Harry Potter:The Dark Knight

Mister_Midnight

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

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

Chapters

1. Prologue

2. Chapter One

3. Chapter Two

4. Chapter Three

5. Chapter Four

6. Chapter Five

7. Chapter Six

8. Chapter Seven

9. Chapter Eight

10. Chapter Nine

11. Chapter Ten

1. Prologue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would be ready, for the night.

I0I

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

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

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

The Bat will bring ebb the darkness………

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2. Chapter One

Chapter One: Returning

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

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

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

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

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

“They just keep adding up.”

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

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

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

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

I0I

Seven years ago

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

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

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

I0I

Six Years Ago

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

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

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

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

I0I

Five Years Ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Appearances

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harold, how old are you?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Hermione asked as he smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-->

4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Riders of the Storm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About what?”

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

“Why?” Malfoy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Arrival

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A quandary have I, no?

Then must look deep, into the night

House to put you undecided is it

Cunning shuns bright

In your heart, a thirst to prove

Oneself, of the fame and glory untold

But bravery, your strength greater

Than any darken tale told

Such a question,

To ponder I must

Ah not long did I think, the answer lies

In the heart of lost

In GRYFFINDOR,

Young man you will recede

IN GRYFFINDOR

Shall you fate be decided.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Event Horizon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Myself,” Harold said truthfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It becomes you.

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

Got to find her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good evening,” Dumbledore said to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six: The Sun is Setting…

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

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

“It's me,” he said, hugging her back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Flashback~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~End Flashback~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: The Promise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

Five Years Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry?!”

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9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Ascension

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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10. Chapter Nine

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

Chapter Nine: Industrial Sabotage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Beginnings

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I0I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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