What about?" Ron put in curiously.

Harry smirked at that. "Funny you should bring that up, Ron? I was just enjoying a bit of wheelin-dealin with some old friends of ours in the forest."

Ron paled at that, as Hermione glanced questioningly between the two.

"Perhaps you'd like to visit the Aragog's progeny for old time's sake? Drop in and say "Hi" as it were?"

"N-No,.. er,.. no thanks, Harry" Ron declined suddenly deciding he had more pressing business back at the castle as he beat a hasty retreat.

"That wasn't very nice, Harry." Hermione pointed out.

"Oh, hell Hermione, lighten up already. It was just a bit of fun. What's happened to him that he can't take the slightest joke anymore?" Harry thumbed in Ron's retreating direction.

"Losing a pair of brothers in the same week took a lot out of the Weasley's. I don't think they ever really considered that they'd lose some of their immediate family despite their large number and deep involvement in the war?"

Harry's face fell slightly at that, feeling a pang of sympathy for his once best male friend. "I don't wish the hardship on them, but they were fools if they hadn't of thought they'd ever have to pay the piper. Hell, I'm surprised they only lost a couple the way things went pear shaped for all of you. It says something for Weasley tenacity it does." He grudgingly complimented.

"You should tell Ron that."

"Why don't you?"

"I think he needs to hear it from you more, Harry?" Hermione suggested.

"Alright..alright…" he acquiesced, fanning his hands to settle the matter. "But I don't have the time or inclination to coddle and bond." He groused.

Hermione rolled her eyes at that. "He doesn't need coddling Harry, but he could certainly do with your friendship just now."

"What for?"

"Whadayamean- what for?" she huffed indignantly.

"I'll probably get myself killed before this is finished and even if I don't I'm going back home… to my time…" he clarified in explanation.

"You have a home here, Harry and for that matter-this is your " time"." She reminded him. "When you were gone, ..while you were gone.. things were.. Ron he.. he never gave up on you. He always defended your absence even when everyone insisted you'd run out on us, that you were too afraid to face Voldemort again. He took a lot of insult and injury over you… or don't you care?"

"Of course I care. I'm here aren't I? I'm fighting the good fight as it were. What more do you want from me? Isn't putting my life on the line ever enough for you people?" he complained pointedly.

"Nobody wants you to give up your life, not even if it means the difference between winning and losing, but Merlin, Harry,.. do you have to be so discordant about it, about us?"

"Discordant… what does that mean.. discordant?" he asked clearly puzzled by her grammar.

"It means conflicting and disagreeable." she huffed.

"Then why didn't you just say disagreeable." He reiterated, vaguely curious.

"Don't change the subject." She spat back losing her patience and beginning to tear up. _God, how she wished they could go back ten years._

"Ron and you lot weren't the only ones that had a tough go of it, 'Mione." It was the first time he'd used the affection abbreviation of her name since he'd returned to their present time and her breath caught in sentimentality as she realized just how much she missed hearing it, despite how much it had once aggravated her. It had taken her some time to realize how her two boys did it more out of affection than actually trying to wind her up.

"It was my choice, my fault, and I paid for it. I hadn't wanted to leave you all, but I can't change what happened. Many times I wished I could. Many times I cried in the night praying you all would figure out what happened and come to save me from my own stupidity. More than half of those ten long damn years were.. unpleasantly spent. I should've died, could've died ten times over, but I sucked it up and pushed on, because it's what Ron and Hermione would expect me to do,.. so I did it."

Hermione was visibly shaken by that and the tears she had been trying to hold back fell in earnest.

Rough thumb pads reached out and brushed the tears from her eyes and she dared to look up into his equally anguished countenance as he struggled to explain that…. "After a while it became irrelevant what Ron and Hermione wanted. It became what I wanted. I wanted to live, to survive, and to carry on. I realized that you were never gonna come, that the only person left to care about me was me. There was no one else, so eventually I was forced to embrace that I was alone and would always remain so unless I did something about it. When Remus and Dumbledore found me I was still alone and I guess that I was pretty much content to remain that way. It hurts a lot less when it's just yourself,'Mione."

With that he pulled her trembling form into a hug and let her cry out her own regret, sparing no sympathy for himself as he was long past wasting time on regrets.

He let her cry herself out finding, among other things, a better sense of patience in his years of indentured service to the Locuta tribe and his self-imposed isolation. Once Hermione's crying had stilled to cleansing snuffles, as she pulled herself together, he changed tact with an acrobatic grace, that too he had learned over years of Marshalling.

"What say we catch up with Ron and make nice as I'm sure he's found his way to the lunch table by now and I could do with a good meal myself?"

Hermione nodded and the two walked off slowly, her taking his proffered arm as they strolled along talking of more innocuous things until the conversation turned toward the personal again.

"So,…Anegela Reed, huh?" Hermione tried to innocently to draw him out, but he ignored her first attempt without indulging her.

After a long pause with nothing forthcoming, Hermione tried again from a different angle. "Not that it's any of my business, but why didn't you wait for Katie Bell to ask you to the dance if you knew she was going to, especially given the fact that you obviously are attracted to her in return?"

"You're right, it's none of your business." he agreed. "But since you're obviously going to belabor the point; where in the world did you arrive at the conclusion that I harbored anything other than platonic feelings toward Katie Bell?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at that. "Right, like I and everyone else are blind, Harry?" she returned facetiously.

"Must be, as I've not said or done anything to encourage Miss Bell one way or the other? As far as asking me to this shindig-she didn't, despite having more than a reasonable time period to do so."

He wasn't taking the bait, which only intrigued and irritated his friend all the more.

"You tend to be rather intimidating, so it's not out of the realm of possibility that perchance Katie was struggling to gather the courage to broach the topic."

Harry snorted a laugh at that. "Then what sort of Gryffindor is she? Reed is a Ravenclaw and she had no such compunctions, and for the record; she displayed the cool logic for which her house is well known. More than most realize." He added facetiously.

"What sort of logic, or are you just playing on her good taste in having sought you as a date?" Hermione goaded.

He just snorted sarcastically at that, but otherwise made no comment. He daren't tip his hand this early in the game.

Hermione huffed under her breath, silently berating herself for letting him draw her into this obstinate game he was playing just to take the mickey on her.

Unexpectantly, he turned the tables.

"So,.. who're you going with?"

Hermione huffed in a rather scandalized fashion as she haughtily answered. "Well, Ron of course, he is my fiancé after all."

"That the only reason?"

This time she actually hissed at him, to which his eyes squinted in obvious amusement.

"Very funny." she scathed wearily.

"I was being serious." He tried and failed not to chuckle at that as Hermione rolled her eyes again and sighed in a 'long and suffering fashion'.

After a cleansing pause, she tried and failed to reestablish the object of her curiosity. "About Katie… why didn't you…?"

"Leave it alone, 'Mione." he interrupted in warning, finally tiring of her intrusion.

"I'm just making conversation." She innocently tried to defend herself.

"Then how about we talk about sex?" Harry suggested with a predatory smile. "You and Ron take things to a higher and more interesting level whilst I was away?"

Hermione's mouth fell open as she stammered and sputtered impotently debating whether to scathe at him, slap his face or flee in terror.

"Come on, 'Mione…" he pressed on, grinning madly. "What positions you guys into? What gets 'Mione's out of the gate and running hard? A little of the woof-woof, or are you more of a 'Yee-Haww' sort of gal?"

"Urgggg!" Hermione fled his company, red faced and panicked.

"Haw-Haw-Haw" Harry slapped his knee as he doubled over laughing his arse off at her expense.

Something's never changed and taking the mickey out of Hermione was just as much fun as before, if not more so than ever.

* * *

><p>"You got any plans for after lunch?" Remus asked curiously, (curiously in that Harry always had more than one brand in the fire).<p>

_Merlin, I'm starting to think like he talks. _Remus chastised himself.

Harry pushed away his near gleamingly cleaned off plate with a contented sigh. "Nothing much, thought I'd visit an old acquaintance or two, but nothing pressing, why?"

Remus shrugged indifferently, suggesting.. "Care for some company? Dora's spending the afternoon with the ladies plotting and planning for the upcoming dance.. you know.. witch's stuff." He embellished with a shudder of dread.

"What I'm planning on isn't what you'd call a step up from that… I was thinkin on visitin the greasy git and maybe pay an impromptu visit to the family."

Remus' eyes went out of focus for a second as he pieced together what Harry was referring to, a feral grin split his face once he's put it together.

"This I've got to see?" Remus nearly begged, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation.

"And here I thought you were the reasonable, coolly logical marauder… you're as bad as Sirius."

"Compliments are always welcome-no matter the source." Remus sniffed disdainfully before they laughed and made off for the Castle dungeons. They hadn't taken more than a half few steps before Ron pushed away from his bare plate and asked along the lines of Remus' original inquiry.

Normally Harry would have sent him packing, but after his talk with Hermione he was feeling nostalgic. That and a good meal had him in a peaceable mood.

"Come on, Ron,.. the more the merrier." He suggested, pulling his once best friend along by the crook of his arm.

"Where're we going?" Ron asked after registering the surprise that he was being included.

"To see Snape." Remus answered.

"Yuck, what for,.. and here I just ate?" Ron groused, to which the other two shared an agreeable snort.

"He's got a line on a new potion for birth control that's supposed to work up to a year. I figured what with your Weasley genes you'd make a brilliant test subject." Harry chuckled.

"I'm betting six months tops before the potion collapses, in that case." Remus threw in.

"You're not taking into account Hermione, Remus. Now… I can't be sure, but from what I hear about prim and proper gals on the outside…? Hmm, I'm betting ol 'Mione can give Ron here a run for his money. I say a galleon on three months before "Mione's good and pregnant."

"Make it ten and you've got a bet." Remus bargained back.

"Hey,.. I'm right here ya know?" Ron complained.

"Alright, so what'll you bet?" Harry prodded, poking his elbow into Ron's ribs as they descended the Castle stairs down to the dungeons.

Ron pulled an indignant face before he grumbled under his breath.. "Make it twenty and two months."

**Haw-Haw-Haw**… the other two laughed uproariously before Ron too began to chuckle and laugh along with them.

They'd barely collected themselves before they arrived at the door to Snape's office. Not bothering with pleasantries and mainly because he knew it would irritate Snape no end, Harry negated the wards over Snape's door with a mere wave of his hand. Ron watched captivated as the door flashed blue, signaling the ward's demise.

A quick twist of the door knob and a boot to help it along.. the door swung inward with Harry following in its wake… "Heya Snape, what's cooking…OMIGOD! MY Eyes-They Burn!" Harry howled in disgust, slapping his palms over his eyes, trying to ward off the image of Snape coupling with a half clothed witch over the top of his oak desk.

"M-My lunch.. I think I'm gonna…Urp!" Ron gagged and threw up his lunch across the floor.

Remus, ever the coolly logical one fled the scene in terror, yelling as he went… "Ugly…OH—UGLINESS!"

An hour later found the three drowning their respective sorrows in whiskey. Harry was well ahead of the other two. His glass trembled in his hand and he carried a haunted look as if someone had stepped across over his grave.

At length and in growing concern that his friend had gone into shock, Ron asked, "Harry mate,.. you okay?"

"I-I can't get the image out of my head." he complained morbidly as he downed a half glass of Ogden's finest in a single go, surprising his two friends by his resilience.

"I know seeing Snape that way was,.. unpleasant, traumatic even, but trust me…It'll be something we can all laugh about one day,.. maybe a thousand years from now?" Remus offered hopefully.

"It's not just Snape, well it is,.. but ..but.. but- didn't you see who he was with?" Harry stammered out aghast.

Remus and Ron shared a puzzled look before Ron ventured that… "Can't say that I can.. the whole thing's gone all fuzzy."

"They call it hysterical blindness. "Remus diagnosed Ron's fortunate memory lapse.

"It's a gift." Ron agreed to which Remus chuckled, but Harry only shuddered again with that haunted expression.

"What…?" Remus began in concern before he clarified…'Well, who was it then?"

"A-Angela R-Reed….!" Harry gasped out before he tossed his glass aside and grabbed up the bottle trying to drown the image from his mind as his two friends laughed themselves silly at his expense.

* * *

><p>The next two days found Harry consumed with working hard around the castle; shoring up defenses, working out, target practice…<p>

"Let 'er buck!" Harry shouted and eight tentacles hurled what appeared to be…"

"Hey..are those the sugar cookies 'Mione made for the ….? Ron barked in outrage before his words were drowned out by Harry pistols.

Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam!

Each gun fired four times in rapid succession, the cookies disintegrating in the air before a single one began to descend.

"Merlin's mercy…" Ron breathed out in awe. He'd heard the stories from Hermione, someone who never exaggerated, but this? If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes he'd never believe that a human being could be that fast, let alone accurate. Harry was like some kind of machine. Ron watched in utter fascination as Harry reloaded in a trice and barked out again..

"Throw it!"

The giant squid hurled the cookie-targets as ordeedr. Each tentacle threw the two inch round morsels a different direction and with enough strength to send them hurtling at breakneck speeds that had the targets blurring through the air.

Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam….!

Snict-Snict-Snict-Snict-Snict-Snict-Snict-Snict…

The last cookie exploded before Ron could even swivel his head in its general direction, but already Harry was reloading his pistols with mechanical precision.

Ron goggled at the display. When his brain finally engaged and his mouth caught up…

"Harry…mate.. geez…. I mean… what's the big idea of using Hermione's cookies, an all?" he managed to complain despite the awesome display of marksmanship.

"You tried 'em?" Harry asked in surprise with an incredulous look on his face.

"Well no,.. I…" Ron began, but Harry cut his off.

"Then I'm doing you and the rest of the school a favor. The damn things are so hard I'm surprised my bullets can even penetrate them,.. and the taste? Lord above.. they're god awful. I swear she used lard instead of butter?"

"Oh,.. ah.. thanks…" Ron sighed in appreciation, though his face was still crestfallen,. Harry guessed he knew what his friend's dilemma was.

"Looks and brains, but not much in the kitchen, eh?"

Ron nodded dejectedly.

"If it's too much to overlook than best break things off now rather than be miserable after?" Harry suggested.

"Can't help it,.. I love here, mate. She's terrific and all, but.. can't cook a lick to save her soul. Mum's tried,.. but the lessons wouldn't take. I swear a cook book is the only kind of book that Hermione can't learn all there is to learn from?" Ron returned disappointedly.

"Well then.. either get used to starving or stomaching what a Billy-goat can't keep down or..?"

"Or what?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Or.. after the war's over I'm gonna introduce you two a muggle market…. They've got everything even your voracious appetite could want and appreciate.. including… wait for it… readymade cakes and cookies and such."

Ron's face absolutely glowed with renewed hope at that as he smacked his lips. A half second later his face fell slightly as suggested facetiously… "Instead of waiting til after, couldn't we go have a look now?"

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Well,…er, that is.. you, ah,.. you might not make it through the war and all and …"

"Thanks" Harry shot back sarcastically.

"Let 'er fly!" Harry shouted and the process repeated itself without a hitch or a miss.

"Geezus, Harry…" Ron rasped in a clearly complimentary tone of awe. It was while Harry was reloading that Ron realized a critical point in the display. "How'd you get the squid to…

"The cookies, such as they are…?" again Harry pulled a face. "The pieces bring the fish up as they don't know any better, that and the water softens 'em up a might. Anyway,.. the fish gather and…

"The squid eats the fish!" Ron cottoned on." Harry tapped his finger to his nose to confirm his friend was on target.

"It's a win-win for us, the fish, and the squid." They both shared a good natured laugh at that, up until…

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked walking up to the shoreline.

"Er, um.. nothing 'Mione." Ron struggled, paling slightly.

"Hey are those the biscuits I made for the dance?" Hermione shouted out in alarm, recognizing her handiwork.

"Ron,…" Harry scathed in shocked dismay. "You said these were last years left overs, said they weren't fit for human consumption., so we should feed it to the fish and when they belly up, we can catch enough for supper with nothing but a net to scoop 'em up."

Hermione rounded on Ron who's face went scarlet as he goggled in mortification.

"Oh you did, did you? Well let me tell you something, Ronald Weasley…"

"Potter, you dirty bastard!" Ron shouted at Harry's laughingly retreating from.

"Don't you dare and try to blame Harry for your ungrateful…."

* * *

><p>It was the day before the big dance and Harry was dateless- go figure. To say that he had withdrawn his acceptance of Ms. Reed's invitation would be an understatement. It was all he could do to be polite and not throw up on the girl, who- for her part, at least had the decency to appear mortified. At least she did up until the point that Harry offered to test her for love potions, compulsion charms, if not the <em>imperious<em> curse ect…

At that point, serious though he'd been, he realized he'd made a tactical error and beat a hasty retreat before the girl could regroup and tell him off, or worse.. defend her actions with the "Greasy Git".

The whole thing gave him the willies! To his dying day he would thank divine providence for sparing him Snape's 'sloppy seconds' which, (to his way of thinking), gave a whole new meaning to the phrase.

His stomach still couldn't hold food and he'd be damned before he'd lower himself to seek out Snape for an anti-nausea potion. That would be like throwing gas on a fire.

As it was; the turd shot him smug looks whenever he could catch Harry's eye. He'd never thought of himself as unattractive, but Snape- really?

His mood was at best…_discordant_, to take a leaf out of Hermione's page. While it was so, why not visit the Dursley's? It's not like they could bring him any lower?

Friday afternoon found Harry making a walk down Private Drive, such as he'd never imagined he could ever- would ever do so again.

There was no surprise in finding the object of his inquiry still in residence at Number Four. The considered their home and life style idyllic, so why on earth would they ever move? That especially in consideration of the fact that the one blemish on their existence-him, was no longer a factor in their supposedly "normal" lives.

His boot heels clicked alum the flags, growing in ominous volume in conjunction as he moved toward the home of his former tormentors.

He stopped in front t of the door and pulled his Stetson from his head, so as not to alarm the party within that anything was out of the ordinary.

He wanted to surprise them not forewarn them, after all.

Knock-Knock-Knock

He rapped firmly, but not harshly upon the door, again,.. _no reason to advertise._

The door slid open and a middle aged 'Horse faced' stick figure poked its smiling face out from the opening.

"Yes, can I help you…er, sir?" her voice faltered as she took note of his western attire

Shorted cropped black hair pivoted upward until emerald green eyes captured lifeless brown ones that at first appeared puzzled before growing wider in recognition.

"You….?" Petunia Dursley scathed in revulsion.

Harry smiled charmingly at that, truly appreciating that his beloved aunt not only recognized, but obviously missed his absence fiercely.

"Hello, dear aunt. Pray tell is my equally loving Uncle at home for this joyous reunion?" Pushing his way past his aunt he entered the home before she could even think to slam the door in his face, much good as that would do her.

"Who's at the door pet?" an all too familiar voice called out between mouthfuls of crisps.

"Ah, this brings back memories." Harry blanched distastefully at the entry to the living room that he was never permitted to enter and it's occupant who was stuffing his quivering jowls with all manner of snacks while watching, of all things- a western, on the television.

"What the…?" Vernon Dursley goggled stupidly shifting his startled gaze between the western caricature on the telly and the one that was perched at the entrance of his parlor.

"How do, tubby?" Harry chortled in greeting as he planted his arse onto the sofa and unceremoniously let his boot heels crash atop the coffee table, scuffing the surface in his carelessness.

"My table?" a shriek from the door way announced Petunia's arrival.

"See here…" his uncle began to bluster before shouting… "Call the constable pet!"

Harry snickered at that, pulling back the lapel of his duster displaying his gleaming badge and enjoying the way his relatives gaped in dread.

"I am the law…dear uncle and equally charming aunt. So much so that you'll find I'm pretty much untouchable here and well, _anywhere_,.. actually." He drawled.

Though alarmed by this uncertain revelation, his uncle managed to pull himself into a semblance of his former beloved self, upon recognizing the wearer of said badge.

"Oh, it's you is it? Suppose you've come back to grovel for a handout… well you can go F… yourself and the horse you rode in on.. he-he.. as they say in your parts." He chuckled brightly in self appreciation of his; what he thought a clever barb."

Harry rolled his eyes, snorting disdainfully. "Took that off of some nickel western I'd wager, didya?" Anyhoo,… can't stay long."

"Good!" Both his aunt and uncle exclaimed simultaneously, though Harry proceeded to talk over them ignoring their rudeness as being par for the course.

"As I was saying.. can't stay.. dark lord's to kill and relative's lives to ruin."

"Eh,.. how's that?" Vernon's piggy eyes narrowed suspiciously in alarm at that last.

Harry pulled off his Stetson and brushed the brim of nonexistent dust as he mused. "Wasn't planning on staying round these parts actually, but since things seem in need of change, might as well make a clean sweep of it once I've dealt with Voldie-Turd. I'm sure the muggle public will be as grateful to be shod of your worthless hides as I know the magical one will be when Vodle's gone the way of the dodo?"

"Now see here,.. you can't come in here and threaten decent folk…" Vernon began to bluster before Harry cut him off with a stern look that sent most folk, good or bad, scurrying on their way.

"Threaten… hardly. I am, but stating a fact and mean to see it through." At that he drew back the lapel of his duster further and the well-worn grip of his right colt came into view. His uncle and aunt's faces paled dramatically in dread, thinking he was going to shoot them.

"Like I'd waste the bullets? No, you two are gonna have the full ride and when it's over you're gonna wish I'd spent the bullets to put you out of your misery. Hey,.. waitaminute… where's my dear cousin Dumb-shite,.. er.. I mean, Dudley?" Harry pretended to just notice his cousin's absence from this joyous family reunion.

"Well he's er.. working… yes, nose to the grindstone our Dudders, not some lay about like you.. Dudley's a college man don't you know,.. rising executive… big things in store for our boy." His uncle blustered haltingly as if he were making things up as he went whilst really digging himself into a hole with his obvious lies.

"Big things, eh.. like a parole hearing, which I've been reliably informed he won't have a chance of winning said **parole** anytime soon, but don't worry over that as I have it on good authority that you'll be reunited soon. Ah, family..." he waxed wistfully.

"He'll be pardoned then?" his aunt asked hopefully dropping the pretense.

"Couse not.. no,.. I was thinking more along the line that you'd be joining him soon in a six by ten foot vacation home of your own." Just as he announced that and before they could wholly digest his meaning; the siren of an approaching police squad made its self-known, growing in volume as it approached their area.

Harry smiled congenially at that as their faces went ashen. "Me thinks your embezzling of company funds has come to light, dear uncle. Your limousine approaches to take you to join Dudley in his.. _executive_ life style. He-He" Harry mimicked his uncle's unsavory chuckle of previously.

Turning his attention away from his uncle who looked panicky and readying to bolt, he addressed his aunt…"Oh, and by the by, dearest auntie… I took it upon myself to question your neighbors regarding the mysterious disappearance of your nephew amidst allegations of child neglect and abuse of said nephew. They seemed rather shocked, at first, that is before they started comparing notes over the hedge rows. They seem a rather gossipy bunch." He mused off handily.

Committing their wide eyed and terrified expressions to memory he tipped his hat and apparated away just as the police squad arrived outside the house of Number Four-_not so-_ Private Drive.

* * *

><p>Harry was still chuckling the next day as he walked through the castle heading for his quarters to get ready for tonight's dance. He couldn't remember a time when he was in more anticipation of an event, despite having asked Romilda Vane, of all people, to the dance.<p>

He emerged, from his quarters, wearing a dark business suit that both accentuated his lean frame as well as held a hint of his more western roots, complete with dark black western boots that were from an as yet to be identified species, not that they didn't look nice.

He waited patiently at the stair above the foyer for his date to make her appearance and when she did he was not to be disappointed. She wore blue beaded gown that hugged her slim figure in all the right ways. Her brown hair was styled in ringlets that cascaded down past her slender throat, with a hint of cleavage that drew the unwary eye.

Fortunately he was immune to such subtle manipulations- fortunately.

He was, however, somewhat surprised by the contingent of giggling witches in tow that apparently were interested in how the formerly shy and tongue tied Harry Potter would respond to his overly zealous date who'd jumped at the chance when he approached her.

Hermione, Susan Bones and a variety of others were among the whispering in conspiracy; gaggle of females.

Harry rolled his eyes surreptitiously and glided forward taking Romilda's hand which he kissed reverently commenting that she looked. "Perfect"

He folded his blushing date's hand into the crook of his arm, pausing briefly to scan the crowd , taking care to comment that…

"Hermione..? You look.. er,.. nice." He managed to stumble with a bit of feigned sincerity eliciting a huff of displeasure from the witch in question.

"She's going to be furious with you." Romilda warned in a conspiratorial whisper that only he could hear.

"Good."

"I'm surprised you didn't at least compliment Katie Bell on her appearance?" Romilda added with a touch of animosity bleeding into her voice.

Harry pulled a puzzled expression asking.. "Was she there?" earning himself a glowing smile from his date.

The dinner was excellent, the digestion of which was even more so as Dumbledore refrained from making one of his speeches for the "Greater Good" and merely clapped his hand announcing the beginning of the dance. Professor Flitwick crawled up a small podium, taking his place in front of a small orchestra composed of Hogwarts students and alumni.

"Could we?" Romilda asked hopeful to which he bowed kissing the back of her reaching hand,( ignoring the gasps of several nearby witches), as he murmured…"I am your humble servant, milady. Your wish my command."

Harry led his date to the floor and glided seamlessly into a waltz as the music began. His eyes never left his date's as he complimented from memory her exact appearance, including what he characterized as "the enchanting beadwork of your bodice is stunning.. did you perchance do the work yourself?"

"W-Why yes, I did actually." The witch stammered, blushing prettily.

"I thought as much as the work bespoke a well-practiced, albeit elegant attention to detail." He complimented further.

The girl swooned at that, letting herself fall back into a gentle dip that Harry , was not only prepared for, but righted her _almost_ seamlessly as they continued to glide across the floor.

The enjoyed the first of several dances before the arrival of another admirer relieved him of the pleasure of her charms for a dance, telling her so in those terms and enjoying the way the young lady gasped and blushed anew.

He was chuckling appreciatively when he happened upon Hermione near the refreshments.

She was alone, sipping at a glass of punch, eyeing him warily as he approached.

"Ron skip out early?' He assumed, garnishing an indignant huff from his friend.

"Of course not." She spat back in a scandalized tone. "Did your date finally wise up and move on to greener pastures?" she smarmily returned.

Harry smiled indulgently at that, answering that he merely did not wish to deprive the rest of the male population the unique privilege of his date's company lest he… "earn their eternal wrath."

Hermione goggled at that. "Just who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?"

"Beg your pardon?" he asked in a puzzled tone, seemingly not catching her reference.

"I mean where did you learn to talk let alone treat a lady with such,.. such…?"

"Elegance? Charm? Charisma?" harry ventured.

"Y-yes.. that too." Hermione scoffed.

"I believe it was always there just below the surface, waiting for the proper opportunity to

"Proper opportunity?" Hermione parroted suspiciously.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I think I was rather uninspired by the witches I associated with in my youth and fortunately I find myself in a higher quality of female interest than previously allotted for."

Hermione's mouth fell open in consternation at that. "Of all the nerve…?! You listen to me Harry Potter, if you think I'm gonna let you take the mickey let alone run about insulting me all night…?"

"You'll have to excuse me a moment, Hermione?" he interrupted, seemingly oblivious to the dressing down she was intending to deliver. "I've yet to avail myself of the exquisite Susan Bones and I better strike whilst she is oddly, albeit, temporarily without an escort. I like your dress by the way. Is it something of your mother's?" her murmured his assumption as he abruptly left to petition Susan Bones for a dance, leaving an outraged Hermione trembling angrily at this last barb.

On and on the night went as Harry both enjoyed the company of many witches, but always immediately returning to and attending to his date whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He was the epitome of charm and grace, at least to everyone but one: Hermione Granger and a hiding to the point of being elusive: Katie Bell.

Not that he pretended to notice on either accord.

It was nearing midnight when his date blushingly suggested that take a walk in the fairy lit gardens.

The walked arm and arm speaking of little things, complimented the actions of others tonight, the dresses of some of the women and the like.

At one point his date nervously placed her hands on his shoulders and rose up on her tiptoes to brush a kiss across his lips that, of her accord, deepened. Though he enjoyed the kiss immensely, he would have enjoyed it more if both of her hands had wandered around his neck instead of the one disappearing to search out a particular bead amongst the others artistically splayed around her bodice.

"It's n-not there." Harry murmured disappointedly into their kiss.

"W-What..?" Romilda pulled away both startled and nervous of the implication.

"The poisoned needle whose particular beaded head was hidden among the many others you so laboriously infused into your bodice."

"I…I don't understand w-what you're talking about?" The girl struggled to deny as she took a step back and her eyes shifted slightly to the side as she considered a possible avenue of escape.

"You'll never make it. " he warned her. "At least not alive." He added for good measure, rooting her to the spot in terrified understanding.

"How did you know?"

"I've had warning signs, but mostly I knew for sure by pure luck." He went on to explain.. "When you swooned into that dip, my hand brushed across the beads of you lower back and I felt one give slightly. After that I noticed how your hand went, off and on, toward your bodice all night as if you were checking to see if something was still there."

Romilda's face paled dramatically at that, the irony not lost on her. "What're you going to do?" she asked pointedly, dropping all pretenses.

"That depends on how forth coming you are and the circumstances of your betrayal?"

She paled further. "I can't tell you anything, if I do they'll kill my family. They have my parents and my younger sister. They said.. they said…. They'd.. Oh, God!" the woman broke down in tears at that.

Harry sighed in understanding. He figured, at least he'd hoped, it would be something like that and not just another wolf hidden amongst sheep.

He waited patiently until the girl was able to compose herself. "Do you know where they are holding your family?"

The girl nodded hopefully.

"Then what say I retrieve them?"

"Y-You'd do that for me?" she asked in surprise, placing to high of an opinion on herself to his way of thinking.

"Not for you, but for them." He clarified, silently enjoying the way her face fell at that.

"I don't have the right to be grateful, but thank you just the same. What, may I ask, are you going to do with me?"

"I'm going to let your family decide your fate."

The woman gulped nervously at that.

"If they think you deserve another chance- you'll get one, but only if they're willing to be responsible for you? If they'd rather erase all doubt of further treachery on your part, then I'll gladly twist your foolish head off your pretty little shoulders."

The girl goggled at that and fainted dead away, which was just as well for expedience sake

Romilda Vane awoke chained to a chair in the head master's office. She'd barely oriented herself before three drops of truth serum were administered and her eyes glazed over as the first round of questions began.

Her answers proved enlightening.

After the questions and the antidote was given, Romilda asked a question of her own of the only person in the room who hadn't questioned her.

"Did you go with me to the dance because you wanted to or because you knew I was a spy?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me." Romilda all but begged, hoping to preserve her vanity.

Harry sighed. "I went with you because I knew you were the spy, but for all that I'd hoped you'd change your mind and come clean of your own volition."

"Why,.. because you're so charming,.. everyone's dream date?" she returned snidely, trying to return like for like to assuage her bruised ego.

Harry snorted at that. "No,… because it would have been the right thing to do. But since you ventured into these waters; pretty though you are, my heart chose a long time back who it wanted, and la-dy…" (he drawled the word sarcastically), " you aint her, not by a long shot." That said he rose from his chair, nodded meaningfully to Dumbledore and left Ms. Vane to the tender mercies of her interrogators.


	7. Chapter 7: Surprises can be good or bad

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N-Sorry have been away on vacation in Hawaii for past few weeks. Back to writing now. MK

West of Here

**Chapter Seven: Surprises can be good or bad.**

The stench of old blood and decay was enough to turn the stomach of any man, fortunately Remus and Harry had seen and experienced their fair share of death and the more unpleasant aspects of what came after when the body began to decompose. Harry from his time as Marshall had transferred the corpses of many a dead felon, and horses just didn't move fast enough to outrun decomposition.

As for Remus, well let's just say that werewolves were used to meat, fresh or otherwise, and leave it at that.

Ron and Hermione, however, were not quite so lucky. As an auror, Ron had been exposed to his fair share of death, but this was another matter entirely.

As for Hermione, she was sorely missing her research in a sterile environment just now.

Harry had elected to bring the pair along on this would be rescue of the Vane family. Ron was itching to get into the fight again and Hermione's coolly logical head had its definite uses. Ron had been training hard and even Harry had to begrudgingly admit that he looked capable enough to join the party, as it were. While Hermione was nowhere near the capability of a field operative, Harry was more than willing to gamble on her quick thinking under fire which had proven more than useful in the past, though she was a more than a fair hand with a wand when needed.

This though,… this was nothing for amateurs, of which Ron and Hermione were in the regards to carnage of this degree. The Vane family had been shamelessly butchered and by the look and smell of things it had been recent, as in within the past couple of days.

They were tortured, and by the look of things it wasn't just to send a message, but due to the fact that the perpetrators had enjoyed themselves.

They'd enjoyed themselves immensely. The mother and the younger sister had been raped, repeatedly so, and by the lay of things it appeared that the father had been forced to watch. The poor sod's wounds weren't that severe, so much so, that Harry grimly suspected the man's heart had given out somewhere along the way. Once the man had perished; the vermin had made quick work of the women as there was less amusement for them without an audience.

By the haunted despairing look in Hermione's eyes and the tremulous expression on Ron's face as he surreptitiously shifted his worried gaze toward Hermione every so often, the knowledge of such was not lost on either of them.

They had apparated into a clearing a half mile or so away from the rustic cabin safe house that the Vane's had hidden in until the Death Eater's had ferreted out their location, via the help of,(a terrified for her own skin), Romilda Vane.

After that it had been child's play to extort the young witch's unwilling service, lest her family suffer the consequences should she refuse.

They had crept in while being disillusioned until just a few yards out before storming the cabin, hoping to catch the Death Eater guards unaware enough in the early dawn to not offer much in the way of resistance.

But Remus' enhanced senses had picked up the smell of death and after that subtly was hardly necessary.

Tortured, maimed, degraded, violated,.. the Death Eaters had run through the table of contents of "Torture for Evil Imbecils" Volume One.

Harry shot Ron a supportive nod, proud that his friend had not only kept his stomach, but was doing his best to comfort Hermione. While initially shocked to speechlessness; Hermione was now crying desolately, not only for the Vanes, but in the very realization that she had stepped into a den of evil that she had heretofore been ill equipped to deal with.

The point had been driven deeply home that they were in a war against monsters and monsters were best put down with extreme prejudice.

Now was not the time for grieving the dead, but for fighting to stay alive.

"Remus, hit the walls and roof with _impervious charms_. Ron and Hermione see if there's a basement or root cellar, if there is or isn't than start blasting a big arse hole in the floor and don't stop until we can all fit inside with room to spare and a few good feet over our heads!"

"Wha…?" Hermione began to question before Remus cut her off as he started casting. "This whole mess is one big trap." he barked out in explanation, his own enhanced senses now registering what Harry had already assumed..

Hermione shot Harry a troubled look to which he nodded grimly in agreement.

The sheer magnitude of the horrific scene had done its job in distracting them long enough for the Death Eaters to close in outside. The sights had riveted them to the scene and the horrific smells had masked even Remus' enhanced sense of smell covering the encroaching scents of their assailants.

Ron tugged Hermione in the direction of the hall that led to the rear of the cabin as they began their frenzied search.

"But what're you going to do?" Hermione called after Harry as he pulled his lapels aside and buttoned them back out of the way.

"Slo 'em down." he answered grimly.

He was just about to crack open one of the cabin's shutters, but thought better of it and instead charmed it clear from his side so that he could see the outside without giving away his ability to do so.

He was glad he did as there were several wands trained on all the cabin's potential openings. The second they'd spied the shutter opening he would have found himself the unlucky recipient of lord only knows what sort of unpleasantness.

By the looks of things they were in deep shit. Not only were there a plethora of black cloaked, wand waving bastards outside, but they had learned from past mistakes and had taken cover using the forest's natural foliage and conjuring a few boulders ta boot.

Obviously they didn't like getting shot at.

Still, stupidity seemed to run rampant in these parts and Death Eaters tended to run thin skinned.

He was pulled from his dread contemplation when the objects of his musings put their own foot a bit closer to the trap he was intending to lay out.

"Potter! Guardian Harry Potter,…this is Lucius Malfoy speaking as emissary for the Dark Lord Voldemort. Surrender yourself to our lord and your companions may go free and unmolested."

Harry rolled his eyes at that as Remus snorted derisively whilst casting protective charms over the area. Despite undoubted silencing charms, the floor shook beneath their feet indicating that Ron and Hermione had set to tunneling through the cabin's foundation.

He just needed a bit of time for them to finish whilst he primed the fools outside into an unthinking frenzy of overzealousness.

"Malfoy, eh?" he barked out in a dubious tone. "Seems to me you offered the same type of deal back in the Hall of Mysteries ten years or so ago? You weren't very honorable about your end of the bargain as I recall."

"Mistakes were made and admittedly my companions were unruly. The dark lord has since curbed their enthusiasm. They will follow my orders to the letter lest they risk displeasing my lord." His tone carried with it a warning for his comrades.

"Sounds good except for one thing?" Harry suggested dubiously.

"What's that?"

"Your _Lord _aint here and you tend to be given to flights of fancy." He drawled the word _lord_ for sarcastic effect.

"Excuse me?" Malfoy asked, not understanding the play on wrods.

"Rough translation: Your word's worth shit!" Harry barked out as Remus and several of the Death Eaters outside laughed their agreement with that statement. He knew that he'd already raised the elder's hackles a might, now it was time to see if he couldn't stir up the embers to get the fire nice and hot.

"Is that snotty little shit of a son of yours out there along with the rest of these idiots?" he goaded, knowing that if Draco was outside he could easily get under his thin skin and set the stage.

He cocked the hammer of both colts, keeping a sharp eye on the clearing outside.

Like the fool he was, an indignant Draco Malfoy stood out arrogantly from behind the cover of a tree near his father to hurl an insult of his own.

"I'm here Potty and I'm eager to renew old ties.. the kind that bind." He stated for emphasis as he raised a pair of manacles brought with capturing Potter in mind.

"Draco,.. don't be a fool…!" His father hissed in alarm at his son's overconfidence.

Too Late

Harry kicked open the shutter, he was standing behind, with a boot, firing both colts a half a heartbeat later. Twin slugs impacted Draco's chest flinging him over backwards and out of sight.

Harry cast a quick shield charm over the open window as he called out mockingly. "Don't look like Draco's still with you lot!" and he laughed loudly though he felt no humor over his action,. It was merely setting the stage.

Enraged beyond reason, Lucius Malfoy screamed.. "Fire!"

Despite the many protective charms and wards in place the cabin shuddered and groaned from the impact of so many curses hurled with deadly intent.

Now Harry was laughing, chuckling darkly at how easily the fools outside had let themselves be goaded into a confrontation. Foolishly and unsurprisingly, many of the Death Eaters had forgone their cover in their zeal for bloodlust and the false assumption that their numbers and lethality made them invincible.

They were indeed foolish,.. and _wrong_.

Judging when impacting curses were not in track with the shielded opening in the window: Harry dropped the shield now and again to get off a few well-placed shots, before hurriedly recasting it to cover the opening when a stray curse were headed his way.

Their numbers dropped by two every time as he made every pair of shots count, but like the hydra, it seemed for every Death Eater he removed, two more took the fallen member's place.

Voldemort must've sent every idiot he had into this little shindig.

Ron tore into the room from the left… "We're ready!' he yelled over the din as the entire cabin shook violently around them.

Harry nodded his having heard as he focused his attention on the battle outside.

"Stand clear of the window's trajectory. When I scream, shout my name in panic, and throw a quick _reductor_ out the window and Remus you throw up another shield right after, 'k?" he called over his shoulder in earnest

Ron and Remus both nodded and readied their wands.

Harry only had to wait a second or two for a curse to head straight at the shield he was using for cover.

He dropped the shield and got off a single shot before sidestepping and letting the hiss of a _blood boiling curse_ streak by and hit the wall he'd been standing in front of.

"ARGGG!" he screamed out as if hit by the curse, twisting down out of sight as if falling in view of the window.

"HARRY!" Ron screamed in a dead panic, throwing a quick _exploding hex_ out the window before Remus covered the opening with a conjured brick wall that was already rocking as several curses chipped away at the mortar.

Harry pulled something from his coat that looked like miniature candles to Ron. He enlarged them and seeming to take careful note of the intense barrage of magic on the cabin around them, he cut the fuse off at about a minute's worth of length and then lit the fuse.

"Let's get the hell otta here. " he suggested.

Not needing to be told twice, Ron waved them to follow and trotted out of the room.

The walls were beginning to buckle as Ron jumped down out of sight into a hole made in the kitchen floor, wood and bits of concrete and linoleum littered the area from the curses hurled into the floor to break through the foundation and into the soft earth beneath.

Harry whistled appreciatively as he paused at the threshold before leaping down the fifteen feet or so into the deep crater Ron and Hermione had created. Not surprisingly he landed on a cushioning charm which he nodded his appreciation for toward Hermione who held a knowing look in remembrance of the devil's snare their first year.

"What now?" Ron asked worriedly as the cabin shook more violently and the sound of timbers cracking reverberated overhead.

"We wait." Harry suggested.

"For the roof to fall down on top of us?" Hermione supposed incredulously.

Harry rolled his eyes before casting an immense golden shield covering the opening overhead.

"I'm pretty sure the roof's not gonna fall down on top of us. Fifty-fifty one…" He reiterated chuckling darkly, all the while counting under his breath.

"Why're you counting?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"And what were those candle thingies?" Ron added curiously.

"Candle thingies….?" Hermione repeated, considering this new bit od information. "O-MY-GOD!" she shrieked in alarmed understanding, as she grabbed Ron and pulled him down to the earthen floor, where Remus had already planted himself with his arms protectively placed over his head in cautious anticipation.

"What're you…?" Ron began to ask as Harry finished counting. "Sixty!" He threw himself bodily over his friends protecting them as best he could.

**FOOM**

Dirt from the walls rained down on top of them as the ground shifted when the cabin above them blew up, sending deadly wood shards and crushing debris in every direction overhead whilst they remained relatively safe below in their makeshift burrow.

Once the ground settled and the dirt falling on top of them had slowed to a sparse trickle, Harry dropped the shield and levitated himself up slowly to peer over the edge of the pit to try and get a look-see. He poked his colt over the edge of the pit his eyes following the track of the barrel as he nudged the top of his head over the ridge.

The cabin was no more than a few haphazard planks smoldering here and there. The living room they'd vacated no more than a smoking crater. The area some hundred feet in all directions was littered with, still burning, chips of wood, smoldering debris and the dead and dying. What few Death Eaters that had survived the explosion had either fled or were stumbling woodenly around the devastation in shook while absently looking for dying friends or missing body parts, or simply trying to make sense of what happened as one minute they were closing in for the kill and the next they were the ones being killed.

Harry lowered himself slowly back down to his friends where he proceeded to reload his colts with dread intention.

"There's still quite a a fair few idgits up there in need of mercy just now." he suggested darkly.

Remus was already pulling out his wand as was Ron,(he was somberly gladdened to see).

"What're you going to,..no." Hermione rasped painfully in understanding.

Harry tipped back his sweat and dirt stained Stetson and leveled a hard look toward his female friend as he roughly explained the situation.

"We have don't have the healers to treat that amount of pain and suffering, not that they'd survive long after treatment what with being tried and convicted of their crimes with a death sentence as the only reasonable outcome."

"That is if we still even had a court let alone any form of penal system." Remus put in critically.

Ron shuddered slightly at the groans and screams echoing overhead as the shock wore off and the pain settled in.

"You can hear for yourself 'Mione,.. it's nothing more than mercy for most of them at this point."

"And the others,.. the ones who could still survive?" she questioned still vainly clinging to some sense of heightened morality.

"We let them live to either die later or be healed enough to fight and kill us another day." Ron assumed, before nodding to Harry that he was ready as he and Remus waited expectantly.

They were about to levitate out of the hole and set upon the dread task ahead when Hermione blurted out… "I'm coming with you."

"Not if you're going to interfere?" Harry warned dubiously in question.

"Or hesitate?" Remus put in pointedly to which Harry nodded his agreement.

"Wounded animals can still bite." he clarified for her just so she understood the warning.

"Use Ak's and don't use em sparingly." he commanded.

"But you need to want to kill,.. hatred…?" she started to argue.

"You don't need anger or hatred to kill, all you need is compassion. The Advara Kedavra was developed by healers as a compassionate means to end suffering. Voldemort and his Death Eaters perverted it into an unforgivable. As a Guardian I am authorizing you three to use the Ak judiciously to compassionately effect the demise of any wounded or otherwise terrorists in the area, unless I so deem otherwise for reasons of interrogation. Am I understood?

Ron and Remus nodded solemnly. He waited patiently as Hermione brushed away tears wwith the sleeve of her dirt stained jumper.

"Am I understood?" he asked again softly.

Reluctantly, Hermione nodded.

"Don't hesitate, Hermione." he warned. "You'll only get yourself killed and leave Ron and the rest of us broken hearted."

She started slightly at that, but nods from Ron and even Remus hardened her resolve as she turned back to give Harry affirmation that she would do what was needed.

"I'm sorry Hermione, truly I am. I'm guessing you wish I had never come back just now, but things are what they are, 'Mione." There was such pain in his eyes that her breath caught in her throat as she realized that despite his outward cool demeanor the thought of what they were about to do was tearing him apart.

Before she could say anything, he levitated out of the hole and the sound of his colts' rapport echoed down. Over and over his guns fired, each signaling the end of another life and another.

With a gulp and a grim nod to the others, they levitated up and set about reaping a toll that would haunt them to the end of their days.

* * *

><p>The fading rays of daylight as sunset gave way to the gloom of approaching night saw four loan figures walking steadily up the cobbled path to the castle rising majestically in the distance. Though grim faced and weary they had about them a sureness in their step with heads held up with an enduring pride.<p>

They looked as if they'd battled their way from hell's foulest depths and while the memory gnawed at their consciousness, they still held a measure of hard won determination that clearly spoke these were four to step aside from. Faint blue eyes watched them come as he'd anxiously anticipated for several painstaking hours now, having found Romilda Vane dead in her cell some few short hours after Harry and company had left on a doomed rescue mission. Initially relieved to see his younger charges returned intact, there was an air about the way they walked side by side and step for step that clearly told a story of a kinship that was tempered in the fires of war and all the more stronger and closer for it.

The aged headmaster had seen such a look and many times over both the last war with Voldemort and during the previous one against Grindlewald. He, himself, had once carried himself with that same air of confidence bordering on arrogance to the casual observer. For those in the know, these carried themselves like living steel, forged in the heart of battle. Warriors they were, the hard, determined sort that did anything and everything to win their way through and see victory won. No matter how many battles it took, they would see it through by the strength of their backs and the force of their will.

Despite himself, Dumbledore found himself quirking a half smile in the certain knowledge that at last victory may haps might be in sight with warriors such as these championing the light's cause.

The last of the suns ray caught their faces in a ray of hope, that while intense, none of the four so much as squinted, let alone shied away from the days final scrutiny.

They weren't exactly proud, but neither were they ashamed of their actions. To them; they had done simply what had needed doing as they would again and again until victory was won or death relived them of the burden of responsibility.

With a sigh of both relief and of resignation, Dumbledore vacated the tower with the intention to greet them upon their arrival at the castle doors.

His second had beaten him, but only just. Professor McGonagal was already at the door fretting over her lions before the four could breech the castle interior.

"I've never been so worried and so relieved. When we found Romilda Vane dead in her cell we feared the worst."

Her words, surprisingly to her, were accepted without the slightest hint of surprise by the four Gryffindors. If anything they seemed to be both expecting and accepting of the shocking news.

With growing dread she pushed on hopefully, though she already feared the answer to her next inquiry. "We're you able to retrieve the Vane family, then?"

None looked exactly willing to immediately answer though Harry spared the others as he informed his former professor of the days disappointing activities.

It was Dumbledore who took up the thread of the conversation at this point when he asked simply: "How many?"

"Eleven" Ron answered flatly. "Nine" Hermione added from his right. "Thirteen" from Remus and …"Twenty two altogether" from Harry with a stoic resolve.

McGonagal gasped at the implication, but Dumbledore merely nodded a "well done" and asked if any of them were injured. That done, he ushered them inside for some much needed food and rest, knowing from past experience that some down time was sorely needed to decompress and recover their strength; mentally, physically and magically.

War was upon them and then some and for the first time since its onset the light had the right man leading its cause. Dumbledore both knew and accepted this. His time was passed, it was this generation's turn to take up the torch as it were.

He personally saw to their comforts, assuming more of a custodial role, at this point, making himself available if anyone cared to discuss the day's activity.

He was gratified when both Ron and Hermione took him up on his offer, while Remus sought the comfort of his significant other's arms. Harry did not accept, indeed he made no mention of his intentions other than to get some sleep and see the lie of things on the morrow.

Ron and Hermione came hand in hand to the headmaster's office seeming both relieved and pensive.

As it turned out, they both had the same tropic of concern on their minds.

Pouring Hermione a glass of sherry and Ron several fingers of Ogden's finest, he prompted them to speak freely about anything that was troubling them.

"I don't know that I'm so much as troubled as I am strangely proud?" Hermione returned with a puzzled expression.

"Over your actions?" Dumbledore asked in a kindly, open ended tone to draw her out.

"Of Harry." she clarified simply.

"Ah" the headmaster sighed in acknowledgement, understanding only too well from past experience.

"He's not what we expected him to be once all grown up or even for what we hoped he'd be for making a difference in the war, but he is exactly what and who we need to win this war." Ron added with a hint of awe in his voice. "I thought he was harsh and I suppose that maybe he is, but not unjustly so. We, all of us, we… there were so many mortally wounded Death Eaters and we…" Ron struggled to convey the horrors of the day's battles.

"Delivered both justice and mercy in one fell stroke, I imagine?" Dumbledore concluded, knowing from his own previous experience the grim reality of war.

He'd forgotten over time, become complacent with the ideals of peace and prosperity, even foolishly clinging to the notion that all people had some good in them and that if only that good could be fostered, they would go on to lead productive, peaceful lives. He'd forgotten just how evil man could be to his fellow man, just as he'd forgotten that some people had such heinous natures that there was no hope of redemption, but better the merciful end of a quick and painless death, although that was still far more generous than some deserved.

Ron and Hermione nodded their heads in agreement with Dumbledore's supposition.

"I was on some level beginning to think that we'd made a mistake in bringing Harry back to our time, both for ourselves, but also for Harry's sake." Hermione conjectured.

"And now?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Now?… Now I'm beginning to think that Harry being sent back into time was perhaps the best thing that could have happened for both him and everyone else. It hardened him, made him stronger to shoulder the burdens of war and death. He went about his dread work with a grim resolve that was enviable, but for all of that you could plainly see it etched in his face that it appalled him at the same time. Despite that, he did what was necessary, however much it may have repulsed him; he got the job done determinedly and even mercifully. Despite the heartache of today's affair, I don't know that I've ever been more proud of him."

Ron nodded his agreement with that.

"Fate knew far better than we mortals the necessity of Harry's displacement in time for in doing so, Harry has become the man we and the rest of wizarding kind need."

His two former students nodded their agreement with that.

After a quiet pause to sip at their drinks and gather their thoughts, Hermione asked a pointed question. "Did you destroy that time turner in the Dept. of Mysteries or was it really an accident?"

Dumbledore smiled wanly at that. "In truth it was an accident, though admittedly I could have been far more vigilant during the skirmish and prevent what seemed a disaster for Harry at the time. I have considered my actions over the past weeks regarding that particular incident and although initially I feared Harry would return to his time and thereby wanted to insure his continued assistance in our war efforts; now I would destroy any such device to ensure he remained here as our society as a whole needs him and needs him desperately. He is a throwback to another age when men valued honesty and hard work; a time when honor was more than just a word that was used to describe a knight's noble deeds in some fairy tale. He has become exactly the sort of man our society needs to lead it into a new century, embracing technology and advancement while still maintaining the best of old world values that make humankind just that, human. Initially, I too had thought we had made a mistake in bringing Harry back. I was appalled by his methods; now… I see him in a more realistic light and I'd be lying if I didn't say I somewhat envy him. He is doing a harsh unforgiving job that no one in their right mind would want, but for all of that he's doing it admirably."

"I want him to stay." Ron acknowledged simply. "I admit he intimidated me initially, but now that I've seen what he and Remus have been going through first hand and as shocking as it is,.. I want to be a part of it. I want to make a difference in this war like Harry and Remus do. More than that,.. I want to be someone that Harry can depend on, someone worthy of his friendship and respect."

"He's like nothing I could have ever imagined from the boy he was. He's still brave and self-sacrificing like before, but then he was naïve and given to impulsivity. Now he's confident and has an innate sense of wisdom. His ways are now quainter and antiquated giving him this unique and utterly charming persona that wholly endearing in its own rugged way." Hermione added her appreciation for the man her childhood friend had become.

Ron eyed her somewhat dubiously at that, but a wink from his fiancé settled his fears of self-image by comparison to Harry.

"He plans to leave you know? Once the war is finished, Harry has made it quite clear that he plans to return to his previous life in history." Dumbledore cautioned.

"Isn't there some way we could convince him to stay?" Ron questioned, worriedly considering a continued life with his best friend being absent again. They weren't the sort of friends they once were, but Ron was determined that one day they might be again.

"Or someone?" Dumbledore suggested. "With that in mind I've sent word requesting reinforcements."

"Are the battles going to become larger and more intense now?' Hermione asked worriedly, though there was a hint of expectation in her voice that the end may just be insight on the horizon.

"Perhaps" Dumbledore considered. "but I was speaking more metaphorically where our guardian friend is concerned. By reinforcements I mean not only in the war effort but also in the efforts to convince our associate to remain in this time where he is most sorely needed and more importantly-wanted. I've sent word for the rest of our comrades within the Order to return to assist us in preparing for the final battle."

"Ginny?", from Hermione excitedly.

"Neville?", Ron assumed hopefully.

"…and of course Ms. Lovegood, Messer's Fred and George Weasley, along with the rest of Harry's once friends and associates. Perhaps we as a whole can convince him to stay and make his life here, in this time period, once the war has blessedly ended." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkly madly in anticipation of the return of such wonderful people and how Harry and they would interact as compared to previous.

If nothing else it should prove quite interesting.

He slept well that night, at last comforted in the knowledge that the wizarding world now held hope for a brighter and better future than it had known since the onset of Voldemort's unceasing reign of madness.

* * *

><p>While Dumbledore dropped off to sleep comforted by his musings for a brighter future, a lone Guardian sat vigil atop the Astronomy tower watching over the many displaced refugees that slept in varying stages of uneasiness below. Harry's eyes scanned the boundary of this last bastion of hope, ever watchful for even the slightest hint of movement that could give stealth testimony to an attack that could fell their hard won, slowly burgeoning hope faster than Voldemort's coup of the ministry. Their position was precariously balanced on the proverbial razor's edge, so much so, that he dare not entrust the sentry duty to anyone save the mere handful that had accompanied him early today. They, however, were in greater need of rest and decompression than he was.<p>

His time among his adopted tribe had taught him the truest meaning of endurance and the loss of a mere night's sleep was as nothing in the greater scheme of things. Besides, had he not learned his lessons well and while the eyes and ears remained watchful they were windows of the mind and while the body sleeps, the mind never sleeps, or so his Locuta mentors had laboriously instilled in him. His hearing acknowledged the scrape of the stair door opening and the pad of soft feet, yet his mind felt no need to needlessly awaken the rest of his body as his hands were already resting upon the grip of his Henry rifle, his colts at his waist also lie in wait, though his mind considered logically: would an assailant carry a lantern to announce themselves?

"H-Harry?" a nervous voice whispered from the encroaching glow.

_Figures, _his mind sighed in resignation waking the rest to deal with yet more unrest.

"Katie?" He returned like for like, only with more assuredness than his entreating party.

"Can I t-talk to you?" she winced at the way her voice stuttered giving away her insecurity.

_Why must people ask the obvious?_

"You already are." He answered with a hint of cynicism bleeding into his voice. He could guess why she was here and he had no intention of making anything easy for her at this point given her faux paus of recent events.

Katie chuckled nervously thinking his sarcasm was a mild attempt at humor.

Steeling herself she began by blurting the first thing that was preying on her conscious, not following the script she had been laboriously running through her head all day.

"Why did you go to the dance with Romilda Vane, of all people."

Bristling at that, Harry returned without preamble. "What exactly are you implying by…"of all people"?" he drew quotation marks in the air.

"Well, I .. that is she turned out to be a spy and all ..and.."

"And that wasn't what you meant." He interrupted knowingly. "For gosh sakes stand in front of me where I can see you woman so I don't have to talk over my shoulder." he groused in exasperation at her nervous position behind his seat.

Haltingly, Katie stepped up alongside of him and pivoted so that she was facing him at last. She wore pale yellow robes that were far too light for the waning fall weather and he could clearly see the goose bumps rising on the flesh of her arms as she shivered more from the circumstances, but also from the cool night air. With another sigh of exasperation he waved his left hand and cast a warming charm over the chilled woman, though truth be told he was loath to do it as the view of her reaction to the cold was a most pleasant one. He was many things and unfortunately; a gentleman was still one of them.

"Thank you" Katie acknowledged with a sigh of relief.

"You're entirely unwelcome as the view had been quite pleasant and not all magic obviously benefits the castor."

The glow of her lamp was unfortunately not bright enough to illuminate the blush he knew she was sporting. He may be a gentleman but he wasn't necessarily a gracious one.

"Now, as you were saying…?" at seeing her confused look he reminded impatiently… "Romilda Vane, of all people…?"

"Oh,.. ah,.. like I said she turned out to be a spy and…"

"And no one else new that tidbit of information in hindsight." he finished her initial thought dismissively, knowing it was nowhere near what she was implying.

Katie was still fidgeting, but his abrupt dismissal had her temperature rising and her Gryffindor side was starting to show through as she snapped back.

"If you'd let me finish…? I was going to say that Romilda was well known for all but stalking you in the hallways when you were a student and as memory serves you detested that sort of attention."

Harry smirked at her in a way that she found wholly unsettling as if he could see her undergarments right through her clothes.

As if having read her thoughts he ventured smugly that… "Though it's difficult to tell in the absence of light, I'd venture they're a lovely cream color that adds a breathtaking allure to your darker complexion.

""Wha..?" Katie's arm shot over her breasts and the other hand splayed quickly over her nether regions to shield her self embarrassedly from his scrutiny.

"How could you possibly have seen through my…?"

"I didn't." he interrupted. "I'm just very intuitive and what other color would a witch wear with your complexion in those robes?"

Katie huffed in exasperation and dropped her hands grumbling, "Do you have to make things so difficult?"

"I don't, but then again you're the one that's beating around the bush."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Katie asked pulling a face.

He tipped his Stetson up farther atop his head and his green eyes caught and held hers in an iron grip. "It means that you're pissed that I went to the dance with anyone save yourself and now you're here whining and complaining over my choice in escort. The truth be told you've no one to blame but yourself for not stirring up the courage to ask me in the first place." Katie's mouth fell open indignantly, but Harry wasn't finished.

"As far as accepting Romilda's invitation I didn't have **any other** offers at the time",(he stressed any other pointedly), "and besides,.. I knew she was a spy."

"You knew?... and still you let her get close to you?" Katie nearly shrieked in outrage.

"I gave her a chance for redemption that ultimately she didn't embrace." he explained coolly.

"She could've killed you?" Katie continued worriedly.

"She tried to, actually." he acknowledged blandly.

"What's wrong with you? Don't you realize that if anything happens to you then that's it-we lose!"

Harry rolled his eyes at that thinking she was being needlessly dramatic. "You'd all but lost before I came back and you all could very well lose this war just about any second in spite of my being here." He scoffed at how precarious a position the defenders of the light were in regardless of his intervention or no.

"**We** could lose." She clarified, including him in the equation.

Harry smiled grimly at that. "I've already lost, Katie."

At seeing her look of confusion, he clarified his reasoning. "I told Dumbledor and Remus when they returned the first time that I would take out Voldemort after he was born so as to prevent all this madness before it ever began. They came back to this time and nothing had changed which means that I…."

"…Died before you could stop him." Katie finished his thought with a dejected look.

He tipped his hat in acknowledgement. "This was meant to happen, Katie. He was meant to be and people were meant to die because of it. I don't know what kind of game the Fates are playing, but the stakes are high. I don't like my odds of winning any more now than I did as a school boy."

Katie brushed at the wetness forming at the corner of her eye hastily, thinking he hadn't noticed, but he had and was touched by the sentiment though he didn't make mention of it.

"Then why are you even bothering if you don't even believe you could win?"

"Because I have to believe that maybe I can and if not that at least maybe I can get even."

"Revenge?" she questioned. "For who,..your parents?" she halfheartedly assumed.

He snorted disdainfully at that and she found the gesture unsettled her greatly though she didn't yet know why.

_He gave her a reason for her reaction._

"Revenge for me. I could give a hang about what my parents want. They don't give a shit about me and what I want so why should I live my life, or die for that matter, worrying about what they want?"

Katie stood there gapping at him in horror. He talked like he knew, actually knew, how his parents felt about him- present day!

"H-How could you possibly know what they want or feel? How could you ven begin to think that they wouldn't care if you died…"

"Because I've talked to them, Katie." he interrupted her, cocking his head curiously when her mouth fell open in complete shock.

"B-B-But you couldn't have, not unless y-you're…?" she stuttered terribly trying to organize her thoughts on how such a thing was possible.

"Some sort of medium or something?" he guessed to which she nodded dumbly, not trusting her voice. "I'm something sort of like that." he acknowledged without making any effort to elaborate further.

If it had been anyone else she would have thought them the world's biggest liar or at best an absolute madman. She knew he was neither, nor was he given to exaggeration, if anything he was the humblest of souls.

Before she had a chance to completely digest his revelation, he effectively turned the tables on her again by eliminating all preamble.

"Look, Katie,.. we could play fill in the blank here all night or we could just quit beating around the bush?" he began emphatically before going for the throat. "How about we get down to the rat killing? We both know you're up here with the intention of stealing a kiss or two in the moonlight and I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'd had some thoughts of rustling you're skirts, so why don't we just…"

**CRACK**

Katie had gotten over her initial shock just in time to leave a stinging hand print of his left cheek before he could finish his vulgar assumption.

"Is that what substitutes for romance back in the old west? Because if it is, than you can just keep your cheap lines for some slag's benefit. What happened to the shy, unassuming and boyishly charming..HEY?!" Katie shrieked in outrage as Harry bodily flung her aside side where she hit the pavers, scraping painfully against the parapet wall. She was about to launch herself bodily back at him, thinking to claw him viciously for his supposed ungentlemanly behavior, when he twisted around putting his back to the wall and tucking his head down toward his chest, whilst stepping on her hand effectively holding her down where she lie painfully restrained against the parapet wall and paver floor.

"How dare you…?"

**WHOOSH**

Her indignant howl was cut off by searing flame erupting over the parapet and splaying across his scaly duster. The heat was blistering and she covered her face to try and protect her eyes from the searching flames.

"URGGGH!" Harry yowled in pain from above her.

The heat and flames ceased as abruptly as they'd come and Katie pulled her hands away from her face ,expecting to see the object of her affection either charred to ash as nothing could have survived a blast of fire like that.

She was wrong.

Harry tore off his enflamed duster tossing it away desperately to avoid any further injury from burns. The smoldering garment tore away half of his shirt that the heat had melded it to. From her vantage point she could see that his back was already raw and blistering from second degree burns.

Instead of dropping in agony like any sane man, Harry twisted back toward the grounds below bringing his rifle to bear as an enormous dark shape blotted out the stars in its passing.

"Son of a bitch!" Harry howled out half in challenge, half in outrage.

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM

He emptied his Henry rifle into the darkness, cocking and firing from his hip so fast that his hand was a blur on the lever as the barrel belched fire into the cool night air.

"ROWRRR!" A horrific roar of pain and fury split the night air as several of Harry's bullets hit the mark.

Snict-Snict-Snict-Snict-Snict "Katie get inside-NOW!" Harry barked out in alarm as he pulled his foot from off her hand whilst simultaneously reloading his rifle like all hell was at his heels.

"What is it? What's happening?!" she shrieked in terror as she scrabbled to her feet.

"Dragon!" Harry spat venomously

"A dragon? You can't fight that!" Katie clawed desperately at his arm trying to pull him with her into the supposed safety of the looming castle door.

Harry pulled away his arm with a snarl of rage, his emerald eyes glowing as magic swirled around him and the air crackled with static electricity forcing Katie to step back and watch in horror as a roar of challenge echoed across the Hogwart's grounds.

An enormous dark void pelted toward their precarious position so fast that it would be on top of them in mere seconds.

"GO!" Harry shouted without turning to acknowledge her.

She watched in horror, rooted to the spot as he chanted something and brushed his hand down the length of his rifle barrel and the black steel turned bluish and frost crystals formed along its length.

"Come get some!" Harry barked out in a challenge of his own.

Katie gapped in a mixture of abject shock as flames gathered at the approaching Dragon's maw, lighting it's monstrous countenance as it prepared to strafe it's foe with searing flame once it was in range, which, by the speed it was flying, would be a scant heartbeat from now.

Harry pulled the sights of his barrel up to his eye as cool and collected as if he were hunting a mountain buck from the safety of a tree.

"That's it…That's it…. Smile, you big ugly some bitch…." Harry murmured to himself as he prepared to fire.

BLAM

A white hot bullet of coldest hoarfrost erupted from his frozen barrel streaking toward the dragon's mouth just as it was about to spit fire.

**THUNK**

The icy bullet hit dead on and blasted up into the dragon's mouth and straight into the creature's brain. The monstrous creature twisted and flailed as it dropped and smashed into the castle wall below, rocking the ancient monolith to its foundation from the impact. Flames shot up straight in front of the parapet as the last of the creature's fire heralded its demise like a blast of fireworks, lighting the night sky for a last split second before surrendering to the cool of night's terminal embrace.

"WOO-HOO!" Harry shouted, smacking his smoldering Stetson against his leg in celebration as he danced a little two-step jig atop the blackened parapet, oblivious to his many serious burns.

Ron, Hermione, Remus, and a plethora of others erupted onto the Astronomy tower with wands drawn just in time to see Katie staring in shock as Harry hooted and hollered in victory.

"New boots for everybody, on me!" he shouted gleefully, before turning to see dozens of alarmed witches and wizards staring at the spectacle in various states of shocked disbelief.

"What?" he asked blankly of the dozens gapping back at him.


	8. Chapter 8: A long shot

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

West of Here

**Chapter Eight : A long shot**

"unghh…" Pomfey could barely here the grunt of discomfort from him as she peeled away his blood-caked, dirty bandages causing the barely healing burns over his back to break open and bleed anew.

As with most things dragon related; wounds from the beast resisted most forms of healing as their magic was in a category all its own.

Wounds, in and of themselves, was a laughable topic as one was never wounded, per say, by a dragon, but was either digested whole or fried to a fine powdered ash.

The fact that he was still here among the living was a miracle in itself, that he'd single handedly killed a full grown dragon was a feat that rivaled, if not surpassed, slaying a basilisk.

Neither was an encounter that he should have survived and if Madam Pomfrey were a betting woman, she would have never bet in his favor, then or now.

"There's no shame in showing pain, Harry."

"I don't know what you're talking about?" he admonished, picking his head out of his pillow to grumble in denial.

"Oh, really?" Madam smirked, pointedly pulling away another strip of Murtlap soaked gauze, eliciting a grunt as his back instinctively shied away from the offending bandage's withdraw.

A muffled squeal of despair from the other side of the curtain around his bed advertised the fact that he was not alone and that either Katie or Hermione were nearby and mourning compassionately by proxy.

Harry rolled his eyes as he hissed an obligatory threat of: "You'll pay for that you will."

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in disapproval, deigning to rip off another strip to show just how little consideration she gave such a threat.

"Christ almighty woman!" Harry barked furiously, gritting his teeth.

Another whimper from the other side of the curtain caught the inflection of the traitorous hiss that escaped him, causing his scowl of displeasure to deepen.

"Now didn't that feel better, getting that out? It's my experience that the pain is more tolerable if a person ventilates their discomfort. Now, if you would quit squirming and just hold still this arduous ordeal could end that much sooner?" Madam suggested somewhat consolingly.

Harry chuckled darkly. "And it's my experience that bashing someone across the back of the head makes said 'arduous ordeal' that much more tolerable for all involved."

"Are you suggesting that I stun you Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey returned, curling her lip distastefully at the thought of so barbaric a practice.

"No, I'm suggesting that whoever's on the other side of this curtain that's enjoying the show be stunned as they're distracting me and making said 'arduous ordeal' that much more unbearable."

**RIPPPP**

A last large chuck of saturated and crusty bandage was torn off, ending the matter of contention in one fell swoop.

"URGGG,… that's it… damn it all,.. I've had enough of this!" Harry growled, doing his best not to scream from the necessary trauma.

Several whimpers of despair, definitely female in origin, could be heard in response to his cry of pain, however much shrouded by his angry howl.

"Harry,.. please?" a soft voice begged from the other side of the curtain, before he and Madam Pomfrey pursued yet another round of disgruntled banter.

"Oh, all right, Katie." Harry grumbled in acknowledgement of her plea to let madam finish treating him, relenting and slumping back into his pillow with a sigh of relief in thinking the worst of it was over. At hearing the whisper of worry behind the curtain he asked more in curiosity than embarrassment at this point.

"Whose all out there with you enjoying the show?"

"It sounds to me, from what we heard that we already missed the show." A voice from the past admonished, but for all that there was a note of worry etched in it. He was just about to put a name with voice when she alleviated all doubt.

"It's me, Harry,.. It's Ginny."

"Ginger snap?!" Harry nearly chortled, grateful for the reprieve her arrival afforded him by the distraction. "Well, come on in girl and lets have a look at you. I'm eager to see if you've grown into the beauty I figured you would."

"What about me?" another voice asked, no longer holding its telltale dream-like quality.

"Luna?" Harry gasped in recognition. "The more the merrier, moon flower." he offered, delighting in the prospect of seeing two of his old friends. The curtain rippled, but the ladies in question were held back as Katie asked in concern.

"Are you decent?" There was a note of something he didn't quite recognize in her voice, but for all that,.. he sorta liked it.

"Some would claim I am and others would claim otherwise." he suggested in an amused tone as if he were merely making a joke.

The curtain rippled as it was pulled aside before it was hastily pulled back with several mortified squeals, though a few of them sounded more in complaint than embarrassment.

"Mr. Potter, really? " The nurse hissed wearily, chastising his antics.

"Haw-Haw-Haw" Harry guffawed.

"You're not wearing a stitch of cloths!" Katie chastised.

"So?" he challenged blandly.

"Soooo,.. you implied you were decent." Katie drawled in exasperation.

"Oh,.. I thought you meant figuratively." he defended, though there was a snicker in his voice.

"You see what we've been dealing with?" Hermione joined the cue sounding weary of his antics, or at least pretending to.

"Not really, I didn't get that good of a look." Ginny complained.

"Haw-Haw-Haw,.. hey! Damn it woman, that stings something fierce!" Harry initially laughed before Madam Pomfrey cast a quick cleaning charm to cleanse his wound.

"It serves you right." Hermione scolded from the other side of the curtain. His eyes narrowed at the smug sound of her voice.

"Ungrateful bunch a minks. Tell you what, why don't we make this a learning experience?"

"How so?" Madam Pomfrey asked dubiously.

"Why not have Ginny come in and have a look see as, like you said, Dragon wounds are a rare occurrence due to the lethality of encounters with dragons and as she was studying to be a healer, after all?" he suggested, seeming forthright.

"That's not a bad idea." Madam Promfey acknowledged in appreciation. "Yes, I think that a fine idea, please join us, Ginevra ." Madam offered enthusiastically.

The curtain rustled as Ginny stepped forward, but Ginny held back as Katie asked suspiciously. "Are you decent.. er,.. I mean is your bottom covered?"

"Why?" he asked , sounding puzzled.

"Your back side isn't a show, Harry." she suggested in a worried tone.

"I could roll over?" He suggested again, only this time Madam Pomfrey hissed as Ginny squealed in expectation.

"No you won't." Katie groused.

"Certainly not" Madam Pomfrey agreed.

"AWE" both Ginny and Harry complained simultaneously.

"Ginny, really…?" Hermione scolded.

"But I haven't seen him in a long time 'Mione." Ginny complained.

"Yes, well,.. there's seeing and then there's _seeing_." She drawled pointedly.

"Alright-Alright.." Harry relented knowingly… "You can be first since it means so much to you Hermione." Harry offered smugly. He chuckled despite Madam Pomfrey being less than gentle with him as the female population bickered amongst themselves.

"he-he-he" he giggled as Katie and Hermione struggled to maintain propriety.

Eventually he relented in his antics and Ginny joined them for a teaching experience, but not before they got reacquainted and he threw out a last compliment for good measure to both flatter her and irritate the others.

"Lord above, Gin. I swear you're the prettiest thing I've ever laid eyes on."

He nodded his head appreciatively as Ginny stammered a quick "T-Thanks", but it was really the hiss from a couple of witches behind the curtain that he was listening for and appreciating more as Katie and Hermione both vented a tinge of jealousy as he 'd made similar comments to them of recent.

"I can't believe you actually fought a dragon?" Ginny gasped in dread belief having now seen the burn wounds for herself.

"Yeah, but it was just a small one." Harry deflected, chuckling as she rolled her eyes and Katie huffed from behind the curtain.

"It's not funny, Harry." The aforementioned witch complained.

"You'll feel better once you're sporting a new pair of dragon hide boots." he admonished in return.

"oh,.. could I get a pair?" Ginny simpered.

"Me too?" another voice from behind the curtain threw in hopefully, that sounded suspiciously like Hermione.

"I'd consider that payment in full." Pomfrey added hopefully.

Harry rolled his eyes before grumbling something unkind about " witches and the price of their compassion".

The next day, Luna was the first to greet him when he woke up and their reunion was a joyously tender one. Luna had been one of his most favorite people when he was a student as she could both identify with and was a model for rising above or ignoring ridicule.

He complimented her, as well, for the beauty she'd grown into and meant it without reservation, having no other agenda other than to acknowledge her attractiveness. He'd sincerely meant it for Ginny, but the chance to take the mickey was too good to pass up. Luna, though, was truly stunning, inside and out. She was a soft hearted soul with a clarity of spirit that was simply awe inspiring.

Neville was very lucky and he told her so, though in typical Luna fashion she claimed that she was the more fortunate of the two. He was disappointed that Neville had not accompanied her, but was heartened to learn that he would be joining them soon, finishing up some delicate Herbology experiments with the twins before they returned to England.

Their pleasant reunion was interrupted by Katie, who was approaching with far more conviction than previously, pulling up at his bedside and excusing Luna so that she could have a private conversation with Harry.

Taking the hint, Luna airily harkened to her youth mentioning something about needing to check her room for nargles or some such?

Katie stared down at him with, surprisingly, anger instead of uncertainty.

"I could strangle you for almost getting yourself killed." she half threatened with cool disdain.

He was even more surprised that he found her statement so offsetting as it wasn't like he'd been threatened before and by the best, at that.

"er…ah…?" he fidgeted nervously, not really knowing what to offer in return that would deflect her ire. He'd half considered throwing out some half arsed remark but under her stern scrutiny,.. thought that not the best course of action.

He was taken off the hook when her face softened dramatically and her eyes filled with tears. "T-Thank you for s-saving my life." she stuttered just before swooping down and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. He just started to get over his shock and respond to said kiss when she pulled away with a whimper, swiped at her moist eyes and fled the infirmary, leaving him gapping stupidly from his cot.

The door closed with a bang as Harry fell back into his bunk and sighed,."Whoa…", under his breath in true appreciation.

The door banged back open a moment later and he lifted himself excitedly up hoping she'd returned to finish the job, but he slumped back down disappointedly when he saw Ron and Remus entering the infirmary.

"Oh,.. it's just you." He grumbled.

"Nice to see you, too." Remus returned, though he was smiling crookedly in understanding as Ron mentioned…"Katie looked like she was crying…?"

"and blushing." Remus added facetiously. Ron nodded his head in agreement with Remus'additional point, eyeing Harry for a reaction.

"What can I say; Witches around the world are lamenting the potential loss of my charms."

The other two snorted sarcastically, but he turned the knife. "Why Hermione was here only last night clamoring to check on my wellbeing. When she was rebuffed do to my state of undress she was all the more adamant to see me immediately."

Remus snorted again as Ron only grimaced in distaste and throughout a sarcastic, "Funny", not willing to take the bait.

Once their chuckling subsided, Remus asked the obvious, "So how is it you aren't dead?"

"Come again?" Harry asked for clarification.

"Come on mate,.. you took a blast of dragon fire point blank and all you've got to show for it is a few burns?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Does Hermione know you're up her making light of my serious wounds?" he tried again to take the mickey.

Ron pulled face that clearly said he was wasting his time trying to goad him, answering that…"She'd like to know that as much as the rest of us."

"Wellll,… " Harry drawled, enjoying the way they huffed impatiently. " It's much warmer back where I live."

"So?' Remus asked, clearly puzzled.

"So I've gotten use to the heat." Harry shrugged indifferently as if it were the most obvious of reasons.

Both friends pulled a pained look at that.

"Alright-Alright.." Harry fanned his hands before the complaints could come hard and fast. "My duster is made of sidewinder hide and it's resilient to intense heat and cold."

"But Dragon fire?" Ron blurted in disbelief to which Remus hastily added skeptically that.."I'm with Ron on this one."

"I may have added a few charms of my own to er,.. _augment_ its natural resilience."

Both eyebrows shot up at that.

"You mean you know a spell that'll repel dragon fire?" Remus began to which Ron admonished… "and you didn't tell us?"

"It never came up." He defended meekly, to which both mouths dropped open with the most intense looks of disgusted disbelief at so callous an excuse.

"Of all the stupid, unthinking…"

Remus began to take him to task before Harry cut him off.

"Hey, how was I to know Voldemort had dragons at his command? It's not like anyone can reason with the damn obstinate things. They're not exactly domesticated you know?" he defended with pointed skepticism.

Remus cocked an eyebrow, but it was Ron that took up the gauntlet. "He's right,.. how is Voldemort controlling a dragon and if so, why haven't we seen them before and why just the one?"

"One's enough, I should think." Remus suggested, but Harry refuted him.

"He's right,. If Voldemort had a bunch of them, wouldn't he send them all and make a job of it by destroying the lot of us in one fell swoop?"

Remus shuddered at the possibility, realizing they were going to have to do some quick investigating.

"I don't suppose you could ask our, er.. _friend_ about it?" he stressed the word _friend,_ keeping Harry's secret whilst Harry easily cottoned on to what and who he was referring to.

Harry shook his head slightly.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, catching on far quicker than he had as a teenager.

Harry smirked in appreciation over having forgotten again that Ron had grown up and become quite capable. So much so that Harry felt he was more than worthy of learning this one such secret.

"Remus knows I can talk to the dead and he wants to know if I can ask Sirius about the Dragon….. you know.. get the inside track, so to speak?"

"Can you?" Ron asked hopeful, not missing a beat.

Harry smiled again. Ron had become what Hermione had hoped he would- obviously so.

Harry shook his head. "The dead can offer advice, but they are forbidden for directly affecting things on our plane of existence. Such telling knowledge would effectively do that."

"Too bad." Ron accepted him at his word without argument or complaint, further raising his estimation in Harry's eyes.

"Still it must be nice to be able to talk to your folks, and all, from time to time." Ron assumed, trying to lighten their disappointment with a positive.

Remus grimaced at that, and Ron caught it, asking worriedly.. "Harry?"

"We ah,.. only talked the one time, They, my parents,.. they really don't like me all that much, Ron." Harry begrudgingly explained."

"Harry,.. that's not exactly true. They may not agree with who you are or how you live your life, but that doesn't mean they don't care about you." Remus chastised, albeit gently, defending his parents, good friend that he was to everyone concerned.

"Let's not mince words?" Harry suggested firmly." It's true enough, Remus. You weren't there when they laid into me and Sirius sugar coated what happened to spare my folks. It was pretty obvious that mum and dad were very disappointed in who I've become and what I do for a living. I'm not a teacher or an auror." He nodded to the two of them for example. " I don't play quidditch with my friends or take a girl out on a date Saturday night because there are no friends or any girl that's interested in me. Not that I have time for either as I'm a marshal. I catch bad guys for a living and while my parents might not agree with it; that position, while not maybe embraced, is still one of respect where I come from. I do a tough job that, while maybe nobody wants to associate with it for safety's sake, good people still respect and even appreciate what I do for keeping them safe. My mother can stick her high and mighty convictions right up her ar…!"

"Harry?" Remus cut him off before he could finish that derogatory suggestion regarding his mother's waning approval.

"Sorry, Harry." Ron needlessly apologized, not realizing he'd broached a touchy subject.

"Don't worry about it, Ron. It is what it is." he consoled Ron whilst still glaring spitefully at Remus at the perceived offence, grumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like.. "Once a Marauder, always a Marauder."

His remark hit home as Remus' enhanced hearing caught it clearly and he shot him an irate glare in return for the intended insult.

"I don't think that's particularly fair." he expressed his displeasure.

"I'm sure you don't." Harry drawled back at him sarcastically.

"I'm not picking sides here, Harry, and find it very unfair of you to consider me guilty by past association."

Harry pursed his lips, considering that before his jaw softened and he apologized; a sentiment which Remus readily accepted and the tension in the room immediately abated.

Ron whistled between his teeth, but only commented off handily in support of Harry that: "Mum doesn't agree with even half the stuff I get up to and none of what the twins do, but for all of that she's proud of us and loves us all without conviction."

"Thanks, Ron." Harry shot his friend an appreciative lopsided half smile that was reminiscent of his youth.

Ron nodded.

Remus looked a bit pained by their interaction, but otherwise made no comment other than to nod his head in agreement with Ron, adding that..

"The Weasley's are a credit to the wizarding world in every way that counts."

Ron colored slightly as Harry added. "Got that right. Ginny especially has got quite a pair to her credit."

"Here now?!" Ron barked in outrage to which they all began to laughed, Harry easily lightening the mood of the room as was his intent.

"You're a good brother, Ron." Harry complimented once they'd settled.

"And you're a horny arse." Ron returned to which they all laughed again.

* * *

><p>Despite Madam Pomfrey's advice to the contrary, Guardian Potter showed up at breakfast. The majority of the Great Hall sat ogling him in awestruck wander as no one in recent history had even considered, let alone actually battled a dragon and lived to tell the tale. The fact that he'd slain said dragon was beyond shocking and was yet one more notch up on the growing legend that was rapidly surrounding a young life already filled with heroic deeds.<p>

People started applauding which grew to tumultuous applause which he waved off humbly as he made his way down a row just as several witches were turning in their seats jockeying to see what all the celebration was about.

Katie Bell had just twisted around on her bench as she hastily wiped her mouth and tried to finish chewing what was in her mouth, when Harry pulled up directly in front of her startling her as she froze gapping up at him. He was wearing a newly tailored dark green dragon hide vest left open over a dark grey cavalry shirt buttoned over to the side showing a tantalizing expanse of his well-muscled and hairy chest and lastly; snug fitting and well faded jeans that tapered down into a brand new pair of dark green dragon hide boots.

The green of the dragon hide set off his mischievously sparkling green eyes that Katie found herself mesmerized by as he pulled off a new black Stetson,(where he got one was a mystery as they weren't exactly stocked at Madam Malkin's Wizarding Wear).

"Mornin, Katie,.. say what's for breakfast?" he asked curiously as he bent down and captured the stunned girl's lips in a searing kiss as he held his Stetson over their faces blocking the exchange from the view of most.

The people to the side and behind them could see and catcalls and delighted squeals filled the Hall.

Harry pulled back and slapped his hat down on his head as he smacked his lips in satisfaction.

He worked his tongue around his mouth as he considered out loud. "Hmm,..eggs, bacon and .. I think.. wheat toast with orange marmalade." He mused, before adding disappointedly.. "Pity, I was hoping for something lighter like yogurt. That hasn't been invented yet back where I come from, you know? Ah, well…maybe a piece of toast at least."

He snatched up a piece of toast and tipped his hat turning to leave with a last.. "Mornin, ladies." And then walked off as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, oblivious to the stunned expressions and hurried gossiping and finger pointing that was taking place all around as Katie sat their staring vacantly as if she'd been hit with a _confundus charm_.

"WOO-HOO, Katie Bell! What have you been getting up to girl?" Ginny cheered from a few seats down.

"He.. He shouldn't even be out of bed yet?" Hermione blurted the first thing coming to mind to try and deflect attention from a furiously blushing Katie Bell

"By the looks of that kiss I'd say he wasn't planning on staying out of bed all that long?" One witch cheered as several more gasped and giggled their agreement.

Katie covered her forehead with her hands as she ducked down to try and hide her reaction as she was nearly hyperventilating, her face beat red, but for all that her eyes were glazed over passionately.

"First a Dragon and now Katie Bell,.. I'd say Potter was planning to conquer the world!" One surmised flirtatiously,

"Let's hope so." Another witch blurted out.

"He can start with me." Another cheered but reiterated quickly after Hermione shot her a warning hiss,.. "er, that is after he's done with Katie, o-of course."

Luna nudged Hermione gently in the ribs gaining her attention as she mentioned curiously that… "I think you might have left out a few interesting details when you caught me and Ginny up on what's been going on since Harry's return?"

"Um…?" Hermione shrugged helplessly as she nodded toward Katie, then toward Harry's retreating form and back toward Katie. The normally quite loquacious Hermione Granger was at a loss for words- for the first time in memory.

Ginny shifted away disappointedly from Hermione and Luna and went right for the source. "Alright Katie ,.. what's the real story with you and Harry?" she asked hopeful, fidgeting excitedly in her chair as were several others around them as they all leaned in a bit closer to try and catch Katie's reply.

"We,. Ah,.. that is .. I , er k-kissed him." She stammered before starting to blush again.

"And shared breakfast." Luna mentioned airily in that vacant voice she hadn't used in quite some time to which everyone started giggling and laughing.

Though blushing furiously throughout, many witches offered words of encouragement as they gave Katie a half hug, patted her on the shoulder or squeezed her arm gently in a show of support as they congratulated her on what was arguably the catch of the century.

After the Hall began to clear and many folk went about their business or left to spread the word of this latest bit of gossip, several witches lagged behind with knowing, and or, looks of anticipation as they all rounded on Katie to get the inside track.

"I can't believe it. I saw it with my own eyes and it's still hard to fathom that Harry Potter,.. The Harry Potter,.. kissed a girl in front of the entire Hogwart's Great Hall without the slightest hesitation?" Ginny shook her head in wonder.

Susan was fanning herself with a conjured hand fan as she murmured out loud that.. "I still can't believe short and scrawny Harry Potter grew into a rough and ruggedly handsome cowboy of all things?"

"He's a marshal, actually. Not a cowboy, per say." Hermione clarified succinctly.

"He's an absolute dream on two feet is what he is." Hannah added with a wistful sigh.

"I'll say… it's like something out of a fantasy or romance novel. A cowboy, an actual cowboy complete with hat and six guns and that accent-wow!"

"I told you, he is,.. or was a marshal, not a cowboy." Hermione reiterated slightly irritated.

"Shut up!" several witches shouted her down at once, but good naturedly so as they continued to fantasize and giggle amongst themselves. Several voiced they wished they were in Katie's lucky shoes, others offered advice and others still offered suggestions- luridly so, which started a fresh round of girl talk that lasted them until lunch when everyone waited expectantly, hoping that Harry would show up to see '_what's for lunch_?'

While the females were intentionally distracted, three male figures slipped out of the castle after having informed the Headmaster and a few select, or should they say, "suspect" members of the Order, their plans to reconnaissance Parkinson Manor for a potential raid that night.

The truth be told; Harry held no interest in the Parkinson family whatsoever. The only interest he held even remotely in relation to the Parkinson's was in using them to ferret out the traitor in their mists. He had his suspicions, but he needed to be sure and this was a potential opportunity to whittle down the list of possible suspects. They were going to reconnaissance the Parkinson's alright, but that night, not in broad daylight, but when they were expected to actually arrive and launch a raid.

Before leaving Hogwart's gate, Harry detailed what he needed and asked Ron if the aurors had anything that would fit the bill as if any one magical entity had developed what he was looking for than Ron would likely know of it as he'd been an officer in the auror corps. A shrug of puzzlement from Ron felled that hope.

Then Remus suggested. "How about one of those night vision things the muggles use for hunting and such?"

Harry shook his head. "If I remember right they had a limited range and I don't want to get any closer than necessary as I'm of the opinion that the joint will be crawling with all manner of dark idiots and beasties."

"Yeah, maybe so, but couldn't you just blow them up with those _dyno-candle thingies_?" Ron suggested incredulously as Remus snickered at his wordplay.

"I only have so many _dyno-candle thingies_ and I can only throw each one so far and to do the amount of damage necessary to eliminate such a broad scale infestation would likely end up blowing me up as well and I'd rather not check out just yet,.. if you don't mind?" Harry drawled back sarcastically as Remus chuckled his agreement along with him.

"Sorry" Ron apologized, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"No need." Harry cajoled. "There's no way you could've known that being raised in the magical world where the use of dynamite is all but extinct in this day and age.

Ron snapped his fingers in remembering as he ventured. "I worked with MI-6 a couple of times and they had these scope things that they could see at night with on their ,..er,.. super rifles..I think they called them?"

Harry grinned predatorily as he clarified… "I think you mean 'sniper rifles', and that's a helluva an idea. Do you think they would let us, er _borrow_ a few?"

"You mean just the scopes?" Ron asked disappointedly.

"If I can't have the whole dog, I won't settle for the tail." Harry conjectured.

"Huh?" Ron appeared confused by his statement.

"He means scopes, rifles and plenty of ammunition." Remus clarified.

"Well then why didn't you just say so, sheesh…" Ron complained as he gave them the coordinates for apparition.

The three spent the majority of the day being taught the basic field uses and practicing with fifty caliber tactical assault rifles with armor piercing and tracer rounds. Harry, as it turned out, displayed a unique propensity for marksmanship, though Remus and even Ron were able to present themselves adequately in use of the rifles at a couple of hundred meters or so.

Harry though,.. Harry was hitting the black at several hundred meters out consistently and with greater speed than the instructors could ever have imagined possible.

Just to be sporting, Harry showed them what real shooting was all about as he drew his colts and put on a show that was utterly shocking to seasoned men who thought themselves expert in the use of firearms. Though initially scoffing at his taste in weapons, many sarcastically asking if he were a "cowboy", they were readily seeking him out for advice after his performance. What Harry could do with a pair of colts at close range was beyond awe inspiring to these men.

They went for a bite at a nearby pub rather than return to Hogwarts for diner and risk having to face the undoubted interrogation over where they've been and what they were planning. He felt more sorry for Ron than Remus as he knew that Hermione would be less than pleased that he would be risking himself, even marginally so, but doubly angry in that she had been shunted from harm's way as they hadn't made any effort to include her in their plans.

Harry was playing a dangerous, but necessary game of 'cat and mouse' as he tried to expose the traitor in their midst and knew full well that he was literally putting his neck in the noose. Telling a foe where you were going to be and when you were going to be there was a gamble in the extreme as they would undoubtedly be walking into a trap. He hoped that muggle technology would give them the much needed advantage of distance while maintaining lethality, but still, a million things could go wrong. He could almost hear Hermione raging at the imbecilic reasoning of this, admittedly, half-arsed plan.

Judging the time to go was near; Harry pulled a silver pocket watch from his vest pocket. He'd had to remove its silver chain for tonight's festivities as it would only serve to make a target in the moonlight. Their combat instructors from MI-6 offered all manner of camo wear and makeup, but Harry politely refused feeling it was better to dress in whatever dark clothing they were comfortable in as long as they could move quickly. They apparated to a common location about a mile away from the Parkinson Estate so as not to set off any perimeter alarm by apparating too close to the grounds. They emerged in a swampy area of mud and stagnate water, that Harry said he thought would serve their purpose perfectly. Each of his companions shared a dubious look at that proclamation

As far as makeup, (to cover their exposed skin), by his experience; plain old fashioned mud was better for covering skin as it eliminated exposure and also had the advantage of covering their scents.

Though each initially balked at "spreading glop" all over their exposed flesh, they readily joined in when Harry explained the advantages. Ron eagerly so, when he suggested that Hermione might be willing to help him wash it off once her ire was vented and she'd calmed down and was looking to make-up with him. Remus snickered at his younger friend's enthusiasm after that thought sunk in. Remus, himself, was hoping that Dora would be of a like mind.

They made their way cautiously toward the distant estate. Ron was silently casting _revealing charms _as they went_,_ wary of any wards or latent curses that may lie in wait for them.

Remus kept his nose in the wind, pausing now and again as he searched for any dangerous scents. He'd suggested transforming to his werewolf form and scouting ahead, thinking to rely on the creature's natural sense's and heightened speed to discover and elude potential hidden enemies. Harry discounted the idea as the plan in place was a solid one and had no wish to divide his already minimal numbers.

"Better the safety of distance rather than the up close and personal," was the term he preferred for tonight's reconnaissance. Though they had sound tactical and technical advantage, their numbers were too few for an all-out pitched battle. He figured if the situation presented itself, that they would hit hard and fast and get away before their location was discovered and could effectively be engaged by a larger force of hostiles.

They were about four hundred meters out when Harry judged the time was right for a preliminary surveillance of the looming mansion shrouded in the darkness of a sprawling, forested estate overlooking the valley they were currently in.

He had been fleetingly hoping for having the advantage of the high ground, but his hopes were now dashed.

He pulled out his miniaturized fifty caliber sniper rifle from his jean pocket and canceled the shrinking charm.

Activating the night scope and adjusting the range he swept the forested hillside for any Death Eaters lying in wait or other creatures lurking about that would descend on them once the breached the estate grounds. He viewed only trees, bushes and rocks, _a lot of damn trees, bushes and rocks._ To his thinking there were too many and too large of specimens spread about the estate's perimeter. No way this was a natural occurrence nor was it the whim of some mad landscape artist, unless, of course, the designer had a penchant for strategic arrangement in his design repertoire.

_No sir,.. what he was looking at was a well thought out, albeit hastily constructed, defensive configuration of trees, rocks and foliage magically conjured with the careless traveler in mind, ie.. a trap!_

"What's it look like?" Ron asked in a whisper from behind his right shoulder.

"Like a walk in the park." Harry returned with grim enthusiasm that told his friends he thought it anything but.

"I can't pick up anything as we're upwind." Remus lamented.

"I'm guessing that's not a coincidence either." Harry snorted sarcastically at that.

"It's a trap, then?" Ron assumed reluctantly.

"Only one way to find out fer sure?" Harry suggested, turning to look over his shoulder as he cocked an eyebrow pointedly.

"Thanks, no,.. I'm not that curious." Ron refuted, showing good instincts.

"Remus?" Harry asked next off handily.

Remus snorted sarcastically under his breath. "I've had plenty of exercise for one day, but don't let me stop you from pressing on."

"Not a bad idea." Harry accepted with more enthusiasm than they thought prudent.

"You're not seriously going up there?" Ron growled incredulously.

Harry shrugged, splaying his hands helplessly. "What can I say,.. I love a mystery."

"Don't be daft?" Remus scathed. "The place is probably crawling with dark idiots and monsters of every shape and size. They want us to blunder in all over confident so they can wipe us out in a trice, or worse- capture us for their personal amusement before we expire."

"Exactly" Harry agreed enthusiastically, handing a surprised Remus his rifle as he checked his colts cylinders expectantly. "The operative word here is _**us. **_They want _**us**_ to blunder in and they want to eliminate or capture _**us**_. Now, while they may be somewhat disappointed by just me showing up all on my lonesome and at the risk of sounding arrogant; I think they will be sufficiently overzealous at the thought of actually capturing or killing me that they will be willing to overlook the _**us**_ factor, albeit, temporarily." He smiled predatorily at that, causing the other two to shudder in dread over what he was suggesting.

"If what you're guessing is accurate then there are far too many of them up there for you to even remotely consider offering yourself up as bait?" Ron groused pulling back on his friend's arm meaningfully to stress his point that Harry wasn't going anywhere.

Harry patted his friend's hand reassuringly, gently pulling away the restraining appendage. "Too many for me, yes,.. but not for _us." _he stressed again pointedly.

"Us?" Remus asked in a puzzled tone.

"I draw them out and you two cover my flanks with your rifles." Harry suggested as he re-holstered his colts, patting the grips expectantly.

"Cover your flanks?" Ron nearly barked in outrage. "Harry we just learned to shoot the damn things today and we've certainly never used one of them in an actual combat situation. No offence, Remus, but neither one of us is that good of a shot to begin with."

"None taken" Remus said in a tone that showed he agreed with Ron's entire assessment.

"I'm not worried about the little targets," Harry patted his colts suggestively, "but the big stuff? You two concentrate on anything bigger than a man or causing as much wholesale destruction as possible, (just as long as you refrain from shooting me)," he gasped under his breath… "and I think well come out alright."

"What if there are only Death Eaters down there? What if they're fifty of 'em or maybe a hundred.. even you can't fight that many at once? Remus and I can't possibly cover you with those sort of numbers surrounding you in the midst of a pitched battle? It's suicide!" Ron balked, his expression laced with concern for his friend's wellbeing.

Harry smirked expectantly at that. " I hope there are a lot of 'em up there as the more the merrier."

Ron and Remus rolled their eyes at that.

"Don't over worry about their numbers as I'm fairly certain that they'll be otherwise disposed." A knowingly cruel and cunning smile split his face.

"What're you planning?" Remus immediately cottoned on that Harry had an ace up his sleeve. He should've known better as this wasn't the old Harry he was dealing with but the new and improved- warrior version.

"A surprise or two to keep the opposition distracted whilst you two cut loose from the sides and I thin the middle." Harry vaguely confirmed.

"Well, if you have a plan than why didn't you just say so?" Ron groused. "What'd you have in mind, mate?"

Harry smirked. "And spoil the surprise?"

Both rolled their eyes impatiently again.

"I'll walk slowly to give you two some time to find good flanking positions. Once I'm at the perimeter, give me about five to ten minutes to get the ball rolling and after that- Woo-Hoo!

"Don't get yourself killed or Dora will have my arse." Remus suggested darkly.

"Perish the thought" Harry returned with a smug grin.

Both friends shook their heads dubiously as they trotted off to find a good spot to try and cover their friend. Ron was complaining sarcastically about just what "woo-hoo" meant under his breath as he stole out into the darkness.

He walked slowly, but with purpose toward the distant Manor's perimeter, silently casting and hissing instructions under his breath to the poisonous snakes he was creating. He mostly conjured Black Mambas as they were among the most virulent and their natural coloring was good camouflage for this clandestine visit. Just to be sporting he conjured several King Cobras as the hooded devils instantly instilled fear and they also provided the advantage of being able to spit a neurotoxin that could blind their enemy creating even more panic.

Lastly, for a show of respect for his heritage… he conjured a few Rattlesnakes. These he intended to use as a last line of defense in an early warning system sort of fashion ie.. their rattles would alert him to anyone trying to flank him as he hissed in parsel tongue instructions for them to remain close and wary for any stealthy approach by the opposition.

Finally having reached the perimeter, he paused to feel out what sort of wards the area contained, feeling the telltale prickle of an anti-apparation and anti-portkey ward that readily told the story that guest were welcome to visit, but never leave, at least not alive.

His reptilian friends used the opportunity to seek out enemies behind tree and bush and lie in wait for Harry's command. He tapped a finger to his temple and muttered an eyesight enhancement that would mimic reptilian heat vision and the night world became a blur of blues and greens as he swept the area, catching the slightest hint of yellow and orange at the edge of a tree here and a rock there as assailants tried to hide themselves from view, though their body's heat signatures gave them away.

Deciding to be sporting; he called out to his suspected audience. "This is Guardian Harry James Potter. I order any and all citizens to lie down their arms and present themselves for questioning-forth with!"

Silence greeted his summons. With a sigh of resignation, Harry stepped forward, breaching the estate's wards. He could instantly feel the ward line intensify as he passed through. Once done, a sinister drawl of utter contempt acknowledged his presence.

"It seems we have a trespasser of dubious intention in our midst. I think it prudent we hex first and ask questions later for purely safety's sake." Lucious Malfoy drawled.

Many dark voices around the area snickered their eager agreement with Malfoy's assessment.

"That's not a half bad idea, arsehole." Harry called back.

"Killing you where you stand?" Malfoy assumed oily.

"No, saving your widow the trouble of two funerals when she could undoubtedly save gold by burying you and dear Draco together!" he called out challengingly, his hands tingling in anticipation of drawing his colts and starting the party once someone got curious and poked their head out from behind their cover. He didn't expect that anyone would actually do so, having learned from their mistake at the Vane's cottage. That's why he'd brought a bit of incentive to urge said Death Eaters to want to vacate their safe havens.

"Last chance folks,.. if any of ya want to give up and turn yer selves in now's the time as you won't be able later." he warned.

Knowing that none of them would dare the Dark Lord's wrath by accepting his offer, half- hearted though it was, it beat a bullet to the head.

"Hollow offer Potter." Malfoy drawled. "Why surrender to sheep when we can rule them once you're gone." he ventured as many of his comrades snickered their agreement with those sentiments.

"I figured you had a thing fer sheep Malfoy as that explains, Draco." Harry called out to the amusement of Malfoy's cohorts who chortled at the insult.

Judging the time was right and that their conversation would undoubtedly deteriorate at this point, Harry hissed out… "Pafff-tisss-thraaa!"

_Rough translation: Kill Them All._

Shrieks and screams filled the night air as his scaled minions sank fang in flesh delivering their foul ichor to his enemy's individual blood streams.

Death Eaters abandoned their cover as they thrashed and kicked like mad marionettes trying in futile to fend off an attack they could scarcely see well enough to try and curse away in favor of panicking in error.

Their errors cost them as Harry filled his hands with steel and delivered final justice upon his would-be assassins.

Flashes of gun powder filled the air, tracking his ascent as he climbed the hillside narrowing the distance between him and his adversaries who swatted and thrashed while shooting curses in all directions trying desperately to rid themselves of their torment. The poisonous toxins of the snake venom only intensified their predicament as many were beginning to hallucinate and were turning their wands upon their fellows in their agonized madness.

Thunder sounded in the distance, at least what the Death Eater probably believed was _thunder_ in their ignorance of the muggles to whom they wrongfully thought their inferiors.

Harry never turned from his dread task, not needing to as he could feel the wetness of a pair of Death Eaters exploding in showers of gore to his right and left flank as Ron and Remus entered the fray, there fifty caliber shells impacted with such force that they literally ripped their enemies apart better than any _reductor curse_ ever could.

The ground shook as primitive grunts and trees shattered from war clubs as several mountain trolls made their presence know as they swatted blindly trying to fend off the stinging bites to their feet and ankles. They bellowed in pain and rage as fangs struck again and again trying to fell the brutes, but serving only to disorient and enrage them as the snake venom was in too short of supply for killing outright something as large as a full grown troll.

One troll swung his club like a golf club, whether or not he hit the snake that had struck him was a matter of complete indifference as he managed to shatter his own lumbering foot and nearly decapitate one of his brethren that had shambled into range of his ascending club. Both his the ground simultaneously, one clutching his ruined foot and bellowing in pain, the other gurgling in his death throes as shattered skull fragment wend their way into his brain.

Harry conjured a giant anaconda to give the maimed brute something to occupy his time other than his injured foot.

Harry twisted aside, moving on pure instinct as a twin pair of killing curses streaked by not a finger's breath from hitting him. He returned like for like firing into the masks of the pair of Death Eater's responsible. One clawed madly at his ruined face, wheezing and gurgling in his death throes as he plunged unknowingly into the path of a troll's club that settled the matter with a wet _squash_ of finality. The other merely pitched over backwards- dead before he hit the ground.

Despite his immediate success with the use of his reptilian friends and the added lethal security provided by Ron and Remus,.. he was fighting a losing battle as the opposition's numbers were just too great.

He'd bitten off more than he could chew, but he was so busily focused on trying to stay alive at the moment that he didn't have a split second to spare to seek an avenue of escape. By the hurried sound of Remus and Ron's rapports, they knew it too and were trying desperately to buy him some time to escape as they rained down destruction on their enemies from afar.

As he saw it he had one of two options available. The first was transforming into his animagus form and beating a hasty retreat. It wasn't a given that he'd get away, but the odds were good. The downside as that he would tip off the enemy and spoil any future surprises his animagus form might allow for.

The second option was long shot, but if he played his cards right he could turn a loss into a big win. The old Harry would have readily jumped in with both feet, heedless of the risks. The now mature Harry, while still reckless at times, new enough to know when it was time to fold and cut your losses. He was about to do just that when the matter was settled for him.

His vision exploded in white spots as something or someone hit the side of his head, knocking him to his knees, his guns falling from slack, unfeeling fingers as he pitched forward unconscious.

The last thing that his mind distantly registered was that his life was about to take a very bad turn for the worse, but then again- when hadn't it.


	9. Chapter 9: Confrontations

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.**

**A/N: Sorry, I know that you've all been waiting. Thank you for your patience and support.**

**West of Here **

**Chapter**** Nine: Confrontations**

He awoke blurry eyed and with aching head to find himself hanging off the floor in a stonework cell with a large cauldron of what appeared to be boiling water waiting precariously directly below his feet. He was still clothed though his boots and socks were removed and yet another Stetson was gone- _damn the bad luck!_

His arms were manacled around a wooden post holding them extended outward, putting all of his weight on his shoulders and lower back. It was uncomfortable but for all of that he'd been in worse positions, but couldn't remember when just now.

The whole tied up and 'out of sight out of mind' thing he was used to as the Locuta had done similar, (for his own good), as he'd foolishly run off in the night those first few times when he'd seen his situation as captivity and enslavement, rather than the opportunity it had shaped up to be.

The first time he'd run blindly into the night, managing only to fall and break his leg, leaving himself prey to the region's native predators. Fortunately the wolf that had initially found him had been one of the tribe's skin walkers. _Unfortunately, he'd not liked having his breakfast disturbed to have to track down Harry's sorry arse._

He'd spent many a day at hard labor paying off that debt once his leg was mended.

The next time he'd run off he'd managed to find what the tribe called "_outago mosso"_ rough translation "itch weed". Yes, Harry had managed to find the ever popular "poison oak". He'd spent the better part of two weeks being flayed for scratching at his flesh one minute and being covered with all manner of foul unguents to try and ease the horrific urge to scratch at his flesh, the next_._

_Ah,.. those were good times: the itching, the endless chores to pay off his tribal debt of food, housing and medical care and let's not forget the stones that were hurled at him with deadly accuracy whenever he came in range as no one could stand the foul smell of said ungents nor wanted to risk being exposed to his predicament._

He'd eventually managed to earn his keep and then some.

He doubted that his new friends among the Death Eaters were as apt to provide for his betterment through harsh means. No, he was pretty sure that they had anything, but benign intentions in mind for his immediate future.

Judging by the boiling water beneath his bare feet, he was pretty sure that they were either going to use his appendages to flavor their broth, in which case he'd like nothing better than to drop his pants and pollute their stew. Either they were planning the former, or they were planning to test his patient resolve by archaic means of inflicting pain and duress.

Grimly, he was pretty much leaning toward the latter as the reason for his current situation.

_Can't say I didn't see that coming when I got up this morning. _He chided himself for intentionally exposing himself with this potential risky outcome as a result.

He knew he could just transform using his _skin walker_ ability. A grey squirrel or even a field mouse transformation would easily allow him to slip his bonds. From there a falcon to fly down and on and on until he found an avenue of escape. He didn't even need to go to all that trouble as he'd planned accordingly for this eventuality and could leave, in a heartbeat, if he so decided, _but what would be the fun in that? _The only down side is that he knew his friends would be overly worried about him, perhaps even thinking him dead. He didn't want to cause them grief, but considered it a small price to pay if he could bring an end to the war that much sooner. It was sort of the old analogy that "it's easier to apologize after the fact than ask permission before hand".

Permission wouldn't have been forth coming from what they would consider an extreme risk. He considered it negligible, but then again, only he knew the full range of his abilities. They might have reconsidered had then been privy to such knowledge, but the more people that knew a secret the less of a secret it became. There was already a traitor in their midst and if his assumption was accurate than it was someone no one was even remotely suspecting. That being the case,.. any divulging of unknown abilities could very well make its way back to Voldemort's ears. With that in mind; he decided to let himself get captured to try and manipulate Tom into putting one of the two remaining horcruxes,(that were out of reach), into his hands. To do that he needed to piss Voldemort off to get his personal attention. That and make him doubt the security of his remaining horcruxes.

To do the latter, he needed to get Voldemort's attention and to accomplish this he needed to be uncooperative with his Death Eaters, forcing Tom to take a personal interest in his _care and wellbeing._

He was brought out of his thoughts by the scrape and groan of cell doors being forced open and loud footfalls eagerly approaching.

_Hmm, what was that muggle western song that Dudley used to hum along to during those Saturday morning cheesy westerns he used to watch whilst stuffing his face with bowl after bowel of high sugar, no nutritional value cereals?_ He pondered, trying to remember the phrasing knowing that it would fit his dilemma perfectly.

_Ah, that's it!_ He remembered the tune just as his cell door creaked open and he hastily broke into song as if he'd been doing it for a spell already as he swung himself bodily back and forth over the cauldron below without regard.

"_Oh give me some land, lots of land, under starry skies above… don't fence me in. _

_Let me ride through the wide open country that I love… don't fence me in!"_ Harry drawled adding a bit extra twang to his already pronounced accent for effect.

_Lord above… my singing sucks!_

He proceeded to continue singing, despite the discomfort it brought to his own ears, fighting the urge to laugh as a pair of Death Eaters starred up at him as if he'd lost his mind. He finished his song sighing wistfully as if he was taking real pleasure in his level of comfort.

Shaking themselves from their stupor, one Death Eater barked out. "How many wands are there in the castle?"

Harry smirked at that, rolling his eyes sarcastically as he answered back…"As if your spy hasn't told you that already."

Before they could even think to make another demand, Harry sniffed in exaggeration at the steam rising from the cauldron beneath him.

"Say,. I don't want to criticize and all but you're soup smells a little on the weak side. I suggest you start off with adding some onions, tomatoes and potatoes along with a goodly portion of beef broth and,or chicken stock before you add in the main ingredients."

The two Death Eaters glanced at each other and started to chuckle before the original interrogator attempted to frighten their supposed captive.

"That's a fantastic idea, only we'd much prefer adding the main ingredient first, namely- you."

"Cannibals, eh?" Harry supposed, curling his lip in disgust. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, which was all he could manage, he warned them. "You do what you think is best, but one way or another, I plan on spoiling your meal."

The first nodded to the second who waved his wand and Harry's chained form descended toward the boiling water, whilst the two laughed cruelly.

Harry muttered a quick spell under his breath and touched a toe tentatively into the water on the way down pulling his leg up with a worried gasp that had the Death Eaters thrilled until he sighed in pleasure as his legs dipped down into the boiling water.

"Ah,.. that feels sooo good. Just the thing to work the kinks out." he groaned appreciatively.

Great gouts of steam filled the air like a steam bath as the water hissed and spit on contact with Harry appendages as if a block of ice had fallen into the boiling water.

Angrily, the first Death Eater pulled his wand to dispense the steam, but paused upon hearing a strangled gurgle to his right.

"Jeffries?...Jeffries…?" He called out worriedly, waving his hand as he tried to dispel the steam so that he could see better.

The sound of a body slumping to the paves underfoot had him casting a hurried wind spell to try and clear the air.

It was the last magic he would ever perform.

When the steam filled the hall outside, emanating from beneath the cell door, alerting several guards that something was amiss and they abruptly filed into Harry's cell only to find two of their own dead once the air was cleared.

Harry was again hanging off the floor in restraints looking as puzzled as the others at seeing the bodies sprawled beneath him.

"What happened?" a Death Eater guard demanded, pointing his wand threateningly at Harry.

"I think they ate something that didn't agree with them." he offered, pulling an incredulous face.

* * *

><p>Remus and Ron sat dejectedly at the Gryffindor table. Their morning coffee left untouched as they stared blankly at the pair of spent colts and a spell burned Stetson that was all that they had managed to salvage in their friend's memory. Both had fired their sniper rifles until they'd run out of ammunition, but despite their frenzied efforts; the Death Eaters had swarmed upon their fallen friend and had spirited him away heedless of the losses they incurred by this plan of action.<p>

"I..I just don't get it… H-Harry looked like he had the bastards right where he wanted them?" Ron mumbled dejectedly, his thoughts filled with grief and self-recrimination over their loss.

"Even the greatest wizard can fall from a single spell, Ron." Remus suggested with more wisdom than he felt at the moment. "Someone got in a lucky shot, it happens,… apparently even to the best of us. I guess it was just his time?" Remus suggested morosely.

Ron nodded reluctantly assuming as he did so… "So you think he's dead then?"

Remus paused to wipe the back of his hands across his suspiciously moist eyes. "I can't see Voldemort wasting anytime removing him from the equation. But even if they didn't kill him outright, they're undoubtedly going to torture him until he's dead and probably just for fun at that; the sick bastards." Remus growled, letting his wolf shine through.

Ron grimaced in dread before he finally broke down and covered his face with his still mud caked hands as Remus rubbed his shoulders supportively and murmured platitudes that he didn't really believe himself.

This was how the, (up all night and worried), witches of friends and significant others found them.

"Just where have you been Ronald Bilius Weas…ly….?" Hermione's irate voice faded to a reluctant whisper on seeing the damaged Stetson and spent pistols on the table before them.

"Oh..No…No!" Hermione nearly shrieked, covering her mouth with her hands as she stared at the ownerless pistols, her heart turning to lead in her chest as she knew there was no way Harry would have ever willingly relinquished his firearms.

Remus nodded sadly confirming her worst fears as she slumped down next to Ron and pulled her boyfriend into her arms, both needing the other's support now.

Dora pulled up alongside Remus, her hand ghosting over his shoulder as she pulled him against her hip.

"H-He's dead then?" she assumed, staring woefully at Harry pistols and hat.

Remus shook his head. Though he quickly dashed her hopes as he haphazardly explained… "Probably.. they took him prisoner. W-we tried to stop then, Dora.. I swear we…."

"Shhhhh" his girlfriend cajoled as she pulled him tighter into her side and nuzzled the top of his head as he broke down completely, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

Ginny and Luna were sobbing, clutching one another supportively whilst Katie just starred in shock as her fingers ghosted across the brim of Harry's ruined hat, silent tears tracked down her cheeks as she was lost in bitter thoughts of what might have been.

* * *

><p>The Death Eater calmly, pointedly and with deliberate slowness, removed and examined each instrument as a pair of guards, with wands at the ready, chuckled darkly at the display and what it meant for their captive.<p>

Harry just watched the display with keen interest, seemingly oblivious to any implied threat on his person.

There were cruelly shaped knives and hooks and barbs of every make and sort displayed lovingly, by the mysteriously creepy Death Eater, across a velvet covered table. He picked up one particularly nasty looking instrument that he proceeded to shine with a soft cloth as he asked facetiously.. "Can you guess why I'm here, Guardian Potter?"

"To give me a dental examination?" Harry replied deadpan.

The creepy Death Eater's hands paused over his instruments, having temporarily lost track of his lovingly arranging said implements "Eh,.. no" he responded, clearly confused by the statement as most wizards had no clue about almost anything regarding the non-magical world- dentist included.

Harry, having presumed this, went on to describe in great detail just what dentistry was, especially it's practice in the era he'd left.

To say the Death Eaters were horrified by his explanation was an understatement.

"So you see,…" he concluded. "I'm not really all that concerned about what you plan to do with your shiny toys there as once you've had a 'tooth yanker' go at you with a hand drill powered by a foot pedal and a dirty pair of pliers… your act seems pretty pedestrian by comparison."

They gapped at him wide eyed at that trying to puzzle out more of the ghastly details he'd imparted, but before they could even think to begin to threaten him anew, he decided to give them a more practical demonstration so that they could truly appreciate the difficulty of everyday muggle life.

"What?! But how did you.. put that down…OMIGOD!" the lead Death Eater shrieked as Harry advanced with a cruelly hooked barb in his hand and a maniacal grin on his face. The Death Eater's initial surprise at Harry's sudden lack of restraints, followed by the immediate loss of his guard's protection was quickly forgotten as Harry cast a wandless immobilizing charm and proceeded to remove the man's offending dentition.

Harry was bent over the man who was restrained in a hastily conjured dentist chair complete with a blinding light shining down into the terrified eyes of the Death Eater that Harry was so arduously working on. The man thrashed and gibbered as Harry yanked with a pair of conjured pliers on his front tooth.

His last tooth, front or otherwise.

"Ach…Gaaa….you dirfy baftard!" the man choked and gagged on his own blood as Harry held up the man's last tooth as if it were a rare jewel.

"There, ..that's better. I knew that last one was giving you difficulty trying to articulate. Now you should be able to swear at me and threaten impotently without that last tooth hindering your efforts.

"Phew-thwoo!." The man spit out a mouthful of blood and froth. Seething angrily, though his eyes were still glazed in pain and fear. Threatening was still second nature to these zealots even when from a position of weakness. They were no more than playground bullies.

"You'll die for this, scum. The Dark Lord will kill you slowly and painfully. You will long for death, beg for it even long before it finds you and grants you a last mercy of oblivion. "

Harry scratched his chin thoughtfully as he carelessly threw away the man's bloody tooth and shook his bloody pliers at the man, who instantly went silent in dread that Harry would find yet another use for the horrific implement.

"Dark Lord…Hmmm,. Oh,.. you mean that terrorist, Tom Riddle jr." You know, I've been trying to get an appointment with the man, but all he does is send lackeys for my amusement. I don't suppose you could put in a good word for me to kind of move the process along, could ya?"

The man sat staring in shock that anyone would even remotely entertain thoughts of seeking the Dark Lord's attention.

"No huh?" Harry assumed disappointedly after considering the horrified expression on the man's face. "Can you at least write him an owl note then?"

The man nodded blankly at that, a grin starting to curl up the corners of his torn and bloodied mouth at the thought of what the Dark Lord would eventually do once brought into the equation personally.

"Well, good then." Harry brightened up in anticipation, adding.. "You only need your hands to write a note."

"Hands…what…? AHHHHHHHH!" The man's initial puzzlement turned to screams of pain and terror as Harry found a last use for his pliers- the Death Eater's tongue.

Things were pretty quiet after that. He didn't receive any visitors, not that he was complaining. He didn't really expect that Voldemort would deign to accept his invitation for a face to face, at least not yet. He could guess his captor's next move as they always seemed to follow the same agenda. It was pretty much the same way back in the old west.

Voldemort's minions had started with the classic- brute force tactic- by threats and possibly the application of extreme duress, they hoped to glean –nothing. They didn't really require any information from him. The Death Eaters only wanted to break his spirit for their own personal amusement before Voldemort came and delivered the final killing blow, thus proving, at least in his own mind, that he was all powerful and invincible.

The second tactic was pure duress under the careful administration by a seasoned professional in the arts of torture. Again, it was nothing more than a veiled attempt to break his spirit and amuse Voldemort by having done so.

Now, they would most likely go with logic and reason. He couldn't be sure, but that was the usual tactic once intimidation, fear and torture failed. He didn't really consider their first attempts a failure, but more of an opportunity, to not only flex his magical muscles, but provide him, not Voldemort, some amusement. The fact that Voldemort would be seething over his minion's perceived incompetence and his own disappointment over his nemesis' lack of suffering was purely –_sauce for the goose_.

He was just starting to get bored and seriously contemplate affecting an escape when anxious murmuring, from the plethora of guards outside his cell, announced a new development. The lock to his cell door was disengaged and the heavy steel groaned in protest as it was forced inward admitting a seemingly innocuous individual.

Harry had half expected not only this person to show his true colors at some point, but in hindsight, Voldemort had chosen the right person to try and work the logic and reason angle; who better than the Head of Ravenclaw House.

Filius Flitwick sighed disappointedly as he conjured himself a plain easy chair, pocketed his wand and sat patiently waiting for acknowledgement. His disappointment at this entire scenario was for a variety of reasons, the least of which was that he held no ill will for the man hanging in chains off the floor in front of him. Once upon a time, the younger version of Harry Potter would have railed at him in his shock over such cruel treachery, but this was not the younger naive and impulsive version of Harry Potter. This version was the finished product of who and what they knew he could become, though if he were honest; not even Trellwaney in her wildest imaginings could have predicted this end result.

Flitwick sighed, not in impatience, but in regret over his brethren's hasty decision to side with Voldemort; hence this distasteful outcome. What goblins could seemingly never understand was that not all things could be measured in gold.

"Do you want to know why?" Flitwick prompted, avoiding looking up into the eyes of the one he'd betrayed out of his own shame and regret at having done so.

"I know why." he returned blandly. "In my absence Voldemort had all but won total victory. The goblins would have been decimated had they sided with the light, whereas their gold would flow, albeit a diminished flow, if they sided with the new regime. It was purely a business decision; survival or extinction? You remained a part of the goblin nation therefore were subject to its edicts." he summed up in complete accuracy that had Flitwick smiling appreciatively at the logic displayed by his former student.

Flitwick nodded his agreement with Harry perception. "For what it's worth, I am truly sorry for this. I never have and never will hold any animosity towards you, Harry. You've grown into the sort of wizard that Minerva and I always suspected you would, given the right motivation and opportunity to do so."

He looked up hopefully in that his words would be accepted at face value as he'd meant every word he'd just said.

Harry nodded in both understanding and acceptance.

After a lengthy pause, Harry bridged the silence. "You know that I can't just let this slide. You are, for all intents and purposes, guilty of treason against the magical realm ands guilty of aiding and abetting the capture and subsequent torture of duly appointed Guardian, not to mention a prime suspect in the murder of Romilda Vane."

"I am, yes. For the record I freely admit my guilt in the matter, though I truly wish, for my own part, that it was otherwise."

"The sentence for such crimes is death." Harry intoned hollowly.

Filius smiled wistfully at the pronouncement. He knew that from anyone else such a pronouncement would have been nothing more than impotent posturing. Just as he knew that from this man it was an edict of fact.

Flitwick was no fool. He knew that Harry could, by some as yet unknown means, free himself at any given opportunity. In knowing this, he also knew that either he would leave this cell alive and a traitor, or dead, and deservedly so.

As far as he was concerned, one option had no more of a luster to it than the other did. His kinsmen had ruined his life in saving their own.

It was logical; the sacrifices of one were far outweighed by the needs of the many.

Still, he had no intention of going down without a fight. He was, after all, a dueling champion with a vast repertoire of spells at his disposal and no little speed with which to dispense them. He hadn't anticipated a matchup such as this since his very first dueling tournament so long ago when his youthful anticipation and anxiety was a palpable thing.

In anticipation, Filius looked up at the younger champion, ands make no mistake, Harry was a champion in every way that mattered, tempered in the fires of war and strife.

"Wouldn't you rather come down here now and let us settle our differences in an honorable, gentlemanly fashion?"

Harry smirked appreciatively at that. He murmured something under his breath and rolled his wrists, vanishing his manacles as he did so.

He dropped to the floor with the ease of a gymnast and squared off toe to toe with his former charms professor. He'd heard the rumors that Flitwick was a dueling champion of some renown and had no illusions that the man would provide anything other than a difficult and undoubtedly unique challenge.

Harry glanced at the cell door meaningfully to which Flitwick nodded understanding and cast several highly advanced locking and silencing charms.

"A gentleman's duel should be without outside interference such that honor may be served, yes?" Flitwick surmised.

To that Harry bowed formally, never taking his eyes from the man nor the wand that he held deftly in his small hand the way a concert conductor would a baton. The man was undoubtedly an artist.

There wasn't but three feet separating the two, though seemingly unconcerned, Flitwick did enquire after his level of comfort.

"Would you like a bit more room to work with?"

"I'm fine here, thanks." Harry intoned hollowly.

"On the count of three then?" Flitwick suggested.

Harry nodded, adding a heartfelt…"Goodbye, Professor.."

Flitwick cocked his head and smiled wanly returning the sentiment. "Goodbye, Mr. Potter."

"One.." Flitwick began.

"Two.." Harry added with glacial calm.

"Three…Vistorrrria Venthroo…URG!" Flitwick barely finished the cast, having intoned a hurricane type spell that was designed to throw Harry back into the unforgiven paves beneath a gust of cyclonic wind.

If the wall didn't finish him then at the very least it would increase their distance apart giving Flitwick more room to maneuver and some additional time as Harry would undoubtedly suffer from the impact with the wall.

That was the tactic, it might have actually worked if Harry's hand hadn't shot out lightning fast and grabbed the Professor's wand hand at the wrist pulling him forward just as the spell shot out from his wand, passing benignly beneath Harry's pulling arm as he brought his knee up and into the professor's face with an impact that was near cyclonic in its own right.

Flitwick's teeth shattered inward as his nasal bones were driven up into his brain. Harry continued the motion pulling the hapless half goblin forward, sending him flying past and into the wall behind where he thudded wetly and slid to the floor leaving a wake of blood and froth in his passing as he slumped to the paves shuddering in his death throes as the cyclonic winds died around him along his body.

Harry never bothered to turn and watch the diminutive professor's end, knowing instinctively that he was done for. A sigh of deepest regret escaped him at the senseless horror that Voldemort's greed and evil infected the lives of so many others. Flitwick had not been a bad man, but had been as much victim of circumstances beyond his control as much as anyone else caught up in this debacle.

Finally, blessedly, the man's wheezing and gurgling subsided into one final, peaceful gasp and then quiet ensued.

It wouldn't last, as shortly a guard or two would find some semblance of courage and would poke his head into the cell and then all hell would ensue after.

Not wanting to be subject himself to fifty itchy wands pointed his way all at once, Harry took option two.

He levitated Flitwick's body toward the cell door with one hand and cast an unlocking charm with the other that broke through Flitwick's charm as if spelled by an amateur.

_The professor would have been proud. _He mused grimly before shouting out to the fools outside…

The guards outside were stirring in anticipation wrongfully thinking the charm's professor successful in his endeavor.

"Send me Voldemort so we can end this pointless charade!" Harry bellowed, opening the heavy door and flinging the professor's body out as if it were only so much offal to be disposed of.

_Sorry, Professor. _He apologized silently for mistreating the man's remains. He didn't apologize for taking his life, that had been a given from the moment the man had uttered his first betrayal and condemned others in the process, himself the last such in an undoubtedly long line.

No, he apologized for abusing the man's remains. As far as he was concerned, Flitwick had paid his debt with his life and the man was square again with the house. He knew the professor wouldn't mind; knowing he was using his remains for dramatic effect to intimidate the other fools outside his cell, cowing them into subservience. They would attempt to do as he demanded, that, and they would avoid his cell at all costs.

With a smirk of consideration over his seemingly wandless abilities. He knew he'd have some explaining to do once and if he rejoined his friends. Remus would put two and two together and figure out that he couldn't have been using his colt handles as make shift wands.

He was using two halves of his former wand, but not in a way that anyone would possibly expect. In this the Locuta were geniuses. They'd devised a method to ensure that no magic wielder could ever be without a wand, but at the same time made themselves feared and respected for their supposedly impossible wandless magicl abilities. The two halves of his wand were fused into the bones of each forearm through a ritual that grafted them right into his body.

He was never without a wand. It could never be summoned away and no one would ever suspect the true nature of his wandless abilities unless he informed them of such. It was pure genius in the simplicity of its devise.

Deciding that the ruse of his confinement was at an end, Harry conjured himself a comfortable chair with a side table that he conjured a pitcher of cool water onto and settled into wait comfortably for his nemesis' arrival.

It would be a short wait as he instinctively knew that the Dark Lord would be seething in outrage over both his minion's incompetence and desire to see the thorn that was Harry Potter removed from his side, once and for all.

_Seriously, how hard could it be to dispatch a defenseless prisoner?_

* * *

><p>"Filius was truly a spy?" The old man asked again with no little surprise at this revelation.<p>

"Apparently so," Snape informed the headmaster coolly. "I was there in a meeting with the Dark Lord when his body was brought in. His face was shattered and it appeared he was dispatched by purely muggle methods.. fisticuffs or some such brutality?" Snape sneered in disgust over so crude a method of dispatching someone, when magic was so much more elegant.

"And Harry did this?" Dumbledore asked aghast at the revelation that his once student had affected the means of destroying someone of Flitwick's advanced dueling prowess, and while a supposedly helpless prisoner yet?!

Snape nodded. "That was all the information I was afforded, that and the challenge Potter issued, demanding the Dark Lord's presence in his cell forthwith." He finished incredulously, purely shocked that anyone would seek Voldemort's presence, let alone challenge the man.

_It was sheer madness._

Dumbledore fell back in his chair both heartened and troubled by the information his spy had gleaned.

The news of Potter's survival was both joyous and troubling. He had survived and by all accounts, triumphed even, thus far in captivity, but at the same time the Order was no closer in knowledge to the whereabouts of said captivity. On top of that; Harry Potter had directly challenged the Dark Lord's authority. Such a challenge would not go unanswered for long.

Then there was Flitwick's demise to be considered. The man's duplicity was a loss for the light, to be sure, but more importantly; he was a valuable loss to Voldemort's campaign. The ease with which someone of Flitwick's caliber had been nullified would certainly give the Goblin nation pause and they were undoubtedly reconsidering their stance in supporting Voldemort, just now.

Given what little information he had; the headmaster allowed himself a cunning smile of appreciation.

"Headmaster?" Snape asked worriedly over the man's sanity given the circumstances that so dire of information warrants a near triumphant grin.

"Methinks young Harry is the captor just now and Voldemort unknowingly is the captive. Think about it?" he challenged the room around him to consider the limited clues they had thus far.

The senior members of the Order of the Phoenix cast puzzled glances at one another. The membership was lessened by one such in the person of Filius Flitwick- damn his greedy goblin soul! The surviving member, including the Weasley parents were all currently in attendance within the Headmaster's cramped office.

"A ruse?" Mr. Weasley assumed out loud, to which Dumbledore readily agreed.

"I believe so, yes."

"Then he wasn't so much, captured as…" Hermione began to work out the clues as Dumbledore clarified her eventual conclusion for the rest.

"As allowed himself to be captured." Dumbledore surmised.

"Why in the world would he even consider such a thing as to put himself at the mercy of the Dark Lord and his vermin?" Molly scathed in disbelief, while still maintaining a vague, albeit, growing hope that she would yet reunite with her lost seventh son.

"By all accounts it sound as if they are the ones at Harry's mercy rather than vice versa." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling madly in appreciation at the daring of the young man's plan.

"But surely he would have confided his plans to someone? He wouldn't let Ron and his other close friends believe him dead or worse?" Molly asked incredulously.

Ron pulled a face at that, thinking the with Harry, this Harry, the opposite was most likelt true despite his mother's missgivings.

"Wouldn't he?" Hermione took up the challenge as the headmaster sat back expectantly in his chair, content to let the 'brightest witch of her age' reach the same conclusions that he had.

"He couldn't have known initially who the traitor was, therefore he couldn't risk exposing his plans to anyone lest word got back to Voldemort." She rolled her eyes as several shuddered visibly at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.

"Honestly.." she scathed in reprimand. "It's just a name and a silly one at that. Anyway,.. as I was saying… he couldn't risk exposing his plans so he made it look like he was genuinely captured. I'm guessing he did so thinking that the traitor would eventually expose himself, even if only to gloat at Harry's predicament." Hermione paused distastefully, shooting a glare at Snape, knowing full well that it was something he would have undoubtedly done in Flitwick's place and assuming that Flitwick had probably done the same, at least to some degree.

Snape offered his usual sneer for an answer to her unspoken accusation, though she could tell the assumption caused him some slight discomfort despite his efforts to appear otherwise.

"So he lets himself get captured in the hopes of ferreting out the traitor in our midst and by all accounts did just that,… but why is he still a captive then?"

"Whadaya mean why is he still a captive?' Ron shot back incredulously, many nodding along with him in agreement. It wasn't as if Voldemort's track record regarding escapees from his clutches had even a single occurrence to date.

It was well known that if you allowed yourself to be captured that you were going to die- eventually, but only after a lot of pain and misery.

"I mean just that." Hermione returned assuredly. "I think it safe to say that this Harry, while still a bit of a risk taker is nowhere near the impulsive teenager he once was, ie.. he plans for such eventualities." She smiled winningly, sharing a pointed look with the headmaster who nodded his head slightly in solidarity.

'You mean he has a means of escape?" Mr. Weasley guessed at her own conclusions.

"More than one I should think?" Hermione surmised.

"Than why hasn't he returned yet?" Molly asked worriedly.

The faces around the room darkened in foreboding at just what that could possibly entail.

"Because he's not finished with whatever he has planned." Remus assumed thoughtfully, tapping at his chin. "He may have intended to find and eliminate the traitor, but that wasn't his only, perhaps not even primary objective." Remus cautioned, his own face paling as he guessed roughly at what Harry intended.

"V-Voldemort" Ron added in a tremulous whisper. "H-He's going after Voldemort. We don't know where he's hiding," at this he glared at Snape over the man's inability to glean the Dark Lord's Fidelius hidden location. "… so he's tricking the bastard into coming to him instead."

"But all the horcruxes have yet to be destroyed." Dumbledore put in pointedly, agreeing with his subordinates summations thus far.

Remus nodded thoughtfully at that. "Maybe he's hoping to trick Voldemort into revealing the location of the remaining two. We know one's the snake, but the other…?" Remus shrugged helplessly at their still incomplete information regarding the object and whereabouts of Voldemort's last horcrux.

Dumbledore sighed anxiously as he slumped back into his chair, wishing that what information they had would or could lead him to a different conclusion.

"Headmaster?" Mr. Weasley prompted, guessing the old man had a theory regarding Harry's vague plans.

"I'm guessing, and this is only a guess mind, but I'm guessing that young Harry plans to manipulate the information out of Voldemort."

Several gasped around the room at the folly of such an endeavor.

"But The Dark Lord's legillamency would see through such deception in a trice?" Snape bulked at such a foolish attempt on the Dark Lord's person. Even Lucius Malfoy would never consider such a mad attempt on his best day.

"From what I could glean of their first encounter since his return, Voldemort is unable to use his mind skills against Harry." Dumbledore ventured to which several shared looks of utter shock as he continued.

"That being the case, I think it all depends on just who proves to be the more cunning of the two. As the muggles would say,.. who blinks first."

Molly Weasley latched onto her husband's arm in seeking support as she nearly shrieked in dread… "He won't get the chance. V-V-Voldmeort will just kill him outright or torture him to death…ohhh…!" Molly began to snuffle at that, burying her face in her husband's shoulder.

She thankfully missed the concerned looks of the others around the room as it was the first time anyone could remember her saying the Dark Lord's name, which lent credence to her dread over Harry's current predicament.

* * *

><p>The two sat facing each other. If Voldemort was surprised to find his captive waiting comfortably, free from his bonds, his scaly, pale face never betrayed a sign of it.<p>

The loathing radiating off the two was a palpable thing. Each both silently dared the other to speak first.

Of course, Voldemort did, his megalomania would allow for nothing else.

"I trust you've found our accommodations to your liking?" He sneered disdainfully.

"Just as I trust you appreciated my gift in return for your thoughtfulness." Harry returned with equal disdain.

If Dumbledore was a betting man he would have been right in his unspoken assumption that; Voldemort was the first to blink.

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed malevolently at the implication of his deceased spy. "Why can you not simply die or crawl back under the rock you've been hiding beneath all these years?"

Harry smirked at that judging that the time was rife for his to plant a few seeds of doubt. First a little prodding to increase the man's frustration.

"Odd, I was thinking the same thing. Are you sure you can't read my mind, Tom?"

"Do not call me that!" The Dark Lord spat back vehemently. "That name has no more meaning for me than Harry Potter has for you, Guardian." His lipless maw curled in disgust at Harry's current title and all it entailed.

"Yes, well,.. at least mine's a proper title where as yours is self-delusion. You're no more a Lord than a dog called "prince" is royalty. Actually, yeah,.. that sorta fits if you think about it?" Harry chuckled at the Dark Lord's expense, amused by his own analogy.

"You dare mock me, worm?" He intoned menacingly to which Harry rolled his eyes in a show of anything, but intimidation.

"No more than my horse does when it tramples a snake beneath its hooves with less than a thought for any potential threat it might harbor. Speaking of snakes, how's your snake doing,..Nagini, isn't it?" he asked both seemingly facetiously but with a pointedness that was unmistakable, immediately raising Voldemort's suspicions.

Red eyes narrowed at that as he growled out warily…"Why do you ask, unless of course you'd like to meet her, that is?" he threatened for good measure.

Harry immediately paled for effect. "No, I wouldn't care to meet your fearsome familiar, not that it'll matter." He left off airily as if it were an inconsequential point.

"Why wouldn't it matter? What are you implying, Potter?" he ground out angrily, losing patience that he was never known for to begin with.

Harry shrugged. "Only that your snake is of no consequence. You see, Tom,…" Harry's voice became very condescending as if he were speaking to a halfwit. "You're not the only one with a spy. I have one too. My spy was given previous orders and has been waiting for the opportunity that you unwittingly provided today. By coming here, you left your snake less defensible and well,… I happen to know a good recipe for snake stew,.. if you catch my meaning?" Harry smirked triumphantly at that.

Voldemort was seething in rage, his whole by trembling as surged to his feet and wrenched at the cell door, calling over his shoulder as he left. "If anything has happened to her you're dying will be slow and excruciating-I promise you! If not, than the only one that'll be dining is Nagini on your wretched hide!" The cell door tore open and clanged when it flew into the cell wall as Voldemort nearly ran from the room in desperation to check on his familiar's wellbeing. He had at least the presence of mind to threaten his death eaters with painful deaths if 'Potter was not still here and alive upon his return'.

Harry smiled a cold knowing smile as Voldemort took the bait. Hopefully, he would return with his snake to make good on his threat so that Harry could 'kill two birds with one stone'. If not, then Plan B went into effect and he would try to return the favor and possess the Dark Arse.

He smiled innocently as several unsteady wands breached his door, guarding him as one unlucky fool hesitantly entered the cell and wrenched the door close as if a hungry lion was inside waiting to pounce.

There was actually, if one considered he was still historically a Gryffindor, and,.. _he was hungry_.

He didn't have to wait long before the cell door burst open again and Voldemort marched back into his cell triumphantly with his snake draped lovingly over his shoulders. He patted the snake's head lovingly as he fixed Harry with a smile that promised immense cruelty was in the offing.

"I keep my promises, Potter."he goaded as he gently placed the snake on the cell floor and commanded in parseltongue…. "Feast on the fool, my pet."

Harry rolled over the back of his chair, crouching behind and using the conjured furniture like a makeshift shield, all the while he conjured a very large and very sharp Bowie knife.

The snake lunged, its mouth grabbing a leg of the chair, intending to wrench it from Harry's grip and once clear, devour the delicious smelling man.

As soon as the snake's head was committed to the chair leg, Harry struck. The bowie knife gleamed in the cell's torchlight as it descended in an arc slamming into the head of the great snake and driving through until it splintered into the wooden leg that was still in the snake's mouth.

"Wha…Noooo!" The dark lord shrieked in horror at seeing his familiar's rapidly approaching end.

The snake twisted and writhed in its death throes the chair splintering into pieces ,causing further injury,as it tried in vain to free itself from the maddening pain, all the while Voldemort howling amidst the chaos and bringing his wand to bear at a laughing manically-Harry Potter.

Harry effortlessly dodged several AK's that ricocheted off the cells stone walls, one hitting the snake and it fell unceremoniously limp.

A wailing blackened cloud of misery drifted up from the snake as it gave up the horcrux it had possessed. Voldemort watched in horror as one of his soul anchor's was destroyed before his very eyes.

His preoccupation didn't last long, however, as another AK curse shot from his wand with lethal intent. Harry merely sidestepped the green light which rebounded off the far wall and streaked back towards its castor's direction.

Now it was Harry who watched in morbid preoccupation as Voldemort's own curse hit him in return and he fell dead, his own soul rising and streaking from the room with a wail of horror as if all hell was already on its trail.

_It probably was_. Harry later considered as he shrugged in disappointment. It retrospect it wasn't the worst outcome as the Hufflepuff Cup was out of reach , buried in an unknown vault within Gringott's 'd discovered the cup's whereabouts after much deliberation, ie... beating information from Death Eaters.

He had planned to try and possess Voldemort long enough to order the cup brought to him so that Harry could then destroy it and Voldmort immediately after. He hadn't really expected that things would go that smoothly but there was always an outside chance.

Anyway,… Riddle would now have to have his minion's restore him in a resurrection ritual like he'd unwittingly participated in after the Tri-wizard's debacle. With the cup being the last remaining horcrux, Voldemort would be forced to use it and then he would not only be restored, but completely mortal and, at last, vulnerable!

It hadn't gone to plan, but just as good.

With that thought; Harry activated the tribal runes he'd already painted on his body, in invisible ink, for just such an emergency. The runes activated and after murmuring the proper incantation, Harry _spirit walked_ from the room via the next plane of existence.

In hind sight he could have thinned Voldie's herd of Death Eaters a tad more or at the least threatened them into considering other options conducive to a longer lifespan. Finding they're supposedly unconquerable Dark Lord dead should do that for him though.

He mused over his own next possible options as he skirted the edge of the spirt world. He was eager to cover the distance to the safe haven of Hogwart's in the land of the living and while far more expedient to traverse the plane of the dead, he still had a goodly distance to travel and every minute spent in the spirit plane was taxing as nothing he'd ever done before. It drained the mind and body, but even more so: his magic. He could ill afford staying a minute longer than was absolutely necessary as his magic reserves were understandably low.

As he was putting together a rough idea of how to proceed from this point forward a light appeared out of the darkness to his left and before he had a chance to respond a presence latched onto his own essence and pulled him farther toward the spirit realm than he'd intended to go and in closer proximity with a soul he had no wish to see.

They stood there staring at each other for what was probably mere seconds in the spirit world but undoubtedly hours in the world of the living. One with a look of profound sadness mixed with apprehension, the other with… nothing.

No look of disdain or regret did he share with his mother. Just… nothing. It was clear from his impatient posture and blank stare that she was a matter of complete indifference to the child she once considered half of her entire world. He and his father were and always would be everything to Lily Potter and she wanted desperately to tell him so.

So much so that she risked her soul by changing the rules and seeking him out instead of waiting, hoping to one day be summoned into his presence, sands that she could only seek him out after his earthly demise.

To do this was to bring great pain upon herself as she was literally risking her immortal soul. She was not a ghost, not a spirit consigned to the mortal realm and as such it is forbidden for her to breach the veil and seek contact with the living. He was close enough to this side of the veil that she could make the attempt to establish contact, but the drain on her spiritual energy was many times worse than what is was for a spirit walker attached to the mortal side of reality.

She was risking oblivion by seeking him out and it was becoming more apparent by the growing look of concern on his face that he knew it.

Initially he'd thought to wait his mother out, knowing that she was risking a great deal to make this gambit. As seconds became long minutes bordering on an hour, he became more worried for her than he would like to admit, especially to himself.

Her image was paling and soon it would snuff from existence for all time unless she returned to the safety of the spirit world to rest and recover her energy.

Finally, the astral _game of chicken_ came to an abrupt halt once he was sure beyond any measure of reasonable doubt that she wasn't running a bluff to work on his sympathy.

"Go back, Lily Potter." It was both warning and stoic plea.

His mother's sigh of despair was heart rending, but he was as stubborn a man as Potter men were want to be.

"I would rather an eternity of oblivion than an eternity of shame and despair. In a moment of frustration and weakness I let my fierce temper get the better of me and I stuck my precious child, not once, but twice. I can never forgive myself, but I can and do beg my son to find it in his heart to forgive me?"

Her voice was so mixed with sorrow and regret that he could not help , but feel some gnaw at his resolve, but for all that; this Harry Potter was a hard man, fair, but hard.

"What does it matter? You have your world, with your friends and family around you. I have my world. We have an eternity once I pass to try and make things right between us. Why should the forgiveness of a son you don't know and hardly recognize mean anything in the greater scheme of things?"

"It matters because I was wrong. I hurt someone I care deeply for, hurt him terribly and I know that, however much he might pretend otherwise. I let my own insecurities and regrets hold sway and I wrongfully took it out on you. I cannot exist like this. I can't be with my friends and family because I am unworthy of them, like this." She begged him with her eyes to understand and accept her deep regret at her previous actions.

"And you think risking your life force to obtain my forgiveness is the proper course. It is no more than blackmail, playing on my sympathies as you are." He scoffed at her methods.

"It was my only course. You would not summon me and I don't blame you, but at the same time I could not exist with the terrible burden of shame and self-hatred I carry within my heart. For you it has been a few years since that horrible encounter, but for me, in our world, it has been an eternity of despair." Silvery tears tracked down her rapidly paling face; her existence was hanging by a thread.

"I..I want to forgive you, Lily…I do, but…?"

Lily smiled a waning smile of longing…"But I don't deserve it." she assumed. It was obvious that she was resolving herself to her approaching fate.

He extended a lifeline, but only just the merest thread of hope did it offer. "I..It's not that. I.. don't know that I have it in me to forgive anymore. I.. haven't.. cared about such things in a very long time. I haven't needed to." The words dragged out of him as if they were weighted in lead. He hated feeling vulnerable like this. In his line: weakness was not something one could afford, not for a single moment.

"Oh, Harry…" Lily sighed doubtfully. "No one knows how to forgive more than you do. You've just convinced yourself that it's anything but. It isn't acceptance or indifference as you believe it to be, but truly forgiveness. You've never had it within you to be anything but compassionate. No matter how difficult your life has been you've always moved forward and made the best of things when anyone else might have been consumed by bitterness."

"I'm not the boy I was, m-mother." He winced at that, feeling all the more weak for addressing her properly.

Lily hid a quick smile at his unintentional use of the familiar when addressing her.

"I haven't changed and I don't intend to. A criminal takes a shot at me tomorrow and he's gonna die tomorrow, sure as the sun rises in the east." he warned.

"I..I know." Lily agreed, though somewhat reluctantly. "I would be lying if I said I embrace your lifestyle, Harry, but …I would also be lying if I didn't admit that I'm far more proud of you than not." At seeing his incredulous look at that, she amended in explanation. "You live a hard and harsh life and you do so to keep others safe from evil, oft time at the expense of your own happiness and peace of mind. What mother could not be proud of a son who makes such sacrifices? I always thought that James was the bravest man I'd ever known, but I see he saved the majority of his Gryffindor courage to pass on to you."

"I'm not all that brave ma, truth is I like fighting." he argued.

Lily shook her head wistfully, both in and disagreement and pride. "Lie to yourself if you wish, Harry, but remember that your father and I have watched over you your whole life."

Harry paled slightly at that, before his mother hastily reiterated…" Welll,. We did, er.. _look away_ a time or two for modesty's sake.

His pale face turned to a crimson blush as his worst fears were realized.

Lily laughed at his stricken expression. He'd forgotten from so long ago how he loved the sound of her laughter, its timbre jogging his memory as no magic ever could.

She began to flicker as he life force was nearly spent.

"Go back Lily, you have to go back now before it's too late." he warned and she would be lying if she wasn't warmed by the note of panic in his voice where before there was only cool indifference.

"Can you forgive me, please?" she begged, still struggling to hold onto her very existence.

"I..I promise to try." He returned uncertainly.

Her eye held his painfully. "I can't live with your hate, Harry. I can't. I don't want to."

His eyes softened dramatically. "I.. I don't hate you ma. I may not like you,.. er,. sometimes, but not hate. I love you or I did, do.. I don't know.. it's complicated?" He grimaced at the way he stuttered uncertainly, but the smile that lit his mother's spirit was blinding.

"Y-You have to go back, ma,.. now!" his voice was more alarmed than before and she loved him for it.

Lily nodded and began to fade as she stepped back toward the veil side, but halted, asking a last hopeful plea. "Will you summon me someday, please?"

Harry nodded as he haltingly agreed. "I..I will. I can't promise much, but.. I will."

"Thank you, my loveeeee…" Lily's voice faded into the nether and absently he registered wiping at his eyes as he turned toward distant Hogwart's in the land of the living.

Eventually he was able to convince himself that his eyes were watering due to his exhaustion.


	10. Chapter 10: Dance a little side step

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Many, many thanks to my recently acquired betas: Difdi, aalens and Steve2. Your help is greatly appreciated! MK-ONEm

**West of Here**

**Chapter Ten: **

The onlookers stared in varying degrees of disbelief, shock, and consternation; overall a resounding relief as the object of their scrutiny snored loudly with his feet up on one of the dining tables, his hat covering his face. Several empty platters were scattered over the table left in the wake of his gnawing hunger. There was a little shock as well considering the way he ate, but the house-elves had seen worse. Probably.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily at the display.

Hermione worried at the scene, rubbing at her forehead. She was seemingly fighting the urge to give him a sound tongue lashing for frightening them or grabbing him up in a hug and never letting him go.

Mrs. Weasley was batting her husband's restraining hands away as she, for one, wanted nothing more than to hug the life out of the man slumbering before her. She marveled at the man he'd grown into. He was lean and wiry, his jaw firm and sporting several days beard growth that only added to his ruggedly handsome face.

Ginny and Luna were giggling, nudging each other in abject relief that he was back safely with them; that, and they were enjoying the expression displayed by their fellows.

Neville was trying, and failing, not to laugh outright, while Ron rolled his eyes at his friend's attempts to contain himself.

Remus and Dora were hugging each other with the most profound looks of relief and joy etched in every fiber of their being.

Katie Bell… well… Katie looked absolutely furious.

**WHACK**

Katie's hand cuffed the back of Harry's head despite his bruised and battered appearance. His hat fell off his head and landed in his lap.

"Snorrrr, hmm, whazzat…?" Harry grumbled, startling half awake.

"You've a nerve, scaring us half to death like that! Why I outta…" Katie started, but was interrupted by the object of her ire before she could build up anymore head of steam.

Harry stretched dramatically as he yawned and scratched at his aching backside, twisting his neck back and forth to work out the kinks, before giving it up for a lost cause and making to leave.

He took in a large amount of air and belched it back out, finally making the barest of acknowledgment to the anxiously waiting parties of concern. "Aaahhh, I'm beat. Think I'm gonna hit the hay…"

**Swack.**

"Be a good girl, Katie, and wake me when it's time for dinner would ya?"

"Hey, oweee!" Katie shrieked, her hands clamping protectively over her backside and twisting away to avoid any repeat as Harry stumbled off in search of his bed without so much as a backward glance despite the many arms _reaching out in reassurance _that he brushed out of his way drowsily.

"Molly…?" Arthur halted her warningly as she made to go after Harry, mostly to reassure herself.

"But, Arthur… He's…" she whined staring after his retreating back forlornly.

"He's a grown man and he's been through an ordeal today. I think a little rest and some food aren't too much to ask, is it?" Arthur Weasley expressed that pointedly to the group as a whole, though he added conspiratorially to his wife that, "I'm sure one of your home-cooked meals would be just the thing to melt the ice and get reacquainted." Arthur's suggestion to his wife found her scrubbing at her eyes, beaming through her tears as she began to plan just such a feast.

* * *

><p><strong>Several hours later….<strong>

"It's him; it's really him, Gred," one twin chortled to the other.

"I told ya so," Ron grumbled incredulously.

"I'd thought we'd never see him again." Fred shook his head in wonder.

"'Bout time you two lay-a-bouts showed up," Harry grumbled from beneath the lid of a dark brown, recently conjured, Stetson.

"Harry!" both twins gasped excitedly as one.

"Yes and no," Harry confirmed and denied at the same time, tipping up the brim of his hat and fixing the two beneath a smoldering emerald gaze that seemed to look right into their very souls.

"What do you mean, 'yes and no'?" George asked in a puzzled tone.

"Aw, here we go again," Ron grumbled irately knowing that his twin brothers were treading on thin ice from the get go.

The twins questioning gaze altered between their youngest brother and their surrogate one.

"What my esteemed friend is trying to warn you about is that I am not quite the same person you remember me to be. I've lived as long as Jamie Black as I have Harry Potter and I rather prefer the distinction."

"Come again?" Fred asked, now wholly confused.

Harry snickered at their obvious confusion, especially as he was doing it intentionally. "I think Ron can give you the gist, er... someplace else?" he suggested pointedly.

To which Ron rapidly regained his feet and suggested they take up the discussion somewhere else and let Harry rest.

"Ron, got a quick minute?" Harry asked, waving him over before he and the twins left his bedroom.

Curious as usual, at least Harry was counting on it; Ron leaned down to ask… "Yeah, Harry"

**THUMP!**

"Arghhh!" Ron cried out as Harry fist hit his forehead hard enough for him to see stars, but not hard enough to knock him out, as was his intent.

"I warned you before that I ain't no side show. I suggest you remember – next time," Harry growled in warning pulling the brim of his hat back down and tuning the others out as they departed grumbling in objection.

They left far more rapidly and less cautiously than they'd arrived, Ron massaging his aching head as he went.

They'd barely made it back to their own room and poured a drink, (the first of many), as the twins rounded on him and Fred asked, "So what gives?" thumbing in the direction they came.

Ron sighed took a contemplative sip of his firewhiskey before answering. "It's kinda simple once you get most of the facts. Harry, our Harry, was displaced a hundred years in time and…

"We know all that," George interrupted impatiently to which Ron fanned his hands in a show of patience.

"What you don't know is that he had it hard – very hard. The ministry jailed him and interrogated him before throwing him out into the streets – friendless and penniless. The Potters shunned him, thinking he was some kind of con artist or some such. He had to steal to survive at first and worked like a dog after he was finally given half a chance. He worked his way through school and went out west... you know like in the old days with cowboys and Indians and such?"

The twin nodded so far, exchanging worried glances with each other.

"He was robbed and left for dead- again, penniless and friendless. He ended up captured and enslaved by an Indian tribe that Hermione claims is only a legend, but I think she's beginning to have her doubts," Ron added that last pointedly which for the twins was basis in fact that Hermione's suspicions were better than most people's facts.

Fred asked first, worriedly, "What do you mean, when you say he was... _enslaved_?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Ron reiterated, before adding. "It isn't so much what he says sometimes, but what he doesn't say that really tells the story. I think he's been through about as bad as or worse than what he went through here with the Dursleys and all that other shite in school and Voldemort."

The twins shared another concerned look before George asked in dread confirmation. "That bad, really?"

Ron nodded. "He doesn't talk about it much, but when he does it's startling, though he doesn't see it that way."

"What do you mean?" Fred asked not following his brother's track, his twin equally puzzled.

"I mean he sees everything they did to him as mentoring, I guess. He says they hardened him, preparing him for the harsh realities of life. Maybe they did because he's tougher than he was before he left... a lot tougher, if you can believe it?" Ron asked with no little awe bleeding into his voice.

The twins shared another look, before George prompted his brother to go on.

"Remember how Harry didn't look for trouble, how it always seemed to find him?" Ron asked the two.

Both nodded worriedly, afraid where their brother might be going with this.

"Well, Jamie Black… that's what he called himself back then," Ron explained, satisfied that they seemed to have caught the play on his father's and stepfather's names. "Well, Jamie Black does go looking for trouble. In fact, that's what he does or did for a living back then; he chased after the worst of the muggle bad guys… their versions of Dark Lords back in the old west," he surmised.

The twins downed their drinks and leaned back into their chairs sighing in relief as steam drifted up from their ears.

"So he's not, or more pointedly, he doesn't see himself as Harry anymore, but his alter ego: Jamie Black?" Fred suggested.

Ron shook his head. "He does and he doesn't." Ron hastily fanned his hands as they were both about to interrupt. "When he's comfortable with you, when he lets his guard down and starts to trust you... then some of the old Harry bleeds through and he's even comfortable letting you call him Harry at that point. Me, Hermione, Remus and even Dora, (a little), are, I guess, worthy of the distinction. To everyone else he's Marshal Jamie Black or to those not in the know: Guardian Potter."

George whistled between his teeth as he motioned with his empty glass and at their approving nods; poured another round.

"He's really a Guardian then?" he asked as he poured out three fingers plus, before giving it up as a lost cause and filling each glass.

Ron nodded. "He's a Guardian alright… and like I said he's also Marshal Jamie Black," Ron added pointedly.

"Isn't the one more than enough? Doesn't anything else pale besides being a full-fledged Guardian?" Fred suggested skeptically as he accepted the full glass from his brother, grateful that it was full.

"You'll see the difference," Ron suggested darkly, his eyes going out of focus for a moment, giving his brothers pause. "Guardian Potter is everything we ever thought or even hoped Harry would become, but Marshal Black is another matter entirely and is exactly what we need."

"I'm not getting it." "Me neither" each twin still struggled with the vague concept that Ron was trying to impart.

"You will, at least you'll start to when you see him use those guns of his," Ron suggested facetiously, his eyes going out of focus again.

"Hermione mentioned that, he really uses six shooters like those old time gunslingers on the muggle westerns?" one twin asked hopefully as if expecting some form of quaint entertainment.

Ron snorted facetiously again, promising, "You'll see."

* * *

><p><strong>The next day….<strong>

"Eggs, toast, taters, an' ham… looks good." Harry smacked his lips appreciatively as he plopped himself down at the nearest table and began filling his plate. He was just digging in with gusto when a voice he knew, only too well, began to lecture.

"You had us sick with worry you know?" Hermione harrumphed from over his left shoulder.

Harry turned, still chewing with his mouth closed as he looked her up and down with a scrutinizing look on his face. He swallowed and smirked as he answered..

"Well, you look all better now, but I reserve the right to give you a thorough examination, once er… I've finished my meal, of course. I'll need the energy if'n I'm to do a right proper job of it."

Hermione's mouth fell open in embarrassment as Remus broke into guffaws having arrived just in time to hear the bulk of the commentary.

"Haw-Haw-Haw," the twins barked loudly from across the table as Harry winked his appreciation and returned to his meal without giving Hermione another thought.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked curiously having just arrived, which only served to make the twins howl all the more.

"Are you gonna stand there looking stupid while that man insults your fiancé's honor?" Hermione sputtered indignantly, pointing at Harry's back.

"What'd he do?" Ron asked, though it was obvious that he was more just curious than actually upset as he was growing quite used to this _newer version_ of his friend's antics and frankly, he was just too grateful and relived to have him back and in one piece to care about the distinction. He liked both versions; it was sorta like the twins. They were both different, but still the same.

"He... well he… he intimated that he'd…" A flame-faced Hermione tried to sputter out what Harry had said, before harry cut in.

"She said she was feeling a bit peckish and that I was the cause so I offered to make it all better by giving her a once over to see if'n I could cotton on to the cause… figuratively speaking, of course," Harry obliged in between bites of his breakfast.

Remus snorted again and the twins started giggling.

Ron nodded his head thoughtfully and clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder to express his gratitude. "That was nice of you, Harry, thanks. Say… that does look good," Ron complemented the morning's entrées and plopped down next to Harry and began filling a plate of his own while his twin brothers laughed and snorted, trying to salute their little brother with glasses of pumpkin juice that they were spilling as they tried to toast, before giving into their laughter.

"Oh, you… you just wait…!" Hermione threatened uselessly as she stomped off, flailing her hands as she muttered in outrage.

"Heh-heh… What's next on the agenda?" Ron said hopefully, playfully giving Harry a nudge of encouragement with his elbow.

"Wait for it?" Harry predicted.

Ron didn't have to wait long before Katie Bell made her presence known, with an irate Hermione not far behind having obviously sought out reinforcements.

"There you are… finally!" Katie scathed looming up over his right side, Hermione just behind and Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson flanking Katie supportively.

"I thought you were gonna wake me up for dinner?" Harry asked in a hurt tone, looking innocently up at Katie.

"Wake you? I tried to wake you. All you did was snort something about someone named _**Amy**_ having the softest…"

"Katie Bell!" Alicia cut her friend off before she could finish that thought.

Harry snorted as Remus shook his head and the twins started giggling.

"Who's Amy?" Ron asked innocuously.

"Yeah, who's A..." Katie reiterated irritably before Harry cut her off.

"Nice gal; runs a comfort house back in my time," Harry obliged his friend, tuning out the gasping and fuming female contingent behind.

The twins started chortling having picked up on the vein as Ron asked innocently, "What's a comfort house?"

Harry smirked as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully considering his friend's question before answering vaguely…"It's a place where a fella can enjoy the comforts of life. You know; get a drink, play a game a cards and whoop it up a bit before heading back out on the trail."

"Whoop it up? What do you mean- _Whoop it up_?" Katie asked in growing jealousy.

"Oh for the love of… don't encourage the git by…" Hermione began to warn her friend but too late as Harry twisted up from his chair and grabbed up Katie, dipping her into a searing kiss that had the rest of the witches in the hall swooning and wolf whistling in appreciation.

Harry pulled back up and turned Katie loose as she staggered unsteadily into her shocked friend's supportive grasp.

Harry slapped his Stetson against his thigh as he howled suggestively. "Woo-Hooo! Now, that's what I'm talking about! What say you and me grab us a room Katie and _Whoop it up_ some?!"

The men in the vicinity howled in laughter, the witches however…?

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Angelina rounded angrily on him whilst Alicia and Hermione pulled Katie protectively away from his clutches.

"Are you a psychiatrist?" Harry deadpanned looking hopeful. "Since you brought it up… I have this thing for women's breasts and I can't ever seem to get enough milk; do you think I've got some deep seeded mommy fixation or something?"

Angelina stood their gapping wide eyed and slack jawed at that, whilst her friends gasped in alarm which only worsened when Harry added…

"I thought I was getting better, but when I saw Hermione's breasts at the ministry…" At this he paused and looked around Angelina toward, a gapping in mortification, Hermione. "You remember... when you were wounded? Anyway, ever since then things seemed to have worsened. I can't hardly look at a women without getting excited and don't even get me started on a pitcher of milk!" he ventured seemingly sincere as he splayed his arms out plaintively.

"Mr. Potter, really?" Professor McGonagall made her presence and her displeasure known having arrived to see what all the fuss was about.

"Minnie?!" Harry cheered enthusiastically. "What fortuitous timing…I was just talking about a neurosis I've been struggling with and I think you could help. I've always felt very close to you, Professor, drawn even, you might say?" At this he leered suggestively at the Professor's ample chest whilst the male contingent totally lost twin were rolling around the floor whilst Remus was wheezing and Ron had his face buried in his arms as if mortified, though his back was shaking in mirth.

The professor gasped in outrage sputtering as she beat a hasty retreat, pulling her tartan robes tighter around herself in seeking false comfort and security as she went. The rest of the witches were following hastily in her wake, hurling barbs of outrage as they sought solace elsewhere.

"Nobody cares…?" Harry sighed dejectedly shaking his head in disappointment as he watched the witches depart.

The twin had just made it to their feet, clutching at the table for support when his last comment had them doubled over again.

Harry re-seated himself, nudging Ron over with his elbow. "You better not have eaten everything up, Ron," he warned lifting one of the platter's covers for a peek underneath.

Finding a steaming pile of eggs waiting, he happily began refilling his plate as he mentioned to the males still present, "Meetin' in Dumbledore's office in a half hour, fellas. Let's keep it just to us boys, got it?" he growled casting his glance around as his reason for running off the witches was now becoming clear that it wasn't only just for humor's sake, though that was definitely a plus.

Several nodded their heads in dawning understanding, though they still chortled now and again or snickered under their breaths.

Ron sighed in relief, eyeing Harry doubtfully as he mentioned, "You had me worried for a second there about seeing Hermione's breasts."

"They're well rounded and luxuriant to the touch." Harry commented knowingly between bites. Pulling up at seeing Ron's shocked expression he added, "Didn't she tell you?"

He almost felt sorry for the joking and gagging twin brothers at that, almost.

* * *

><p><strong>Dumbledore's office and hour later…..<strong>

"…and that about sums it up," Harry finished telling his story, leaving out the particulars of his escape and subsequent contact with his mother's spirit, though he cast a fleeting, albeit meaningful glance Remus' way that clearly stated 'they'd talk later', to which Remus almost imperceptibly nodded his understanding.

No one caught either discreet gesture between the two, except Dumbledore whose eyes twinkled delightedly that the two were growing close. They both needed the other having seen far too much of personal loss in their lives.

"How did you get away?" George commented, catching on immediately to that omitted detail.

"After I, or rather Voldie killed himself they didn't seem too interested in keeping me around anymore, sort of wore out my welcome. Anyway… the Death Eaters pretty much avoided me as I left."

The twins fixed him with incredulous glares that clearly said they weren't buying it.

Dumbledore twinkled merrily at their displeasure, Harry snorted and Remus merely rolled his eyes along with Ron.

"That was a very bold, if not foolish gambit, Harry." Mr. Weasley scolded worriedly.

Harry shrugged unconcernedly. "Not if you know me it isn't? Granted they could have put me down while I was unconscious, but other than that I was pretty much in control the whole time. I knew I could leave but felt it more prudent to stay and see how things shook out. Fortunately a few opportunities present themselves and I took the initiative," he returned vaguely, answering without giving any telling details.

"Those opportunities, being Phineas' betrayal and Voldemort's horcrux- Nagini, I take it?" Dumbledore assumed, deflecting some of the interest in Harry's unknown abilities.

Harry nodded. "That and stickin' it to ol' Tom, don't forget that. That's always down as an opportunity that must be explored in my book."

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed, smirking winningly.

"Now what?" Ron asked the first and most prevalent question on all their minds.

"Now we wait," Harry returned absently, but with no little conviction.

"Wait?" Neville Longbottom questioned having finally arrived that morning. He hadn't even had a chance to catch up with his childhood friend as yet.

Harry grinned cunningly as he replied, "I suppose I could go to Gringotts and raise holy hell, but what would be the point? I could search the joint forever and not find that damned hidden horcrux if the little fiends were of a mind to remain uncooperative."

"Or?" Ron prompted, catching the knowing gleam in his friend's eyes.

"Or I can just wait for whatever Death Eater Voldie's tabbed with guardin' the thing to retrieve said horcrux and either catch 'em in the act and destroy the cursed thing, or just wait 'til Voldie resurrects himself for the final time and then put the rabid dog down for good. I must admit I'm leaning toward the latter as the guy just pisses me off to no end."

Some snorted at that whilst others whistled under their breath at the seemingly daunting task the latter provided.

"So we just wait then?" Mr. Weasley asked skeptically. One couldn't blame his skeptical view as he'd had no previous contact with this latest version of his once surrogate son.

"I never said we'd just plant our collective asses and twiddle our thumbs," Harry scoffed. "We use the time to rest, regroup, train, fortify and, the four winds willing, pick up a few more allies for the final confrontation. "

"Allies?" Dumbledore asked curiously, his eyes twinkling as he readily enjoyed the byplay.

"I took the liberty of sending word to a few family members," he intimated vaguely.

"What family?" Remus said in surprise, adding, "And when could you have possibly taken the time to contact anyone? Though we're safe here it doesn't readily allow for any contact with the outside world."

"I sent word about a hundred and ten years ago." Harry intimated, his eyes gleaming predatorily.

"What good will that do and why aren't we including the witches in our planning?" Ron asked uncertainly on both counts. "If there's anyone still alive from back then they'll certainly be in no shape to help us? No offense, headmaster," he threw in apologetically referring to Dumbledore's advanced age, even by Wizarding standards.

"None taken, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore bowed his head in deference, his eyes twinkling in amusement, adding conspiratorially, "Though I much prefer a softer palate these last several years."

"Are we talking food or women?" Harry asked curiously to which the men in the room broke down into laughter, Dumbledore included.

One twin elbowed the other whispering under his breath, "I like the newer version, less moody and a helluva lot more fun."

"You said it," the other agreed.

"Getting back to the original question; why're we leaving the women out of our plans? Luna and Ginny will definitely pitch a wobbly if we try and keep them out of the action," Neville warned the group.

"They too much for you to handle, Nev?" Jamie asked leaning back in his chair as he pushed up the brim of his hat to give his once friend a look over.

He liked the man Neville had grown into. He was lean and despite the missing arm he clearly bespoke a fella that was someone to step aside of when he was in a temper.

"Before I lost my arm I did alright, and Luna's more than enough on her own, but put the two together and that's way more than a single handful," he quipped good naturedly.

"About that?" Harry mentioned as he stood up and fished around in his breast pocket pulling out a shrunken wood carving. "Got something for you, Nev. I made it myself," Harry offered friend-like.

"What's that?" Neville said, trying to see what Harry was holding, but was distracted as Harry ripped off his unused shirtsleeve with one hand whilst canceling the _shrinking charm_ with the other and slamming the full sized wooden arm he'd previously carved into Neville stump. Harry uttered a brief phrase under his breath and tapped the arm before stepping back.

Neville shrieked and clawed madly at the wooden appendage as it sprouted tendrils that bored instantly into the tender flesh of his upper arm with frightening speed.

His shrieks of pain and alarm subsided into gasps and groans as the wooden appendage began to glow and pulsate as if coming to life. Soon the pulsating grew rhythmic like a heartbeat and the rest of the room watched in abject wonder as the wooden arm's golden color changed hue until it was a perfect match for Neville's coloring, that and the arm began to animate until…

"I-I can feel it!" Neville gasped, no longer in pain and staring at his new arm in shocked disbelief as he twisted it to and fro and wiggled his fingers experimentally, relishing the ability to do so once again.

"It's… It's... bloody fantastic!" he chortled joyously.

"It's the least I could do," Harry offered, both apologetic and relieved that he could make up for this one loss out of so many others that were beyond his ability, save for vengeance's sake.

"Oh, Harry… Thanks!" Neville cheered gratefully, grabbing his friend up in a rib-cracking _two-armed_ hug.

"You just treat Luna right or I'll take it back, hear?" Harry warned, though he was grinning in amusement.

"You bet I will, wait till Luna sees!" With that, Neville bolted for the door, hurriedly going to find the object of his affection and their best friend, to show off his new arm. The men in the room clapped him on the back in congratulation as he left.

"That was very nice of you, Harry." Mr. Weasley commented appreciatively.

"Least I could do for an old friend."

"Beautiful magic, Mr. Potter, simply wonderful," Dumbledore added.

The marshal tipped his hat in a show of thanks as he mused… "It beats shooting holes in folks, but only just."

Remus rolled his eyes at that, to which Dumbledore chuckled in amusement re-seating himself and the rest of the room following suit.

"Getting back to the original question regarding the ladies of our, ah... esteem? I hail from a more, shall we say: antiquated time? Back in my time we don't allow our women to fight our battles."

Several grumbled in disagreement before he fanned them to silence and continued to explain his point.

"I realize it's an outdated notion, but there is some wisdom behind it. Menfolk fight and sometimes die, but the women are left as a last line of defense over their families. There aren't hardly ever any orphans back where I come from and that's because they are lucky enough to still have mothers to take care of them. I would to God that I had been so lucky."

Remus startled at this, and cast his friend a troubled glance that Harry clearly answered that he would clarify _later_ in his return gaze. "Now I know that ain't gonna wash with today's womenfolk and that's okay, but couldn't we… I don't know… maybe find them something a little less 'out and out' dangerous to do? We got us a plethora of kids right here in the castle as I speak and ain't there enough orphans already suffering in the wake of this war for us to add to their numbers?"

"What do you propose, Guardian Potter?" Dumbledore asked in good interest, himself an advocate of a more chivalrous age.

Harry shrugged. "Me, I'm for hitching up with Katie Bell and adopting a mess and making a few extra of our own. Raise us a herd a cattle and kids!"

"Here-Here!" The twins cheered over his choices in wholehearted agreement.

"You two hitch up with Angelina and Alicia and we'll breed us a couple of first rate quidditch teams!" he suggested as the rest of the room snorted and guffawed at their antics.

"Yes, er… that all sounds well and good," at this Mr. Weasley eyed his sons dubiously, "but children require a lot of…"

Harry cut him off suggesting, "_A lot of_ practice to make them properly? I couldn't agree more, and on that note I'm fixin' to start as soon as possible." That said he tipped his hat and sauntered out of the room.

Mr. Weasley goggled at his departure wondering if he was seriously going to pursue that notion or if he was only having him on.

Dumbledore merely chuckled merrily as the rest of the room exploded in laughter.

* * *

><p><strong>Gryffindor Common Room, 20 minutes later….<strong>

"Katie? Oh, Katie Bell… you up there girl?" Harry called up the stairs of the witch dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. He'd searched the castle in vain, finally deciding she was hiding along with the rest of the witches he'd surprisingly offended earlier.

'_Were they always this thin-skinned?' _he wondered.

Hermione appeared at the top of the stair in answer to his call. "Just what do you want?" she asked somewhat icily.

"Aw, don't be like that, 'Mione. I didn't forget; I'm still willing to give you a look over to make sure you're all better," he suggested, leering up at his friend.

Hermione gaped at that, before righting herself and shaking a wand in warning at her friend. "You just behave yourself and quit that or I'll teach you some manners."

"That all you have in mind to teach… manners?" Harry leered again, licking his lips hungrily.

"Why you…"

He was saved, albeit briefly, her recrimination when Angelina stepped out of one of the dorms and asked suspiciously, "What'd you want?"

Harry's demeanor instantly changed to one of meek regret. "I… I've come to apologize to you ladies for my earlier behavior. Could you please see if Katie is willing to come down so that I can beg her forgiveness for my ungentlemanly behavior this morning? Please?" he looked up hopefully, seemingly ashamed of his previous actions and sincerely wanting to make amends.

"Oh… oh, of course, I will, just a minute…" Angelina hurried back into the dorm to collect Katie and Harry cracked a devious grin for Hermione's benefit.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and sneered venomously in his direction as she fingered her wand meaningfully in warning, or anticipation, probably both.

Katie entered the hallway and before Hermione could say boo, Harry's sheepish act had returned full force.

He pulled off his Stetson and held it over his heart as he humbly entreated the object of his affections to forgive him as he made a lot of seemingly sincere vows to behave more chivalrously in future, if she would only grant him another chance to prove himself.

Katie gracefully accepted both that and his invitation to an evening walk.

Harry bowed to her and kissed her hand in gratitude and admiration, cause Katie to blush and sigh happily.

Offering his arm, they turned to depart, he himself casting Hermione a knowing grin of mischief that left her spitting and sputtering.

**Some two hours later….**

A wide eyed and disheveled Katie Bell bolted through the portrait hole and braced herself back against the portal in desperate relief for having made it to safety.

"Katie, what in the world….?" Alicia asked rising in concern from her game of gobstones.

"Hide me?!" Katie half begged, half demanded, her eyes going in and out of focus.

"Oh, for the love of all that's…" Hermione began to lament, before Katie interrupted by grabbing wildly at Alicia's shoulders.

"The man's got more arms than the giant squid!"

Ding-Dong

"Ahhhhh!"

The bell sounding the opening of the door sent Katie screaming up the stairs to the supposed safety of the witch's dorm.

Marshal Black walked in with a very pleased smile on his face, tipped his hat and wished the stunned onlookers a "Pleasant evening, ladies." That said he walked nonchalantly up the stairs to the wizard's dorm without a backward glance and before anyone could offer a word in challenge.

They came out of their shock bearing scowls and wands when a distinct snicker was heard from the top of the stairs, cut off by the dorm door closing.

The witches conspired long into the night on just how they should go about reining in the pretentious Marshal after that and having no workable plan in place the beseeched Molly Weasley to broach the subject of his unsavory behavior at their expense… hoping he would respond to her maternal nature.

Molly, of course, jumped at the idea; thinking to soften him up with a sumptuous breakfast, which would also afford her the opportunity to get to renew ties with her once surrogate son.

Harry came down to breakfast and was immediately waylaid by Molly Weasley at the door, anxiously awaiting his arrival. Though initially very pleased and flattered that she'd taken the time to prepare him a home-cooked meal; he became wary at noticing the furtive glances being shared by other witches nearby as if they had a vested interest in his dining with Molly this morning.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, nor walk away from trouble, Harry graciously accepted her offer and presented her his arm which she proudly took, guiding him to the room off the Great Hall that they'd greeted the champions in for the Tri-Wizard's tournament.

He found a round table pleasantly decorated for two with several covered platters steaming nearby. The smells were beyond intoxicating and he found himself salivating in anticipation over one of Mrs. Weasley's culinary treats.

"Ah, Molly… the smell's enough to entice the soul. I'd nearly forgotten how much I missed your exceptional cooking," he complimented, holding out a chair for her before commenting on the place settings.

"Only we two, isn't Mr. Weasley going to accompany us?"

Molly smiled disarmingly and patted his hand in reassurance. "He would like to, I'm sure, but the headmaster and he were working on some plans, so I thought it would give us a chance to get reacquainted and catch up: just the two of us. And just look at you? Such a handsome young man you've grown into. Why the ladies must be swooning over you back in your, er... time?"

Harry smirked at her attempt at fishing for information. "No… no girls. Not too many gals are interested in dodging bullets which sort of comes part and parcel with hitchin' your horse to my wagon."

Molly began serving him a variety of succulent morsels: i.e., buttermilk pancakes with a strawberry sauce, fried eggs in toast with a hollandaise sauce, etc... distracting him as she plated the first seeds of what was undoubtedly a well-planned future harvest.

"Oh pish, why I'm reliably informed that you have someone rather special interested in you just now, er… that lovely Katie Bell, I believe?"

_Ah, nothing like a last meal before an execution,_ he thought wistfully, pausing after a bite of pancake, savoring the flavor before he stuck his head in the noose.

"So when did Hermione and the ladies get you on board to try and ride herd over me?" he asked point blank, thinking to lay his cards on the table and get things out in the open.

"Ride… herd?" Molly asked uncertainly, not catching his meaning.

"It means put you up to try and get me under control. So was it before I even got back, if I got back from Voldemort's pleasure palace," he regretted adding that bit as she shuddered at the thought of losing him. "Or was it after breakfast yesterday when I ruffled a few feathers: which means I took the mickey at several witch's expense?"

Molly smiled warmly, not minding in the least that he'd seen through the subterfuge. "Actually it was after you returned last night… I believe that… er… Katie was a bit out of sorts?"

Harry snorted at her tender prompt. "She was running for her life, ya mean?"

"Yes, well…" Molly chuckled at that. She liked the more candid and self-assured version of the once shy and uncomfortable boy she'd once known. "She was a bit unsettled as were several of the young witches who did beseech me, rather desperately, to try and bridge the gap between you and their expectations you might say?"

"They'd like you to try and get me to act like a good little boy and mind my manners, right?"

Molly smiled in affirmation. "Not in so many words but that's the gist of it, yes."

"Nope," he returned flatly, returning to his meal before it went cold.

Molly faltered slightly, having not expected the sudden change in his disarming demeanor. "May I ask the reason for your unwillingness to act a bit more respectful when dealing with so many young and impressionable witches?"

Harry snorted at that. "Young and impressionable? My eye! I bet there ain't a virgin in the bunch," he began to berate before Molly's gasp of outrage halted his rant.

"Harry Potter… such language," she admonished. "Certainly you don't plan to sit here and discuss such intimate details with, well with… why I'm practically your mother," she challenged.

"You are, but, who better to discuss affairs of the heart than with one's own mother?"

Instantly mollified, Molly made herself more comfortable as she pressed onward. "Affairs of the heart, eh? I take it then that you do have some designs on one or more of the young ladies housed within the castle?"

Harry nodded, finishing the bite he took before elaborating. "I'd thought to take a turn with Hermione, but she seems bent on settling for less, in more ways than one." He snickered to himself at that last comment, earning a weary glare for his trouble.

Trying another, more prudent tact, Molly counseled: "If you're trying to get the interest of other more available parties, than you're going about it the wrong way."

"No I ain't," instantly came his disagreement before she could so much as bat an eye.

Deciding to tackle one problem at a time she went with the easier route. "It's isn't or in this case it's 'no, I'm not'; '_ain't'_ isn't a word," she lectured primly in her best _patient_ motherly tone.

"You sure?" his eyes twinkled merrily as he was intentionally being difficult.

Molly knew it, but was determined to not let him take the mickey as he did so easily with the younger witches. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Shame, I like _ain't_ better; gets right to the point."

"Which is?" Molly grabbed at the opening he'd given.

"That I _**ain't**_…" he stressed the word pointedly, taking the opportunity to take the mickey,"…going about things the wrong way as _**I'm not**_ trying to hook up with someone permanent like."

"Well you certainly aren't going to avail yourself of some cheap and meaningless fling by acting the cad," Molly scoffed.

"I **ain't!**"

"No, you **aren't**," Molly reiterated primly, returning like for like as she raised an eyebrow that clearly challenged that two could play his game.

Harry smiled in enjoyment as he slouched back in his chair having satisfied both his appetite and his stance on the topic of discussion. "I agree."

Whatever Molly had expected it wasn't that. She was ready to dig into a long argument on morals, common courtesy and the proper decorum of a young wizard in mind of courting, but she hadn't expected him to agree with her addressing the many complaints regarding his behavior.

"I… I'm afraid I don't understand; have you been intentionally trying to, what… distance yourself from anyone who might be interested in a relationship with you?

Harry quirked a half smile and nodded his approval with her assumption.

"But why?" Molly gasped out bewildered. The Harry Potter she knew would have done or given anything for family and friend. She knew that there was nothing more than that young man could ever have wanted more than a family to call his own.

Harry held her puzzled gaze for a long while before sighing in resignation and casting several silencing charms around the room. Molly goggled at his use of apparent, and seemingly impossible, wandless magic.

"It's really not all that hard when you know the trick," he commented disarmingly.

Molly cocked her head trying to puzzle that out, but otherwise waited patiently for Harry to spill his reason behind the added secrecy.

"I want to have fun, same as any other fella, Molly, but I don't and can't handle the baggage that comes with a commitment."

"Bullocks!" Molly spat back in disbelief, not buying that excuse for a minute.

"Such language," he chided before continuing. "Never the less, I'm being truthful. I fancy a good time, rustle a few skirts, play a little slap and tickle, but that's it. No commitments. Not now, not ever."

Molly was about to refute his claim almost immediately, but held back. The glassy, deadened look in his eyes gave her pause and she realized, reluctantly so, that he was being perfectly candid.

She knew such a cavalier attitude would not sit well with her, but he had verbalized that stance none the less, regardless of its popularity.

"D-Did someone hurt you, Harry?" she asked in quiet compassion.

"No, Molly. There's never been anyone else to even get the chance to do that much," he returned stoically, his face bearing no hint of pain, no hint of anything really. He seemed displaced somehow.

"Are you afraid then? There's no shame in being afraid to commit to another. When it's someone, the right someone… it becomes easier and easier to want to take that chance. You probably just haven't met the right someone, Harry," she consoled supportively.

Harry winced, showing a half-smile at that and Molly realized that her assumption wasn't even close.

"What is it, Harry. You can talk to me. Please, talk to me?" she begged.

"Aw, Molly, why get all lathered up over things ya can't change?" he reverted back to his folksy act of nonchalance that she wasn't buying into and told him so.

"What is it that you're really trying to avoid, Harry? You're giving the ladies fits and if I didn't know better I'd say you were doing it on purpose, so what is it?"

Harry considered her for the longest time and just when she thought he wasn't going to confide in her by making light of her assumptions and changing the subject… he told her.

"I ain't gonna make it, Molly. I've been running a bluff since I hit town and its almost time to put up or shut up."

Molly goggled in alarm at that. "What do you mean you ain't gonna make it?" She winced at her own poor language despite the circumstance.

"Just what I said. I had an inkling before I came back here that things were gonna go south. I told Dumbledore and Remus that I'd take care of Voldemort after he was born, but they came back again after and said things hadn't changed here in the future. I meant what I said, Molly. I had every intention of putting the Dark Lord out of his misery long before he ever became a Dark Lord, but obviously I didn't live to see that conviction through."

"But don't you see that it must have been meant to be this way? That you were meant to come back to us? You were meant to be here to fight him now; to destroy him now, in this time. In this place," she encouraged him to understand.

She hadn't considered all avenues of possibility and one such had a far different outcome.

"Maybe so, Molly, but that doesn't appear to guarantee my survival neither, quite the opposite."

Molly gapped, not fathoming his point until he explained further.

"Let's say I kill Voldemort and that's all well and good, but I obviously don't survive either the encounter or the aftermath."

"How on earth do you come to that conclusion?" Molly asked skeptically.

"Because I have every intention of going back to my time when the job is done and if that's the case then I obviously didn't and or wasn't meant to survive as there is no record of me having done so… No historical record," he added knowingly.

Molly's puzzled eyes suddenly widened in alarm as his meaning sunk in.

Harry nodded. "I checked the records at the Guardian's Keep and there's no mention of me having been granted Guardianship back in my time, nor is there any record of a Marshal Jamie Black having ever existed in the time period from which I came."

"But that, how could that… that can't be?" Molly struggled to understand something he didn't even though he'd spent quite some time thinking about the possibilities and even consulting a few learned individuals on the _other side_.

"I... I think it's because I was never meant to be. I think that maybe, I was supposed to die that night along with my parents and Voldemort was supposed to die with me, but he cheated and now... well now we're, the two of us, we're displaced. We're stuck in some perpetual time loop that won't nullify until we erase each other from existence. That line from the prophesy keeps playing over and over in my mind... _neither can live while the other survives…_ I think maybe that what it really means is that neither can live; neither is supposed to live because neither was supposed to have survived."

"Y-You can't think that you were, _are_… meant only to die? No one's born into the world for the sole purpose of dying Harry," she pleaded with him, afraid by his demeanor that he had already resigned himself to the fact and in war; when people thought they were going to die, they usually found a way to do just that.

Harry grimaced slightly at that. "Aren't they? Time's a funny thing, Molly. So many intricacies and nuances affect so many others causing a self-perpetuating ripple effect. One person's death can affect so many others in so many different ways. While I'm sure that no one brings a life into the world for the sole purpose of sacrificing said life for the proverbial "Greater Good", who amongst us can even begin to suspect Fate's master plan for the world as a whole, at least in the aspect of the 'bigger picture'?" Harry drew quotation marks in the air to emphasize his point.

Molly was tearing up, though trying desperately not to. It was inconceivable to her that any deity could be so cruel to exact such a toll on a young life, no matter the reason in the greater scheme of things.

"Then why did you come back, why would you even begin to consider coming back if you didn't at least believe you were going to survive?" she asked despondently, scrubbing her apron across her betraying moist eyes.

Harry quirked a smile at this, offering a heartfelt, "I missed my surrogate ma."

Molly snorted despite the gravity of the situation. "You've grown to be quite a charmer. I see for myself what so many of the young witches in the castle are complaining about."

He cocked his head curiously as he returned skeptically. "Are you sure they're complaining?... All of them?" he added pointedly after a pause for effect.

Molly snorted again. "No… not all of them, as well you no doubt suspect."

"Ah, Hermione, she still longs for what can never be," he lamented, earning himself a derisive snort for his trouble. "Anyhoo… it's nice to know one's wanted, no matter the source." He resigned himself contently.

Molly rolled her eyes sarcastically, before turning serious again and suggesting, "Maybe you should talk to Albus about all of this as I'm afraid it's quite over my head, time and paradoxes and such?"

Harry smiled wanly. "I think I'll spare myself a patented "sacrifices must be made for the Greater Good" lecture, thank-you. While learned, genius even, the headmaster has proven on more than one occasion that he isn't infallible."

"Hermione, then?" Molly immediately suggested. If there was one person that could hold a candle to Dumbledore's intellect, it was Hermione.

"And have her worry needlessly as you already are? No… I want her and Ron to concentrate on a future for themselves, a Voldemort-free future, that is."

"She'll be heart broken, _again_, if anything happens to you." Molly lamented.

"She'll have Ron and the rest of you to help her get over it," he offered encouragingly.

Molly nodded. Though sniffling again she reiterated a point she still wanted to know the answer to. "Why, Harry? Why did you come back?" At seeing a readymade answer on the tip of his tongue, she cautioned, "Why did you really come back? No one, not even you, runs toward death, Harry."

It was a long time he considered her answer before prompting. "The truth?"

Molly nodded in dread anticipation.

"It galls me. It galls me that the bastard can destroy my whole family and never have to answer for it. He's killed my whole family and continued on to kill and maim my friends and for that he gets to rule Europe, maybe one day even the world? ...I don't think so," he returned vehemently.

"But if you don't think you can win?" Molly replied dolefully.

Harry smirked, a cold cunning smirk that told a different story than the one Molly assumed. "I never said I couldn't win, just that I didn't expect to live. I've prided myself on bringing down every desperado I've ever hunted, except Voldemort. He's the one that got away and I just won't have it!"

"Vengeance? You came back just for vengeance's sake?" Molly gasped out incredulously.

"Do I need a better reason?" he returned expectantly.

"I guess not, but I suspect you have one, just the same?" Molly wheedled.

Harry just smiled knowingly, but didn't offer anything further to assuage her curiosity.

Changing tact, but just slightly, Molly pressed further. "Why are you trifling with our younger witches, then? It seems out of character with the Harry I once knew who tended to push people away rather than expose them to danger and heartache."

Harry pulled a face at that. "That Harry was a bit of a fool, by the by. Besides, would you deny the condemned man the comforts of a woman's arms? Who knows, maybe I'll even get lucky and plant a Potter or two to ensure my immortality." He winked roguishly, causing her to gasp and swat playfully at his arm.

"You prat," she scolded.

"Say, Molly… not to be indelicate, but… I don't recall anyone mentioning that Ginny was in a committed relationship, not that I'm not willing to share?" he inquired hopefully.

Molly goggled at that, her mouth working soundlessly at his lurid suggestion.


	11. Chapter 11: Not my first rodeo

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

West of Here

**Chapter Eleven: Not my first rodeo**

"Do you trust me?"

Harry quirked a suspicious grimace before asking in return, "Are you asking me as a person or as a healer?"

Poppy Pomfrey cocked an eyebrow at that, but answered accordingly. "As a healer in this particular instance."

Harry tipped back his hat and leaned back in his chair to put some distance between himself and the vial Poppy Pomfrey held in one hand and the wand she brandished in the other.

"The last time our resident tooth-yanker asked me that, he was shoving a pair of pliers in my mouth. I asked him about some sedation and I got just what I asked for, only he used a hammer to make me a more pliable, albeit, less aware patient."

"Is that a no, then?"

"Yes" Harry quipped.

"Yes, you trust me?" Pomfrey tried to clarify.

"No is a yes," Harry fired back.

"So yes means no?" Pomfrey asked, becoming more puzzled.

"I'm confused," Katie added in a show of solidarity.

"Me too."

"Same here."

Others around the room were nodding their heads as they grumbled their agreement. The fact that they were all witches and were concerned about his welfare was more the reason that he was feeling less than trusting at present.

"Oh, honestly, just drink the potion already," Hermione prompted impatiently. "It's purely a precautionary measure that will grant you and the rest of us peace of mind."

"You trust it?" Harry thumbed toward the smoking concoction that Pomfrey was urging in his direction.

"Well, of course I do." Hermione chaffed in a positive show of support.

"You drink it then," Harry insisted.

"Wha... I can't. It's a potion for males," Hermione balked, which raised Harry's suspicions to a new and higher level.

"Male enhancement potion?" he ventured hopefully.

"Not per se," Pomfrey haltingly disagreed, shifting her eyes uncertainly toward Hermione before shifting her gaze back to Harry and smiling encouragingly.

Harry pursed his lips, considering that answer; that and he was instantly wary of their suspicious glances toward one another.

"What's it do again?" he asked.

"It's a preventative potion that will avoid untoward effects; sort of like an inoculation," Pomfrey reiterated vaguely.

"What sorta 'untoward effects' are we talking about here?" he drew quotation marks in the air for emphasis.

"We're just concerned that you may spread a serious and lifetime affliction among others who you may come into close contact with," Pomfrey reassured in the same vague fashion.

"It's not like I let Voldie bite me or nothing. I aint got rabies, nor the mange last time I checked," he reassured the room in general.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Will you drink the potion already so that the rest of us can be safe?" she demanded, tapping her foot expectantly.

Harry sighed in resignation and begrudgingly accepted the proffered vial. He brought it up to his nose and took an experimental sniff.

"Whew… what's in this? Sulfur and brimstone?" he pulled a face of disgust, holding the vial at arm's length.

Hermione chuckled at that.

"What's so funny?" he asked guardedly.

"Just your reference to the old testament; I find it strangely ironic."

"Come on, Harry, please?" Katie begged, making cow eyes at him. "You don't want the rest of us to come down with anything life altering do you?"

"Ah... I guess not…" Harry reluctantly agreed before tossing back the potion.

"Thank God," Katie sighed in relief. "I thought we'd never get that _prophylactic potion_ down him."

"Phewww, gaaaa!" Harry spit out the remnants of the potion that he'd managed to hold in his cheeks, not trusting their intentions, and now he knew it was for good reason. He continued spitting and gagging trying to get out every last nuance of the offending potion.

"I've been poisoned! Oh Lordy... I can feel my parts shriveling up already. I'm as parched as a puddle after a cattle crossing. You'll pay for this, you will. I hereby arrest the lot of ya for purloining potential Potters!" he threatened as he went for his guns.

The witches present shrieked in alarm and scattered, trampling over one another as they fought to be the first through the room's exits.

As the last woman's skirt disappeared from view, with one of his many promised vengeances hurled at the group's expense, Harry broke down in side splitting laughter. He'd known from the onset what they were about, not that he let on as it was just too good an opportunity to take the piss on the lot of 'em.

He marveled at how quickly they'd arranged for this little intervention as, undoubtedly, Molly had already warned the group over his amorous intentions only an hour or so after their breakfast earlier in the day.

His amusement done for the moment, Harry went to collect some backup before he made an overdue visit at which he knew his presence would be less than welcome.

An hour later, having clued in his fellows as to his plan, Remus asked in worried skepticism. "You're not serious?"

"Deadly serious," he returned coolly, patting the handles of his colts for emphasis.

The Weasley twins whistled under their breath.

"They'll kill you on sight," Ron warned.

Harry smirked in the way that clearly portended he would appreciate the challenge.

"You're sure?" Remus reluctantly added, his tone indicated that he was already resigning himself to the fact.

"Sure, why not?" Harry answered, clearly less concerned than his friends over his intentions.

"Well alright then," Ron agreed bracingly, before adding the suggestion… "I think were gonna need more than just the four of us though?"

"Four will do," Harry reassured confidently. "You just watch my back and follow my lead; I'll take care of the rest."

Remus rolled his eyes at that, but nodded his agreement.

Casting a speculative eye over the four, Harry sighed in resignation. "I suppose I better make it official?" That said, he took off his own badge and held it in his hand. He mumbled a few words in Locuta and tapped the back of his right hand with his left forefinger; a silver glow erupted from between his fingers and when Harry opened his hand he held four gleaming silver copies of his own golden badge. He had each swear on their magic to uphold the law under his direct supervision. That done and four newly appointed Guardian-Deputies stood proudly awaiting his orders.

Harry provided his four friends with a portkey, but had timed it to activate two minutes after he left as he didn't want them walking unprepared into a firestorm which he was fairly certain would be the initial reaction to his unwanted arrival at Gringott's. He had business with the little malcontents and he intended to see it done, one way or another.

Remus had eyed him suspiciously when he informed them that he was traveling ahead to scout the area out, but otherwise made no protest. He'd spent enough time in the company of 'Marshall Black' to realize that he had plans within plans and despite there usually being an element of risk, Marshall Black knew what he was about.

The others used their time while waiting for the port key to activate, by checking that their wands were readily to hand and their armor, that Harry had provided, was properly fastened in place.

Each appreciatively ran their hands over the gleaming basilisk hide that was as comfortable and attractive as it was impervious to most spells, possibly even _unforgiveables_, though no one was eager to test that assumption. Harry had offered, of course, but only the twins seemed touched by the gesture.

The portkey activated and moments later the four arrived at the white marble entrance of Gringott's Bank; the sounds of pandemonium echoed inside and people were screaming and fleeing for their very lives.

They were nearly trampled by a bevy of frightened witches and wizards that were fleeing in an all-out panic.

"You back stabbing, greedy little underhanded sons-a-bitches!" Harry hollered out, spitting furiously as his gun reports heralded screams and frightened cries of dismay from within the bowels of the bank.

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM…..

The bank itself was its usual imposing edifice; however the steps were currently littered with a pair of Death Eaters whose attire appeared to have a few extra button holes than what was normal. The holes were dribbling out the last of their life's blood.

A pair of large armored goblins were scattered behind the Death Eaters, stationed at the top of the stairs. Apparently they had fared little better in barring the entrance from unwanted intrusion as they each sported a large goose egg on their temple area, their swords still sheathed and one's pickaxe lay broken while the other's was imbedded a half a foot deep in the otherwise unmarred marble that had stood spotless for an age.

If the reception they received wasn't enough, they could hear Harry whooping and hollering from within the bank, just beyond the broken front doors that looked, judging by the way they were torn from their hinges, as if a giant had kicked them in.

"Whatsamatter? Gold not seem so Goddamned important all of sudden or is lead more of an immediate concern?"

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-click….

The others hit the doorway in flanking positions, their wand tips glowing and with ready spells on the tips of their tongues.

"Ain't it always the way…?" Harry grumbled dejectedly as he grimaced down at his spent colt. "I was just starting to get up a good head a steam too," he lamented dejectedly.

The others stood gaping at the ruined doorways as bits of parchment rained down like confetti, and what goblins still breathing were cowering under their trembling desks.

Snict-Snict-Snict…

Dread silence fell over the bank as Harry methodically reloaded his pistols, eyeing the bank's interior with a look that clearly dared the goblins to rethink any possibility of attacking his person.

"Now listen up you buncha turds cause I'm gonna say this just one more time. I am Guardian Harry James Potter and I hereby serve notice that this institution and all who work within are to cease and desist all operations to the terrorist organization run by one self-proclaimed _Lord_ Voldemort and his known confederates, commonly referred to as Death Eaters. Said terrorists are currently under investigation of charges of treason to the British Magical Realm along with a multitude of other notable heinous acts of murder, rape, assault and theft. Any breech of adherence to this command will be punished with extreme prejudice and I do mean that I will come back here and kill every last mother and son of your villainous hides!"

"Futhermore … hey?!" Harry barked out in alarm as the green light of a killing curse streaked past his right shoulder, himself barely ducking out of the way in the nick of time.

He brought his guns to bear on the offending party, but held back from firing as four green lighted killing curses hit the attacking goblin before he could take a single step in flight.

Harry tipped his hat to his comrades in gratitude for their timely intervention. "Much obliged fellas." He was relieved to see that the twin were as up to speed as Remus and Ron were, in taking the fight to the enemy in any and every way that included lethality.

That done, he turned his molten gaze on the interior of the bank and vented his fury: "Apparently I am not making myself clear? Either that or you cretins just aren't house broken? Get your leader out here so I can explain things to him and then he can dumb it down to the rest of you accordingly," Harry demanded.

No one risked venturing out from beneath the precarious safety of their antique desks, at which Harry impatiently huffed and called out to the room, "Somebody best take it upon themselves to get a move on or things are going to take a decided turn for the worse!" he suggested in voice that absolutely promised mayhem in the offing.

Fred and George glanced at each other, one twin mouthing a questioning, "Worse?" to the other who shook his head incredulously at that. Having witnessed the tail end of the one sided fight, each was of the opinion that their youngest brother was understating Marshall Jamie Black's abilities and each could plainly see the difference between their once childhood friend and the hard case ass-kicker that was "Marshall Black". He was using the title of Guardian just now in dealing with the terrified goblins, but there was no mistaking that this was, in fact, Marshal Black's show.

**Click…** The firing hammer of Harry's left hand colt was pulled back as the gun barrel swiveled ominously in the direction of several trembling wretches peeking out from behind the loan counter.

"Money lenders it is," Harry quoted scripture. His gun barrel bobbed hypnotically between them as he supposedly let fate decide…"Einee-Meanie….Minee…Moe…Catch a goblin by the toe…if he hollers…let him…go… Eineee,…Meanie…. Mineee…"

"Enough!" A deep voice boomed from the entrance to the bronze doors opposite the tunnel entrance that went to the lower vaults. This was the administrative section and there was no mistaking the finer cut of this goblin's suit as he made his presence known by demanding that Harry cease and desist.

"Bout time you showed up, Raynock .. is it?" Harry supposed, pushing up the brim of his Stetson with the barrel of his right hand colt.

"It is," the well-dressed goblin answered with an air of superiority that was unmistakable. "Though," he added unnecessarily… "I am head of Gringott's and the leader of the Goblin nation."

"Well goody for you," Harry goaded. "But from where I'm standing you ain't in charge of jack shit... and Jack skipped town."

The twins snorted appreciatively at that and Harry shot them a quick and cunning smirk of appreciation before fixing Raynock with a cold hard stare that clearly stated he was less than amused with Gringott's as a whole just now.

"What can our humble business do for the esteemed, er ... _guardian_?" He paused at that last, before mentioning Harry's title in a sarcastic undertone that was clearly meant to demean.

Harry smiled a cold grin of calculation as he suggested, "We can air our dirty laundry out here for all to hear or we can use your office if you would find that venue more in keeping with your comfort zone?"

Instantly assuming he was being afforded home field advantage the goblin leader immediately seized on the opportunity and guided his, er, _guests_, into the interior of the bank.

The hallways were had rich oak walls and gleaming black marble floors with each doorway barred by heavily armed goblin warriors sporting all manner of cruelly sharp blades, axes, pikes and so on. Harry walked past them with an air of complete indifference. His deputies following behind were far less calm however, as they nervously fingered their wands or already had them held tightly in sweating fists.

One of the goblin warrior's more eager fools stepped menacingly into Harry path, his clawed fingers deftly going to his sword hilt. Harry drew his right colt with a speed that was starling, reversed his grip and slammed the butt of his grip across the goblin's temple sending the creature sprawling unconscious to the marble floor.

Before any of his fellows could so much as take a step in retaliation, Harry reversed his grip and poked his barrel into the base of Raynock's neck, the goblin leader went rigid at the implied threat.

"Anyone else feeling particularly stupid just now?" Harry warned the others.

"Stand down you fools!" The goblin leader demanded as the rest grumbled back into their previous positions, at guard.

The individual offices that the warriors guarded were appointed in an obvious caste system, each more ostentatious than the next, and of course\ more heavily guarded accordingly. There were oaken doors polished to a high luster, followed by bronze then silver, but only a single set of golden doors stood gleaming at the end of the hallway with an entire squad of goblins barring the way menacingly.

Harry rolled his eyes at the display that was clearly designed more for the goblin's sense of vanity than to humble customers as he highly doubted that any wizards had ever been allowed entry into the higher echelons of the bank. This was where the wealthy and powerful practiced their unique form of legal thievery.

A single wave of the goblin leader's hand had the over muscled and well-armed group fanning out away from the doors to allow the party's entry, albeit begrudgingly so. One overly large brute _accidentally _leaned into Harry, as he attempted to pass, knocking him roughly aside with a well-placed elbow to the ribs.

"_How clumsy of me, terrible sorry…"_ the goblin grumbled in gobbledygook in a tone that clearly stated he was anything but sincere in his apology.

Raynock rounded on the perpetrator intent on delivering a dressing down, but was saved by the trouble as Harry returned in a polite tone of gobbledygook…

"_Right back atcha." _

**WHUMPH**

A sharp elbow to the brute's pointed ear sent him spinning into the wall, were he impacted with sufficient force to send him sprawling to the floor unconscious.

From their vantage point, the twins were of the opinion that the goblin was already unconscious from the strike before he even hit the wall, but that was neither here nor there, just a point of interest to enjoy a drink over while reminiscing later… if they weren't dead?

Interestingly enough, the rest of the goblins did not move against them, but rather eyed Harry with a new found measure of respect for the ease with which he'd dispatched one of their best warriors.

They entered the director's office and found it to be as plush inside as in keeping with its outer appearance.

"Might I offer you gentleman a drink before we proceed? I have several vintage bottles of Goblin ale as well as several other choice beverages available for your pleasure?" he intimated with a well-practiced, if not unctuous, ease.

Harry was pleased to see that none of his party, even Ron, did not immediately take up the director's offer; deferring to his lead.

"I only drink with friends," Harry returned in a note of forewarning.

"Same here."

"Likewise."

"We're fine thanks." That last from the twins as no one took the director up on his offer.

They weren't exactly here to socialize, after all.

The goblin leader's long ears wilted slightly at being turned down, but he recovered well by clapping his hands together expectantly and offering politely: "To business then. What can I and by proxy 'Gringotts' do for you gentlemen today?"

"You can answer a few questions." Harry immediately suggested.

"A long as they do not pertain to privileged information regarding account holders," he balked.

"Even if I said pretty please?" Harry prompted, fingering the grip of his colt suggestively.

The implied threat was evident to the goblin leader as his ears wilted in foreboding, but he made no further concessions other than to ask abruptly as he planted his seat behind his ornate desk. "State your business, sir?"

"My business is lives and the maintaining of such," Harry stated in a grim tone.

"And mine is gold and the making of more such," Raynock returned with equal fervor.

"And lives?" Harry pressed further, his meaning clearly understood.

"Wholly secondary at best," The goblin returned indifferently. "Gold to us is life, the making of more, a successful life. Financial dealings are our life blood. Nothing else matters."

Remus snorted sarcastically, the twins paling next to him by the cool detachment with which the director dismissed lives over livelihood.

"Of all the disgusting…!" Ron began to grumble, but a raised hand from Harry immediately silenced his outraged response.

"You sided with Voldemort and subsequently lives have been affected and undoubtedly lost."

"He offered us an opportunity for our fortunes to flow without any risk on our own part. As to the other; a regrettable circumstance, but hardly noteworthy in the greater scheme of things." The director dismissed with cool precision the lives and fortunes of the innocents lost in the war to date.

"You could have negotiated with our side, allowed us the opportunity to make a counter offer." Harry suggested.

"We could have, but choose not to. One was sure, the other a pale possibility at best. Besides, we do not renegotiate once a bargain is struck. Such dealings, while harsh, are best dealt with quickly and decisively."

"I'm relieved to hear you say that," Harry returned with something akin to anticipation. "I believe our business is nearly concluded. Could you please have a one of your subordinates retrieve the contents of vault 1287 for me?"

"Do you have the vault key on your person?" the director asked formally in a business like fashion.

Harry nodded and pulled the key from his pocket, sliding it across the desk to the waiting director.

The director passed a critical eye over the brass key, before brushing it aside disdainfully with the tip of one claw, not deigning to touch something so beneath his purview.

He pressed a button on his desk and one of the bank's tellers immediately scurried in, received his instructions and left to retrieve the contents of the vault.

"You may collect your gold at a teller window four on your way out, Mr. Potter," He intoned hollowly in dismissal.

"I'll wait here thanks," Harry suggested, amending…"I think you'll find the contents of said vault rather surprising, if not seriously effecting Gringott's as a whole." he intimated.

"Really sir, you surprise me," the director returned blandly. "While the Potters are a somewhat wealthy line; I can think of nothing that your vault could possibly contain that would warrant my immediate and undivided attention. Tellers are for dealing with mundane matters of common finance and exchange, not managing directors, let alone the chief operating director. In fact, nothing short of an economic collapse warrants my immediate…"

A rumbling beneath their feet halted the goblin's words before he could further his condescending attitude toward his eminently departing guests.

"What the…?" Ron questioned, sharing worriedly looks with the others behind Harry's back.

Harry tipped his Stetson up so that the goblin could readily see the triumphant smile on his face and the knowing gleam in his eye as the bank floors and walls began to groan around them.

"You mentioned economic collapse? That's an interesting, if not _prophetic_, choice of words, director. I believed you mentioned not renegotiating once a deal is struck? That being the case, I think you should be advised that your part in this war is at an end. I think you are about to find out that lives are far more important than gold as how can one possibly appreciate the latter if deprived of the former? But, I digress… _such dealings, while harsh, are best dealt with quickly and decisively_." Harry threw the goblins own words back in his face, which he was pleased to see had paled dramatically as the floor beneath their feet began to crack and groan as the rumblings beneath grew to deafening levels.

"What did you do?" The Director half pleaded, half demanded, as alarm clangors sounded throughout the bank.

"I did nothing other than to let you reap your just reward; treacherous greedy little pissants that you are. The contents of vault 1287 held the proverbial: thirty pieces of silver. It was good enough for Judas when he betrayed the son of God. Surely that's someone who would merit your attention."

The director goggled at his implication. "But… but silver couldn't... how can…?"

"Did I forget to mention the dozen cases of nitroglycerin packed into the vault which is strategically placed near one of the bank's few load bearing walls? I took it upon myself to make that generous deposit some hundred and ten years ago as a failsafe measure, should you choose the wrong side of this skirmish. Does it bear your immediate interest now, Director?" Harry snorted that last derisively.

He tipped his hat and turned to his fellows, suggesting they leave as their business was concluding rapidly beneath them.

Raynock started pressing the buttons of his desk in haste whilst screaming for his guards, but too late…

Harry had his friends join hands before he clamped on and spirit walked the small group out of there before the Goblin Warriors could so much as breach the doors to the director's office; not that those selfsame doors would stand for long as the bank was crumbling in on itself as one support after another failed and more and more weight pressed downward in a growing avalanche of earth, stone and gold… mixed with thirty pieces of silver.

Harry stumbled and fell to his knees on the Hogwarts lawn.

"What the hell was that?!" George shrieked in alarm, his twin clutching madly onto his younger brother for support. The two were shaking violently from the experience, having seen their fair share of wandering spirits during the brief venture.

"Jeesuuus, that hurt!" Harry grumbled from the strain of transporting so many, albeit briefly, through the boundary of the spirit world. He retched violently and slumped unconscious, face first into the frosty lawn.

**The next morning…**

"Harummmfff, huh…whazzit…?"Harry groggily came-to, just as Madam Pomfrey was looming over him preparing to dose him with one of her medicinal concoctions.

"Just a calming draught to help you rest, Mr. Potter." The mediwitch reassured him in her best dissociative professional tone.

"The hell you say?!" Harry barked in alarm, throwing back his covers, thinking to bolt from the infirmary.

"Oh my…!" and a few other gasps of surprise echoed from around the room as, a _completely_ _starkers_, Harry Potter, quickly pulled the covers back in alarm at seeing his state of undress.

"Lord Almighty! Where's my clothes, woman?" he demanded.

"Now you just behave yourself, Mr. Potter." Madam Pomfrey began to chastise her charge. "I won't have you disrupt my hospital with your antics. Your clothes are being laundered by the elves and will be returned once properly cleaned and mended. If you're good and take your potions, then there's no reason you can't leave in a day or two once you've fully recovered," She admonished, waggling a finger down at him as she pushed her steaming potion forward.

"You're not gelding me with some liquid scalpel designed to rot my parts off!" he barked, cringing back in terror as the hissing potion drew closer toward his mouth.

"Now, none of that Mr. Potter? It's only a mild sedative for heaven's sake." The nurse cajoled.

"Sedative?! So that's your game is it you old prude?"

Madam Pomfrey gasped indignantly as Harry railed on… "You're not giving me nuthin that'll numb my parts? Next thing you know I'll be spending all my time on the front porch drinking lemonade with some young filly's mom exchanging recipes rather than showing any interest in her daughter." Harry swatted at the proffered vial.

Harry pulled his covers up protectively, wild eyed and supposedly trembling as he scanned the hospital for the nearest avenue of escape.

"Harry really, Madam Pomfrey would never…" Katie Bell stepped forward, thinking to reassure the anxious man, when Harry seized the opportunity to cause more of a stir.

"Katie! Thank God you're here. Quick woman- **take me...** before this crazy spinster removes the Potter line from existence. He leapt out of bed and grabbed onto Katie like a life line.

"Harrreeee!" Katie shrieked at being confronted by the completely naked version of her affections in less than optimal circumstances.

Harry hid behind Katie, using her as a shield between himself and Madam Pomfrey.

"Keep away you!... Keep away I say," Harry warned, pulling Katie backwards along with him as he made for the infirmary exit.

As luck would have it, Hermione, Angelina and Alicia chose that moment to investigate.

"What's going on in here…Harrreee- Potterrrr?!" Hermione shrieked in a scandalized tone as her two companions catcalled obviously having enjoyed too much time with the twins.

"Lord no! I'm surrounded?" Harry's head twisted this way and that, his eyes wild and desperate.

"There's no hope…..!" he waxed poetically in resolve.

**Crash**…

"Ai-yeeee!" panicked, Harry had thrown himself through the infirmary window.

"Nooooo!" Katie wailed in horror as Harry supposedly plunged from sight.

The women flew to the window with shrieks of terror expecting to find his broken body on the lawn some many floors below.

"Where is he?" Hermione scanned the lawns worriedly.

**SPLOOSH**

"Eeeek!" The women leaning out the window shrieked as ice water splashed down on them.

"Haw-Haw-Haw!" A fully clothed and howling in laughter; Harry Potter chortled down from the parapet overhead as the women screamed their dismay.

"Serves ya right fer trying to take advantage of a poor, sick man who was wounded while trying to protect your ungrateful hides."

"Poor, sick man my arse!" Hermione howled, shaking her fist threateningly.

"Look at my robes, they're soaked!" Katie howled indignantly as she pulled at her sodden garb.

"I think they look just fine." Harry jeered down from overhead, clearly enjoying the way Katie's robes clung to her curves.

"Ohhh!" Katie gasped in alarm, while she tried to pull her robes away from her chest to preserve her dignity.

"Why I ought to…." Hermione threatened as she struggled to pull her wand out of her drenched robes.

"You ought'a stick to terrorizing school children or the next time it won't be ice water… it'll be a nice bucketful of warm piss!" Harry warned.

"Hell, that ain't a half bad idea…." Thinking in favor of the notion, he made a show of throwing away the empty bucket and his hands went to the zipper of his pants.

"Don't you dare!"

"OMIGOD!"

"Run for it!"

The ladies howled in fright as they beat a hasty retreat, each stumbling over the other as they fought to extradite themselves from the window to avoid their impending mortification.

"Haw-Haw-Haw!" Harry chortled gleefully.

Harry was pretty much alone for lunch that day as the witches in the castle were keeping a wide berth and the gentlemen of the previous day's adventure were still abed or nursing jangled nerves.

He was half way through a rather delicious piece of fried chicken breast when an annoyed clearing of the throat from behind drew his attention towards the next in line to try and rein in his intentionally disruptive behaviors.

"Are you having a good time preying upon the patience of our young female population?" McGonagall prompted in her best "Professor" dressing-down voice.

Harry snorted as he turned around. "That seems to be sort of a stupid question to ask one of the 'young male population' of the castle, doncha think?" Harry drew quotation marks in the air.

McGonagall curled her lips distastefully, pressing her point further. "The women of this castle are refugees in a war and have already suffered more than their fair share of hardships and do not need further of the same from those they see in a protective role. Preying on already vulnerable women is conduct far beneath one who holds the station of Guardian in the magical realm," she lectured.

"Hmm…" Harry pondered her statement and appeared about to give a serious answer when he became distracted.

Harry was staring first at his half eaten chicken breast and then shifting his gaze towards Professor McGonagall's ample bosom with a hopeful longing look, before he tore back into his chicken breast with a ravenous delight.

McGonagall winced painfully in exasperation and huffed indignantly catching the metaphor, but otherwise did not deign to feed into his juvenile behavior.

Finally, after a few minutes of waning patience, she prompted: "I'm waiting Mr. Potter?"

"You are?" Harry paused, pulling back from his meal with a delighted grin.

"Well isn't it obvious?" McGonagall snapped back, tapping her foot to display her ire.

"I had no idea you felt the same way," Harry chortled as he surged to his feet and without warning planted a shattering kiss on the stunned woman's lips.

He pulled back with a satisfied smack of the lips, cheerfully venturing. "Oh, Man… that was good!" He chortled as Professor McGonagal swayed drunkenly in a shocked stupor amid gasps all around the Hall.

"I had no idea you felt the same. Despite the age difference I think we could really make a go of it. I mean, I'm into older, more mature, albeit, _matronly t_ype figures." At this he let his gaze sweep down as he ogled her attributes hungrily.

"Mis-ter- Pot-ter…?!" McGonagall gasped in outrage, finally regaining her senses. She struggled to extradite herself from his clutches whilst others gasped and pointed or outright jeered and cat -called around the dining hall.

"So tell me; how do you stand on shall we say,.. er,.. a bit of role play? You know… nothing too over the top; maybe a nanny outfit for you and a diaper for me? You could powder me and tell me bedtime stories as you nurse me and put me down for the night. Of course, there's always the punishment factor to work out for when I've been bad and make "boom-boom" in my diappee or I _accidently_ pee on you when you're changing me."

Professor McGonagall's eyes were bugging out of her head as she worked her jaw silently in shocked disbelief, too mortified to hex the fool as he rambled on and taking her embarrassment to new heights.

"Don't worry we'll work out the logistics at a later and more private time. Now, I'm thinking we should get to know each other a bit more, er, shall we say- intimately? I was thinking we could make use of the Room of Requirement; nothing too forward at first, what with it being out first date and all? I'm thinking a light dinner and them some entertainment. We could have the room done up like a sultan's tent and you could do one of those veiled belly dancing things. You do dance right? I mean you gave lessons and all, before the Triwizard Ball. That was more of a formal dance education, but if memory serves, your hips had a mind of their own," He smirked suggestively at that last.

"EEEEEK!" Professor McGonagall was finally able to extradite herself from his clutches and fled the hall with a shriek of terror.

"He-He-He," Harry giggled as he fawned dramatically in disappointment and plopped back down into his chair to return to his half eaten meal with more of an appetite than he'd enjoyed previously.

"I wonder who Hermione and company will send next?" he pondered curiously as he pulled a dish of apple pie toward himself.

He didn't have to wonder long, as half way through his serving, a gentle voice asked to sit down and accompany him.

_Interesting, _Harry thought, clearly intrigued by the change of agent as Nymphadora politely joined him.

Taking a leaf from her page, Harry went with a charming approach. "How are you this afternoon, Dora?"he inquired politely.

"Fine, thank you, "she quickly returned, surprised by his politeness in view of recent reports of, er, _uncouth_ behavior as described by a multitude of set upon witches.

"And Remus is well, I trust?' he asked after his friend.

"Tired, but alright otherwise. Since you broached the subject, I have some concerns regarding these little forays and their increasing lethality. I'd rather that Remus survived this war alive and intact if at all possible!" she sincerely complained.

Harry nodded his understanding and, disarmingly, both agreed with her view point and pledged his adherence to try and honor her wishes. "I am sorry and I quite agree that our last venture was a bit ill conceived. I shall strive to be more consciously aware of the inherent dangers such undertakings involve and to plan and, or, avoid such risks accordingly." Harry reached out and cupped her hand supportively with his own, squeezing gently in reassurance to further prove his sincerity over the validity of her concerns.

Dora goggled, albeit, happily so. She didn't know what exactly she had been expecting, but it hadn't been that. Not by what she'd heard of late. Instead of the "Cad", (as described by the gaggle of witches that had come seeking her support), she found a charming, kind hearted gentleman.

Remus had snickered at the witches in question's, growing concerns and outright laughed incredulously as his significant other had signed on board to help mend the situation, pledging no support, let alone sympathy, on his end.

The man knew what he was about as she would later learn to her dismay.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Harry asked her advice on a topic he was struggling with of late.

"Say, Dora, if I may call you Dora, that is?" he asked so politely that she found herself nodding dumbly in agreement.

"Thank you. As I was saying; I've struggled of late fending off several young and rather _vigorous_ young witches that seem to have some rather, shall we say, _permanent_ designs on my person. Anyway, I'd like your advice on letting them down easy as, well,.. the truth is… is that I find myself leaning toward more ah, _manly_ pursuits, if you catch my meaning?" he asked candidly, seeming completely sincere.

"Oh, um... I hadn't realized." Dora stumbled, trying and failing to conceal her shock at his candor.

"Yes, well… I .. I don't want to be rude, but some of the women have been trying to ply me with love potions and I even caught out a conspiracy to dupe me into taking a prophylactic potion, not that I would need such a thing given my persuasion." Harry sighed embarrassedly, even managing to color in a show of mortification that had his friend's significant other completely taken in.

"Oh, Harry… Harry, I'm so sorry. I had no idea! Of course I'll help you any way I can," she pledged her assistance; herself now embarrassed by having mistakenly taken a side against him without, presumably, having all the fact.

Harry grabbed up her hands supportively. "I knew I could count on you. Now, is this thing with Remus mutually exclusive or would he be open to other avenues of interest?"

"What, er… H-Harry…" Dora hesitated uncertainly. "..you do know that Remus is _straight,_ right?"

Harry rolled his eyes incredulously. "Sure, right... and I'm the queen of England. Really though, you do know that it's a front, right? I mean... come on… that moustache and the way he carries himself? It's so obvious where his interests lie."

At seeing her gob smacked expression, he prompted further. "So do you think I've got a chance? I am willing to share, especially if it'll put Remus' mind at rest by keeping up appearances and all? I understand that his generation was more discreet about such things, but really, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Live and let live I say."

Dora looked like she was going to sick up any minute.

"Dora?" Harry prompted in concern, cupping his hand over her trembling one supportively, to gain her attention.

"GAAAAA!" Dora bolted from the area like a scalded cat as she came out of her stupor in a dead panic.

"He-He-He" Harry laughed, shaking his head incredulously at the ease with which he was able to fend off every petitioner the young witches of the castle sent his way to advocate on their behalf. He pushed away his half eaten dessert as he felt he'd received several surprise treats already and didn't want to risk choking on the next absurdity foisted his way.

_Lord, this was good fun. _He considered happily as he clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly in anticipation of the next adventure in the offing.

He waited about ten minutes or so before he left in disappointment, as even the determined Hermione had apparently run out ideas on how to rein in his precocious behavior this afternoon.

He didn't remember school as having been this much fun, and whimsically pondered the notion of staying on as a professor or some such if he survived Voldemort.

_Na.,.. who am I kidding?_ Shaking his head at the futility, he left to seek diversion elsewhere.

Harry didn't have to venture far as a prickling sensation niggling at the back of his conscious told him that _injuns_ were about and not just any Indians at that.

Undoubtedly the reinforcements he'd been expecting had finally arrived.

_They took their damn good time about it. _He groused silently to himself.

Briefly he considered retrieving his pistols from his room as one could never tell how this particular family would get along when they renewed _**old**_ ties.

He didn't have to go a searching for his kin as he passed any number of witches and wizards pointing worriedly out the window toward the front, snow swept lawns of the castle.

Harry worked his way steadily out the front of the castle, pausing at the door when his gaze settled on three painted warriors and a striking female who was most probably a priestess or shaman. They all wore tribal leathers, these more for show than the other more practical wear of daily life or the sidewinder leathers used for combat. The men wore dark Stetsons, having opted for comfort, what with the bright sun overhead reflecting off the snowy landscape. The female wore a wreath of flowers and leaves that was common for shamans and priestesses to show their close affinity to nature and the preservation of such nature.

The four were mounted on nightmares which wouldn't have been out of place a hundred years ago, but riding across Scotland in war paint was sure to have attracted some unwanted attention, though he doubted it was an issue as if it were **two** things his people knew how to do, it was to keep themselves hidden from just such unwanted attention.

The other thing was on how to make an impression.

There they sat, waiting with unwavering eyes fixed on his person. He was barely in ear shot when the largest of the warriors broke into a song of greeting that echoed off the castle walls.

He pulled up a hundred steps by his calculation and bared his empty hands forward in a show of trust. The singing abruptly stopped and the four waited stoically on Harry as he stepped cautiously closer.

"Eeit omoua tetta nah outsue." He greeted warmly when he was a scant dozen steps in front of the group..

"Eeit omoua nah outsue, antaae-(Spirit walker)." The lady returned respectfully, stepping down from the back of her night black mare. Her three companions dismounted and knelt down on one knee, returning the same greeting, with more reverence than the female, which instantly told him his suspicions were correct in that she was someone of importance within the tribe.

"Comessa, English?" Harry enquired, receiving a nod in return from the lady.

"It is good to at last be among family," Harry acknowledged, stepping forward as he would now be welcomed once protocol was honored.

The men rose and he grasped forearms with each of them as they exchanged names and pleasantries.

He paused at the female, gazing appreciatively as he took in her bronze coloring and jet black eyes that shone with knowledge and an iron will.

"Tetanna?" he asked.

"Ye-ah." She nodded in that he guessed right her standing as one of the tribe's shamans.

Harry pulled off his hat and knelt down on both knees, lowering his eyes to the ground in a show of humility.

"You honor me with your presence here, Tetanna." He used her tribal designation as there really was no translation in English that did justice to her position among the tribe.

The woman cast a smug look at her subordinates that clearly stated her appreciation for one who honored the old practices of respectful manners which was something the newer generation was lacking in.

She immediately thanked Harry and pulled him to his feet, kissing his hands reverently as she returned in admiration. "It is I who am honored, Spirit Walker, Black."

Harry colored slightly as rarely did females, any females, let alone a shaman, show him such affectionate deference. The warriors chuckled at his obvious discomfort. They sobered immediately when he leveled his best glare in their direction.

He couldn't know it, but someone, actually several female someones within the castle, were watching the display with less than humorous reactions.

Had he known, he would have enjoyed himself even more.

"I am Wind Song granddaughter of the Thunder," she informed him, knowing he would readily recognize one of his former mentor's names and extrapolate the honor her ancestor was showing him by having pressed on to his ancestors his desire for them to aid Jamie Black when the time came.

"I am grateful." He returned respectfully.

He turned his attention toward the warriors waiting patiently to present themselves by their tribal name which was reserved solely for the use of family.

The first and largest of the three nodded his head, respectfully proclaiming: "I am Bear Claw."

"Calm Waters"

"Shadow Wolf"

"And I am Little Wolf. " Harry presented his tribal name. "You are welcome my brothers. Our home, your home. Our food, your food. Our waters shall mingle with yours and we shall be as one forever more." Harry vowed in the traditional greeting of welcome to close relatives.

The men nodded happily and then waited as their shaman took the lead.

"You seem surprised that we are here, Spirit Walker?" she assumed, judging by his somewhat discomfort that was hidden from most, save her.

Harry quirked a half smile in appreciation for her sharp senses as most would have not picked up on his anxiety.

"I am. As the days wore on since my return I had to assume that you were not coming or perhaps even that our people had not survived the change of progress as America grew and settled. My request of the Thunder is, for you, an old one and it is not a debt owed by either him or his children's children," Harry explained.

"Pah, you are of _the people_," Wind Song scoffed meaningfully. "Your battles are the people's battles."

Calm Waters added. "Many are the times our elders told tales of the great white Spirit Walker who defended our tribe and its way of life. I thank all that I am to have this chance to return the favor and to meet the legend," he added respectfully, seemingly awed to have met a childhood hero's tale in the flesh.

Harry colored slightly in embarrassment.

Bear Claw took the opportunity to distract him from his embarrassment by making his thoughts known on the matter. "The Dark One you battle is known to us. Should you fail here then how long before he turns his gaze west seeking lands he has no more right to than a locust? How long before he seeks the knowledge of our people and our magic? How long before his villainy besets us and pollutes our people with treachery and strife?" he ventured knowingly, as such evil was easily spread and hard to eradicate as well their people knew by experience.

"We will not have it. We are part of this world Little Wolf. We all share in the responsibility of peace and good fellowship. Such darkness cannot be allowed to grow and fester." Shadow Wolf added his voice to the challenges ahead.

"I am grateful, though still, we are but few," he warned.

Wind Song smiled a knowing smile that promised mayhem in the offing. "We are the people and as such they have sent our _daito_, (**chosen**) to aid you."

"**The chosen**?" Harry gasped in shock. Only the best of the best were given the distinction of _the_ _chosen_ amongst the Locuta. They were the tribe's first and last line of defense, the alpha and omega. If _the chosen_ could not stop a threat to the tribe's peaceful existence than said threat couldn't be stopped-period. In all his memory he had never heard any mention of _the chosen_ being dispatched to distant lands as they were the tribe's immediate and most powerful defenders.

It was beyond an honor that _the people_ were affording him lending credence to the seriousness with which they perceived the threat of Voldemort.

"I am not worthy of your presence, but I am exceedingly grateful for it. Our enemies shall soon know death."

"In death they will find no release as our ancestors will bring them an eternity of enmity for having dared make war on _the people_," Wind Song vowed, adding plaintively, "no more though will I hear such foolishness of your being _unworthy_ Little Wolf; you who are the first and last Spirit Walker of our people. You not only protected our people in life, but aided them in death. There is nothing you could not ask of us. There is nothing we would not do to aid you in your time of need… in **our** time of need," she amended.

"F-Forgive me," Harry stammered regretfully. "Over the months since my return I began to despair when having not laid eyes upon our own."

Wind Song smirked and nodded toward Bear Claw meaningfully. "Our guide," She ventured sarcastically

Bear Claw shuffled his feet obviously uncomfortable as he offered meekly, "I, ah... took a wrong turn at Green Land."

_The people_, including Bear Claw, laughed long and hard at that.


	12. Chapter 12:Getting into the holiday

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

West of Here

**Chapter Twelve: Getting into the holiday spirit. **

The unmistakable sound of steel ringing against steel echoed across the snow swept grounds.

Every pair of eyes, both young and old, were glued to the windows or braved the elements outright to try and get a glimpse of the pitched battle waging out on the Hogwarts' lawn.

Snow swirled around the combatants as their breath coalesced within the frozen air as they strained to fill their lungs with the precious life giving need that was as laborious to obtain as trying to break through the defenses of their opponent.

The men wore buckskin or jeans to cover their modesty only as they fought bare foot and bare chested, thus the reason most females were so attuned to braving the elements to try and get a fleeting glimpse of their glistening torsos, despite the snow storm raging around them spoiling the view.

The men of the castle watched in awe as the warriors fought with one another at a speed that was shattering. Muscles flexed and extended with frightening speed as knives thrust forward or slashed across, accompanied by a flurry of kicks and punches that could well shatter bones if they connected on someone unprepared.

There was no room for error, so none was made as the paired combatants circled one another under the watchful eye of the lady shaman- Wind Song. Occasionally she would call a halt, offering a suggestion here, or to display an idea there, that the combatants readily incorporated to deadly effect.

Currently Remus and Little Wolf were sparring under Wind Song's ever watchful eye. They were circling each other predatorily, each trying to pierce the other's defenses. Though one was no match for the other; Remus had made great strides in his physical combat training over the several days and Harry was becoming more and more hard pressed to fend him off without incurring injury. Suddenly in a thought of inspiration, or more properly desperation as Harry's blade cut a swath across Remus' left ribs, Remus transformed for the first time on his own. The werewolf howled in rage as it took its pain and lashed out a clawed paw that Harry was able to twist away from the at the last instant which allowed saved him from being raked by Remus's razor sharp claws, but the force of the werewolf's enhanced strength sent him sprawling across the frozen ground. Too quick for even Wind Song to register the danger and enforce a halt in the match: Remus lunged to take advantage of Harry's exposed defenses. Claws protruded out toward tender flesh and jaws slavered and snapped in anticipation of fresh blood, only to be denied as Harry reared up, transforming as Remus was already committed in mid leap.

A titanic roar split the frigid air as an enormous grizzly bear with glowing green eyes swiped a heavily muscled paw that connected with the werewolf's jaw and sent him spinning away through the air. Remus skidded across the snow, scrabbling for purchase before impacting any icy drift that he bounced off of from with a grunt of pain and slumped down mewling in defeat before transforming back to a wounded man, cradling his left ribs tenderly, whilst blood dribbled down from Harry's knife wound on his right torso.

"Pa-dooo!" Wind Song barked, ending the match as the great bear transformed back into, a worried for his friend, Harry Potter.

"Remus, are you okay?" Harry began worriedly, hastening forward to check his friend's injuries, but Wind Song beat him there and quickly began healing the man's injuries as she both scolded Remus for losing control whilst complimenting him for having finally managed to transformed of his own accord.

"Ugh, ah, that stings…" he groused as Wind Song's glowing hand contacted torn flesh and the wounds began to knit together beneath them. "I..… I'll.,. . uh, be fine pup,." He wincingly reassured his worried friend, who breathed a sigh of relief before Wind Song rounded on him and vented her wrath for his having lowered himself to base animal instincts rather than relying on his more than adequate training , by _the people._

"What is wrong with you?" she seethed angrily, snapping at Harry as she healed his opponent. "You know better. You have been trained better. You could have killed this man!" she barked in outrage over his perceived loss of control.

Not being one to take criticism when believing himself in the right, Harry argued in defense,. "I never lose control and I'm certainly not gonna try and roll out from under werewolf claws when I can return like for like. I could have ripped his throat out if I really wanted to kill him,." he spat incredulously as he amended his reason for any concern in the matter. "I was only worried as I couldn't foresee him hurting himself from hitting that ice drift after falling from my return strike."

Wind Song scowled at that, she was not used to having her judgment questioned in the first place, let alone receiving any rebuttal from inferiors, though admittedly, Harry was above her station in the tribe's eyes. A Spirit Walker was essentially considered a national treasure among _the people. _His was the rarest of all gifts and was to be safeguarded at all costs.

Despite that, he had struck a chord that she found unbecoming. "Pah,.. You spend too much time with your toy guns and too little honing your true gifts to their fullest measure, so much so that you cannot be trusted to use them when necessary. Tell me_, Little man who pretends at being a wolf_, do you sleep with the toys you seemingly love so much?" she goaded, taking things to a harsher level than was prudent.

The rest of the _Chosen_ groaned worriedly at where this was going as Harry and Wind Song had been butting heads with more and more fervorsly over the last several days when since she became acutely aware of his avoidance in of drawing on his magical abilities. That and there was something gnawing at the woman. All of them suspected they knew what that something was, and it wasn't until this very morning that their suspicions were validated. Wind Song had broached the subject at breakfast, and Harry, not surprisingly, had not deigned to answer her curiosity curiosity, out of respect for the dead. She had immediately refuted that as only he had access to the , therefore it was beholden on him to answer for her out of respect for her family, and then she went farther yet, too far by his reaction, as she added pointedly.. . "If you had any honor you would answer as it is your honor alone that is in question." Harry had got up and left the table without another word, not so much as even a glare. He only sighed disappointedly and left.

Remus didn't need to know what the matter of contention was between them, he knew enough from experience that Harry's personal honor was without question. Judging by the pensive expressions on the faces of the male warriors, they were obviously curious, but had no intentions of pursuing the matter. Whatever this was, it was personal between Harry and Wind Song.

Remus did, however, defend his friend after he'd left, but it was obvious that Wind Song harbored doubts that she would not, could not, let go and he doubted from her reaction earlier that anything Harry could offer would not change those doubts.

Harry did not appreciate her inference, and even though she was itching for a fight that the old Harry would have tried to avoid, this was not the uncertain Harry of old, as evidenced when he answered her sarcastic challenge with like for like. "If you're so curious than then why not join me and see for yourself? I'm sure we can find some means to thaw out your icy britches," Harry drawled suggestively, earning a dangerous glare for his effort that was soon followed by an icy blast.

"If it's ice you want little man than suck on this!" Wind Song's palm shot forward and a blast of ice shards ripped through the air towards his naked torso. Harry spun in place as if attempting to apparate, but instead be picked up speed until he became a whirling vortex of ice and snow that sent the deadly shards careening back the way they came with Remus yelping in surprise and casting a shield over the two of them before they hit and splintered away harmlessly.

"Hey, now, really I'm fine. There's no reason for all this!" Remus deflected, pulling himself to his feet on an enraged Wind Song's heels as she pulled her arm irately away from his restraining hand.

"I do not need your help, I am Tetanna of the Locuta,(shaman of the people)."

"Remus," Harry barked, to which order the man reluctantly obeyed, shaking his head as he stepped away from interfering more in the growing tensions between the two. There was something between these two that he couldn't put his finger on and whatever it was it had been coming to a head for a while now.

"You're a little girl that needs a good spanking is what you are,." Harry goaded, intentionally riling the woman further than was most likely prudent, which given the way he was smirking at her was exactly as he intended.

"Nii, etu keva Beataa, Po!" She snarled at his in her native tongue, to which her fellows paled dramatically, though Calm Waters was about to speak up in rebuttal of whatever she had said that so shocked the others. This was an old story amongst the tribe and one not readily spoken of aloud, if at all. No one, save for two men, now only one still living, new the true story.

The story involved the chief's daughter and how she died. Her name was Beataa Po- Gentle Breeze. She was a Spirit Walker and daughter of Thunder, the tribe's most powerful warrior shaman and chief during those times.

"If you believe that than then take your vengeance,… if you can?" Harry challenged back grimly, despite the deep and gnawing pain behind his eyes that took the steel from his words.

"He took you in, trained you, and you betrayed his trust and shamed his lodge,." Wind Song snarled venomously, her magic began to swirl around her as she brought it to bear.

"Is that what **he** told you?" Harry asked stoically.

"Na,… he never spoke of it. It was too painful for him. The betrayal robbed him of a long and happy life.

"You are a fool Wind Song. You have eyes, but cannot see and ears that hear only what you want to hear, not what is true and just,." he scolded her pointedly.

"What, and I should listen to your lies while I see you hide behind a dead man's sorrow and a white man's meaningless badge?"

"Rather than have you believe gossip and exaggerations handed down by bigoted fools, why not ask the Thunder yourself? I will stand by his words." Harry offered.

Wind Song nearly jumped at the chance to speak with her deceased grandsire, but her own festering, albeit misplaced, hate had taken root. "You would have me believe the lies you put in his mouth?" she scoffed.

Harry scowled at that, but answered in a dread monotone that settled all arguments and made her ashamed. "The dead may not tell all that we would wish, but they cannot lie. If you believe I murdered your aunt than ask him, I will stand by what he tells you."

"You would trick me and leave me amongst the spirits to hide your shame,." She insinuated, paranoid that he would make such an offer unless he was _deadly sure_ of its outcome.

"Tetanna?!" Bear Claw barked in outrage at her unfounded suspicions. "Your grandfather always said Harry was an honorable man. He would not have asked you to aid him if this was not so," he scolded the woman.

Wind Song shook her head as tears began to fall. "Then why is she dead? Why will no one speak of it? Where was the justice for _the people _in her name?"

"She was avenged," Harry answered coldly as he closed the distance in a heartbeat and latched onto the girl before her pain could make things worse. The world blurred around them. Wind Song tried to wrench her hand free, and failing to break his iron grip, she cast a constricting hex that would pull the life giving air from his lungs, collapsing them so that he could not breathe and would eventually suffocate.

She gaped in surprise tinged with growing fear as he flung her aside, completely unaffected despite the hex hitting point blank from her out stretched hand.

"Magic of the living has no meaning here," he snarled coldly.

"Here?" she cast about, the landscape was the same, except there was no castle in the background, and her companions were nowhere in evidence. "Where have you taken me?" she demanded.

"Where you seemingly think you want to go," he shot back with a note of disgust coloring his voice.

The snow swirled up before the surprised girl and before she could react a voice she remembered well halted her in her tracks.

"Gityaa fenteee jootifa, Wind Song!" her dead grandfather's voice demanded she cease her foolishness.

"G-Grandfather?" Wind Song gasped as the image of a powerful Locuta chieftain in his prime formed and stepped out from within the swirling snow between Harry and the shaman female.

"I charged you with a sacred duty to aid Little Wolf in this time of darkness and this is how you honor my wishes?" At seeing her incredulous look he added angrily. "Do you think because we have passed on to the next life that we cannot watch over our loved ones? They are a part of us as we are of them; death has no dominion over the bonds of love."

"I… I need to know, grandfather. I cannot rest, she cannot rest until…?"

"Bah!" the chief scoffed. "You want nothing more than to assuage your curiosity sparked from nothing more than idle gossip. How can you, a shaman of _the people,_ believe the whispers of fools and braggarts too cowardly to join in a fight that could well determine their freedom if not their very lives? This mad dog does not want just a piece of the world, but all of it. How long before his madness stretches across the great sea and destroys our lands and people? He does not wish to just rule the world, but such is his hate he means to destroy it, but not quickly, no, he wants everyone and everything to suffer long and long before he destroys all we love."

He pointed an accusing finger down at his, now cowering, granddaughter. "You shame me as you shame _the people_ in forgetting what is important, for the sake of what is not!"

"How can you say her death is not important, she was your own daughter?" Wind Song shot back in argument, thinking it defended her actions.

"She _is_ my daughter and it is for me to say. Her death was a heart ache then, but I am comforted with her presence now. What came after,…" at this he shifted his eyes meaningfully toward a silent Harry who seemed to be fighting his own heartache over the matter.

"What came after.,.." the chief reiterated., "…was an even greater sorrow. I am sorry, Little Wolf. I should have listened, but I was a fool consumed by grief for much of what I wrought by my own short sightedness. Had I thought with my head what I already knew in my heart to be true, I would have, should have, cleared your good name long ago. I waited for you to return, but you never did, and I took the secret shame of it to my grave. I made the mistake of believing I had **more** time. he stressed the word _more_ and Harry startled at the inference. It was forbidden for the dead to reveal information about the living world to living souls. They could advise and offer direction, but they could not expressly reveal things as yet unknown. Despite that, Thunder was trying to give him a clue.

Harry nodded, not so much that he understood, but that he had caught the importance behind the Chief's words, and he would try to puzzle out his meaning. It was worrisome as this last seemed to validate his assumption that Voldemort would be the death of him.

Satisfied, by Harry's expression that his hint had been received, the chief turned his attention back to his granddaughter.

"I cannot give this the time it deserves as Harry brought you here at great risk, having not readied himself properly to make this journey, but, as I see that you cannot accept _my word_ as your grandfather and once chief, than perhaps hers will settle this for once and for all. Little Wolf?"

The chief shifted his attention back to Harry who surprisingly shook his head in denial, disobeying his chief's request.

"I do not ask for Wind Song, not even for myself in this Harry, but for her and you,." The chief directed with soft and understanding eyes. Harry reluctantly nodded at that, a single tear falling from his vacant green eyes as he waved his hand beckoningly out into the swirling snow. Thunder stepped forward and put a reassuring hand to his once- apprentice's shoulder.

"Remember, Little Wolf?"

Harry nodded his understanding, reassuring the chief that he would consider the clue he was trying to give him.

"Till next we meet my chief." Harry bid the specter farewell.

"Deh hueta seggu voo, Little Wolf."

Harry startled at that as the chief had made his goodbye with the fondest of farewells offered by the people. It was something reserved for loved ones.

_My heart goes with you… _

Wind Song startled at that, as rarely if ever could she remember her grandfather displaying such emotion and he was most definitely a man that only said what he meant.

"Deh hueta seeu voo, Thunder,. "Harry echoed in return, before the chief grabbed him up in a brisk hug which further surprised the shaman.

She was already alighting tobegining to realize that she had made a terrible mistake, and doubly so by placing the blame unjustly on Harry. "Listen well to your aunt, granddaughter. I will do what I can to calm your father on your behalf." He sighed wearily in warning that her father, his son, was displeased with her actions. With a gentle wave that carried some affection despite his disappointment, he faded away and another took his place.

She was beyond beautiful. The many stories of her beauty did not do justice to the image of Beataa Po - Gentle Breeze. She wore a kind, if troubled, smile that intensified when she turned her eyes toward Harry who was looking at the ground and sniffling softly.

"Am I so hideous that you fear to look upon me, Little Wolf? She asked incredulously, but for all that her voice carried the pleasing warmth of her name.

Harry's eyes rose up in answer to her plea filled challenge and his breath caught at the sight of her, as it always had before in life.

"Even were you hideous I would always wish to see you, heit tah,(beloved)."

"And yet you have never sought me out in death," she returned in gentle disappointment.

"I failed you in life; I have no right to trouble you in death." Harry shook his head dejectedly at that, to which his onetime love sighed her own disappointment.

"Is it a failure when one chooses to honor a respected elder's express wishes? Is it failure when someone dies through no fault of your own? Is it a failure when one's heart is breaking and still he one does the honorable thing and returns a loved one's remains to their family so that they may grieve and one day know peace? You knew my family would not understand, and yet you did what was right at the expense of your own self-respect and peace of mind, how could you think I would possibly be troubled by such a kind and thoughtful gesture, heit tah?"

A confused Wind Song watched as Harry's hand swiped surreptitiously at moist eyes while her deceased aunt berated him gently for doing what was right at his own expense. She began to realize that she and so many others had believed the worst of their best, as she continued to watch with rapt interest as the heart wrenching reunion enfolded.

"I-I could have taken you away with me,." Harry defended desperately, speaking more out of his own regret than what had been possible at the time.

"You would not have defied your chief's wishes, nor would I have expected it of you. Had you spirited me away against the Thunder's command, _the people_ would have hunted us to the ends of the Earth. We would have never been free, never known peace, and eventually we would have grown to resent one another."

Harry nodded reluctantly, knowing the truth of her words. "You are wise, heit tah."

"Perhaps I have grown so, but I was a fool then. Had I gone to my father and explained things properly he would have eventually understood, but I was afraid and did not follow my heart until too late."

At this she turned her attention to her niece as she explained. "Harry suffered long and long at the hands of our people before he eventually opened their eyes to the knowledge that men are measured by what they do, not by to whom they are born. Through pain and sacrifice beyond your imagining he passed every impossible task before him and rose up to the loftiest and most honored position among our people. My father was once his most hated foe, but grew in time to cherish him as a beloved son and thus adopted Harry as one of _the people_. This did not sit well with some as he was not of our blood. I am ashamed that even today there is bigotry and hatred for what one does not understand, nor ever tries to."

"Please don't, Heit tah. You don't owe her or anyone an explanation for…" Harry's words were cut off by a raised hand from Gentle Breeze.

"I would have her know the truth and pass on what she knows so that others may see the error of their ways. I would have you know peace, heit tah. I would have you love again rather than play the fool keeping others from loving you properly." At this she raised a pointed eyebrow, daring him to refute her summation of his behavior toward witches who were clearly interested in pursuing a relationship with him.

"As I was saying,…" Gentle Breeze continued her tale. , "Harry had grown to have feelings for me over time, when I had given him no reason to as I too once saw him as beneath my station and unworthy of the honor my father had bestowed upon him. Harry though.,.." at this she paused, shooting him a shy smile .,

"Harry is quite persistent and in time he helped me to see with my heart as well as my eyes. I fell in love with him, but too late. Harry was going to ask my father formally and respectfully for my hand, but at the harvest dance that night my father promised me in marriage to another as is his right by custom. My intended was a kind and generous man who cared deeply for me and I admit that I too had had feelings for him before Harry supplanted them. Before the entire gathering, Harry rose up and asked my father formally to reconsider as he wanted me for his own. Though shocked, my father gave to me the opportunity to speak my heart and settle the matter. Harry looked on with love and pride shinning in his eyes as he waited for me to profess our love. To my eternal shame.,.. I denied my own heart as I denied him. I had not the courage to go against my father's wishes and the expectations of my people. I let the fear of ignorant bigotry stay my tongue and I watched in tears as I crushed Harry's spirit as I scorned him out of cowardice and false pride."

Gentle Breeze was crying openly now. Though stricken by her words, Harry reached out to offer her the comfort of her arms, by she shunned the offer.

"I do not deserve your comfort, heit tah. Only your hatred could I accept and rightfully so."

"Never,." Harry refuted, to which she wiped at her own eyes. She sighed in resolution.

"They laughed and scorned him after that. Father banished him for having stained mine and his own honor. He left our lands the next day in shame, for no fault of his own other than having loved someone unworthy of him."

"Don't heit tah?" !" he pleaded as she broke down in tears of regret.

"You know it's true!" she spat back vehemently, to which he shrugged helplessly, not embracing her opinion.

After several minutes, Wind Song broke the uncomfortable silence. "But how did you… didn't he… we thought he…?"

"Killed me?" Gentle Breeze finished the thought that so many falsely believed to be true out of ignorance for some and shame at their own dishonor for others.

"Harry loved me. Do you think the Great Father would bestow the gift of _spirit walking_ on someone capable of destroying that which he loves?" she retorted sarcastically.

"Harry left or, more properly, was driven out. In my shame I still held my heart in fear filled agony as I watched him leave and our people turned away too disgusted to even look upon him let alone wish him well in parting."

She paused, flickering for a moment before turning accusing eyes toward Harry. "Do not release your hold, Harry.," she demanded. "You do me no favors, as all here know my shame whether you would hide it among the living or no. Let me return what was never ours to take."

"What difference does it make? I will most probably die in the coming battle anyway, and even if not, I will never return to _the people_ as there is nothing there for me to return to,." he argued desolately.

"There is nothing for you to return to because _we_ took all that you had from you; I in my cowardice and foolishness, and my father in his pride and grief. If you cannot let me do this for you as you deserve, then at least let me do it for my father and myself. Let me regain our honor by admitting our shame and making amends."

It was not so much a plea as a demand, and reluctantly he agreed and let her continue her story, whose ending hurt him as much now as he had then.

"Overtime, gossip continued both for and against, and still I maintained my silence. We began to hear talk of a territorial lawman who though harsh was fair and kind, though admittedly he often had no reason to be so. They said he brought justice no matter the color of one's skin or the beliefs of one's faith. Even a lost child who was beset upon was returned unharmed to our lands by this lawman who should not even have had knowledge of our existence let alone any reason to intervene on our behalf. The child said he had hair as black as the name he bore. My father wished to seek him out and thank him properly for his kindness, and asked the child what more he could tell him of his rescuer. The boy said he had green eyes that captured the spirit and held it fast and safe. I knew then as did my father of whom he spoke, and though my father belittled the knowledge in false contempt, my heart swelled in the knowledge and I took it as a sign. That very night I left our lands for the first time in my life and I sought he who could never forgive my treachery, but I promised myself that I would spend a lifetime earning his forgiveness if he would let me. I was young and naive in the ways of the outside world. I ran afoul of men with cold hearts and rough hands. I fought back with knife and magic, but for all that I had no knowledge of the weapons of commen menmen and the deadly intent to which they utilized them. I was wounded, terribly so,… and I was misused,…also, terribly so. I had thought to find my love, but he in turn found me, only too late. Harry had been tracking these men as they had visited harm upon others in many and even worse ways than upon me. He was too late to save me, but I was still avenged. Then,… in his infinite kindness, he returned my body so that my family could grieve properly." Gentle Breeze left off sadly, snuffling softly as she held Harry gaze with one of profound adoration on her part.

"But he was banished. To defy such an edict is death!" Wind Song gasped in sudden dread. Her troubled gaze shifted back and forth seeking explanation.

"Yes,." Gentle Breeze agreed. "But he brought back my broken shell just the same,." she acknowledged reverently, her warm eyes drinking in her once love.

"They all wrongfully thought him as having revenged himself upon me, my father and our people. _The people_ spat on him and hurled curses at his passing, eager for their chief to order his fateful end and assuage the blood they craved. He spared them not a glance in passing as he reined in before my family's lodge and laid my soulless shell gently at my horrified father's feet. In his grief and rage, father struck him again and again till near death, though Harry made no attempt to defend himself out of respect for my father and my family's pain. Despite all he'd suffered, he still cared for my father and our people too much to ever raise a hand against them."

"How are you.,.. why are you not dead?" she asked Harry, bewildered that anyone could survive if _the people_ deemed it otherwise. Their enemies were none, as none were allowed to live once having wronged the Locuta.

"He is not dead as I realized my mistake when I saw the horror of it in his eyes when I accused him of having taken my child from life." The Thunder faded back into being to answer this part of Wind Song's inquiry as only he could, having been there at the time in question.

"My knife was a hair breadth from his throat though he made not the slightest move against me. I saw it then, the profound grief that only one could have when their heart was taken from them. I pushed my will into his mind and he let me come without the slightest resistance as he cared not anymore whether he lived or died. I saw in his mind that which no man would ever wish to see… a daughter, a love…broken, violated and left for dead. I saw what he did to those responsible and I relished it. I saw him cradle the light of his life in his arms and comfort her as she passed. I saw forgiveness and regret the likes of which I had never known until that moment. Lastly, I saw two people in love separated by fear and intolerance. My blade fell from my hand, though had I the strength I would have gladly turned it upon myself. Harry spirit walked from my grasp for the first and last time that I would ever see him do so in life. I ordered the people to leave him in peace, to never trouble him again in any fashion, but I should have done more." He turned his attention from Wind Song to Harry. "I should have cleared your name and restored your honor amongst our tribe, but I thought little on it as I never expected to see you again in life, so what matter? That was a grave mistake as whispers began from loose tongues, only I was too consumed by grief to hear and squash such idle talk. Here we are, centuries later, and the rumors still never cease." He turned accusing eyes on his granddaughter who had the good grace to look suitably ashamed.

"Such a waste…." the Thunder left off regretfully.

He turned troubled eyes on the two once lovers and begged their forgiveness for the part he played in their hardship.

"I can never apologize enough for the part I played in this abysmal folly. It is too late to make amends though I wish with all that I am that I could."

Gentle Breeze patted her father's trembling shoulder supportively. "It is never too late, father. Harry's good name has been restored, dei,(? (yes)." sShe asked her niece pointedly.

"All will know, I swear it, Beataa-Po,." the young shaman vowed.

"Harry…?" Gentle Breeze prompted as it was far too quiet from his quarter.

"Do as you will." He shrugged indifferently. "As I said, it matters not as I won't ever go back to _the people._ What care I for the gossiping of old women and the chest pounding of foolish thugs eager to make a name for themselves as they boast and brag over what they think they can do. ? All I care about is how I feel about myself in here,." he thumbed over his heart for reference. "In here I am free."

"Are you?" Gentle Breeze questioned. "You flirt with the notion of finding love again, but you fear to embrace it. You amuse yourself as you trick and play silly games on the females in your life, but I see deeper. Let go your pain, heit tah. Let your heart be at peace to chance love again, and in so doing free us both."

Harry startled at that, not realizing that his pain and loneliness was hurting her as well. "I... I'm sorry. I …"

"Shhh…" she shushed him. She and her father were beginning to fade, as despite his best efforts his reserves were waning dangerously ,and he could not maintain his hold on their realm any longer.

She smiled warmly as she always did when she thought of him. " I am blessed for the time we had, however short, heit tah. You honor me, but know that I only want for you the happiness that you once wanted so desperately for me. Be at peace, live, love…"

"And kick the dark one's arse, Little Wolf," the Thunder added as his daughter slapped at his arm in exasperation. And the two faded away, arguing good naturedly as they had often done in life.

Harry snorted a laugh as the world blurred into being around them and the landscape brightened with life and vitality.

The Locuta warriors startled at their sudden reemergence, though Remus took it in stride, having experienced this himself, and reassured the others that all would be well.

Wind Song reached out tremulously toward Harry, beseeching his forgiveness as she tried to apologize. "I.. I am sorry for ever having doubted…"

"Save it." Harry scoffed, turning away with disdain as he ignored the hand proffered in friendship.

He walked away from her and the others without a backward glance, needing time to sort through his thoughts. Remus stepped up alongside Wind Song, watching him go and worrying for the tense set of his shoulders and the cold rebuff of his fellow tribesmen.

"I only wanted to…" she began to explain, but Remus would hear none of it.

"Help him? No.,.. you only wanted to help yourself and satisfy your own curiosity. Why should you be any different than the rest of the world?" he spat in scorn, before leaving toward the waiting warmth of the castle, finding the company uncomfortably cool just now.

The next morning found Harry sitting atop the astronomy tower lost in his own thoughts as he nursed a steaming mug of coffee. His gaze swept across the landscape, appreciating the rising sun whilst keeping a wary eye out for trouble in any form. His ears perked up at the soft pad of footfalls that would have been silent to nearly anyone outside of Remus with his enhanced werewolf senses.

Wind Song stepped up alongside him and patiently waited in respectful silence for him to acknowledge her presence. He noted she wore the bleached buckskin leathers that denoted a tribal shaman which proclaimed she was seeking him out in her official capacity as a leader amongst the Locuta.

Without preamble he acknowledged her presence by stating coolly, without bothering to raise his head to look her in the eyes. "I want you and yours gone from this castle and these shores by the end of the day."

He could tell by the way she startled that not only were his words heard but his intention blatantly clear.

She tried to argue logically in favor of remaining. "This darkness will eventually threaten us all. If we do not stand here, now, then I fear for your success without our aid. That being the case and eventually we will be fighting for our people's right to freedom and survival on our own shores. Please don't let my blatant mistake harden your heart against our people," she begged solemnly.

She didn't realize the mistake she had made by trying to play on his sympathies.

Harry surged to his feet. Piercing green eyes of fire caught and held her black irises that feared to look away.

"I have no people,." he spat angrily. "I was no more than a slave to you and yours; a wild animal to be beaten and used for hard labor and sport. I survived and persevered of my own accord, I learned what I could, chanced to fall in love and for that banished, having to move on with no more to my name than the clothes on my back and a hollow ache in my heart. Despite that I kept your lands and people secret and even went out of my way to aid you discreetly whenever I could. I owe you nothing. I want of you -nothing. Nothing is what your people have ever given me so leave it at that and just leave."

Though visibly shaken and her eyes suspiciously moist, she still attempted to reason with him, only it was more for herself than for him and the people of the castle.

"Without our aid you could all die tomorrow. Please don't let…"

He cut her off before she could finish her plea.

"I would rather die amongst friends than triumph with enemies."

His words cut her to the heart and tears tracked down her cheeks as she dolefully murmured. "If this is what you truly wish then we will leave, but I give you until the end of the day to change your mind and except our aid in the spirit of good fellowship with which it is offered. For my part in this I humbly ask your forgiveness and beg you not to let my shortsightedness harden you against our people."

Harry reluctantly nodded his acceptance of her apology. "I can forgive, but I won't ever forget that you willfully embarrassed me in front of someone I respect and someone I love. Any future encounters with them will now be uncomfortable and I would not have it so."

Snuffling dejectedly in shame and regret, Wind Song padded softly away, leaving him in peace.

Harry spent several hours agonizing over his decision before coming to the conclusion that he would have to take a more proactive approach if he had any chance of his and the rest of his friend's' survival. Briefly he wondered if it was just his fate or if he himself made things harder for himself than they need be.

Either way, he decided he needed to let off some steam and if he was gonna get up in a lather then he might as well take it out on the opposition. Besides, it was almost Christmas and as he was pretty sure that he wasn't getting anything, as usual, he would make an effort to get himself a present instead.

Remus had been arguing with him the better part of twenty minutes as Harry calmly loaded his guns and checked the smoothness of their draw with a professional ease that bespoke a great deal of practice. He finished off by loading his Henry repeating rifle and slinging a spare ammunition belt over his shoulder.

"Harry, please?" Remus begged worriedly. "Don't go off halfcocked."

Harry paused, as he was chambering a round into his Henry, to snort at his friend's unintentional play on words. "I'm just gonna do a spot of hunting to see if I can thin the herd. What turds I can flush out now will only make our job that much easier in the long run. There's no need to get in a flap over a bit of sport as I'm not taking on the whole of Voldemort's remaining forces, just picking off a few of the stragglers." He attempted to placate his worried friend.

"Well at least take Ron and me along for back up just in case of trouble?" Remus suggested.

Harry paused for a second to scratch his chin while he contemplated the offer. "Hmm, I suppose a werewolf might come in handy for tracking and such things? Okay Remus, pull Ron outta whatever fridge he's raiding and let's make a day of it. Tell him to bring his rifle, as practice makes perfect."

"Great, thanks Harry. I'll just be a minute to give Dora a head's up and to collect Ron."

"Take your time, Remus,." Harry called after his hurriedly retreating friend. Once Remus was out of sight, he chuckled at the ease with which he'd sent Remus off on a wild goose chase whilst he sneaked away for a bit of stress relief.

He'd never really thought before about how much modern man relied on one another. He found it unsettling as he'd grown comfortable with having to fend for himself . . While he admitted it was a lonely existence and there was something to be said for camaraderiey, he still found it easier and more freeing to only have to be responsible for his own survival.

_I suppose there's something to be said for not dying alone in some weed patch if only_ _just to have a friend to bury you properly when all was said and done. _He conjectured as he left to relieve his stress in the therapeutic way to which his 'antique' generation was accustomed..

He hadn't even made it to the castle's doors before he was waylaid by the Locuta, they were surprisingly dressed for combat rather than travel.

They appeared to be waiting calmly for him, and he could tell by the way that Bear Claw cast a knowing look toward Wind Song, that she must have a touch of the seer about her.

"Damned meddlers," Harry grumbled under his breath as he pitched his Stetson up to scrutinize the war party.

"Don't feel obliged to say goodbye. I'm not sentimental though I'll admit you boys are good company… the witch not so much," Harry remarked off handily, spitting on the ground, after mentioning Wind Song, in a show of contempt. A couple of the warriors snorted at the dark humor, either that or they too had their issues with the pretentious shaman.

Several witches and wizards started milling about in interest; among them _Hermione and the girls_ as he was beginning to think of the gaggle of witches who were meddling in his affairs on an increasing basis, some of which was appreciated, some, - not so much.

Wind Song sighed in a long suffering way at the antics of her male companions, though surprisingly she didn't take the lead, and left Bear Claw to confront the willful Spirit Walker.

"Wind Song has had a premonition that you are going to place yourself needlessly in harm's way and this we cannot allow," he suggested with stoic resolve.

"That right?" Harry snorted incredulously. "Can't see how you all have anything to say about it, let alone be able to stop me from going my way! Besides that I told little missy here,…" he fanned his hand in Wind Song's direction, enjoying the way she colored indignantly at his belittling remark and casual disregard, "…that you all were to pack up and get by sundown. I ain't changed my mind in that, so you best step back before you fall back,." Harry suggested darkly, only no one present mistook his threat for a mere suggestion.

Unfortunately the distraction the chosen had provided had given Ron and Remus ample time to catch up, thus spoiling his plan to go it alone, which was something that Remus had readily picked up on - as evidenced by the disappointed looks he was currently shooting his way.

"We have been invited to stay and assist you in the approaching conflict,." Wind Song returned with a hint of smugness that was present in her voice just enough to irritate, but not agitate and risk the wrath of his legendary temper.

"By whom?" Harry asked in keen interest.

"By us, er… all of us," Katie hastily amended, stepping forward boldly and sweeping her arm over the entire castle's population for emphasis, though he wasn't necessarily convinced it wasn't just _Hermione and the girls_ behind this coup. Yet another attempt to rein him in, or some misguided attempt to try and keep him safe and secure.

_Lord love 'em for it, but enough is enough._

"You sure that's how you want it?" Harry asked the gathering as a whole, but his gaze remained locked in _Hermione and the girls'_ direction.

The gathering nodded their collective heads or murmured their approval of accepting _the chosen's_ help, including the witches in question.

He couldn't fault them for their decision as they needed the help, and all _the people_ were fierce fighters; _the chosen_ being the best of the lot, and practically an army in themselves by what he'd gleaned first hand from past experience and recent training.

"Fair enough." Harry seemed to agree, before making a gesture and within moments his summoned saddle bags arrived as he snatched them from the air and draped them over his unhindered shoulder.

He reached inside his overcoat and plucked his golden Guardian badge off his shirt and tossed it toward Hermione's feet. She gasped in worried recognition as the badge spun into view, coming to a halt in front of her.

"As we agreed, 'Mione. It may be a technicality, but I did in fact end Voldemort's life, therefore I relinquish my appointment as Guardian and forgo all honors and privileges there in, save the aforementioned detail of my use of the Guardian's Keep to return to my past time period, so mote it be."

"Noo.." Hermione gasped as Ron managed to shout simultaneously..… "Harry don't!" Ron's warning plea came a scant millisecond too late as light flashed over the gathering, magic having agreed that his vow was met and accepted his decision.

Harry patted his trembling friend's shoulder fondly in parting with a warm, wistful smile on his face. "There ain't no Harry round here friend. The name's: Black, Marshal Jamie Black."

That said, he tipped his hat in parting to the staring group who were still stunned in varying stages of shock and fretful disbelief of his immediate and final refutation of their decision to retain the Locuta's services against his wishes.

"Adios, folks" Marshall Black held up a hand in a half wave of parting as he turned away without a moment's consideration let alone regret, at his deciding to depart so abruptly.

He turned toward the stunned warriors and offered bracingly, "See now, everybody's happy. You get to stay and play and they get to keep and entreat you. It's a win-win, oh mighty and all-knowing/all seeing shaman." He swept his hat off his head and bowed deeply, clearly mocking the Locuta witch.

"Kuh-faf lata,(Good bye, brothers)." He held his hand up respectfully to the male warriors who echoed the sentiment reluctantly.

He walked calmly around the group, pausing at Wind Song's shoulder to offer a parting sentiment for her benefit alone.

"Kuh-faf, dip shit."

She flicked her hair, twisting her head away, not deigning to look at him further. With a last chuckle at her expense, he swatted her backside, appreciating her outraged howl at his rudeness as he made for the waiting castle doors.

He figured he'd make it twenty feet or so before things went pear shaped, but really he only got about half that distance….


	13. Chapter 13: A little more time

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Sorry, I'm offering this one without having Jenifer beta it first in the hopes that I did a better job than previous. Nothing on Jenifer,( her help is much appreciated), but I wanted to get this one out as I feel you've all waited quite long enough and I seem to be immersed in the writing zone these past few days. Hope everyone enjoys. MK-ONE

**West of Here**

**Chapter Thirteen: A Little More Time**

"**Stupefy!" **

The words sounded like a thunderclap as if someone had cast whilst utilizing a _sonorous charm_, but really it was because so many voices had shouted the spell at the same instant that lead credence to the sheer volume of the cast.

Marshall Black had already been moving the instant he heard the first syllable and was gone in the blink of an eye, literally so, by the end of the third syllable.

"What,.. Where…?" voices echoed their surprise at his disappearance just as another interrupted them.

"**How dare you!" **Wind Song raged at the gaggle of witches staring dumbstruck at not only what they'd unthinkingly done, but how ineffectual they had been on the whole.

Twelve capable witches stood dumbly in varying states of shocked disbelief, but it was Dumbledore's timely intervention that saved the day. An enormous shield erupted between the Locuta warriors and Hermione's group just as the warriors were bringing their wands to bear, intent on leveling the witches where they stood for the insult they'd unknowingly shown their tribe. They may be at odds, but for all that, Harry was a Spirit Walker, one of _the people._

"OMIGOD!" Hermione shrieked, dropping her wand from nerveless fingers, not even registering the immediate danger she was in as she was overcome with revulsion by what she had just attempted. Her wand clattered on the paves coming poignantly to a rest next to the discarded Guardian badge that lay dully at her feet. Its shine as absent as the chest it was once proudly gleaming upon not more than a few minutes prior.

Dumbledore paused to scoop up both articles commanding the parties to "come with me" as he strolled between the two groups with stately impunity that clearly displayed a complete lack of concern in that his command would be followed with expedience.

He led the group to the reception hall just off of the Great Hall where the Tri-wizard winners had once gathered; Harry's fateful fourth year. The direness of that singular occasion was not lost on him, or the fact that the self-same party of interest on that occasion was the same for this one, only this time conspicuously absent. Professor's Snape and McGonagal filed in silently on the heels of the Locuta, who took up wary positions along one wall whilst Hermione and several of her contingents fell woodenly into chairs around the room. Their legs would no longer support their weight as minds reeled in horror over what they had just done.

Before Dumbledore could even begin, Hermione took up the gauntlet as her near pleading voice absently tried to explain…

"I..I don't know what I was thinking? I just knew that I couldn't let him leave, not again, not like before? I couldn't face that again. I was desperate to stop him, even if j-just to get him to listen for a minute, give us a chance to… Oh, God?!" Hermione wailed, burying her face in her hands as great wracking sobs tore from her throat.

Katie Bell was already shivering, her hands twined around her body as she shivered for reasons other than being cold.

"Katie?" Dumbledore prodded, not unkindly.

"I…I had to tell him before it was too late… had to t-tell him…" Katie gasped vacantly.

"Tell him what, child?" Professor McGonagal asked gently, taking up the thread of conversation.

"I..I l-love him." Katie answered in a small, reverent voice that despite its connotations, surprised no one in the room, even the Locuta seemed anything, but surprised by the revelation.

Bear Claw snorted indulgently offering a half humorous sarcasm of… "Then curse him, it makes perfect sense."

His fellows snorted a laugh along with him, but Wind Song's rage made itself known as she saw this as anything, but a laughing matter.

"What you have done is forbidden! It is beyond forbidden. To attack the person of a Spirit Walker is to insult the spirits of our ancestors. It..oh…"she clamped a hand of her trembling mouth at a loss to explain the direness of their actions, tears trailed down from her horrified eyes as she too just realized that she had been a hair's breadth away from the same mistake only yesterday when she'd brandished her wand at his person.

Her fellows shifted uneasily next to her; each face sobered by the realization over the seriousness of the offense committed, whether knowingly or not.

Dumbledore stoked his beard in what Professor McGonagal knew was a calming, stalling gesture that served him as well as it did others in giving them a chance to organize their thoughts before continuing. Knowing already what he would probably glean from the rest, he still asked the remaining witches why they had tried to stun Harry to prevent his departure

Most of them did so out of fear for themselves as well as their families believing that Harry and only Harry could deliver them from Voldemort's evil.

It was not something he was entirely sure of at this point in that Harry could well be right in that he had effectively fulfilled said prophesy by making Voldemort mortal once more. He was or would be still immensely powerful, to be sure, but he was no longer invincible.

Some of the others, like Hermione, could simply not face another separation from their beloved friend. McGonagal unconsciously nodded her head in agreement along with their confession. He was a scamp and a rogue, but for all that he was as loveable now as he was the day he first stumbled through the castle doors in wide- eyed wonder.

Not for the first time she mused at just what the title "the chosen one" implied on the whole. Silently the aging Headmistress sent a silent prayer of both thanks and apology to her dearly departed friends for the gift they'd misused, begging another chance to make things right.

Dumbledore noted his counterpart's silent musing, knowing all too well the direction of his friend's thoughts, much as they undoubtedly mirrored his own.

"He is a complicated man, I grant you, and I myself have wronged him knowingly and unknowingly in the past, but he is at his essence a very good and honorable man."

Albus paused in expressing his thoughts as he tried to make his point known. "This is perhaps my fault more than anyone else's, Harry included. He had no guide, no reasonable expectation to grow into the man he became what with the role models I mistakenly provided him. He grew up unloved and unwanted through no fault of his own, but by my unthinking devise. I wanted for him a safe environment, but I never took into consideration that safety from without was no less vital than safety from within. The Dursly's misused, neglected and abused their own blood…"

Many gasped around the room, but Dumbledore talked over them, needing to make his pointed confession understood.

"Harry grew without having any common understanding of feelings or how to properly express them."

"Yet no one knows it better." Wind Song interjected, interrupting the headmaster amidst gasps for not only her audacity, but in what she intimated.

"He is a Spirit Walker." She ventured simply, as if that explained everything. "I, in my stupidity, had lost sight of that. I am as guilty as you all in that I took for granted what my heart already knew to be true." She swiped her hand over the offending witches for emphasis.

"Could you please elaborate what a Spirit Walker entails?" Snape asked, finally making his presence known if only for curiosity's sake.

Still shaken, Bear Claw took up request in Wind Song's place. "A Spirit Walker is the rarest of known gifts amongst our tribe."

"Amongst the world" Albus interjected knowingly with a slight twinkle returning to his eyes. He had studied up on the subject and frankly he was astounded.

Bear Claw nodded his head in agreement for as far as he was concerned, those among his tribe were the elite of spell caster's and in a Spirit Walker was rare among them than it stood to reason that it was rare the world over.

"He communes with the dead." Bear Claw answered simply.

"A necromancer?" Daphne Greengrass wrongfully assumed, revulsion clearly evident in the way her lip curled in disgust at the notion.

"Pah- thoo!" Bear Claw spat in disgust at that. "I said communes with the dead, not commands their soulless husks! He is a bridge between this world and the next. He champions the dead as well as the living. He avenges those wrongfully deprived of life when and where he can. When he cannot, he eases the conscious and brings peace and resolution. His is the most sacred and most revered of duties."

"For him though it is not a duty, but a privilege for he could not be so if he did not see it so." Wind Song added, to which her fellows murmured reverently in agreement, though the rest of the gathering was puzzled by her pointed statement.

Knowing of what the Locuta had tried to intimate, Dumbledore asked politely, "Please try and explain what you mean, Locuta Shaman?"

"One must be pure of heart for the spirits of our ancestors would not trust nor confer with someone whose intentions they even remotely doubted. He is their confident in all things. The greatest of which is faith. Faith in the next life is for him a basis in fact, but for us…? We are not to know the ways and wherefore of the next life, but for him the rules blur, necessarily so."

"Our beloved ancestors watch over us and try to guide us. They whisper in our dreams or let us feel their love in a Gentle Breeze." Bear Claw intimated dually to which Wind Song broke down in tears again, only this time she seemed more grateful then dismayed.

Calm Waters added his understanding of the taboo inadvertently attempted. "To harm or attempt to harm the person of a known Sprit Walker is to offend the dead, to shat upon their efforts to watch over us, there is no greater insult to those we love then to bite the hand that helps. To knowingly attempt to harm the person of the only remaining Spirit Walker in existence is to throw away one's eternal soul. Our ancestors would not accept such an outrage. They would turn away from us and would set us adrift in the next life. Our eternity would be one long unending, meaningless, loneliness; bereft of all love and fellowship."

"Can one imagine anything worse?" Shadow Wolf asked the room poignantly.

Hermione and the others sobbed all the harder over the ramifications of what they'd almost done.

She cried the hardest of all. She had been so terrified of losing her best friend, again, that she had probably done just that and in the process had undoubtedly doomed herself in the process. _She would never again see her parents._

After a time to gather their wits, Bear Claw attempted to soothe the horrified room. "Do not dwell on it overly so, Little Wolf is an enigma and always has been. Our histories have never held him as one who holds a grudge. His pride and sense of honor would not dictate such extreme consequences unless he was betrayed in the extreme and I can think of only one being who has earned his unending wrath in that department."

Hopeful looks ghosted amongst the distraught female contingent. Though Wind Song was gladdened for it she thought it beholden of her to warn. "Make no mistake, he is undoubtedly pissed and his wrath will be terrible, but for all that it will doubtfully be life or _death_ altering."

Many sobered worriedly at that, but overall a sense of relief encompassed the gathering.

"Ladies, if I were you, I'd be contemplating taking an extended vacation." Shadow Wolf suggested, smiling predatorily.

"I hear Antarctica lovely this time of year." Snape offered clapping his hands together and rubbing them bracingly in anticipation.

"W-What do you think he'll d-do?" Katie asked apprehensively.

"I think a better question is what, if anything, do you think him incapable of doing?" Dumbledore asked the group as a whole and despite the gravity of the situation his eyes were twinkling brilliantly. "I feel it important to remind you that this is not the shy, uncertain and all too readily forgiving Harry Potter that we once knew, but rather: Marshal Jamie Black."

A few of those present choked back sobs of despair at the reminder, whilst others shuddered uncontrollably, but no ready answer was forthcoming as literally no one could predict Marshal Black's actions with any degree of certainty.

"How did he disapperate within Hogwart's?" Hermione asked. Ever the curiously logical one, in reality she only wanted to put off the inevitable of considering what Harry wrath would entail.

"He didn't." Wind Song answered before clarifying at the puzzled looks she received by her vague answer. "He spirit walked from here into the next life. Only the most powerful could do this without having to first prepare themselves through rest and ritual."

"You mean he just.. he just…?" Katie tried and failed to comprehend Harry's profound ability.

"He just stepped into the afterlife the way we would walk into another room." Dumbledore took up the thread to shed some light on Harry's most recent display. "Think of it as a sort of astral travel only accomplished from a waking state, or more properly-interdimensional travel. I believe, and correct me if I'm wrong,..?" Dumbledore nodded to Wind Song for confirmation as he continued his explanation. "..I believe that from what I've read; Harry currently exists, to some degree, in two worlds simultaneously at least on some altered plane of consciousness." He chanced a look toward Wind Song for confirmation and received a nod of agreement to validate his conjecture.

"He is a creature of the Earth and his life is here, anchored to the Earth, but,… his consciousness exists in both worlds. He can travel in his entirety, briefly, to the other side, but it takes a great toll on his physical strength and magical energy. Eventually his body's need to rest and replenish will overwhelm him and he needs must return to the physical realm to recuperate and recover his strength. He can take another with him to the otherside, but the toll it takes on him is that much greater and he must return all the more quickly to recover himself."

"How long could he possibly….?" Hermione asked vacantly, her mind trying to calculate the expenditure required for such an undertaking.

Wind Song gave her a point of reference. "My Aunt was the last such Spirit Walker before Harry and she was considered immensely strong in most regards. Grandfather said that once having performed the necessary rituals and having gathered her strength; she could walk among the spirits for an hour or two at a time, but only a fraction of that if she were to guide another over and even then it took her many days, sometimes weeks to recover herself. To my understanding; Harry can traverse the other-side at will and for many hours at a time, even then he can and often does venture forth after a few hours rest or sometimes not at all if the stories are to be believed."

Hermione goggled at that, whilst Daphne whistled under her breath at the magnitude of Harry's magical strength.

"So he could return to the front doors sometime this evening?" Katie surmised hopefully.

Bear Claw shook his head. "You misunderstand, though one could hardly fault you that as who can say the lay of the land of the afterlife save for a spirit walker who has been there. The world's overlap, but the time frame there is as millennia by comparison short journey on the other side could be as many hundreds of leagues by comparison. In other words; a twenty minute stroll there could be a journey of days here."

"In other words he could emerge on the other side of the world in only a few minutes or so?" Hermione calculated.

Bear Claw nodded, adding..."And he could go anywhere he chooses. No wards or boundaries can prevent his emergence from the afterlife."

"So you may want to be especially vigilant whilst showering-ladies." Snape drawled suggestively, enjoying the way the witches in question blanched worriedly at that.

For good measure he leered ay the Headmistress pointedly, enjoying the way she huffed indignantly and put a hand to her chest, safe guarding her modesty. While quiet during the silent exchange, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brilliantly at his counterpart's discomfiture.

"I wouldn't worry, Minerva. He seems to be rather taken with you in a somewhat matronly fashion. Perhaps he's transferred some misplaced feelings for his mother to you?" Albus suggested.

"Well really, Albus?" Minerva blustered as she hurried from the room in embarrassment, not quite making the door before Albus' voice joined in the laughter at her expense.

"That's not a half bad idea. I could feign ignorance to my point of emergence?" Harry entreated Dumbledore's suggestion as his God Father snickered next to him.

"Now that's a prank worthy of a Marauder." Sirius suggested appreciatively. "James and I never did manage to breach Minerva's living quarters."

"Though there was that time you were drunk in the dormitory and tried to hide in your animagus form?" James suggested stepping out of the ether to join the plotting.

"Shut up!" Sirius scolded in alarm, casting a sideways glance apprehensively toward Harry, his eyes were begging his friend not to betray his embarrassment.

"Why, what happened?" Harry asked, catching Sirius' panicked expression.

"Snuffles took a rather bold and unsolicited liking to the headmistress."

"James don't?" Sirius warned.

"He humped her leg and if memory serves…."

"GAAA!" Sirius gasped in alarm and bolted out into the ether as if the devil were making a house call.

Father and son laughed uproariously at his expense. Once settled his father asked…"What're you gonna do about this?"

"I like Sirius's idea but I don't think my particular animagus form would be well received, er.. grizzly bears have a tendency to not take "no" for an answer."

James and he shared another long laugh at that and the mental image it entailed.

At length Harry complained, "They could have killed me, hitting me with a dozen stunners all at once!", defending his need for vengeance.

"And I suppose you are innocent as always, certainly you did nothing to antagonize the ladies in question into taking such drastic measures against your person?" His mother suggested as she stepped out taking Sirius' place in pecking order.

"I'm glad you agree, thank you." Harry immediately returned in innocent appreciation to which his mother rolled her eyes and huffed under her breath. "Just like your idiot of a father."

"Again, thank you." Harry snorted, shifting his gaze around his father to wink at his mother's expense.

"Add Godfather to that summation." She groused further, pursing her lips distastefully.

Harry gapped at the woman impatiently. "Really, what do you want from me woman? First you want me to find a girl and make grand kids. I do you one better and latch onto several viable candidates and what do they do to show their gratitude? They poison me with prophylactics or try to shame me into becoming some pathetic _heel hound_ willing to settle for an old bone and a pat on the back as he prostrates himself at his mistress' feet. I don't know what you were thinking dad? Did she make you a nice steak and get you dead drunk one night or was she cheap about it and just plied you with some love potion or _charm_ the pants off ya with a flick of the old wand?" James winced at that, rubbing his hand over his face to hide both his blush and his attempt to stifle a laugh at his rapidly angering wife's expense.

He had to give Harry/Jamie… er, _Harry_ credit for one thing; he wasn't afraid of anything as none of the marauders would have ever dared to risk Lily's wrath.

"How dare you…" Lily began in outrage bringing her finger out to shake at her son in warning though Harry went for the throat.

"I remember Ollivander mentioning your wand: Unicorn hair and willow, nice and supple, good for _charm work_, right Ma? Yeah, I see how it is? You poor bastard…" he commiserated over his father's lot. "You never had a chance. I'm guessing the only time Ma's wand failed was the night she _supposedly_ cast a prophylactic charm." Harry intentionally drawled out the word supposedly for reference.

"Have you completely lost your mind?!" his mother's rage finally burst forth in her shocked indignation.

The pillar of strength and courage that he was; James found other, more pressing, matters to attend to on the other side of the universe.

"Oh, lordy…." Harry fawned dramatically, pulling his hat from his head and tapping it anxiously over his heart "I'm practically a bastard and not just in the figurative sense. Women must pick up on these sorts of things like a sixth sense? I'm not fit to breed with. My seed's gone bad, it's corrupted. Oh, the shame…THE SHAME!" Harry shouted out into the heavens at the injustice of it all as he retreated back to the living world before his gapping mother could recover from her shocked disbelief.

His father and Godfather were howling in mirth as they watched their son and heir take the piss out on his mother.

"He a total nutter, but he's a _courageous_ nutter, you have to give him that, James." Sirius elbowed his friend proudly over their son's antics.

"Yeah, but he just bought me a helluva a long stay on the couch." His father griped.

"I thought you said you made Harry on the couch?" Sirius reminded his friend.

"Say,… that's right!" James brightened up winningly at the reminder. "Good man that Harry. Good man." James clapped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation as he wandered off in search of his fuming wife.

"Harry's not the only nutter round these parts with more courage than sense." Sirius murmured in a distinctive western drawl of an accent.

Harry was approaching his destination, still chuckling over the rise he'd gotten out of his mother. For the first time, since they'd managed to somewhat reconcile, he truly appreciated his mother's comforting and wisdom. That is to say; he truly enjoyed taking the mickey out on the poor woman.

_Poor woman, hah,… that's a laugh! _He snickered in thought that his father really never did have a chance with a woman like Lily in his sights. Oh, she could claim otherwise, but she knew he was smitten from the get go and he'd buy a busted nickel watch if she didn't work that knowledge to full advantage when the time had finally suited her.

Having reached his destination by apparating as close as the wards would allow and then walking to the front door of a seemingly innocuous town house, he pulled his bowie knife out and slit its razor edge across his palm.

He wasn't sure if the wards would accept him and allow him entry or if they'd burn him to a crisp, but either way it was really his only option. Either that or go back to the castle with his tail tucked between his legs to become everyone's doormat.

The front door flashed red and the door popped inward allowing him entry to the Guardian's Keep. Not for the first time he smirked in appreciation over the simple, yet brilliant notion of hiding one of the Magical world's most treasured edifices in plain sight within a common muggle neighborhood in London.

He moved down the hallway of a seemingly innocuous London townhouse when an opaque man dressed in early Victorian garb poked his head out of the kitchen area and inquired..

"How may I be of assistance Guardian Potter?"

"Alas, poor Ulric, I knew him whence?" Harry quoted, smirking at the way the ghost's visage soured.

"Very drool, sir. It's not that I haven't heard that one a million times over the centuries since Shakespeare first coined the phrase."

"Now don't be like that. I'd think you'd be pleased he thoughtfully included you in one of his better dramatic offerings?"

"He was making light of my situation just as you are, Guardian Potter." The ghost complained.

"As to that?" Harry clarified. "I no longer hold the position of Guardian, having relinquished my appointment."

The ghost leveled another disinterested expression as he reminded Harry that… "A Guardian's appointment is for the duration of one's life and cannot be _relinquished_ at one's whim, sir." The ghost drawled pointedly, adding sarcastically. "As you are sadly, not transparent as am I, I can therefore deduce that you are in fact still among the living and therefore a viable Guardian, sir."

"Huh uh" Harry agreed.

"Very loquacious, sir. Yet another pleasing example of your quaint western heritage among the colonists." The ghost quipped drolly.

"I could go and find myself an exorcist, you malcontent." Harry threatened.

The ghost waxed rhapsodic, holding a translucent hand clutching at his chest as if having a heart attack. "Oh, woe is me… whatever will become of me? No food or lodging, not even the occasional insult to make one 's self-feel so utterly appreciated. Perhaps you could at least entertain me with yet another of your Shakespearian offerings in your guttural and common tongue before Father Flanagan arrives to rid this glorious edifice of its malicious spiritual entity. Once gone I can at least then be able to find some patronage more in keeping with _your_ good standing at one of the local common house's commodes." The ghost returned in a dread monotone that was clearly meant and received with the insult which was its devise.

Harry sighed. "You sure I can't just quit?"

"No.. sir." He drawled the sir as if it was painful for him to do so.

"Then I guess we're stuck with each other."

"Quite, sir" The ghost return looking as pleased at the prospect as Harry was.

"Uh huh" Harry nodded in agreement, enjoying the way his prim and proper valet winced at his butchery of "proper English".

"How about a nice cup of coffee then?" Harry suggested.

"I am unable to drink, but don't let that stop you from making one for yourself, sir." The ghost drawled pointedly.

"Useless, that's what you are." Harry groused as he waved away the ghost's visage as if it were some foul odor, pushing his way into the room.

"I am the persona non gratis of this Keep, not your personal attaché, sir. I will assist you with any and all duties that involve use of the keeps records and magical devices, not wash your pee-pee or tuck you in at night, sir." the ghost reminded him of his expected duties.

"Does there say anywhere in the rules that you have to talk?" Harry sneered.

"Charming and gracious as ever, sir." The ghost returned with equal displeasure.

"Alright Belvedere, just monitor the unlimited time turner while I make a few jumps back home and then I'll be outta your ectoplasmic hair and we can both get on with our _lives_." Harry stressed that last, enjoying the way the ghost scowled his displeasure, but held his tongue from further rebuke.

He merely sighed wearily in his eternal displeasure as he wafted down the hallway to make for one of the Keep's lower levels carved from the earth and bedrock beneath the city.

What the innocuous townhouse displayed to the rest of the world was as nothing to what lie beneath; a veritable treasure trove of lost and legendary artifacts, tomes and magical devices of the rarest of natures. On one of the lowest and most ardently protected level was an unrestricted _time turner_.

The whole of the facility was left in the capable, if ethereal, hands of the facility's resident ghostly caretaker- Ulric.

Ulric had been a Victorian era Guardian who elected to stay on as mentor and caretaker of the London Keep after his demise. This was considered a most noble and highly fashionable undertaking at the time,

There were, in fact, some two dozen Keeps scattered the world over. They were strategically placed such that Guardians were available locally and at a moment's notice. While no expense was considered in providing for the Guardians to perform their admirable service, the powers that be had not taken into consideration the longevity of those selfsame Guardians in the performance of their necessary, though highly dangerous, duties to the magical public, and as such- Harry was the last of their dying breed.

Unfortunately his mentor had perished long before he could properly train Harry on all things Guardian related, thus he was at the mercy of Ulric.

The two got on like oil and water. Ulric was most capable and if truth be told; a wealth of information. He was also, in Harry's opinion, a _stuck up aristocratic ponce_ of a blessedly extinct era. He reminded Harry, of all things, of an effeminate Draco Malfoy. He viewed Harry as a common thug and made no bones about telling him so in a variety of _cultured ways_.

Fortunately Harry did not need to nor wish to reside within the London Keep thus his exposure to Ulric was appreciatively limited.

Harry enjoyed his cup of coffee, surprised that Ulric had actually deigned to have their house elf stock the "crude colonist beverage fit for common criminals and oafish peasants" as Ulric referred to coffee drinkers when he was being kind.

At length Harry sighed, having procrastinated enough, and made for the moving stair that would take him down to the lower levels, knowing Ulric would be waiting to wish him a happy bon voyage, having made the requested calculations and entered them into the time turners control counsel.

He could only hope that Ulric would not seize the opportunity to send him who knows where and when, thus he would make the attempt to be congenial, though he silently wished the man still had a corporal ass for him to kick.

The Thunder's veiled clue regarding the need for _more time_ had played over in Harry's mind during a sleepless night. The rather abrupt departure from the castle this afternoon had only moved up his timetable as he had already the fundamentals of a plan in mind.

_More time_ was exactly what he needed and he knew how to get it, but first he needed to do a bit of reconnaissance. He knew Voldemort was undoubtedly already on the mend from his last and final reincarnation, the only question he had was when the Dark Turd would strike and what exactly he had to bring to the party.

Harry was of the opinion that it wasn't going to be a nice gelatin mold.

"Give me about an hour, then advance me a day at a time until I activate the time turner's partner for return." He reminded Ulric.

The ghost nodded his understanding of the Guardian's instructions, but added pointedly. "If you find yourself in trouble, activate your turner immediately and I'll pull you home. We daren't risk you before properly seeing to a replacement and, or additional Guardians to assume other posts."

Harry shot the ghost an incredulous glare. "Your concern for my wellbeing is heartwarming."

"My duty is to the Keep and it's continued service to the magical world , not to a sole Guardian, regardless of any personal proclivity I might harbor…"

"Yeah, Yeah… just activate the damn turner you antagonistic apparition." Harry interrupted the ghost who for his part smirked in appreciation for the elegance of Harry's insult, thinking he was making headway with the uncouth man.

Ulric activated the time turner and Harry disappeared with a pop similar to apparation.

Ten hours later, Harry activated his turner early and Ulric immediately pulled his charge back to the present.

Harry's duster was smoldering as he swatted his Stetson on first one sleeve and then the other, putting out the flames.

"Christ almighty what a fiasco!" he complained.

"Did you find what you were looking for, sir?" The ghost inquired somewhat disinterestedly.

"I sure as hell did." Harry goggled. "That Dark twerp has been holding the bulk of his forces on the back burner. Giants, dementors, trolls, werewolves, even a damned banshee or two and I don't even want to know what in the hell that gooey thing was. All that and enough Death Eater arseholes to make the whole thing one damned fine massacre. Him standing there a whooping and gawking like the lunatic he is whilst everybody else is dying for the maniac's misguided cause."

Harry hastily reset the controls on the Keep's time turner preparing for another jump.

Ulric glanced at the control panel, his ghostly eyes widened at the time display. "Surely you're not abandoning…?"

"The hell you say." Harry cut off the perplexed ghost before he could jump to the wrong conclusion. "I'm going shopping and then I'm gonna lay me some tracks and freight train that some bitch, but good!"

Harry nodded and rather than some sarcastic comment, Ulric offered a sincere: "Good hunting, sir." and activated the time turner.

* * *

><p>Days later a road weary Harry returned to the comforts of the castle with a heavy stubble on his chin, a fierce appetite and a gleam of mischief in his otherwise exhausted features as he decided a nice hot shower was just the thing to bring him back to life.<p>

It was Christmas eve and all was calm in the house as Professor McGonagal's scream of outrage echoed down the drafty corridors.

"**Have you completely lost your mind?!" ** She raged. "Out-Out this minute you deviant!" she demanded in outrage.

People poked heads out of their perspective rooms and dormitories; some even ran toward the Professor's quarters with wands in hand.

A drenched and sputtering indignantly, Professor McGonagal, had her damp dressing gown pulled tightly around herself trying to preserve her dignity as she repeatedly pointed her finger out the doors of her quarters ushering out an uninvited and wholly unexpected shower companion.

"Woo-Hooo!" an all too familiar western drawl whooped from within the Professor's quarters. _"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the_…" his heavily accented voice broke into song, but was cut off by Porfessor McGonagal's panicked demands.

"Stop that this instant, Mr. Potter." The professor railed as the object of her ire stepped into the doorway she demanding he vacate with all expedience.

Harry was shirtless and soaking wet,(having obviously shared, or at least interrupted a shower with the startled woman), as he drawled pointedly whilst leering hungrily at the professor.

"Really Minnie, don't you think we could drop formality along with all pretenses after what we just shared?"

Professor McGonagal goggled in stunned disbelief at that.

"Tell you what, tomorrow night you meet me at the prefect's bathroom and you can help make Jamie Black into an all nice and clean Jamie White,.. if you know what I mean?"

McGonagal's mouth fell open in consternation, though she did manage a full blush even at her age.

"There's a good girl." Harry cheered, planting a searing kiss on the woman's open mouth. A crowd was gathering, many of the witches of the castle among them watching in varying states of shock whilst their male counterparts were elbowing each other and guffawing at the spectacle.

Harry pulled a shocked face as he ended the kiss abruptly. "Minnie, really,… giving me the tongue in front of everyone like that and on Christmas yet? It's indecent!" he scolded seemingly embarrassed as he turned and made his way through the crowd.

**SMACK**

"Hey, owe!" Katie Bell yelled out in pain and outrage, covering her smarting bottom with both hands and twisting out of the man's reach.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times Katie Bell-**wait **your turn!"

Laughter and cheers followed in his wake from the male population of the castle that filled the corridor.

The females, on the other hand, knew they were in for an anything, but a peaceful Christmas.


	14. Chapter 14: Gifts from the heart

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**West of Here**

**Chapter Fourteen: Gifts from the heart**

Christmas morning dawned cool and bright and the castle was filled with the sounds of celebration as if the entire world was holding its breath in the hopes of a peaceful holiday without the threat of more war and death.

Harry ate a hearty, albeit late, having slept in until late. His appetite could put Ron's to shame as he ate with gusto, seemingly oblivious to the celebrating around him though he did return the occasional pleasantry when prompted. He seemed focused or more properly-driven as he plowed through his food as if he were fueling up for a planned expenditure that would require a great deal of energy.

Harry appeared indifferent to the wary glances of the female population that favored walking around him at what they considered a _safe distance_. The Locuta were suspiciously absent from the mid-day celebrating as they were currently guarding the castle grounds per Harry's request, eager to make amends for his past treatment by their tribe as a whole.

Finally full and satisfied, Harry rose and searched out the first of several individuals to which he'd planned for a special holiday surprise.

He knocked gently at the door he was unceremoniously dispatched from only last evening, bracing himself for the unpleasant reaction his presence would have on the resident within.

The door opened a crack, but upon seeing the caller's identity it slammed closed in his face without even so much as an accompanying scathing acknowledgement.

He sighed wearily as it was both more and less that what he'd expected. He would have expected a verbal comeuppance that would have left his ears ringing through Boxing Day at the very least.

He waited a bit to give the occupant a chance to cool down before knocking softly again. In truth, he was hoping she'd think he'd left and that someone else was currently entreating her. His gambit paid off as the professor opened her door just a tad more trustfully, giving him the opportunity to slam his booted foot in the jam to keep from having the door barred in his face once again.

A brief struggle ensued before the professor gave up and opened the door.

She glared challengingly as she offered a scathing…."Am I to have no peace even on Christmas from your sordid antics, Mr. Potter?" his named rolled off her lips distastefully in a formal manner that spoke volumes for just how welcome his presence currently was.

He winced at the cool rebuff. "I come in peace." He tried to reassure, holding his hands up in a show of sincerity which she harrumphed suspiciously to before suggesting rather impolitely to…

"You're about to leave in pieces if you think to embarrass me again with more of your disturbing pranks at my expense?" The threat was backed up by her opening the door fully, revealing that her other hand held her wand at the ready.

Harry smirked appreciatively as he would have expected nothing less from such a formidable witch.

"I've come to make amends and offer a peace offering in keeping with the **spirit** of the holiday." He emphasized the word _spirit_ meaningfully though she didn't catch on to the reference.

"If you think I'm about to let you into my private quarters so that you can cause more mayhem than you've got another thing coming, Mr. Potter." She warned him, fingering her wand suggestively.

Harry smirked again. He couldn't blame her as he wouldn't trust himself either if the tables were turned.

"I ask…" he paused in his response to plead her forbearance. "I plead with you to give me a last chance. Can you find it in your heart to give me a the one opportunity to prove my troth? I know someone who's _dying_ to meet you and I sort of promised that I'd arrange a visit this Christmas." he suggested, emphasizing the word_ dying _this time.

"I can't imagine who as all my remaining friends are currently residing within the safety of the castle and what family I had has long since passed…Ah!"

Minerva McGonagal's reply was cut off by a gasp of surprise as Harry hand shot out and clamped around her forearm and the world around them blurred out of focus.

She had the sense of moving an immense distance without having taken a single step. The two emerged in a snow swept park with young couples skating on a frozen pond or walking arm in arm along cobbled sidewalks as a gentle snow swirled around them.

The first thing Minerva McGonagal registered was that she felt pleasantly warm despite the weather, the second thing was….

"T-This is where…?" she began, her aged eyes goggling in sudden recognition.

"Hello, my love." A warm male voice greeted from the side.

Minerva's head swiveled around like a bolt of lightning. "Edgar?"

The man nodded to his wife that it was indeed him. "Do you remember this place?" he asked pointedly.

Minerva nodded, not daring to trust her voice as her much older eyes drank in the sight of her deceased husband standing before her young and strong in the park and timeline when he first proposed to her so many years ago. Edgar had perished in the war with Grindlewald, barely a handful of years after they were married. They had hoped to start a family once the war was over, but fate had squelched those happy plans as Edgar had died during the final battle of that horrific war.

"Thank you, Harry." Edgar acknowledged her all but forgotten companion's efforts in their behalf.

"My pleasure." Harry tipped his hat. "I'll give you as long as I can, Merry Christmas."

Minerva never registered the warm kiss Harry had pressed to her cheek, before he departed to give the couple their privacy, her full attention remained riveted on the longed for vision of the man standing before her.

Finally her legs found the strength and she all but flew into the waiting arms of her beloved husband, finding them as warm and inviting as she'd ever remembered. Tears of joy fell from eyes as she peppered his smiling face with soft kisses as he murmured reassurances that he was really here and that she wasn't dreaming as she feared. They shared a few precious hours sharing kisses and gentle reassuring touches as they reminisced before Harry returned and apologized that it was time for he and Minerva to depart. The couple shared a last, passionate kiss of farewell, before her husband passed a tearful Minerva into Harry's keeping.

The world blurred around them and Minerva found herself standing back in the doorway of her private quarters, the clock on the hallway wall only registering a few minutes later than previous.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you more time." Harry apologized, thinking her tears were those of sadness and regret.

His fears were dispelled when the professor pulled him into a rib cracking hug, murmuring a heartfelt. "You've given me a gift beyond priceless, Harry. I shall never forget this immense kindness, never." she promised sincerely, her eyes shimmered with happy tears barely held in check.

Harry eventually pulled back, extraditing himself from her grasp with a lopsided grin. "I have a feeling that sentiment will be forgotten the next time I show up unannounced during one of your showers."

"Why you nasty little…!" she swatted angrily at the man who beat a hasty retreat his laugh echoing back to her as he fled the area, ducking and weaving to avoid the several hexes aimed at his backside.

Once he'd made the safety of rounding the corner out of sight, he sighed in relief. "Some people just don't do holidays, I recon?"

With that thought in mind he made a trip down to the dungeon office of Severus Snape. A quick pound at the door and Snape's sneering visage appeared in the cracked open door. He hadn't really expected the potion master to be any less cautious than McGonagal, but at least she had good reason. His trepidation was fostered by years of well-earned animosity toward all students, save Slytherins, in general.

He was reaping a lifestyle of caution and suspicion that he had sown by his own uncaring actions to the contrary.

"Merry Christmas" Harry announced holding out his hand in a trusting, let bygones be bygones fashion.

Though initially shocked, Severus Snape cautiously took the man's hand thinking the holiday spirit had addled his once nemesis' wits.

The world blurred around the two and Severus found himself now locked in the gaze of the green eyes that haunted his every waking moment, preying on his insecurities and heightening his self-loathing over a moment of jealous impulsivity that had destroyed three lives, one of which he had cared about more than the rest of the entire world's all together.

Harry left Snape in the care of his mother's spirit, agreeing that despite any misgivings he harbored, it was past time to let the man know some measure of peace as his many years of risking his life in spying for the Order had long since paid for his past transgressions.

Harry chuckled darkly at the irony that maybe Christmas was indeed the season of forgiveness as it was proclaimed.

His own thoughts received more proof to the pudding when he returned an hour later to find Snape being comforted in the arms of his own mother while Harry's mother looked on fondly a respectful distance away. He sidled up next to his mother, murmuring a soft Merry Christmas in greeting, not wishing to disturb the serenity of the scene before them.

His mother turned toward him and with teary eyes proclaimed, "I can never thank you enough for giving him,.. giving _us _this opportunity to make amends."

That said, she kissed her only son softly, reverently on the forehead murmuring a gentle "Merry Christmas" of her own in return. After a quiet moment or two, Harry asked something he always wandered…

"Do you guys have like a Christmas dinner or anything, I mean.. do you even eat?"

Lily nodded; as she watched Snape and his mother say their goodbyes. "I'm making all of your Dad's favorites.

Harry snorted at that. "Can't be much of a cook, skinny as he is?"

Lily cast he son a sideways knowing glance as she quipped in return." Your dad wasn't skinny because of my cooking, Harry." Lily suggested pointedly with a leer.

"Áchhh, Gaa..!" Harry dry heaved. "Oh lordy,.. I can't get the image outta my head…."

He shot his smugly grinning mother a look of disgust as he stumbled away hurriedly to collect Snape while Lily silently congratulated herself on finally getting a one up on her smart aleck son.

Harry haltingly ate a lighter lunch than he'd planned, still not trusting his stomach. Despite her trepidation, Hermione noted her friend's sudden loss of appetite and in a moment of compassion, she threw caution to the wind and asked after his welfare.

"Are you alright, Harry?"she pressed in concern.

Harry shook his head as he pushed back from the table. "I..I'm all crawly inside. I think maybe I better go see Madam Pomfrey?"

That admonition alone had alarm bells going off in Hermione's head. The fact that Harry Potter was actually seeking medical help was beyond telling in the severity of the situation. Hermione instantly appeared at his side shouldering his weight and guiding him from the Great Hall as quickly as was prudent without over taxing her friend as onlookers whispered worriedly in their passing.

They hadn't made it halfway to the stair case when the world blurred and Hermione gasped in surprise, thinking they'd somehow stepped into another dimension as the world seemed to turn grey around her before the landscape began to fade into being and she recognized her parent's home shimmering into a new reality around her.

"What in the world….?"

"Merry Christmas Hermione, luv" a voice, she'd thought she would never hear again, announced.

Hermione barely registered Harry seemingly recovered and stepping away as she turned to find her dead parents waiting expectantly for her arrival at the foyer of their home.

"Mum…? " she gasped in disbelief as her rational minds tried to explain away this phenomena.

"Daddy!" she crowed delightedly as she ran into her parent's outstretched arms forgetting all logic and silently thanking any greater power with an ear to listen for this unbelievable gift. Harry spared a moment to appreciate the reunion, Hermione's mother catching his eye briefly to mouth a silent _thank you_, to which he tipped his hat in acknowledgement before leaving to arrange his next planned reunions.

Harry collected Hermione, who was _beside herself_ to say the least. Hermione's dad passed his sobbing daughter to Harry who immediately latched onto him like a lifeline. She never registered their return to the land of the living. She was so overcome by her emotions and Harry was so clearly at a loss on how to comfort her that he immediately passed her on to her concerned friends, shrugging helplessly by way of an explanation as to reason for her state.

He wanted to take a moment to relax and catch his wind, but Hermione's breakdown and the reason thereof would undoubtedly spread like fiendfyre, which allowed him little if any time to present his surprise to the next three parties he'd planned to reunite with lost family .

With that in mind and knowing Hermione's emotional state would soon alert the Weasley matriarch , Harry set off to collect Mr. and Mrs. Weasly before Molly could go into full protective "mother bear" mode. He arrived at the Gryffindor-Head boy suite that housed the Weasley parents and knocked gently on the frame of Godric Gryffindor, himself, sadly not a magical painting as he would greatly enjoy a conversation with his original head of house.

Molly answered the door, immediately grabbing him up in a rib cracking hug in greeting. Mr. Weasley was close on her heels patting their seventh son's shoulder affectionately.

Finally allowed a moment to breath; he quickly removed his hat and apologized for his manners. "Sorry,.. I just wanted to wish you two a Merry Christmas and with that in mind I have a surprise for you."

Molly's face blanched slightly. "I'm sorry, Harry but with the war and everything, Arthur and I have had no opportunity to get any of the children gifts this year and with poor Charlie and Percy…oh…" Molly broke down snuffling softly, Arthur reached around her shoulder and pulled her against himself supportively until she quieted while Harry watched on.

"I was expecting anything, but this isn't that sort of gift." He soothed trying to allay their discomfort.

"W-What then?" Molly snuffled softly as she struggled to pull herself back together.

"Do you both trust me?" Harry asked gently, but with a note of uncertainty.

"Of course we do." Arthur immediately responded without a second thought, his wife nodding her agreement along with him.

Harry held out a hand to each. "Then take my hands as there's a fair few people who are eager to see you."

"But who could possibly…?" Molly began to question, but the world blurred around her and she found herself and her husband standing in front of the Burrow, only it wasn't bitter cold out but actually quite comfortable despite the snowy landscape.

"Mother?" a too polite voice asked from behind with a "Dad?" from a deeper and all too familiar second voice inquiring right after.

"Percy! Charlie!" Molly shrieked extending her arms as she ran latch on to her two dead sons.

Arthur held back, planting his hand on Harry's shoulder gratefully as he stammered his thanks.

Harry nodded, instructing almost apologetically that… "I can't hold the both of you here for very long, but I'll give you all the time I can."

"It'll be enough,.. even if just this moment,.. it'll be enough, H-Harry." Mr. Weasley cajoled gratefully, his voice catching before he joined his wife and two sons.

The drain on his magic and strength was greater than even Harry could sustain as he'd never spirited so many across in a single day, let alone hold four together on this side. For him alone the expenditure was barely noticeable, but the strain increased exponentially with every soul he added to the equation.

Despite his waning reserves, he took it upon himself to do the thing one, or in this case-two, better.

He returned about twenty minutes later with a pair of identical, if more mature, twins in tow.

"Is this a private party?"

"Or can anyone join in?" his twin added in the same unique version of twin speak that the Weasley twins were noted for.

"Fabian…Gideon?!" Molly shrieked excitedly grabbing up her twin brothers in a crushing hug as the two brothers laughed heartily.

Arthur had barely had a chance to pump his brother-in-law's hands in greeting before a sweating and trembling Harry was forced to intervene.

"I'm sorry, but I.. I c-can't hold us here any l-longer."he tremulously apologized.

A concerned Molly immediately forgot all else and grabbed up Harry, who smiled wanly trying to reassure the woman whilst her husband hugged his two son's a last fond good bye.

Harry began to shake from the strain and the landscape shook and shimmered around them as Molly held out her hand beckoning her husband. "Come Arthur." she demanded worriedly, her concern over Harry's wellbeing taking priority.

Arthur joined them, but Molly was able to get out a last "Be good-**all** of you" before Harry released his hold on the spirit world. She never got to see both her sons, and brothers, roll their eyes at her admonishment.

They found themselves back in the Gryffindor Head Boy suite. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had barely registered their return when Harry fell to one knee and emptied his stomach on the floor of their room.

Mrs. Weasley's wand was in her hand in a trice and she vanished the sick with a mother's experienced disregard before turning all her attention on her exhausted charge.

Harry immediately waved off her concern, mumbling out Snape's name and a request for pepper ups and nutrient potions. Arthur immediately left to see to the potion master's assistance as Molly worriedly shouldered Harry into a squashy armchair by the fire.

She began fussing over him, much to his chagrin which she dispelled with a firm if kind lecture. "There's no shame in being cared for when you're ill, Harry. That's what friends and family's do for each other. It's as much for our sake as it is for yours." She softly placed a hand over his perspiring forehead, gentling it down to his cheek where she held his uncertain gaze. "Let yourself be loved, Harry, because there are so many who truly wish to do so."

Molly's breath caught in her throat and she would remember this moment to her dying day as one of the most tender and poignant she had ever beheld. His face was literally a collage of heartrending emotions before a single tear rolled down from his eye, wetting the back of her hand as she held his face reassuringly and bent down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

"What you did for Arthur and I today will never, ever be forgotten. No mother could ask for a more treasured gift from their child, but you overdue Harry, you always have and I'll not have you risking yourself in such a fashion again. No mother worth her salt would ever sacrifice one child's wellbeing for another and that's just what you almost did today."

Harry began to lull, but came round when Arthur barged back in not with just a few potions, but the potion master himself and half his stock cradled in his arms. In a surprise show of concern, Severus immediately ran his wand over Harry, while Mrs. Weasley, gently, if firmly held him down by a shoulder allowing him to proceed unfettered by Harry's legendary stubbornness.

Snape clicked his tongue in disapproval whilst mumbling incredulously, "Magical and physical exhaustion, no surprise there." He immediately pushed a nutrient and strengthening potion toward Harry which Molly Weasly grabbed up before he could even think to refuse the offer, making him drink the foul concoctions which he did without the slightest hesitation in a rare show of trust on Snape's part as he never sniffed before swallowing to satisfy himself that what he was ingesting was genuine.

"I n-need a couple of _pepper up_ potions to get me back on my f-feet." Harry asked tiredly, hating the way his voice broke with the effort.

"Certainly not." Snape scoffed. "What you need is rest and a lot of it." He lectured.

"B-But it's C-Christmas… Luna and the head m-master..?" He pleaded as if that explained everything, and it did, at least to Molly Weasley. She didn't know about Albus' particular circumstances, only that he had a sister who died very young and his mother soon after. Luna though? Luna had lost her beloved mother and she understood with a gasp what Harry intended, inferring from her own priceless gift of only minutes ago that he was going to reunite mother and daughter.

Knowing him only too well, she beseeched of the balking potion master. "Perhaps a few hours of rest, just to regain his strength enough so he can make a short trip or two, but just quick ones?" she chided her charge sternly, to which he gratefully nodded his agreement.

Snape caught the inference in Molly's lecture, knowing what Harry yet intended and his stance softened dramatically, his eyes suspiciously moist for one so jaded.

"Maybe a half _dreamless sleep _potion?" he suggested, proffering the vial toward Mrs. Weasley, though Harry reached out to collect the vial before she could. With a grateful nod to the potion master; he drank the potion without complaint or hesitation. Harry immediately drifted off and Molly levitated him to their bed and covered him with a thick comforter, tucking him in with a fond and well-practiced ease of one who'd done so on countless occasions for others.

Mr. Weasley notice Snape's intense reaction to Harry's intentions and hesitantly took a chance to compare notes as it were.

"He took us to see our sons and Molly deceased brothers." He stated bluntly, adding.."I take it by your reaction he did something similar for you, Severus?" Half expecting the potion master to sneer at most or at the very least bluster a feigned ignorance of Arthur's inquiry, Mr. Weasley was warmly surprised by the man's candor in return.

"He gave me something I've never known." Snape returned with no little awe in his voice.

"What's that?" Arthur asked intrigued.

"Peace of mind." Snape replied, sighing gratefully as Arthur smiled on at that thought.

Harry slept through the early afternoon and woke in time to struggle upward and make his way haltingly to the Great Hall where he proceeded to wolf down half the snacks from mid-day's tea. His voracious appetite could make even Ron blush in embarrassment.

Once, finally satiated, Harry immediately went off in search of Luna before others could petition him for assistance as undoubtedly the uniqueness of his Christmas gifts were the talk of the castle by now. It wasn't that he didn't want to help everyone and anyone reach some form of resolution in their personal lives and losses; it was just that he had only so much magical energy to spare and that he was giving precedence to those closest to him, that and honoring requests specifically made previously from those on the other side.

Luna's mother ached to reconnect with her wounded child and Harry would move heaven and earth to make it so for both their sakes.

Luna, as all the rest of his once closest friends, was very precious to him.

He found Luna enjoying a bit of time with Ginny and Neville, good company to be sure.

A quiet hush of anticipation fell over the threesome on his approach, each hoping and perhaps even dreading that Harry was seeking them out as word had spread like wildfire and everyone knew about Harry's exceptional Christmas gifts.

Neville and Ginny held their breath, save Luna, of course. She knew as she always did why he'd come and who he'd in particular he'd come to offer it to.

Harry offered Ginny and Neville a wan smile of near apology as he was sure that Ginny would appreciate seeing her brothers as much as her parents did their sons. Just as Neville might appreciate seeing his parents whole again, as they had died when Voldemort took over St. Mungo's and purged the hospital of those he deemed _a waste_ of effort.

Neville's parents had asked after their son, when last he'd had an unguarded moment to spare on the other side. He was saddened to deny them, but he knew he was stretching his limits dangerously so already. They understood, of course, the dead were all just that-understanding, but still, he wished he could give more, especially for a friend as steadfast and loyal as Neville.

He held out a slightly tremulous hand to Luna, who took it with a bit of concern etched in her otherwise aloof countenance, reassured slightly by a shrug of non-concern from Harry and a murmured…. "Don't worry over me, it'll pass in short order, always does." To Ginny, he offered a simple greeting of "Merry Christmas" which she immediately returned along with a heartfelt expression of gratitude for what he'd done in behalf of her parents this morning.

Harry nodded his appreciation before telling Neville. "Merry Christmas, Neville… from both of them." He expressed pointedly.

Neville's face shot up at that, hardly daring to hope.

"That… and well… your mother she… " Harry broke off stammering in embarrassment as he pulled off his Stetson and, before he could change his mind, he blushingly gave Neville a peck on the head, per his mother's request.

Neville blushed and thanked his friend and before Harry good get out of reach, he found his Gryffindor courage and kissed Harry on the cheek asking him to return the favor, whilst Ginny giggled next to the two.

Harry scowled at Ginny, both for her response and to warn her off before making the same overtures. He made to leave and grumbled something about being "stuck playing cupid" as he collected a smiling Luna and escorted her down the hallway, neither hearing the gasp from their two friends as they faded from existence before their eyes.

"Wow" Ginny commented in awe to which Neville added, "That goes for most things Harry Potter related, past or present."

Ginny nodded her head in agreement to that sentiment as both still stared at the spot where their two friends stepped into the afterlife.

Luna's visit was something she would relish to her dying day when it would become a matter of indifference as she would be reunited with her loved ones eternally thereafter. Mother and daughter shared all the things a mother and daughter should in the short time that Harry had provided them, along with tender touches and heartfelt kisses that warmed each other's very souls well enough to sustain them until they were reunited in future. Luna's mother told her daughter how very proud she was of her and of her choice in Neville as her future husband. She also took a few last hurried moments to pass along a request from the dead, just as the rest of those Harry had ferried across during today's holiday had been advised.

That message was simple, but heartfelt: to trust and honor him _**always**_, for Harry was as much a gift to the dead as he was the living. He was for them a light in the darkness. He was for the world- a message of hope. It went without saying that they collectively wished he could be protected at any and all times, but for Harry- that was impossible. Harry lived a dangerous lifestyle that he embraced and neither would he readily accept any help to lessen said risk, nor would he cease in his endeavors.

Luna's mother's eyes went out of focus just like her daughters were want to do, as the spirit looked off into the distance as if seeing Harry from afar.

Her voice took on a hollow, serious tone when next she spoke, belying her vacant expression.

"He is a hard man, Luna. He lives a hard life, too hard by half. A prouder nor more stubborn male of the species you will never find, but for all that there is a kindness and generosity of spirit that is breathtaking in its magnitude. Case in point: he is literally killing himself today to provide a privileged few this rarest of opportunities."

Luna gasped in worry for her friend and was about to turn and call out into the ether for Harry, but her mother held her fast and shushed her daughter.

"He will return shortly and he would deny any discomfort or weariness whether it was written on his face or not. Proud, remember?" her mother scoffed, to which Luna nodded her understanding.

"Love him, Luna. You and all of your many wonderful friends... love him. He is easy to love despite all his outrageous antics and harsh bluster. He has done far too long without and he thinks he's forgotten how, but none with that sort of courage know anything but." Luna was nodding agreement with her mother when Harry stepped out of the void and apologetically informed them that he and Luna needed to depart.

He marveled a last time at how alike mother and daughter were when they said their goodbyes. Luna was the younger image of her mother, but for all that her mother had the same timeless, impish quality that Luna possessed. Surprising him, Luna's mother grasped his arm when she passed over her precious daughter to his keeping.

Her pale blue eyes were moist with unshed tears as she gratefully thanked for his priceless gift.

"I have no words that can adequately express the depth of my profound thanks, Harry Potter."

Harry patted her hand with his empty one. "You just did and a nicer Christmas gift I couldn't ask for myself than the happiness I see within the two of you. Merry Christmas, ma'am." Harry tipped his hat and started to leave, before mother blurted out a last.

"Take care of my Luna, please?"

Harry grinned knowingly, before allaying her worries. "More than likely it'll be the other way around, but I'll keep an eye out until she's properly hitched, after that Neville's stuck with the little sprite, lord help him."

Both mother and daughter giggled at the truth in that statement as Harry and Luna returned to the castle, mere moments from the time when he and Luna first vanished.

"Did you forget something?" Ginny asked at seeing her two friend's abrupt return, but Neville could tell by the look of contentment on his fiancé's face that something wonderful had already transpired. Luna burst into a quick summary of the wonderful adventure she'd just been on.

Taking it as a good time for his departure, Harry staggered slightly on leaving, but quickly righted himself, fending off a worried grasping from Luna and murmuring a quick and falsely reassuring "Loose boot heel, is all."

The worried look exchanged between Luna and the others when his back was turned spoke volumes in that they knew he was pushing himself beyond his limits and much as it was appreciated, they would rather he not risk himself.

Harry made his way quietly down to the dungeon office of the resident potion master. The man immediately answered his door, sans his usual billowing robes, wearing a very comfortable looking fisherman's wool sweater, grey slacks, slippers and a sifter of brandy swirling in his grasp.

"I,…I'm sorry,.." Harry began sheepishly forgetting the day. "to disturb you holiday relaxation, please excuse me." He made to depart, but Severus stopped him with a concerned grasp to the younger man's forearm, halting his departure.

"No, please come in, ." the potion master invited without his usual sneering abruptness, surprising the both of them by his politeness where Harry Potter was concerned.

The reason for that was quite simple: Harry's gift had affected the spiteful, reclusive man, and had affected him profoundly so.

Severus poured his visitor a drink of the brandy without asking first, commenting rather politely apologetic that, "It's nothing special, but still pleasantly satisfying and warms the spirit."

Harry gratefully accepted the glass passed to him, surprised even further when Severus offered a toast.

"Your health and the holiday, sir."

After a sip and a nod from Harry in gratitude, Severus took the initiative. "Now then, I assume it is your health that warrants this unexpected, but still not unwanted visit this fine Christmas day?"

Harry nodded, appreciating the man's candor. "I need two _pepper ups_ and a _strengthening potion."_

"What you **need **is rest." The man chastised pointedly in return before acquiescing reluctantly. "But since you'll proceed undaunted and heedless of my recommendation, the requested potions it is."

He excused himself and went into his private office, returning momentarily with the requested potions.

He made a last weary pitch as he handed over the medicine in that; "Your mother will not thank me for this." Harry paused, his first of the potions poised at his lips as he pulled a disgruntled face.

"That was a low blow." He scoffed.

Severus nodded his agreement. "I know, but Lilly said I'm to utilize any means necessary if it gets you to take better care of yourself."

Harry snorted at that before downing his first potion. "Enlisted you to be my new nursemaid did she?"

"No, your new godfather." He returned bluntly, pulling a grin of his own when Harry coughed and sputtered, nearly bringing up the potion he'd just downed.

"S-Sirius okay with that?" he stammered between coughing jags.

"It was his idea, and with your father's blessing I might add." The potion master returned with a curled lip of predatory anticipation like a lion descending on a fresh kill.

"To bastard, marauders." Harry saluted in toast before downing the last of his brandy, Severus doing the same, embracing the sentiment with a grin of amusement at the younger man's expense.

He waited until Harry was half way through his third potion before reiterating. "It wasn't just a prank as they were all quite _Sirus_ about me taking on this sacred responsibility."

Ack..gaaaa.. phhhthwooo!" Harry coughed and sputtered before spitting out the remains of the strengthening potion. He threw Severus Snape a filthy look in parting before beating a hasty retreat.

Harry didn't get far in his frenzied flight from the potion master's suite before a strange sound halted him in his tracks. It took him a moment before he was able to discern the strange sound as it was something not before heard within the walls of the castle: Snape's booming laughter.

A shudder of revulsion later and Harry redoubled his efforts to get as far away from Snape as possible, now for very different reasons than those of previous.

It was nearing suppertime when Harry arrived at the Headmaster's office wondering just what the man occupied his time what with the limited classes they were running for the few underage refugees occupying the castle during Voldemort's siege of Great Britain. What he expected was the headmaster to be pouring through some obscure tomes of lost magic, what he found was the man relaxing by the fire with a glass of port and reading the Dickens' classic of "A Christmas Carol".

"Ah, Harry…" he tipped his glass in greeting, eyes twinkling merrily. "I always read a "Christmas Carol" this time of year, though my favorite by far is still "A tale of two cities", of Dickens' wonderful classics."

"I thought I'd find you pouring over some lost magical lore or some such." Harry vented his surprise.

"Everyone seems to think that way, yes. In my youth I delved deep into such pursuits, but as one grows older and wiser, the charms of a warm fire and a favorite story are hard to pass up compared to a drafty library and technical journals that strain the eyes and cloud the mind. They all pale however to entertaining with good friends on a quiet snowy night."

Harry nodded. "Are we good friends then, ya think? We were once, I thought, but we started out on shaky ground this last time around."

Albus sighed regretfully, though his eyes still sparkled no less invitingly. "Alas, I was too set in my misguided ways and antiquated notions of chivalry from a by gone age. I've come to realize, as all wizened old fools should, the error of my ways. When I fought my war with Grindlewald I did so more ruthlessly than I allowed myself to remember. No quarter was given in our final duel and none was wanted, for that matter. Wars are a harsh, nasty business that are best dealt with by cool precision, rather than outdated ideals of honor and fair play. There is no honor to be had on a battlefield, only death and plenty of it lest all you hold dear comes to ruin. My time has passed; this war is for younger, more cunning men that are more equal to the task. I can but offer a word or two of advice and help if and when I can to ease the load, the rest I leave into your more than capable hands as I quickly came to learn by your solid example. I am humbled by the man you've become Harry." At this Harry watched stunned to speechlessness by the Headmaster's compliment as the headmaster saluted him with his glass before draining its contents.

"I..I don't know what to say?" Harry returned at a loss.

"Say what you came to say, or should I say, do what you've come here to do." The headmaster suggested with a slight look of apprehension, his fingers brushing over the book in his lap poignantly as he considered his choice in reading material for its subconscious connotations.

"You know why I'm here then?" Harry surmised.

Dumbledore smiled knowingly, if not sadly as he referenced his reading material. "I was just thinking of the irony of my choice in reading material this evening. I cannot help but empathize with Ebenezer Scrooge when he addresses the ghost of Christmas yet to come by proclaiming: "Dear specter I fear you most of all". Like Scrooge I both fear why you have come and who you intend to take me to see, but like the ghost of Christmas yet to come,.. "I know you are here to do me good, so lead on good spirit." That said, Dumbledore extended his aged hand toward Harry who took it and the world blurred around them.

Albus and Harry emerged in front of a cobbled pathway that led to a pale yellow cottage nestled amongst oak trees with squirrels scrabbling about in search of nuts as birds sang down happily from the branches overhead.

"My…home…?" Albus Dumbledore gasped reverently as his eyes drank in his childhood home. "T-This is where I grew up. Where my…"

A call from the door, as it opened, silenced him to shocked surprise. "Albus?" a woman's voice called out.

"M-Mum…?" Albus started moving toward the beckoning door that a tall blonde woman and a younger, even lovelier version of herself stepped through onto the stoop beckoning him with open arms.

"Anya!" Albus cried out excitedly, recognizing his younger sister, the three collapsing against the stair railing, locked in a three way hug of tears and murmured heartfelt exclamations of longing.

Harry nodded to the tall woman as she chanced a look over her son's head and smiled brilliantly in gratitude. Feeling melancholic he went off for a brief visit to his own mother while he had the chance, hoping to sample her cooking and not find her and his father otherwise engaged..

Both mothers were exceedingly grateful for the opportunity as they imparted such to their sons many times. Harry couldn't remember his first Christmas with his parents, though however brief this one was, it still was among the best he would ever remember from this day forward.

A few sparse hours later, Harry and Albus returned to the dying embers of his office fire, feeling more warm than either had ever felt prior despite the chill creeping in from the cold castle stonework around them.

Dumbledore looked fifty years younger, which was still old for even a wizard, but on him he wore the look well; the image of one at peace with himself. The hug of gratitude he pulled Harry into could rival one of Molly Weasley's on her best day.

As suppertime had barely begun, much to Dumbledore's pleasure at the time difference, each escorted the other happily to the Great Hall to enjoy a meal with good friends.

Knowing Harry and the fact that he'd spent the entire day bringing peace and closure to several friends and not taking a moment for himself, he reminded him that… "Just a reminder that Ms. Bell will undoubtedly be dining with us this evening and well…"

Harry snapped his fingers as he pulled a face. "Katie?! I completely forgot. Damn it all, I didn't even think about a present or…"

"People most want to hear heartfelt admonitions on such occasion's rather than all the baubles in the world, young Harry."

Harry shot his once mentor a sideways glance. "Is this some of that advice you mentioned?"

Albus nodded. "That and I find that women, no matter the age, always appreciate flowers." With that Albus conjured a stunning bouquet of red and white roses mixed with greens and holly which he present to his young friend.

"Does this mean we're going steady?" Harry chirruped to which they both snickered, though Albus added. "Alas, even a man of my years would remiss if I didn't point out that I thought I could do better." Both guffawed at that.

Once their laughter died down Harry thanked the man for his thoughtfulness. "Thanks, you're a life saver."

Albus shrugged indifferently before suggesting… "You might add a sprig of mistletoe or two to the mix? If memory serves that wouldn't hurt to break the ice, so to speak."

"I like the advisory role." Harry complimented, before adding appreciatively. "Make sure you stay around a long while to keep up the good work."

"It shall be my pleasure, young Harry." Albus bowed cordially in acceptance of the request.

The two entered the Hall, mindful of the way that conversations quieted and all eyes found them, before someone started and the rest soon were clapping uproariously to which each man called out a "Merry Christmas" in greeting.

Harry marched up to the Gryffindor table shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries as he made his way toward a practically glowing Katie Bell who was wearing a fur trimmed Red robe in honor of the holiday, Her dark tresses adorned with greenery that looked suspiciously like… _mistletoe?_

Harry arrived and presented Katie with the rose bouquet. "It's not much but I..mmphhhh!" Whatever else he was going to say was muffled by Katie grabbing him up in a searing kiss that had the Hall whistling and cat calling around them excitedly.

When Katie final y broke off the kiss, Harry stumbled and fell heavily onto the bench beside her, staring vacantly with glazed eyes while Katie smacked her lips in satisfaction and returned to her meal with a smug expression pasted on her face as the crowd around the whole laughed heartily at their antic, the female contingent loudest of all.

The couple was occasionally glimpsed walking arm in arm and chatting quietly between them that night. Every once in a while they would sneak a kiss or two when they mistakenly thought they were being discreet, but of course, the whole castle was watching with bated breath, each kiss shared spread like wild fire from one common room's gossip center to the next, and one professor's private floo to the next, as well. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at an all-time high that night and each time his floo flared with a new tidbit he saluted the happy couple with a tip of his glass. He couldn't recall the last time he'd drank so much in one evening.

The next several days found Harry busying himself around the castle grounds, though what exactly he was doing no one, not even Remus, could say for sure. He would disappear and reappear at intervals, marking off distances with careful measured steps and marking different spots on the ground and nearby trees and stones.

When a brave soul would now and again ask what he was about, his usual response was that he was planning a party for the New Year.

He politely begged off all offers of assistance claiming he had _plenty of time_ to spare.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta-Jenifer. Up next is the big showdown! MK-One


	15. Chapter 15: Comes a shootist

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter.

A/N: Sorry everyone, but the original Chapter 15 was accidentally deleted so I've had to rewrite it from scratch, thus the reason for the wait.

**West of Here**

**Chapter 15: Comes a Shootist**

_Creak…Creak…Creak…_ The squeak of his rocking chair lulled his senses as he began to drift off, counting on the morning sun to wake him better than any alarm spell or muggle clock ever could.

Marshall Black perched himself atop the Astronomy Tower, acting sentinel for those slumbering below. He'd turned down many invitations to the New Year's Eve Ball held tonight, thinking celebration in poor taste in lieu of what he'd planned for the morning's coming New Year.

He'd spent the week performing a multitude of time jumps in endless trial and error, before he was satisfied, or at least _begrudgingly _satisfied, with tomorrow's turnout. The only part of the coming battle he had accounted for was the ending. He daren't risk experimenting with that lest he get himself killed and all came to ruination before it even started. He couldn't very well jump forward from the past, get himself killed and then still be available when the future battle took place, at least he didn't think so. Thinking about the whole time paradox thing gave him a headache.

He stifled a snort, thinking that maybe he'd found an equation that could stump even Hermione.

It would be as big a surprise to him as it was to Voldemort, if either of the two wizards, survived the coming battle.

He'd spent the week planning for most eventualities, though there was always some new and unforeseen intangible that seemed to crop up, inserting another wrinkle into his best laid plans—probably the result of those self-same time paradoxes that so vexed him.

To put it simply: he was as ready as he would ever be.

He'd wandered around the hall of the old castle, remembering times past. He'd left Remus some instructions… he'd make a fine Spirit Walker as he could think of no other man as kind and honorable as his parents' last living close friend. Remus would do the job credit in his stead if he shouldn't survive the morrow.

He left some coordinates for Ron that would see his endless appetite appeased by some first rate restaurants, delis and bakeries.

With a snort he'd wondered just what Ron's reaction to _pizza_ would be. _A bag of quarter pounders and fries wouldn't stand a chance against that git__'__s gnawing hunger._

The last thing he did was leave a pointed note for Katie Bell, apologizing for loving her while knowing he had no intentions of ever seeing his convictions through. He hoped that someday she might forgive him that, but figured he'd be beyond caring either way.

Just before he'd left Katie's note, he'd paid the Headmaster a last visit; wasn't so much a visit as it was procuring the headmaster's assistance with his plans.

**Flashback….**

"Surely you must realize the dire consequences of such an undertaking if you pursue this course of action unaided?"

"Let's see...hmm... I could either get killed, and or fail to eliminate the threat from our enemies, so worst case scenario is that nothing changes other than Voldemort is now mortal and can be dispatched by even the most pedestrian of means."

The older man paled at the bluntness of his young charge's reply. "I fail to see how you can so readily dismiss yourself from the equation without a moment's pause?"

Harry held the troubled man's gaze for the longest time before he decided to lay his cards on the table.

"My plan, my folly... at least this way no one we care about gets hurt and besides... I think we both know that I was never meant to survive that first Halloween night, neither I nor the Dark Idiot was."

"B-But, Harry, surely you can..." the man continued to argue but was abruptly cut off.

"Do you accept the order I've given you as a lawfully designated Guardian of the magical realm?"

"I do... I must, but…" the older man continued to plea.

"No buts... I charge you with locking down the castle from any and all intrusion or elopement from sunrise Jan one, to sunset of that self-same day. Are my instructions clear and will you abide by them?"

"They are and I will." Dumbledore added dolefully, his eyes lowered to his desk in defeat.

Harry quirked a half smile of empathy for the man, grateful that he could still feel so after the rocky start of their reunion. "Don't take it so hard; if things don't pan out I expect we'll see each other soon enough as you're not exactly a spring chicken anymore."

Dumbledore snorted in resignation at that. "No, no, I'm not, but I'd comforted myself with the hopes that I'd see an end to Voldemort's reign of terror and with it a few green eyed marauders come through the castle doors before my time expired."

"Hmm, I'm willing, but I'm not quite sure that Minnie can still have children at her age."

That said the two parted laughing uproariously.

**End of Flashback**

Creak…Creak…Creak... his rocking chair complained its lot as he considered the change of circumstance between himself and Wind Song.

He'd half-dressed from his shower when a gentle knock sounded at his chamber door. Idly he considered not answering, as he was sure it was yet another well-wisher trying to entice him into joining the Ball's festivities. A second, more urgent knock settled the matter as he disgruntledly made for the door, intending to send whoever it was away with the rough side of his tongue.

"Listen, I'm not interested in coming down to kick up…my…heels…?" The words died in his throat when he beheld the breathtaking sight of the Locuta shamaness, wearing her ceremonial white leathers and carrying a basin. Her hair was down and combed out; it shined like a raven's wing.

_It can__'__t be? _He thought in stunned disbelief, as there could be only one reason for a maiden to wear her hair down and still be dressed in formal leathers...marriage or…

_The Keiattaa?_

With wash-basin in hand, the latter seemed the more likely of the two scenarios.

"I have come to make amends, Little Wolf. I have shamed myself and our people in my unthinking and dishonorable acts toward your exalted person. I would not have the waters of our lives flow cold and opposite to one another. I humbly beg you to allow me the chance to make things right between us, as they should be between the _People__'__s_ chosen shaman and their Spirit Walker."

Too stunned for speech, Harry nudged the door open enough to allow her to pass and watched her, with a blank expression on his face, as she knelt by his fireplace in front of his room's love-seat, and proceed to conjure water to fill the basin to which she added some herbs and scents before folding her hands in her lap and waiting patiently for him to join her, her eyes pleading for his acceptance.

The _Keiattaa_ was an act of contrition that was reserved for only the most grave of offenses against one's person, whereby in an act of complete subservience the offending party washed the feet of the party offended, and as a further sign of humility, dried their feet afterwards with their own tresses. It was something usually allotted to married couples behind closed doors, and even then it was all but unheard of for one of Wind Song's station to lower herself in such a display.

Knowing the unique determination behind such an act of unpretentious intimacy, he found himself stumbling wordlessly forward, completed stymied by her intentions.

He fell into the love-seat and haltingly made to pull off his woolen socks.

"Nia" Wind Song protested, holding up a hand to halt him from proceeding.

Coloring in embarrassment, he allowed her to remove his socks, his blush deepening when she raised a dubious eyebrow at the hole in the toe of the left one.

"Ouuu-ahhhh..."he groaned in pleasure in spite of himself, as she massaged his boot-worried feet.

"I have no words that can convey the depth of my regret for having wronged you, heitaa, (beloved).

He started at the use of the familiar affection she used, and this time it was Wind Song that blushed in embarrassment, but for all that she held his eyes to convey the sincerity of her words.

The truth was that she found the legends paled in comparison to the man and she would consider herself a fool not to consider the unique possibility of such a match; that, and the fact that he was devastatingly handsome didn't hurt either. There was a rugged charm and antiquated demeanor with which he carried himself that she was as drawn to as were the rest of the female population of the castle, though she would never openly admit to such a thing.

She could say with pin-point certainty the moment when he had started to pull on her heart, however. It was the moment her deceased aunt had pleaded for him to look on her and the love that shined in her eyes not dulled in the least by death.

She saw a man who had paid love's price and then some, and was still paying a debt he no longer owed, or had ever even owed for that matter.

She thought to herself, in that divine moment, what she wouldn't give to have someone of his caliber to look on her this way.

She had decided in that very instant upon this course of action. She would lower herself as she had never considered doing before, but for him she would suffer the indignity in the hope that something positive would grow from the ashes of their shared despair.

"Um, Harry would you consider dancing with…me….?" Katie asked, stepping into the room and coming up short at the unexpected surprise she found therein.

In retrospect, he considered that he should have collected himself enough to make sure the door was completely closed and locked before he allowed himself to be drawn into Wind Song's display of apology, as that would have prevented this uncomfortable turn of events.

He could well understand that from Katie's vantage point: he seated on the couch with Wind Song kneeling in front of him at waist height and how that could be misconstrued.

He could also understand how the misunderstanding worsened when a jealous Katie growled out a challenging: "What she doing here?" and Wind Song's reply as she glided to her feet and answered with a smug grin… "Helping Little Wolf to feel better."

After that the two witches circled each other hissing and spitting like two strange cats locked in the same room.

"Oh, bother..." he sighed in resignation and grabbed up his boots and gun belts, leaving the two to sort things out for themselves, neither noticing his departure as they were solely fixated on the object of their ire.

Creak...Creak… Cre…, the chair silenced as its occupant drifted off into a troubled sleep.

**Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam**… the sound of angry gun reports and the shouts of alarm and screams of pain woke him as the first rays of dawn creeped over the forbidden Forest, temporarily blinding him.

**Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam**… he watched as his former self galloped across the road to Hogsmeade unloading his pistols into the Death Eaters caught between the still locked gate and the death on horseback riding across their perimeter.

"Get a move on dipshit!" he growled under his breath, as he reoriented himself to the distinct advantage he was letting slip through his fingers.

He raised the barrel of his Henry rifle and unloaded the gun into the unprotected rear of the mass of black, still shrieking and firing their wands at the retreating Guardian who was already well out of range of their return fire.

Snict-Snict-Snict… his fingers nimbly refilled his rifle, despite the cold that would have had most fumbling uselessly to reload the heavy weapon.

**Blam-Blam-Blam**…..

Snict-Snict-Snict….

Again and again he reloaded and emptied his rifle with reckless abandon. The Death Eaters screamed and fell like wheat before the scythe, before a few of the dark robed idiots finally realized their disadvantage and conjured walls and such to hide behind.

_Damn, that had been fun while it lasted;_ he thought to himself, smiling with grim satisfaction despite the multitude of lethal colored curses heading his way.

He ducked under the parapet, wincing as stone shattered and showered down on him from overhead.

He chanced a look after the first salvo, hoping to get off a shot, but ducked back down an instant before a killing curse shot through the space his head had occupied a scant millisecond before.

_Time for a diversion_, he thought, and began to count hitting three just before another round of gunfire announced his former self riding across the rear of the Death Eaters and unloading his colts once again at close range.

"WOO-HOO... step up and get some boys, there's plenty for everyone!" he heard his former self goad as he rode away.

_I__'__m an ass, _he considered, grimacing at his own obnoxious behavior.

Taking the moment's reprise his former self afforded him, he spirit-walked to the top of GryffindorTower and rechecked the scope on one of the fifty caliber snipers for the umpteenth time this week.

Just as expected, the Death Eaters mobilized to this side of the castle to remove themselves from the danger of being flanked between Hogsmeade and the Astronomy Tower. It was a sound tactical move considering that no one could apparate within the confines of Hogwarts' grounds, however a Spirit Walker had no need for apparition.

Thinking themselves safe, but still necessarily cautious, the Death Eaters scouted ahead in groups of three, conjuring cover as they came, or just having one shield for the group while the other two kept their wands trained on the castle.

It was sound tactical strategy—and exactly what he was hoping for.

**BAM**… the nearest Death Eater's head exploded in a shower of gore.

**BAM**… the dark wizard next to the headless one was twisted around as his shoulder blew out taking the rest of his arm with it.

"Arg... help…help me…" the Death Eater pleaded, already dying as his fellow abandoned him and his own life saving shield as he ran back to the rest of his group, blindly throwing curses over his shoulder as he ran in an all-out panic to save his own hide.

He wanted to make a quick work of it_, but Lord, how he hat__ed__ cowards that ran out on their partners._

Deciding that cowards didn't deserve a quick end, he shot the spineless fool in his retreating ass.

The man went down with a scream, his life's blood ruining the once pristine snow that covered Hogwarts' lawn.

He took grim satisfaction as he watched the man's would-be comrades shirk from making any attempt to recover the pleading man.

_No honor amongst thieves, or Death Eaters for that matter._

Eventually the wailing man's pleas faded to a few last gurgles before he stilled.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, the Death Eaters sent in expendable troops after that; a small herd of shambling trolls lumbered across the lawn from the direction of the quidditch pitch where they had been held in reserve.

**Bam-Bam-Bam-Bam-Bam**…click.

_Damn it all to hell! Why don__'__t they make bigger clips for these damn things__?_Marshall Black cursed silently as he disengaged the spent clip and slapped a full one back in place.

**Bam**...he shot one of the monstrosities in the knee and watched in dread fascination as the brute clubbed two of his innocent fellows for the perceived offence, killing them both before Black took pity and blew a grapefruit sized hole in the brute's head.

**Bam-Bam-Bam**…click

_Damn it that__'__s irritating, _he groused as he proceeded to reload the heavy weapon. _Why in the hell didn__'__t these folks stay with a Gatlin Gun? When ya find something that works- stay with it!_

He started at that in consternation. _Stupid bastard! _He cursed himself for not having thought to venturee back in time and get a Gatlin Gun himself.

**Bam-Bam-Bam-Bam**….. click

Black grimaced as there was still one troll left heading his way. That was another variable unaccounted for, as the first several times he'd experimented eliminating the trolls he had had it down to a tee, and there were no survivors left to account for those times.

_Damn nuisance,_ he complained as he begrudgingly drew his colt and with no more thought than drawing water from a well, he fired two rounds into the oncoming beast's head and immediately ejected the spent rounds and reloaded the two chambers with bullets from his gun belt.

That done he spirit walked to Ravenclaw Tower where he had the other sniper rifle set up on a tripod and waiting for action.

**Bam-m-m…** the sound of a distant report caught his attention.

"What the..argggh!" Black growled in pain as the slug from a sniper rifle tore into his left shoulder, missing his heart by a finger breath.

_Son of a bitch!..That__'__s new…? _He lamented as he conjured a handful of cotton cloth and shoved a wad into the bleeding hole below his shoulder to staunch the flow of blood.

He would've charmed the wound closed, but he couldn't risk taking the time to do so let alone risking exposure as he had only the faintest idea from what direction the attack came.

_Apparently Voldemort__'__s gone mercenary._

He'd like to say he spirit walked into the afterlife, but really it was more like- rolled. That done, he scouted out the lay of the land between the perimeter of the afterlife and the world of the living. It took him the better part of two hours there, but was really more like two minutes in the living world, when he found what he was looking for. At the edge of the Forbidden Forest beneath a camouflage netting of snow and brush was the tip of another sniper rifle's barrel.

_Son of a bitch must be near twelve hundred yards out?! _He thought with dread envy.

He stepped back into the world of the living directly behind the waiting sniper's position and cocked the barrel of his colt loud in warning.

The canopy of snow and brush shifted slightly and the barrel of the sniper rifle fidgeted as the sniper realized Black had got the drop on his position.

"You'll never make it," Black warned the sniper.

"How'd you get behind me?" a muffled voice asked from beneath the canopy.

"That's not the question you should be asking right now. What you should be concerned with it is whether the risk you took is worth the reward."

"Is it?" the sniper asked in a voice that clearly belied it already knew the answer.

"No" that said and- **Blam-Blam-Blam**… Marshal Black emptied his colt into the center of the canopy.

He didn't want to do it as the man was a shootist and a good one, but for all of that, if he survived the day and elected to remain in his present time; he didn't want to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. If a person takes money to kill a man, then he tries until said contract is fulfilled or he dies in the attempt.

Black would rather he die in the attempt.

A groan from beneath the canopy and the gun barrel of the rifle slumping to the ground announced the man was still alive but grievously wounded.

He toed off the canopy keeping his left colt trained on the lump beneath until a head of sweaty blonde hair came into view and brown pain filled eyes turned to look up at him.

"Finish it…please?" the man begged.

"Sorry about this, truly I am." Black needlessly apologized.

"I knew the risks, always have," the man cajoled. "For what it's worth and from what I've heard…I'm glad it's you and not some bum that got lucky."

Black nodded at the dying man's compliment, one professional to another.

"See ya in hell," he returned politely.

"S-See ya in h-hell.. urrg..." the man stuttered, biting back on the pain before Black put him out of his misery.

**Blam**

The marshal reloaded his guns and once that was completed he checked the action and when finally satisfied he then set about patching the gaping hole in his shoulder.

_Chitter…Chitter..?_

One of the giant spiders inquired drawn to the bleeding corpse at his feet.

"You leave him be." Black rounded angrily on the hungry beast.

_Chitter..click.. click?_

"He ain't wearing black robes so you let him be!" That said Black waved his hand over the corpse and it burst into flame. He was gonna bury the man outta respect, one professional to another, but he knew the spiders would set upon the corpse the minute his back was turned, and he couldn't afford another minute's distraction what with the Death Eaters undoubtedly fortifying their positions in his absence.

_Click-Click,_ the spider spat in disdain before lumbering away, a meal stolen from its point of view.

He held his Stetson over his heart. "We bring nuthin' into this world and we can take nuthin' when we leave. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"

Briefly he considered that this would be his end one day, though he doubted the desperadoes he hunted would afford him even this minor dignity in passing.

That thought, more than any other argument from his mother, swayed his opinion over his current lifestyle, and he had to admit that being surrounded by loved ones as you passed in comfort sounded a lot better than being left for the buzzards, broken and bleeding in some godforsaken weed patch.

He spirit walked back to the top of Ravenclaw Tower just in time to renew his attack on the encroaching Death Eaters. As he'd guessed, they'd managed to fortify their positions and had learned from their mistakes. They conjured rocks and walls as they came forward in groups of four; the ones behind keeping him at bay with a barrage of wand fire whilst those in front advanced to the next conjured cover. He was able to pick off a straggler here and there, but for the most part the Death Eaters advance was steady and sure.

With a sigh of regret he spirit walked back to the Astronomy Tower and took up his waiting Henry rifle.

_Damned waste, _he groused, as he was forced to take drastic measures and utilize one of his planned defenses for something other than what it was intended.

**Blam-BOOM!** He fired the Henry into one of the snow banks he'd marked with invisible paint which had been spelled so that it could only be seen from the top of the Astronomy Tower.

He'd planned this particular measure for the score of Giants that Voldemort was about to unleash rather than waste it uselessly on Death Eaters of which there seemed to be a never ending supply, but for all that, the Giants were the greater threat and then some.

**Blam-BOOM!** Another snow bank exploded as the Henry rifle's slug ignited the dynamite bundle he'd buried beneath the snow and ice. Death Eater bodies and bits flew through the air, painting the once pure snow crimson, the air filled with the stench of blood and the screams of maimed and dying.

A thundering sound heralded the release of a score of Giants that were covered in a patchwork: hodgepodge of bits of wood and steel in a semblance of armor. What was left of the Death Eater force he'd decimated with his buried makeshift land-mines, tried to retreat out of the way of the rampaging Giants, faring poorly as several were trampled into mush beneath several tons of Neanderthal fury.

Down to his last three land-mines, Black had to make them count, which meant letting the Giants in closer than was prudent given the brutes' resistance to magic and small-arms fire.

Given that their immense size made aiming superfluous, he couldn't miss with a hip shot from the Henry at this range.

Standing at the precipice of the Astronomy Tower, Black let fly, pouring round after round into the stampede heading his way.

**Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam**…

Each report shook the windows of the castle, startling the multitude of faces pressed against and fogging the surface of the panes; their rapid breathing denoting their heightened anxiety.

"Merlin above... is he insane?" one onlooker half swore under his breath; many nodding their agreement to the question posed.

"Please Albus, Please?" Molly Weasley begged for the umpteenth time, pawing fretfully at her husband's supporting arms that were trying, more than anything, to keep her from bolting recklessly into one of the Castle's locked and warded portals as she had done previously and nearly injuring herself as she had been violently rejected.

"I cannot, Molly. I, like all people who serve the light, needs-must obey the edict of a Guardian. I am oath sworn to uphold the law of the land, as Marshall Black well knew when he commanded my castle's portals for the day. He used my dual role as Chief Warlock and Headmaster against me to full advantage, quite ingeniously so." The headmaster finished, complementing Harry's ingenuity.

"But, he's going to get himself killed!" Katie wailed despondently; stating the obvious to everyone watching the spectacle in varying states of terror and awe.

"What more could we do that he isn't already doing himself?" Remus argued logically, though he too wanted to join his young friend despite all reason to the contrary.

"Ingenious doesn't begin to describe his using time to place multiple versions of his past self into the battlefield, harrying the Death Eater flanks and protecting his blind spots, it's sheer brilliance!" Remus practically glowed with pride at his younger friend's cunning.

"Have faith." Hermione ventured calmly, though her heart was hammering in her chest as she pulled Katie Bell into a reassuring half hug that did little to dispel her own growing fears.

"He's obviously been planning this for a while," one twin ventured, his face pressed against the glass and watching the one sided battle in consternation."

"Brilliant that, planting dynamite," his brother complimented, to which Fred added… "Yeah, but the lawn's a total loss. The way he's got this figured, he's probably already owns a landscaping company that would be only too happy to set things right for a nice bit of gold."

A few nervous snickers acknowledged that fact, appreciating any nuance of humor just now to dispel even a bit of the growing pall of anxiety settling over the Castle's occupants.

What do you think, Ron?" his father asked worriedly as his most vocal son was strangely quiet, his complete attention glued to the rising drama outside the castle.

"I'm thinking he let me win every time we played chess," Ron gasped, shocked by what he was seeing unfolding before his gaping eyes.

Hermione gasped under her breath at that, realizing that she had underestimated her friend as much as her fiancé had and they were the closest to him and should have known better, by all accounts.

Her other hand, the one that Katie didn't have a death grip on, wound its way into Ron's giving him a supportive squeeze, for which he shot her a grateful half-smile before resuming his vigilant gaze to the battle outside his fogging window.

**Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam…**

The windows reverberated with each gun blast.

"Uh, oh..." Fred gasped, losing all joviality from his voice. "Those Giants are getting pretty damn close."

"Too close!" his twin half shouted, stepping back from the window in alarm as one slammed into the side of the castle.

**FOOOOM**

The floor lurched; knocking some of the onlookers off their feet as the giant impacted the castle wall outside and the entire castle shuddered from the collision.

"Albus, maybe we'd better….?" Remus began worriedly, as he and the rest watched in dread as the giant began scaling the wall outside and working his way towards Marshal Black's position.

"There's nothing we can do." Albus refuted regretfully. "The castle is in complete lockdown until sunset. Even I cannot dispel a time sensitive security ward; it must run its course once initiated."

"Can't we, I don't know... can't we at least warn him somehow?" Katie begged desperately

**BLAM-BLAM**

"**URGGG!"**

**WHUMPH**

The floor lurched again as the dying giant fell like a meteor against the side of the castle before leaving a crater in the ground outside.

"I think he already knows." George relayed the obvious, to which many others snickered appreciatively.

Despite repeated attempts at cheering each other with joviality, one group watched the proceedings outside with growing concern.

The Locuta were watching the battle unfold with a professional detachment initially, but as events progressed one could readily discern the increasing anxiety of the group.

Finally it was Dumbledore who broached the subject of their thoughts, hoping to alleviate some of their fears before the rest of the group mimicked their stance and desperation held sway.

"Though Marshal Black appears to have the matter well in hand, I believe you have some concerns, Shaman Wind Song? By all accounts Marshal Black appears to be performing splendidly." the headmaster added bracingly.

The shaman and her warrior accompaniment shared a troubled look before she made their trepidation known.

"He is not using his magic." she stated bluntly - as if that explained in detail their concerns over the enfolding battle which they too were powerless to aid.

"He doesn't appear to need to," Dumbledore retorted, seemingly unconcerned. "I should think that if the need arises he will rely on whatever measure he deems best to see his goals accomplished," he placated, though he too was troubled in that he had noticed Harry's proclivity toward relying on mundane methods to accomplish his tasks.

"He almost never uses his magic, come to think of it, outside of Spirit Walking of course," Remus noted, before amending his train of thought, but one could readily see the wheels turning as he contemplated just how little Harry relied on magic compared to other wizards.

"I've only ever seen him use a few charms here and there, second or third year type stuff mostly," Ron added thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as he considered the observation.

"You don't think he...I don't know...lost his magic or something?" Katie asked worriedly.

"Nia(no)" Wind Song balked at that notion. "Only someone very strong could assume the role of a Spirit Walker and even then the strain would be terrible on one's magical strength, but by most accounts it barely seems to take a toll on Little Wolf. His recovery time is exceptional to say the least."

"Why then does he…?" Hermione began to ponder, herself mulling over the uniqueness of her friend's abilities, or lack thereof in this instant. The friend she knew was very powerful and had a growing spell repertoire at his disposal. Something began to click into place, something she hadn't thought of until this very instant.

"He's afraid." Hermione gasped.

"What? Mi'one, that's daft! Harry was one of the bravest people I've ever known and I swear Marshal Black doesn't even know what fear is." Ron refuted, aghast at that idea.

"He knows what fear is, Auror Weasley." Bear Claw entered the conversation, despite the tense look his shaman shot his way for his trouble. He sighed regretfully, but plowed on despite her unease. "He knows because _the people_ taught him to fear."

"What did you do?" Katie scathed, directing her comments at Wind Song accusingly.

"Not us directly, but our people, I'm ashamed to say. So yes... we, I guess, is an appropriate accusation as the Locuta share in the pride of our way of life, so too should we share in our failings. As much as we would like to think ourselves above such narrow minded assumptions, we have or at least had the same bigotries as the rest of the so called 'civilized world'." She drew quotation marks in the air.

She could tell by the way Hermione sought out her fiancé's supporting arms that she knew, at least in part, where this conversation was going.

"He was different when he came upon us. Lonely, starving and…_white_. Our people suffered greatly at the white man's hands back in those days, hence the reason we disappeared into naught but legend to the rest of the world. We hid our lands away much like you do your home under this...what did you call it…Fidelus charm?"

Seeing a nod from Remus in confirmation, she continued, "It took the whole of our people to cast the spell and even then some of the weaker magic wielders died in the effort, but our lands were hidden, we were hidden and we thought safe, and remained so for several generations. In time fear, unrealistic or otherwise, tends to grow and fester over the unknown and here the object of all that fear and trepidation wandered blindly into our midst; his tongue as foreign to us as the rest of his appearance. He… H-He…" she choked up here and Bear Claw patted her shoulder reassuringly and took up the vein of the conversation.

"He was treated no better than a rabid cur. Beaten, starved, ridiculed… enslaved. Nothing was beneath us in our unthinking cruelty due to our fear of the unknown. It would have been far kinder to outright kill him, but eventually… eventually we learned, or that is: _he taught_ us, the error of our ways."

"He rose up to eventually assume the most revered of positions amongst our nation." Calm Waters added proudly.

"Indeed he did." Wind Song nodded, her cheeks coloring slightly for an unrelated reason of her own. "But… despite that he dared to love and as a result _fear _once again reared its ugly head and he was driven out lest he _contaminate _the tribe." She spat the word with utter contempt in her voice.

"Love can be denied, forsaken, trampled in the dust, but does it ever truly die?" Shadow Wolf added thoughtfully, his point made known by Wind Song's further insights.

"Upon a time he dared to love and, as an honorable man, he asked the maiden's father for her hand. His request was not well received. The old fears and bigotries reared their ugly heads as they unfortunately often to do."

Bear Claw took up the next leg of Harry's journey amongst his people. "For his audacity he was banished from our lands upon pain of death should he return. He left without a word or backward glance. Eventually word from the outside world of a lean, green eyed Marshal reached even our sheltered ears. He was called a bringer of justice, a hard, unyielding man that had no fear of hell itself and rode down upon the lawless with a vengeance."

Many were the shared looks among the gathered witnesses to the battle outside. All of them recognized the description of Marshal Black, just as the Locuta of old must've done.

"I can see by your faces you recognize the description just as my ancestors had surely done, at least his once love did. Gentle Breeze was her name." Wind Song offered warmly. "She was our chieftain's daughter and also a Spirit Walker, but of nowhere near Little Wolf's caliber in power. She stole away in the night against her father's command and to her mother's lament, having overcome her fears in search of love unrequited. Unfortunately, it was not love she first happened upon, but malevolence. Dark wizards with rough hands and foul intent captured and abused my aunt, leaving her for dead when they'd finished amusing themselves at her expense. But, she did not die, at least not right away... she lasted long enough for her once love to have found her, for Black had been tracking these foul men. I do not know the particulars, but I do know that she died happily and at peace in the arms of her love, for who would not?"

She paused as several women, including Katie gasped and snuffled dejectedly at that. She shared a pointed supportive look with Katie, and once calmed she finished her story.

"He, however, was not at peace, nor was he happy. He caught up with the Dark wizards and his vengeance was terrible to be sure. Once she was avenged he took Gentle Breeze's broken body back to our people, to her family, so they too could find some measure of peace. I'm told he walked among them with his head held high as they hurled stone and threats at his passing. Many thought the worst: that he had avenged himself on the people by killing Gentle Breeze.

He brought her body before his once-chieftain's lodge, her father's home. **Thunder **was his name, a proud and strong man. In his grief he raged at Little Wolf and beat him viciously as his once-prodigy did nothing to protect himself in return. It was only at the point of death when Thunder looked into Little Wolf's mind that he saw the immense error of his ways."

"He must've seen Harry avenging his daughter?" Ron surmised, holding a snuffling Hermione in his arms.

Katie had her arms wrapped around herself as if trying to ward of a terrible chill, Susan Bones was rubbing her back in comfort as the woman struggled not to cry.

Wind Song shook her head sadly. "No... my grandfather saw the horrific depth of Little Wolf's love for his daughter and he knew then the magnitude of his and his people's betrayal. My grandmother healed him as best she might, and after Gentle Breeze was laid to rest the people were ordered by the Thunder to leave Little Wolf in peace forever more. His banishment was lifted, but none had any illusions that he would ever return to our lands and people. There was nothing for him there, only misunderstanding, intolerance and heart ache. Who would wish to return to that?" she finished, wiping a tear from her eye.

Katie was crying openly, both Hannah and Susan trying to comfort the distraught witch unsuccessfully.

"So you came to clear your conscience then?" Remus assumed, his voice laced with contempt.

"No, we came because our chief asked it of us. The Thunder was very gifted and he had a vision this time would come and that Little Wolf would need all the help he could get in defeating an evil that could well consume the world. Our people eventually, along with all the rest, would know death for the fortunate, and slavery for the rest. I would be lying if I said that was wholly my reason for coming. I came because I wanted to confront the man that many still believed killed my revered aunt and left our people without a Spirit guide." She wiped at her eyes as she collected herself.

"I have since learned the error of my ways and would do all in my power to see his heart at peace once again, but I fear it will never be so. As skilled a warrior as Marshal Black is, skill alone will not see him through this day. There are simply too many in the opposition for one man… brave and brilliant though he is, there are just too many against him to overcome on skill alone. He needs to, must, call upon his magic, but his is afraid to do so."

"He performs a bit of magic here and there to get by, but according to the stories of our people, Little Wolf's power is without peer," Calm Waters suggested reverently. "I have longed to meet the _Legend_, for he is that among the older and wiser of us who do not let ourselves be swayed by idle gossip." At this he gave his Shaman a significant look that had the woman coloring in embarrassment.

"They say his powers manifested themselves differently from those of the rest of us," Bear Claw conjectured.

"How so?" The headmaster asked curiously, himself suspecting already where Harry's true gifts were based.

"They say that he dwells in both worlds; the living and the dead and as such he can call upon the magic of both existences," Shadow Wolf intimated.

"What exactly does that mean? Dora asked, she as puzzled by that pronouncement as were the rest.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling madly as the final piece of the puzzle he'd been working through clicked into place.

"Her can call upon the magics of the earth and of heaven," he stated simply.

Hermione was about to ask for further clarification when the air around them plummeted in temperature, their breaths misting in the air.

The screams started. Even at this distance he could hear his mother screaming and begging mercy for her son. "H-How many dementors did you say Harry's patronus chased off your third year by the lake when you saved Sirius?" Fred asked, his face at the windowsill was paling dramatically.

"A-About a hundred," Hermione tremulously answered, she herself turning toward the windows in frightened understanding.

"Well there's a helluva a lot more than a hundred dementors out there and they're coming this way!" George warned, he himself stepping back from the window in revulsion and fingering his wand in reassurance as he struggled to try and think of his happiest memory.

His Henry was spent and his pistols were useless at this range, not that they could do anything against beings that were already more dead than alive.

"I reckon it's time," Black breathed out worriedly, as he relinquished his carbine, tipping it's still smoking barrell against the tower wall.

He stretched his hands outward and raised them to the cloudless sky overhead as he commanded the very heavens in a booming voice…

"**Linota oiso wata!"**(Cleanse with fire)

**Spak-Spak-Spak…**

Hail struck the windows outside, bursting into flame on contact, hissing and spitting as it melted into the snow covered lawns.

Screams and wails of pain filled misery filled the air as dementors burst into flame, clawing madly at the air as their eons long existence snuffed out like the last remnants of a blazing inferno, to no more than a few sparks of cinders disappearing in the breeze.

"God in Heaven!" Remus half swore in awe. "Albus, have you ever seen the like?"

"Never," the headmaster answered simply, before adding, "but I have read of such a thing as have we all if we recall the teachings of the Book of Life," he suggested, his own voice reverent about that to which he was bearing witness.

"The trials of Egypt…" Molly Weasley gasped in dread understanding, her husband was clinging as desperately to his wife as she to him.

"Y-You don't think that God... that Harry is…?" Hermione questioned in alarm.

"No,.. I do not think he is God's prophet or or anything like that, but I do believe what we are seeing is his testament to the will of the dead," Dumbledore clarified sagely.

"Co vassti eita dejas ferso daitony." Bear claw breathed reverently, as he watched the last of the dementors dissolve into no more than a puddle of inky foulness.

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked from nearby.

"The dead will have their vengeance," Calm Waters translated, his voice laced with awe as he added, "No longer just a Spirit Walker, but now… Hautoo Fespo!"

That said, the male contingent of the Locuta joined hands and each one of them dropped to one knee, beginning to chant in prayer.

"The Spirit Warrior had arrived," Wind Song announced before joining her fellows.

As the last dementor dissolved into black ichor, a lone, lean figure walked out of the afterlife and across the lawns toward the remnants of Voldemort's horde. His previous selves shimmered and winked from existence as he came, clearing the path for vengeance sake.

**The Reckoning**

The fifty or so remaining Death Eaters looked ready to bolt rather than face a single man, however their collective terror of their master's wrath—as he screamed orders—hardened their resolve.

A multitude of dark curses streaked toward the oncoming Marshal, who emptied his colts as he twisted and danced through waves of the foulest curses known to wizard-kind. His duster swirled about him as curses laced and tore into the scaly material seeking the tender flesh beneath.

He dropped his pistols, having neither time or ammo left to reload, and drew his navy colts as he continued forward, firing and dodging curses that lessened as their numbers dwindled with each report from his smoking guns.

Once his navy colts were spent they were discarded without a second's thought as he shrugged out of his smoldering duster before the curses it still managed to keep at bay could find their way towards his flesh.

"He's hurt!" Katie half screamed as she whimpered helplessly against the restraining glass that barred her from rendering aid, as it did the rest of her friends beside her.

Black's Bowie Knife flashed into his hand and cut an intricate pattern in the air. Faster and faster the knife went and the air crackled with energy in its passing, until with a last horrific tearing sound, the very fabric of reality tore open and the curses heading his way disappeared in the rift that grew wider and wider, sucking up every stray curse into oblivion as it seemed to inhale the very light of day.

The air grew grey and darkness descended over a midday sky.

Feathery lights drifted from out of the rift and dotted the lawns as they came by the dozens, surrounding the Death Eaters whose wands fell from nerveless fingers as even Voldemort's maddened commands choked and died from his constricted, dry throat.

"Turn away!" Shadow Wolf commanded from his kneeling position, his voice echoing throughout the school. "Do not look upon them for we are not to know their ways. They come to bear witness and champion the Spirit Warrior's cause. Death has come to Hogwarts and Death will not be denied," he warned them prophetically, as if he were the Angel of Death proclaiming the end of the world.

Tear filled eyes turned away in fright whilst others lowered in reverence, but none chanced a further look outside, too afraid of the consequences to risk doing so, not that any felt they had the right in the first place.

The lights across the lawn gradually became more distinct, until images of the wronged and murdered clarified into being as the countless victims of their past crimes came seeking justice for their ruined lives and now extinct family names.

"What is this? It's a trick it has to be! No magic can bring back the dead!" Voldemort hissed angrily, trying in vain to mask his own terror as most of his subordinates trembled and quaked in fear, many falling to their knees begging and praying for forgiveness far too late for it to matter now.

A female from some distant memory stepped forward. Her eyes held the pain of the world as a silver tear splayed down one cool cheek.

"We have not returned to life, my son, but have come to remove you from it. You have squandered the life I died to give you and in your hatred and greed you have taken that to which neither you nor any other save the Great Father has a right to take."

"Wha… who…?" Voldemort gasped, already his eyes growing wide in the knowledge as to who was speaking and what she apparently intended.

"It is said that all children instinctively know their own mother whether they remember her face or not. Merope Gaunt murmured dejectedly. "If you cannot recognize my face, surely you can empathize with my shame, or is your soul so filled with evil that you no longer even know how to feel regret?"

"R-Regret,.. what have I to regret? Does a dog regret destroying the fleas that worry his flesh? Should I regret removing a few nuisances from their wretched existence?" he scoffed indignantly, as if such a notion was meaningless to his lofty delusions of self-worth.

Merope sighed a cleansing sigh of acceptance. "Then neither shall I regret your judgment. How saw you all? She asked her voice filling the void as voices around the school added to those from the void in a resounding… **"AYE"**

"So be it. Tom Marvolo Riddle…the Light rejects you and yours forevermore." his mother pronounced sadly, but with resolution, albeit peace filling her voice.

"The Light rejects.. what do I care what the Light wants? They're nothing but mindless sheep, rabble to be squashed from a world they are not fit to … fit… to….?"

Voldemort's mad raving died in his throat as the lawns blackened beneath his feet and wails of pain and misery wafted out of the void as shadowy specters drifted across the blackened earth toward the quaking remains of the once most feared Dark Lord in existence and his blood thirsty henchmen. Some screamed and ran, only to be dragged down, and pulled wailing and begging desperately, into the abyss.

"Let go of me… get away..I'm immortal…I can't die!" Tom Riddle was the last to go and go he did, after first having to witness the end he and his fellows had so justly earned; the knowledge of what his eternity would become was mirrored in his horrified eyes as he begged his mother to save him like the coward he was when finally faced with his well-earned punishment.

"M-Mum? Mum p-please….help me, mum….Mum? Noooo…!" he screamed and jabbered as the damned claimed their long awaited entertainment.

Only Tom Riddle wasn't the last, one living soul still remained, or two actually: one sane and one not. The darkness faded and the light returned as several spirits crowded around a last gibbering wretch who was firing killing curses at those beyond caring whilst she screamed and gibbered unintelligibly.

"I can think of no more fitting punishment for you than to have to live out the rest of your existence consumed by the madness and disdain with which you treated the world around you, Bellatrix. Let your screams and rants serve as stark warning to any who would foolishly think to follow in your foul master's footsteps. Then, when the last breaths you take are those with a clear and unfettered mind, then let you fully comprehend the knowledge of what joining your master will then entail forever more."

Merope Gaunt turned to the void and asked again in a clear voice…. "What say you all?"

"**AYE"**

Bellatrix wand fell from her trembling fingers as the light of dawning knowledge grew in her eyes before they shrouded over and she writhed in the snow, clawing at her face as she shrieked her madness to the world.

"A fitting mascot for evil and its ultimate rewards," Merope Gaunt pronounced as she turned away from the wretched woman without a second thought. She moved toward the void when the voice of reason halted her in her tracks.

"I'm ready if you want-ta call the others back now." Black accepted his perceived fate with calm resolve. His blood drenched the snow where he's fallen to his knees succumbing to his many wounds and utter exhaustion.

He was dying and knew it was time to accept what was. As much as it frightened him to the bone, he was resolved to go without a fuss and not lower himself to the cowardly end his nemesis displayed when finally faced with his own mortality.

He would be damned, or was damned, but for all that he wasn't going to leave the world a sniveling, pants-pissing, coward of a bully.

"The others?" Merope asked, turning her head to the side in puzzlement as she looked down softly at the dying man, too weak to regain his feet though he would try, she knew.

"The others... the dark ones," he murmured warily. "I'll take my comeuppance, but Lord…" — at this Harry pulled his Stetson from his head and raised his doleful eyes toward the sky. "but Lord, if I've ever done anything worth a damn in your eyes, then lend me the strength to meet my punishment on my feet, so that my friends and folks won't think I died a coward, even if I ain't exactly feeling all that brave just now."

That said, he pulled his Stetson back down over his pale and sweat filled brow and tried desperately to rise up, one hand clamped over his abdomen to try and hold his guts in. Through a Herculean effort he made it about half way up before his face turned green and his knees gave out, falling back into a puddle of his own frozen blood, gasping in agony.

"A-Alright..I u-understand…just get-t… get on with it already - before I m-make a bigger spectacle of m-myself." he stammered and pleaded as he strained not to cry out in agony.

A gentle hand brushed fondly down his cheek and he looked up hopefully, thinking he was given a gift he didn't deserve in that he would be allowed to apologize to his mum before they dragged him off.

"Yours is and has been a harsh existence, Harry Potter. The Creator's wrath is harsher still by most accounts. Harsh, but fair to those who catch his eye in their wickedness, or grace, and make no mistake… he sees all, Harry Potter. The good and the bad are laid bare before his all-seeing gaze. What you have wrought here today wasn't either a good thing nor exactly was it bad. It neither pleased nor angered him and his; it was merely necessary and needed doing. Does this not sound familiar to you?" Merope Gaunt asked pointedly, her soft hand cupping his chin and holding his trembling gaze.

"I-It sounds a lot like the last ten years of my l-life." He grimaced in painful realization.

"Yes" Merope agreed "You are and have been neither good nor bad, you just are, Harry Potter, and what you are is what is needed. That does not say that you do not please the Father, for you do that which he needs you to do. As I said: harsh, but fair, Harry Potter."

Harry's gaze was drifting out of focus but she could see he was still struggling to understand as unconsciousness tried to drag him under.

"Allow him to be fair, Harry Potter." Merope directed with a wistful smile of knowing as Harry slipped into unconsciousness.

Screams and cries of alarm and denial echoed through the castle as a lone figure pitched face first into the blood covered lawn and went eerily still.


	16. Chapter 16: Cocked and loaded for bear

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter.

**West of Here**

**Chapter Sixteen: Cocked and loaded for bear!**

"Son of a bitch, really?" A dry throat croaked upon cracking open sleep matted eyes. "I can't even die properly." Harry lamented after orienting himself to find that he was again a patient/prisoner of the Hogwarts' infirmary.

He cast a furtive glance down to survey the damage, and upon taking a peek under the linens, found his sheet-covered body surprisingly blemish free.

"What is it with the females around here 'bouts always stripping me naked?" he grumbled at finding himself once again without a stitch of clothing on his person and the sheet doing little to mask his joy at er... _rising with the dawn._

"I swear, if it ain't Pomfrey having herself a go at my expense, then it's Katie playing the jealous card and Hermione the prude, whilst the rest of the crowd ogles my bits. Neither one of those two are foolin' anybody. I bet Ron's got a story to tell when he's in his cups and that Katie kisses like she's starving and your tongue's a beef steak hot off the spit." He grumbled to himself.

The lights of the infirmary winked on and he could tell company was a-coming by the hurried footsteps coming from both Pomfrey's office and the hall outside.

_They must've cast some alarm ward that triggered when I woke up_, he mused in irritation as he was starving and in no fit condition to put on display.

Grabbing the first thing that came to hand from his nightstand, he plopped his Stetson down over his morning erection to preserve his waning modesty, just as the infirmary doors burst open and a gaggle of excited well-wishers descended upon him, a scant millisecond after Madam Pomfrey who was already casting the first of a plethora of diagnostic charms.

"Where're my clothes, woman?" he snarled irately with a hint of anxiety over his vulnerability.

"Tone, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey drawled dismissively in her own chastising tone of voice that would clearly brook no argument from his quarter.

He was about to retort with the first of several complaints but was cut off by the matron as this was old territory between them.

"And before you start, let's make it perfectly clear that I am treating one Harry Potter, not Jamie Black or whatever other alias you intend to hide behind as an emotional crutch."

"Now you looky here…" he waggled a finger at the healer as his face darkened like a thunder cloud.

"Ah-Ah…" Madam Pomfrey warned, waggling her own finger back at him as she laid down the law.

"Your rags, such as they were, were destroyed, as they were riddled with dark magic, as was your person. Both of which we were unfortunate to not be able to dispel in the same fashion, if you take my meaning?" She glowered down at the difficult man pointedly.

"Of all the ungrateful…I thought healers were supposed to be kind and compassionate?" he groused.

"We are but a reflection of those we care for, _Harry_." She stressed his given name to dig at his resolve.

Harry's eyes narrowed to steely slits, but he forwent the coming storm as he desperately needed to orient himself.

"H-How long?" he managed to croak out in surprise, despite his parched and scratchy throat which he realized was due to a long spell of disuse.

A cool glass of water was pressed into his reaching hand and he began to drink greedily of its contents before spraying out the last dregs in his surprise when she informed him, "For many weeks now." Pomfrey answered with a smirk, as she could reliably predict his reaction and she wasn't disappointed.

"Ach.. Gaaa…" he spluttered, half choking on the water still trying to find its way into his stomach, but detoured by his lungs.

"Why?"

"You were seriously wounded in both magic and body, according to the Locuta shamaness, in spirit as well. She left only a few weeks ago – reluctantly, as she was eager to be here when you finally awoke, but she could delay in her tribal duties no longer. She left a means to contact her and asked that I do so the moment you awakened…"

"No," Black cut her off in mid summation, clarifying: "Not _why was _I abed so long, but_ why _did you even bother? You should've passed me through the veil while you had the chance, rather than all the bother of the circus my trial will be, as the end result would be the same. I reckon you're all a-figurin on a life hitch in Azkaban, eh? Well if you think a bunch of floating shrouded corpses is gonna break me so's I piss my pants, then you're gonna be mighty disappointed." he threatened courageously with no little bravado, as in truth he'd stopped fearing dementors a long time ago. Only one thing truly terrified him and he wasn't about to let that one thing rule his life.

"Trial... pass you through the veil?!"Madam Pomfrey scoffed aghast, hurriedly scanning him with her wand, thinking that perhaps his wits were addled from his long coma. "Why ever would we even remotely consider such a horrific thing?" she clucked her tongue disapprovingly, once she had satisfied herself that he wasn't suffering mentally.

"Awe come on... you must've seen… everyone musta seen what I did?!" he lamented in shame. "I ain't denying it; I killed a helluva a lot'a folks. War or no… there's gotta be a price to pay for something like that."

"We we're thinking the Order of Merlin, but that seems too insignificant in comparison to the scope of your heroic deeds," Madam Pomfrey conjectured, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she chided him.

"Heroes save people, not slaughter them. I know what I did and I know what I am," he spat disgustedly. "Hell, even the dead got no use for me one way or t'other," he drawled in his western accent.

There was a frightful despondency about him that alarmed the matron. She was expecting some of his unique, if dry, sense of humor, at the least, his unscrupulous, albeit humorous antics, at best, but not a return to text book Harry Potter type self-recrimination.

Having been alerted by the same proximity alarm as Madam Pomfrey, several concerned parties trickled in, in varying states of wariness to their friend's growing agitation

"Harry please, you've been in a coma for nearly six months. Madam Pomfrey and Shamaness Wind Song worked feverishly day and night…." Hermione began to intercede, having only just arrived and still tying together her housecoat. Her plea only served to infuriate him more.

"For Six Months?! You mean I've been unconscious all that time and at the mercy of this dowdy old spinster and a witch doctor ta boot!"

Pomfrey huffed indignantly, but Harry's complaint cut off any retort on her part. "Lord knows what she'd been dosing me with!"

He burst out of bed, further ignoring the squeals of the ladies present while clamping his Stetson over his naked bits as he backed away in terror.

"I'm.. urp….I'm all crawly inside. I think I'm gonna...I'm gonna, urp… blechhh!"

"Eww!" Katie gagged and everyone automatically took a step back as Harry sicked-up. Using the distraction, he bolted from the infirmary as he shouted in panic… "Lord almighty, somebody get me a priest, an exorcist...I been tainted by evil!"

He barely managed to stumble into the nearby bathroom and bolt the door before his trembling legs gave out. He was cursing under his breath as he hadn't accounted for the long months abed without proper exercise.

Magic was good, but tendons and ligaments shrunk with disuse, he found to his painful displeasure. Gamely he limped into the barrier between worlds, not crossing over entirely as he knew where he wasn't wanted; which was just about everywhere just now to his way of thinking.

Even though God himself was feeling generous about not punishing him, that didn't necessarily mean that he was still wanted; and just because God wasn't about to exact a toll, he didn't figure that the world of men were gonna be gracious about letting bygones be bygones.

Half the reason he'd made Dumbledore swear he could return to the past was because he'd figured that if he actually managed to kill Voldemort and still survive to tell the tale, they'd make a scapegoat of him and lock him away as a reward for a job- _too_ well done. He'd like to collect his possibles and make a quick and final exit, but hobbled as he currently was he couldn't risk being caught out and dropped by a simple stunner.

As he wasn't about to leave his colts, Henry rifle and well broken in saddle behind; he needed time to rest and recuperate before he returned and retook possession of his belongings and make a clean break of it after.

With a smirk of indulgence he decided the beach would be a nice change as he'd never been to the beach and he'd heard that warm water was just the thing to sooth and tone stiff, tired muscles.

Besides, that dark tanned beauty in the flame orange bikini looked just the type to help him get back up and into action - as McGonagal was definitely out just now.

Taking a leaf out of his Godfather's page, he decided to see just what all the fuss was about concerning the fairer sex and their inherent ability to cure the male of the species' heart and soul.

Two Months Later….

_Lord above, but that Sirius Black was a closet genius!_ A well-rested and recovered Jamie Black mused upon waking; comfortably sandwiched between a pair of beauties that were as dark tanned all over as he himself was, as evidenced by their current state of undress and lack of tan lines for all three.

He carefully extradited himself from his er, _companions, _and made his way quietly to the bathroom, intending to relieve his bladder before making his _guests_ a spot of breakfast in a show of appreciation. Not that they'd done more than a bit of exploration. He wanted to do more, but he just couldn't seem to shake the feeling that it should be with the right someone and not with just some passing fancy. That didn't mean that almost everything else wasn't open to careful examination and exploration. After all, he owed it to the special future witch and or witches, in his life, to be well versed so he's able to make a proper job of it.

He had a reputation to uphold and all.

He flipped on the radio hoping for a bit of music while he worked, but instead….

"_**We interrupt our usual broadcast for breaking news… two armed robbers have been cornered by police in the act of robbing the First National Bank of Hilo. The thieves have taken hostages from within the bank and are threatening to kill one hostage for every ten minutes that the authorities delay in meeting their outrageous demands…"**_

_Ah hell, I reckon the vacation's over._

Jamie sighed dejectedly as he summoned his clothes followed by his stealthily recovered colts. Despite the warm weather he decided on wearing the new duster he'd fashioned, as he'd decided he like being alive and intended to remain so and along that vein, one could never be too careful.

Black Stetson in place, he tipped his hat in his companions' direction and walked between worlds, emerging in the lobby of the First National Bank of Hilo, not two feet behind a masked thug holding a sawn-off shotgun to the head of a whimpering pregnant woman. The man seemingly enjoyed the woman's pleas; which only served to raise Jamie's hackles further after having his pleasant morning already disturbed.

"Hey, dipshit!" Jamie called out as he drew his colt and reversed the grip in one fluid motion.

"Huh?..Ughh!" the man barely managed a nonsensical reply of startlement before the butt handle of Jamie's colt slammed into his temple, sending him spinning to the floor, unconscious before he hit it.

The pregnant woman tripped in surprise and nearly went sprawling herself, before Jamie's powerful arm clamped around her back and steadied her.

"Easy miss, easy… you're safe now." He twisted around and informed the rest of the startled hostages…

"I'm U.S. Marshall, Jamie Black. You folks just sit tight for another minute and I'll have you outta this fix and home in time fer lunch, 'k?" That said, he passed the woman to another set of reaching sympathetic arms, tipped his hat and walked out of the front door of the bank, startling the thief's partner who was busily demanding the moon and stars from an exasperated police negotiator whilst holding his gun to the head of an adolescent girl who was crying for her mother.

The thief spun around angrily at hearing the bank doors open, thinking his partner was getting impatient.

"I told you to wait inside for my signal! He came up short at seeing Jamie and his glittering Marshall badge on his lapel. He couldn't for the life of him fathom how the police had managed to out-flank him, not with his partner covering his back.

"Who're y-you..?" the man stuttered warily in stunned disbelief.

"Marshall Jamie Black," Jamie answered, tipping his hat amiably before offering…"Not that it matters but what you should really be asking yourself just now is how you're gonna get outta this in one piece?"

"I've got a gun. I've got hostages and everything," the fool blustered as his courage waned.

"You've got **a** hostage, as in single," Jamie clarified, enjoying the way the man's eyes went out of focus as he struggled to understand the clarification. "You've also got about a dozen pretty little red spots of light centered over your chest and head; that part; I'm guessing, aint so good?"

The rapidly becoming more frightened man twisted to and fro, taking in the sniped laser lights that seemed to hit his body from every direction.

In a last ditch effort to regain his supposed power he put his un-cocked revolver to the head of his child hostage, causing the girl to lose her bladder as she squealed in terror.

"That was your last mistake shit bird," Jamie pronounced with a feral grin.

"Wha…?" the thief stuttered uncertainly, not liking the triumphant look in the Marshall's eye.

"You shudda pulled back the hammer like this-!"

**Blam**

Jamie drew, fired his colt and holstered the pistol before the man could even think to cock the firing lever of his own revolver, not that it mattered as the gun was ripped from his grasp and went spinning away out of reach. It also wouldn't have mattered if he could reach the gun as his hand was broken from the impact of Jamie's bullet.

Jamie stepped between the girl and her assailant before he even could register Jamie having moved. In truth the police would review the film of the encounter and would never quite figure out how he moved so fast.

Jamie grabbed up the mewling thug as he cradled his wounded hand. "You're strong enough to rob and threaten women and kids, but too lazy to work, eh? I know just the punishment for a pair of turds like you and that imbecile you call your partner in crime." That said, he dragged off the whining man, back toward the bank, intent to collect his partner and make good on his promise. The police surged forward, but too late they found the bank empty, of all save the previous hostages, when they arrived scant moments later.

**Half a world away…**

"Headmaster, he's finally surfaced." Hermione blurted out upon entering the headmaster's office at a near run in her anxiousness to relay her missing friend's whereabouts.

"Indeed, where?" The headmaster asked excitedly in return.

"The Hawaiian Islands, Hilo to be exact." Hermione hastily answered, before adding, "He was on the muggle news thwarting a bank robbery and subsequent hostage standoff.

"Was he successful?" the headmaster asked idly, his thoughts already far ahead of the obvious.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the ignorance of such a question.

"Right, I withdraw the question." The headmaster amended, belaying the obvious with a twinkle in his eyes.

Further discussion was interrupted as Remus hurried into his office. The man's excitement lent credence to his reason for coming.

"Albus have you heard that…?"

"Marshall Black thwarted a bank robbery in the Hawaiian Islands, yes." He interrupted.

"He did?" Remus paused in surprise at the headmaster's reply.

"Isn't that what you were going to report just now?" Hermione asked in surprise of her own.

"Wha, no.. no, I was gonna say that he's reportedly in Diagon Alley throwing peanuts into Bellatrix Lestrange's cell, getting her to _sit up and beg_ and _roll over_ and such antics. The spectacle was drawing such a crowd that I couldn't get within shouting distance of him, not that it would do any good as he was gone in the blink of an eye after he ran out of peanuts."

Hermione stared at the man as if he'd grown a second head, whilst Albus chuckled in amusement, worry lines on his forehead as he did so; if his age had taught him one thing, it was that this was just the beginning of a long and interesting day.

The headmaster's floo erupted in green flames as Molly Weasley's voice called out in alarm. "Albus?... Albus!"

"Yes, Molly, what can I do for you?" the aged headmaster snorted in amusement, knowing already where this latest entreaty was undoubtedly heading.

He was wrong.

"I've just seen, Harry. He was fishing out of our pond. Just standing there with a muggle rod and reel in his hands singing to himself. I ran out calling his name and he actually shushed me saying I'd scare off the fish?! Well, you can imagine…?" Molly complained at the man's audacity.

"Then what happened?" The headmaster enquired, his eyes twinkling madly.

"Well I put him in his place. I told him he was wasting his time as there weren't even any fish in our pond, just a few frogs and what not. I told him to come inside and I'd fix him something for lunch but all of a sudden his reel started whirring and the pole bent over like he'd caught a big fish which is ludicrous because…"

"There are no fish in the pond!" Both Remus and Hermione monotone at the same time sharing an incredulous look.

"Exactly" Molly agreed. "Before I could so much as ask him what he was playing at an enormous fish came up out of the pond and swallowed him whole, reel and all!" Molly nearly shrieked in astonishment.

"What'd you do?" Albus asked amusedly.

"I screamed."

"No… after that?" Albus clarified, appreciating, if vacantly, the snorts of his companions.

"I...I tried to summon him back, but all I got was a frog wearing a little cowboy hat on its head."

Hermione and Remus broke down in guffaws at that.

"Sure, laugh..." Molly huffed indignantly. "I would have laughed myself too except that the frog had green eyes and…" At this point even Albus was laughing uproariously as Molly ended her floo in exasperation.

The room had barely settled and Albus was about to comment that he wondered what would happen next when his unspoken inquiry was answered for him.

"Albus, there's a disturbance at the deputy headmistress' quarters." Former Headmaster Dippet's painting informed the room.

They vacated the office, entering the corridor by the Gargoyle, who incidentally, was snickering as the deputy head's shrieks echoed down the corridor.

"Out, you shameless reprobate!" McGonagal howled indignantly.

"Awe Minnie, don't be like that? I know I've been gone a spell, but you have to believe I've been true to you the whole time I was away, er..._mostly_." Harry amended sheepishly.

"True to me? Of all the… Have you completely lost your mind?!" The women shrieked in utter mortification, her only saving grace was that school was not currently in session for a few more weeks so no students were in attendance to witness her humiliation.

The headmistress was dripping wet with her tartan robe clutched about herself trying and failing to preserve her waning modesty as an equally drenched, with nothing more than a sodden towel around his waist, Harry Potter professed his undying love to the object of his supposed affection.

_Obsession-more like _

Harry fanned his hands at the high-strung woman in a placating fashion. "Alright, alright, I get it; you're a bit shy, so no showers for a spell until you feel more comfortable. In the meantime what say we sofa sit and see where the mood takes after a glass or three of bourbon?" he offered eagerly, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Having arrived in time to enjoy the festivities, Hermione, Remus and Albus stood gapping in amusement at another of Jamie Black's antics at the deputy head's expense.

The look on the poor woman's face was one for the record books, and even Hermione was bent over double in racking waves of laughter.

Overcome, the poor witch threw up her hands in mortification and slammed the door to her private chambers in the man's beseeching face.

He ignored the growing crowd as he walked back and forth muttering to himself discordantly over "_ungrateful witches."_

Undaunted, Jamie knocked gently at the witch's door - after giving her a few minutes to calm down.

Surprisingly, the door cracked open and Minerva peered through the door-jamb; most likely checking to see if the coast was clear and in hope filled anticipation that someone had come to her aid.

Jamie hastily kicked the toe of his boot into the door-jamb, preventing the Deputy Head from slamming the door closed as he pleaded with her emphatically.

"According to the experts: we really shouldn't go to bed still angry with one another, not if we're to maintain a healthy relationship?"

He ducked a curse blasting the space where his head was only a split second ago.

"How about a good night kiss at least?" he pleaded.

**Slam**

The door shut with such force that the walls of the castle shook-which was no easy feat as they were solid stone. Jamie turned away with a disappointed sigh, only seeming to have noticed, when he turned around, the gathering laughter from behind.

"Oh, sure… laugh it up at the expense of my heartache," he groused as he stomped away, wiping a supposed tear from his eye as the group continued to snort and snicker at the outrageous display.

Albus Dumbledore, great wizard and leader of the magical world that he is, plopped on his arse wheezing like a teenager as he continuously tried and failed to collect himself.

He'd thought the Marauders the epitome of pranksters and the Weasley twins a close second by comparison, but for all that, neither had anything on Jamie Black.

_The man was an artist. _

Albus Dumbledore and a plethora of others were desperate to entreat Marshall Black to listen to them, but were unable to collect themselves in time before he disappeared into some hidden part of the castle, and neither the Marauder's map or a 'room by room' search could account for his whereabouts.

Some conjectured that he had left again by his unique mode of travel, to parts unknown, but the overall consensus was that he was still housed somewhere within the confines of Hogwarts as one could feel his unique presence about the place.

There was a distinct feeling of safety whenever the man was around and the castle occupants could feel it seeping from the very pores of the castle.

Over the last several months, the refugees from the castle had been busily rebuilding their government and financial system.

The remaining Goblins, interestingly enough, sued for peace and seemed more than eager to make amends for their past transgressions by offering exceedingly generous loan rates for rebuilding homes and the like.

Even more interestingly, Hermione Granger, soon to be Hermione Weasley, was the last remaining Unspeakable who had survived the war and was also the highest ranking ministerial official to have survived, as well.

She was voted interim Minister for a period of two years during the rebuilding process.

Her first official decree was to nominate Harry Potter for the Order of Merlin, First Class, that and to declare him High Marshall of the British Territories, in recognition of his Guardian and Marshalling experience, as the most qualified person to enforce the magical community's laws.

She and a host of others hoped desperately that he would accept the position, and allow them to honor him as he so richly deserved.

His heroic service to the Magical Realm would no longer be marginalized nor be overlooked.

The next morning found several of Harry Potter's closest friends and acquaintances breakfasting and milling about the Great Hall, waiting on tenterhooks in the hopes that their wayward friend and savior would make an appearance.

They weren't to be disappointed.

"Oh… the camp town ladies sing this song-Do Da, Do-Da. Oh. the camp town race track's five miles long... oh the Do-Da day!" he sang as he ambled into the Great Hall - with a new duster that looked suspiciously as if it was made out of the dark green scaly hide of a Basilisk. He had bulging saddle bags slung over one shoulder and his Henry rifle leaning over the other.

"Morning all," he sang out cheerily, as if he did it every day. He brushed off the entreaties of several people as he made his way to the head table, pulling up in front of Professor McGonagal who eyed him suspiciously, and for good reason.

He picked up an empty glass and was reaching pointedly for the milk pitcher before he paused, changing his mind as he tipped his glass toward the Professor and asked hopefully… "Don't suppose I could impose upon you to pour me some fresh from the spigot?"

The professor gasped in outrage reaching for her wand as she scaled…"Why you contemptible little pervert…!"

He threw up his hands disarmingly as he back peddled, complaining. "All right, All right…sheesh... a simple "no" would do. You don't have to make such a big production out of it. It's not like it's drying up on the vine or anything."

He shifted over to the relative safety of the headmaster, who was chuckling as he wiped his eyes with his napkin.

Holding out his hand cordially, he shook the elder man's hand. "We didn't get off on the right foot, but I have to say it's been a pleasure… sir." He added respectfully.

Dumbledore took the man's hand gratefully, despite his disappointment. "You're leaving then?" he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment but no real surprise.

Harry tipped his head slightly in answer.

"I heartily wish you'd reconsider young Harry? You are sorely needed **and** wanted here," the elder man beseeched.

"Sooner or later I rub everybody the wrong way though." He tipped his head meaningfully in Professor McGonagal's direction for emphasis. "I bess leave while the gettins good," he drawled pointedly.

He was about to turn away before he thought better of it and held out his hand to a surprised Severus Snape.

"Take care of yerself, Professor." For the first time in memory he used the man's title respectfully. The surprise of which was evident on the man's face as he rose and gratefully accepted the man's hand.

"Be well, M-Mr. Potter." the potion master returned cordially - and meaning it as evidenced by the catch in his voice.

Harry nodded his thanks and turned to find Remus Lupin's teary eyed gaze awaiting him.

Harry took off his hat and apologetically offered a simple, "Sorry Remus, but I guess I better be on my way. I'm a harsh man, too harsh for these climes and these times. I reckon I've worn out mywelcome and if I haven't already than I undoubtedly soon will."

Hermione Ron and the majority of the Weasleys had milled around into their vicinity and before Remus could entreat him otherwise, Hermione begged.

"Please, stay, Harry. We need you."

"We want you to stay, mate," Ron added in correction.

Harry snorted at that. "I'm about as wanted as a case of the _prairie_ _jiggers, _but thanks just the same.

"Prairie Jiggers?" Ginny asked in a puzzled voice.

"Diarrhea" Hermione huffed in clarification.

"Lookie who's been studying American slang," Harry chortled, tipping his hat to his friend.

"Well honestly, talking to you is like having to learn a whole new language," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes as the rest of the Weasleys chuckled.

"Minnie seems to understand me." He snatched up a nearby milk pitcher and held it possessively to his chest as he murmured through trembling lips a tearful parting sentiment to Professor McGonagal. "It's all I have to remember you by." The woman's mouth fell open as her cheeks flamed in embarrassment.

Using the distraction, he sneaked off while everyone was chortling, hoping to make a clean break of it until another opportunity presented itself.

**SMACK **

"Owe, hey…?"

**Splash**-The milk bottle flew from his hand as he used it to now cover his smarting bottom.

"Just where do you think you're going, mister?" Katie Bell asked indignantly, looming over the cringing man.

"I ah... um… I was thinking maybe…" he stammered uncertainly.

"Uh, ah," Katie disagreed shaking her head.

"N-no..?" Harry half whined apprehensively.

"No," Katie directed flatly.

_Lord above she's purdy when she's in a temper! _Harry thought_._

"You're gonna stay here. We're gonna have us a time and if everything works out- maybe even get married so you and I can raise cattle and kids-got it?!"Katie stabbed him with her finger as she laid down the law using country metaphors that he would recognize to make her intention abundantly clear. Apparently Hermione had a study partner when she looked up American slang of the nineteenth century.

"Er, um…kids? How many kids?" he ventured uncertainly.

"As many as I can coax out of your willing or unwilling hide!" she demanded.

"Really?" he asked hopefully, grinning.

"Really," she returned of a certainty, grabbing him up by the lapels and planting a searing kiss on his lips whilst the rest of the Hall broke out in cheers of gratitude, relief and happiness, as Katie was doing singlehandedly what the rest as a whole couldn't.

"Understood?" she asked, breaking off the kiss breathlessly.

He began to nod vacantly before catching himself and asking warily, "But what about, Minnie?"

"You leave her alone, mister. You want milk you can get all you want at home. Got it?" she growled out poking him in the chest for emphasis.

"Woo-Hoo… What a woman!" Harry cheered, slapping his Stetson across his thigh.

His elation lasted a few moments before he was unceremoniously brushed aside as Katie Bell was stampeded by well-wishers in a never ending stream as the news quickly broke out and friends began trickling in from throughout Magical Britain.

Harry's arms and shoulders grew increasingly sore as men either pumped his hand or slapped his shoulders supportively, as the announcement heralded a celebration that lasted well into the night.

Late that night found the happy couple walking arm-in-arm back to her quarters. Harry pulled up at the door to the Gryffindor head girl's room, thinking to part with a chaste kiss as he didn't want to go for broke and spoil the moment by any presumption on his part. Besides all that, for all his bluster the pleasures of a woman's body were as yet unknown to his personal and thorough perusal.

He drifted towards her moist lips and planted a brief soft kiss before pulling back and surprising his intended.

"Thank you."

Katie's dark eyes went out of focus briefly in puzzlement before clarifying… "You hardly need to thank me for allowing you to kiss me Harry. That's what couples do, and besides; we can do a lot better than that." She pulled the equally puzzled man into a searing kiss that had him clutch the wall with his spare hand to steady himself.

"That was…w-wow," He murmured appreciatively.

"Thanks, and wow for me too, you git." She returned the compliment, chiding him for being so naïve.

He fidgeted embarrassedly before turning serious and reiterating his previous sentiment … "I meant _Thank You_ for making an honest man outta me," he attempted to clarify, but at seeing her bewildered expression he added further clarification. "You know, fer offering to marry me and all."

Katie cocked an eyebrow at that. "You make it sound like I was taking pity on you or something?"

"Welll, he drawled. "I don't exactly know a whole lot about raising cattle, strictly speaking. I'm a territorial Marshall, a brush thumper. All I know is tracking down desperados and bringing 'em to justice, which usually means a rope or a box, depending on whether they want to try their luck or such."

He pulled a face as explained the harshness of the life she was planning to embrace.

"You seem to think that this is news to me? It _ain't_,... to use your charming phrasing," she chided, smirking knowingly as she wound her arms up around his neck, her eyes glittering with hidden knowledge and desire.

"How about the other part, you know…the one about kids? You do know how to make them, don't cha?" Katie purred hopefully, nibbling at his ear lobe.

"I ah…that is.. . I never...um…" he stammered uncertainly.

Katie pulled back slightly in surprise.

"Never?" she asked somewhat excitedly, which surprised him, albeit warily as he couldn't quite place the predatory look in her eye.

"Um, no…" he answered truthfully.

"Never- ever?" she nearly growled in anticipation.

"Uh-uh," he shook his head. "Hey?!" he yelped in surprise as Katie yanked him through the doorway of her quarters and kicked the door back closed with her heel once he was inside.

"Have I got a special surprise for you!" Katie growled as she stalked toward the suddenly very nervous man.

Morning found a swaying, bleary eyed and bow legged Marshall stumbling down the hall toward his distant room mumbling something under his breath about his having found a "_thoroughbred_ _filly_ _amongst_ _a_ _bunch_ _of_ _jack_ _asses"_ by comparison.

He blearily wandered into familiar territory, having a door crack open and an arm lance out to latch on to his own.

"Whoa there big fella," a prim and proper Scottish voice mimicked his western drawl as he was yanked off his feet and into the owner's private chambers.

An initial surprised exclamation of "Wha…?" turned abruptly into a terrified plea of… "Nooooo!" echoing down the corridor before the door snapped shut, silencing charms already in place.

Later that afternoon…

Marshall Black stumbled in exhaustion and fell, proceeding to crawl wearily toward his chamber door down the hall as he moaned and groaned achingly.

"Unghh…. Ahhh… just a bit farther and.. and I'll be s-safe," he grumbled as he pulled himself along by the last vestiges of his strength.

"Crazy moo bossie almost killed me. N-Never want to see another glass of milk in my l-life." He lamented piteously.

"Well there you are?" Katie's voice caught up to him from behind as he'd just managed to pry his door open.

"Huh…?" he began in confusion.

"It was naughty of you to sneak out on me while I was sleeping, but now that you're all rested up…" Katie assumed as she bowled her way into his chamber, pushing him toward his bed that had once beckoned him longingly, now held only imminent distress as Katie pulled at the man's clothes off like a bargain hunter at a rummage sale.

"Oh, noooo!" His wailing voice echoed down the hall outside before his chamber door slammed closed, cutting off the sound of his distress.

The middle of the night…

"Unghh...I ain't gonna make it. Oh, lordy…my spurs are as dull as Trellwaney's inner eye." Harry complained as he clutched the wall to steady himself, haltingly making his saddle-weary way to the infirmary. It marked the first time he was actually seeking medical attention voluntarily in his entire life. "Urg…I feel like I've lived a year like a dairy cow in a twenty four hour milking parlor."

He stumbled into the infirmary, startling Madam Pomfrey who was taking inventory of her medicinal stores for the new year.

"Mister Potter… what in the world?"

"Please mam, he begged, pulling his Stetson off respectfully as he beseeched the matron. "My parts is hurting fit to fall off and my heads a-aching like it ain't gotten any blood fer a year!"

"To bed with you, Mister Potter; get those clothes off this instant so we can see what to do about making it all better!" The school healer directed, waggling her finger in the direction of his usual cot as she conjured privacy screens to preserve his aching modesty.

"T-Thank you mam," he stammered gratefully as he shrugged out of his clothes.

The matron bustled into his screened area and immediately proffered a vial that he drank greedily , thinking she was giving him a pain potion. He pulled the flask his lips, sighing appreciatively at the unexpected sweet flavor.

"Professor Snape finally perfected a decent tasting pain potion, ah?"

"No…" the school nurse corrected him as she swished her wand, petrifying his extremities.

"Hey, what gives….?" He blurted in alarm as she finished her thought.

"Male enhancement potions always taste pleasant, er… so I'm informed."

She swished her wand transforming her clinical robes into a semi translucent gown as she eyed her handiwork greedily.

"Now then,… let's see what's to be done about making you all better, shall we?" she drawled suggestively as she approached his bed.

He barely managed an "Awe, Noooo!" of panic before his cries were shut off by a silencing charm.

Early the next day he roused to the sound of conspiratorial whispers from outside his curtain:

"You're doing great Katie, just a couple of more times using the polyjuice and we'll have him right where we want him."

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up? I'm still sore from the last time and that was three healing charms ago. I spent the whole day sleeping in bed, but I still feel completely exhausted. The man's not human, I tell you. He's got the constitution of a dragon. He begged me not to, when I was impersonating Pomfrey, he said we were killing him. Then that potion you brewed took hold and , wel-l-l... He looked so sweet and vulnerable and so… so… he just does something to me and I couldn't stop myself."

"Whoa... down girl." Harry's narrowed eyes at catching the sound of Tonk's voice. _So she's in on this too._

"Here's one of my hair's for the next potion. Don't ever let Remus find out. He'd never understand even if it's for the greater good. If we don't get this in hand and now, there's no telling what the son of a marauder would do; especially one whose drop-dead gorgeous, rich, and has that whole western persona working for him which is absolutely sexy. If we don't curb his enthusiasm we'll have a dozen grandsons of marauders running amuck within the coming years. By the time his offspring hit Hogwarts there could be an army of the little terrors. We can't even handle one, what're we gonna do with a few dozen of Harry's sprogs!? He'll do what Voldemort couldn't and destroy the entire wizarding world by breeding it out of existence. There'll be too many Potters to safely breed without crossing the gene pool."

"But if we scare him off sex altogether, what am I going to do?" Katie whined.

"You'll be a compassionate shoulder for him to cry on, that's what. You play your cards right and he'll never look at another woman but you as long as he lives, McGonagal included." Hermione goaded her friend.

"I don't know; when I was playing McGonagal, he certainly **rose** to the occasion." Katie returned uncertainly.

"It was all you girl and don't ever think differently." Tonk's reassured her. "Keep playing up the matron roles and he's gonna come begging to you to save him from our evil clutches. After that he's all yours for as long as you want him, we've gotten our revenge for his many pranks at our expense and the wizarding world's available witches will have received a grateful reprieve whether they know it or not, and Harry gets a great girl who'll not only give him the kind of love and happiness he deserves, but will also inadvertently fix it so he remains in our present time where he is so sorely needed; last, but certainly not least, his friends get to keep their best mate and surrogate brother. It's a win all around for everyone. " Tonk's surmised in a joy filled tone.

Harry couldn't help but smile. They'd pranked him and pranked him good, and… for all intents and purposes they'd done so _mostly_ with the best of intentions and, if he was being totally honest with himself, they'd helped him satisfy a school boy fantasy or two.

_Of course they'd still pranked him and what with him being the son of a marauder and all- he just couldn't let it go no matter the reasoning._

_**This was war and he was cocked and loaded for bear!**_


End file.
