Growth
He just barely managed to escape the welcoming clutches of his bed as he crawled out from the cold satin covers, throwing his arms up in order to stretch. Letting out a large yawn followed by a glass rattling burp, the Dark Wizard catcher was none other than the world-famous Harry Potter. One of the very few who of the recent generations that made a profession out of the work. A rare breed, seeing as the standards of who was capable and the number of wizards crazy enough to take up such a dangerous and deathly occupation had a terrible negatively sloped curve. Especially after the war had concluded. However, the man had ended the war himself and felt obligated to continue putting the fuckers who wished to ruin the lives of innocents and generally evil bastards in the ground or behind bars. There had only been a total of 30 new recruits who passed through the Auror Academy training and made it through their one-year trial period as a Junior Auror in the past two decades. Those who did make it through though? They were the best of the best.
The 20-year-old man sat in a comfortable leather chair, casually picking away at a cup of mashed peas as he considered his next moves carefully. He was taking part in an important case at the Ministry and was in hot pursuit of some fugitives who were on the run from the law.
And he was the best out of these best. Youngest Senior Auror in History.
And even still, he was just human. So as his door was thrown open in the flat above a sandwich shop in Westminster, London, he jumped up off of his chair, startled beyond belief. His heart racing and wand pointed towards the intruder in fright, much to the displeasure of the young witch who had come to see the Auror who lived there.
As his mind went through all of the logic needed to discern who had appeared, Harry calmed, he knew who it was, who was threateningly waltzing into his private space without permission or regard for his peace and quiet.
'Damn, and today was such a tranquil morning too.' He mentally sighed.
"Potter," She spat with vitrol enough to tell him that she was in another of her moods.
"Ginerva," He stated, eyes trained on the witch with a bored and rather annoyed tint.
She slapped a paper down on his desk and he read it aloud "Ginny Weasley, ex-lover of the Man-Who-Conquered and Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, having yet another amorous and scandalous encounter?" He stated.
"I thought I told you to keep your name away from me."
"You are the one with PR people, I don't have anybody working for me in the media. I have less pull in the Daily Prophet than I do in the pureblood muggle hate society."
"Yeah, well why am I still Potter's ex? I'm my own damn person!"
"And you come to cry to me about that? I don't want you called my ex-lover for all of the UK to see."
"This was the International edition, I was also featured in the third page as making seventeen goals in the practice scrimidge match with Ireland for the Nationals game. Yet your name and my face make the front cover."
"Then go talk to your people or the team's media coordinators. They should have even let it print, I was having a perfectly good morning before you came."
"This is why I broke up with you, prick."
"See you Sunday for the usual Weasley Brunch?"
"Swallow a bludger!"
His thick oak door was slammed hard enough for the whole apartment to rattle.
A few moments later, Harry strode over to the far wall where his telephone sat.
"Hello?" He asked as the receiver clicked.
"I take it that redhead showed up again, dearie?"
"Yes, Missus Wilford. She just left, sorry for the noise."
"Oh, no problem, Inspector Potter. I'm just wishing it would be a different kind of noise complaint coming from your neighbors. She really is a pretty girl. And you are a healthy young man. You should be bringing home birds, not constantly putting up with women who yell at you all the time."
"Thanks, Mrs. Wilford, but that's all the ladies seem to want to do." He gave a dry chuckle in self-humiliation before saying "Plus, I don't have time to date, work is a constant thing for me. I don't have time to focus on much else."
"Come now, lad, I didn't say anything about dating. You're stiff as a board. I have a friend whose niece could deal with a good shag!"
"Mrs. Wilford!" Harry exclaimed at her blasse and crude language once again.
"Come on, won't you let me set you up?"
"I'm sorry, I should get back to enjoying my lunch, Mrs. Wilford. Have a pleasant afternoon."
"Good evening, Harry."
The phone went quiet and the man groaned, rubbing his eyes.
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A man in the long crimson leather robes of the proud and strong Auror Corps staggered along the streets of Hogsmeade, his hands shaking in the pockets of his robes, hidden from view but still ready for combat at a moments notice. His heart was still racing from the arrest he had just made. He had hunted down a serial killer near Sheffield and he had been locked in Azkaban prison for life. This suspect, in particular, had murdered 9 Magicals in the span of a few months, one every 16 days.
Regardless of the harsh and windy chill in the air that night, his forehead still had a bit of wetness to it, signs of sweating.
However, he was far too concentrated on his other issues to bother with the necessary Charms to keep himself safe from the weather. Then again, he had never been one to stray away from the elements, they never bothered him too much anyway.
He had received the news just a few hours earlier in his office. A frantic had flooed in through the Emergency entrance he had which only a select few people knew even existed.
Andromeda was sick. Cancer. And it was Terminal. It was estimated that she had three years left. Her grandson would lose the last of his true family. Now, Edward wasn't HIS son, per se, but he might as well have been. Harry had had a hand in raising the boy from infancy right up to that day. Even after the rocky relationship with Remus there at the end, and the fact his parents left that Seventeen year old with the responsibility of helping take care of the heartbroken Andy and a newborn, he treated little Teddy as his own and became closer to Andromeda than he ever would have expected.
He pulled the thick grey scarf further up his chin and across his face enough that it blocked his nose. He ignored the tears which dripped onto the fabric.
They had been smiling the last time he had seen him. Then, everything was normal... And now, they were going to lose one of the greatest and kindest folks he had ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Andromeda had given him a look that said more than words ever could. Even in death, Teddy was still smiling that adorable knowing smirk of his. They weren't happy to be dead, but now that they were, they were at peace. Harry didn't have the heart to take that away from them.
Teddy would finally get to be with his parents. Remus had always been like an Uncle to Harry and the Man Who Conquered would always remember Tonks for the amazing Auror and beautiful Witch that she was. While he thought Remus to be a great teacher, he was always a bit dense. There was even one point that he would have Hexed his Professor's Balls off after the older man ran away.
When Harry heard that Remus actually left the country after getting Tonks pregnant he had a bout of Accidental Magic so angry it nearly broke all the windows in Grimmauld Place.
In spite of all he was trying to do, things could never seem to go his way.
Somehow, he wandered into the Three Broomsticks and found himself sitting down at an empty seat at the bar, sitting amongst a sea of rowdy and partying wizards and witches who were eagerly awaiting midnight. He remembered asking for a shot of the strongest Firewhiskey, his fingers which were trembling from the cold automatically picked up the glass and he gulped a mouthful, the fiery liquid burning down his throat.
His life was in bloody shambles.
Sure, well-respected Head Auror, on track to becoming Head of the Department of Mysteries and DMLE within a few years, receiver of the Order of Merlin, First Class for the eradication of the Wizarding World's most Powerful and Influential Dark Lord in 300 Years, and a well-known Spells inventor whose contributions have popped up here and there in various textbooks.
But the dreams... increasing in vividness with each year gone by. Flashes of green light, maniacal laughter and the faces of the Dead, starting from Cedric Diggory and ending with those killed by the remainder of Voldemort's minions after his final Fall.
Therapy had been of no use, and Ginny had broken up with him because he was unable to move on.
Move on from the bloody past.
Dreamless Sleep Potion had turned out to be his best friend...
And his worst enemy.
It suppressed his dreams, but it was addictive as hell with physiological consequences he had no wish to contemplate.
He lifted the glass to his lips again, and felt the cold burn.
"Merlin, Harry, why the hell are you drinking alone on New Years?"
Harry slowly turned around to face the speaker.
It was Blaise Zabini, one of the Department of Law Enforcement's newer recruits. It had been a shock, Harry reflected, when he saw Blaise's name on the list of applicants.
That had been three years ago.
"May I sit?" Blaise gestured to the empty stool beside Harry.
"I can't stop you." Harry waved to the bartender, indicating that another glass was needed.
The bartender, a petite blonde, decanted the alcohol and set it in front of Blaise before scurrying away.
"You really shouldn't be drinking in your Auror gear." Blaise looked disapprovingly at his senior.
"And you?" Harry pointedly gazed at Blaise's choice of costume.
Blaise emptied some of the Firewhiskey, before replying back. "Touché."
"So, what brings you here?" Harry stared at his glass, rather than the darker man sitting beside him.
Blaise laughed bitterly, "You know me. I have nothing to go home to. My mother's off somewhere with another rich bloke, my wife... dead."
"Is that the reason you became an Auror? I've always wanted to ask."
"Partly..." Blaise looked thoughtful, "They never caught the murderer, but my money is currently on Rookwood."
"Ah." Harry remembered the round-up of DE after Tom's demise. Not all were accounted for, and several were still at large, or living quiet lives in another country under aliases.
"He wanted revenge from all the purebloods that chose to remain neutral..." Blaise said, taking a larger drink. "Merlin, now I really need to get smashed."
After going through one drink, Harry immediately ordered a second for both himself and Blaise.
"So, you never answered my initial question," Blaise remembered but vaguely. The Golden Boy was a slippery character in his prime. He should have been a Slytherin.
"You know my sob story too." Harry chuckled. But the laughter was rather bitter. "Ginny broke up with me."
"I know that." Blaise sighed, "It was all over the blasted Prophet."
"I have the worst nightmares. I see the faces of each and every one of Voldemort's victims, starting from his second rise."
"Sounds pleasant," Blaise muttered before taking another sip.
"They haunt me. Every night I don't take Dreamless Sleep." Harry stated dryly, "Imagine that, the saviour of the Wizarding World brought to his knees by a putrid brown liquid."
"Do you have an addiction?" Blaise asked, seriously.
Harry clenched at his glass. "Yes. Since we are spilling everything tonight like the pathetic people we are – shame Skeeter isn't here. She's really missing out."
"So, what's your New Year's Resolution?" Blaise changed the topic.
Harry sighed, "Never thought of one for the new year. I see a long fall from grace."
"I just want to be happy." Blaise said, miserably, slamming his glass down with more force than necessary.
"I don't even know what happiness feels like, anymore." Harry admitted, "Maybe it's that sensation I feel when I see Teddy every week. But then again, his father and mother's faces visit me at night. I've been trying to go cold turkey these days, anyhow."
"Explains your chipper demeanor at work," Blaise mused humorously, "But seriously, you are good at hiding your problems."
"The worst is when I see Sirius." Harry continued on, "I was incredibly depressed in my fifth year – not because of Hem-hem."
Blaise laughed, "So that's what you called her! That toady bitch!"
"If I remember, you were part of her 'squad'."
"It was part of the 'stay out of trouble mantra' that we Slytherins had in our handbook."
"Aha! I knew you guys had one!" Harry pointed at Blaise.
"And I've already broken Rule #1: Don't tell Gryffindors about it."
"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin." Harry laughed.
Blaise quirked an eyebrow, "Merlin, am I not surprised."
"So, how about round three?" Harry looked at Blaise's second empty glass.
Before the fellow Auror could say anything, Harry already ordered for him.
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"Senior Auror Potter, how nice to see you." Gawain spoke with a sigh "Five minutes late, as usual."
The dark-haired man walked over to the man sitting to the DMLE Head's right and poked his pointer finger into the chest of the target of his fury.
The single calming breath he took was long enough that it made the other three members of the board shift as they felt the atmosphere thicken at the power the young mage was radiating and they all grew tense.
"Rowle," The green-eyed bloke began, his voice steady and outwardly calm "If I see you outside that house ever again, if you so much as look at my Godson or his grandmother, I will personally track you down, tear out your larynx, separate your entrails from your stomach, and see you bleed out like the pig you are. Do. You. Understand. Me?" He asked, his voice not even breaking a whisper.
The dark-haired light-eyed man was sweating bullets now, his eyes twitching and shifting between the raging seas of green that were staring him down and the worried-looking members.
"Potter, what might you be talking about?" Asked the silken voice of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement office "And why do you so casually threaten to murder the Head of the Hitwizards?"
Harry leaned away from Rowle, seeing how close he was to pissing himself and noticing the definite surrender through a basic Legillimency scan. He would not be going against his family again.
"I am merely talking to this man about his habits of going on a little trip to stalk my family, Head Robards, sorry for being late, I was just making sure my other properties' wards had not been tampered with like the house of my relatives."
"Is this true, Christopher?" Gawain asked the current Head of the Rowle Family and the
"I was merely on a walk on the outskirts of London and came across a... Heavily warded area, that I found oddly suspicious. I deemed it worthy to speculate and do a bit of preemptive investigation where I saw the last of the Blacks and Potter in a home that had been previously invisible to me. My intrusion was noticed nearly immediately and war wards the likes of which I have not seen except in the cases of the wealthiest of the Sacred-Twenty Eight blasted me all the way to Watford."
"Do it again and you are dead," Harry stated, taking his own seat across from his peers. He was on this board because of who he was, what he was capable of, and the fact that he was being groomed for the position of Deputy Head by Robards.
"Is that a threat, boy?" Christopher Rowle growled, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a gnarled wood wand that had fallen many dark wizards.
"And you'd best bet I will make good on it the second I even think you've put that oily ass face of yours near their doorstep again." He promised, sending a sharp look to the man, his wand trained on him under the table.
"I could have you arrested." He motioned to his guards to step forward, and two big burly-looking hit wizards both over seven feet tall.
"Oh no, the big bad bodyguards are gonna get me. Piss off you prick. I would sooner turn your bald ass into a Mr. Clean eraser and use you to clean up owl shit from my windowsill than let you linger a breath around those I care about." He cursed vulgarly at the man.
"You are making a very powerful enemy today, Potter."
"If I thought I couldn't handle your sorry arse, then I'd be piss poor at what I do."
"And I think that's exactly what you are, you brat. I have more years in active combat than your age time four."
"Been active since before the first war and still can't tell when you're outmatched, can you? I'd be proud of that too if I was as numb between the ears as you."
"Potter, Robards, something you two want to get off of your damn chests? We've got a meeting to start and we're already fifteen minutes behind schedule." He grunted, pulling out his wand and placing it on his finger before he cast a spell "If I don't get lunch and some sugar, I might pass the feck out before leaving the office, and if I fall asleep on my desk rather than next to my wife, I will personally put all of you on desk duty for three months with no leave and absolutely no field time."
"I've said all I need to, sir," Harry said, back straightening and voice even.
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