A/N PLEASE READ THE DISCLOSURES IN CHAPTER ONE
It was past 8 p.m. before Harry was ready to leave Hogwarts for London. He was thoroughly exhausted, and although a light dinner had been brought on trays to the Headmistress' office by Winky the house elf, he felt a combination of hungry, bloated, and overall as if the Hogwarts Express had repeatedly run over him.
"Mental stress," retired Auror Mad-Eye Moony had once said to him. "Worse than all the forms of stress known. The main byproduct of constant vigilance. It gets you down and just grinds on you - makes you feel horrible, like you don't know whether to take a nap, go for some exercise, eat, sleep, or kill the cat. Best part of the job, really."
Just before he had left, Albus Dumbledore had stepped back into his portrait. "Ah, Harry, so sorry to see you so tired," the former heamaster said. "I'll see you back here in two days, though."
Something about that tugged at Harry, and he stopped and turned around. "How do you know I'll be back at Hogwarts, sir?"
The headmaster's eyes positively twinkled. "Because the only way for you to get to Ankh-Morpork and Discworld is through Hogwarts castle. Now go home and get some sleep - but one last thing, Harry."
"Yes sir?" Harry asked abstractedly, facing the fireplace with a pinch of floo powder in his hand.
"You do know what it is you are supposed to be doing in Ankh-Morpork, don't you?" asked Dumbledore quietly.
"Yes, I'm … I'm … training? I'm …" Harry stopped, perplexed. In the entire packet, there was nothing about his own list of orders. He knew there was a letter for Commander Sir Samuel Vimes - whoever that was - but there was not a list of orders for him, Harry Potter.
"Headmaster, do you know what-" Harry turned to face the portrait.
But Albus Dumbledore was not there.
With a sigh, Harry returned to his flat - made emptier by the lack of Hermione's presence, and after tossing his reams of notes on the table, took a shower and went to bed.
A few hours later, he felt Hermione's warm body closing in to his. He put an arm around her as she snuggled close.
And there, gentle reader, we shall leave our hero and heroine. Perhaps things happened and perhaps they didn't. It shall suffice to draw a veil - well, no, not a veil, they're practically see-through - but a curtain, over the couple. You know - a curtain. The thingys that covered the stage when you had to do that horrid play in third grade singing about the food pyramid, and were terrified that you were going to widdle in your shoe when it went up and revealed to you, in the darkness beyond, your parents waving frantically at you to look at the camera! whilst your elder sister smiled the evil smile at you she always did just before giving you a wet Willie.
Frankly, you should be ashamed of yourselves. If you're old enough to be part of the adult conspiracy, your imagination should supply more than enough details. If you're not old enough, then you can simply imagine that Harry and Hermione sat up like you and your friends do at sleep-overs and talked about whether trees dream, until they fell asleep.
**Sigh** Whatever. But sparks may have flown, and the earth may have rotated, if you get my drift. If things did happen, then you can expect that they treated each other with respect and devotion throughout the process. Honestly. Go take a cold shower.
It wasn't until late the following afternoon Harry managed to look presentable enough to stick his head in the fireplace and try to speak to Shacklebolt about his orders. Shacklebolt wasn't in, and Harry left a message with his secretary - stamped Urgent! Open Immediately Upon Pain of Extraordinarily Painful Death! - requesting an immediate owl to explain the situation.
When he and Hermione were not engaged in more athletic pursuits, she was helping him revise the information he had from his packet, McGonagall and Vector. Harry was now acutely aware of the fact that the number between 7 and 9 was a very dangerous one, which contained real power in it. This was owing to its symbolic representation of octarine, the eig- check that, the extra color in the spectrum, which was the color of magic.
He knew that wizards at Unseen University had split the thaum. He had a reasonable knowledge of geography, but thought it unlikely he would be venturing to remote locations such as Four Ecks, the Agatean Empire, or Uberwald. For the most part, Harry thought he would be staying in Ankh-Morpork, reporting to Commander Vimes, who he now realized reported in turn to Lord Havelock Vetinari, the Patrician and Supreme Ruler of Ankh-Morpork.
Considering the entire situation, Harry had resolved to do something he had not done in years: not to take his wand with him. He would attempt, if possible, to resolve things through muggle methods, which meant he was taking a few of Sirius' old muggle weapons with him, including a few cans of mace, a pair of tungsten steel handcuffs, and two short daggers that he could conceal in his sleeves. They had finished packing and were discussing dinner options when the owl arrived.
The note from Shacklebolt was terse.
You'll figure it out. KS.
"Well, that's bloody helpful," Harry said, tossing the note in the fire.
"Harry, what are you bringing Mr. Vimes as a gift?" Hermione asked.
"I hadn't really thought about it," Harry said. "But you're right, I should bring them something. What about … I know there's an un-opened bottle of firewhisky in the cupboard, it's probably expensive - a gift from Tom, I think, a few years back after the end of - well, Riddle. That would do."
"Okay. So we're going out for steak, then?" Hermione asked.
"Think so, it seems most of the other food groups are going to be represented," Harry said. "All an Auror needs - the coffee and doughnut food group, the cold-and-soggy pizza food group, and the stale beer food group. I'd like a big, decent piece of meat as my last meal for a condemned man."
"I think I'd prefer you to have a healthier diet, and I'd like a nice, big piece of meat, too, as my last decent meeting with an incredible man," Hermione said, wickedly. "But I suppose I'll settle for you. Let's go - if we get there by 7:30, we should get home in time for a few more innings before we should get some sleep."
Dinner and afters passed uneventfully - well, extremely eventfully, if you must know, but frankly, that's Harry and Hermione's business, not yours.
It was the following morning that reduced Hermione to a state of tears.
She and Harry were locked in the tightest hug she could manage. "Be careful. And … be careful. I am going to miss you so much," she said. "I love you … come back to me."
"I'll be fine," Harry said. "And … just think it's like one of those summers when we were separated from other while we were at Hogwarts."
"I don't ever want to be separated from you," Hermione said, crying. "It's so unfair."
"As we both know, life isn't fair. Now be strong for me," Harry said. "I'll miss you, but I'll find a way to write or something."
"Or something," Hermione said. She kissed him deeply. "I'm leaving now, because if I don't, I'll rip your clothes off and tie you to the bed and force you to stay here."
"I might enjoy that," Harry said, grinning. "Let's leave that for a thought in the early fall."
Hermione smiled, wiped her face, and then used the floo to get to St. Mungo's. Harry checked over his belongings one last time, and used the floo.
"Sweet Rolls!" he said.
Sweet Rolls was a nondescript coffee shop on a nondescript alley off of a nondescript street in a seedy part of Islington. Harry emerged in its empty kitchen, and walked through the back door. Sweet Rolls' main feature was that it backed onto Grimmauld Place.
Walking carefully down past a house, and seeing no muggles in sight, he muttered a spell under his breath while quickly waved his hands, and the familiar bulk of 12 Grimmauld Place came into sight. The serpentine bell had been replaced with a wolf's head, which howled when he rang it.
"Wotcher, Harry," said his colleague Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin as she opened the door. "Care for a cuppa?"
"Sure, auntie," Harry said, kissing her on the cheek. Since their marriage, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks had formally adopted Harry as their nephew. They had no children, and apparently there were no plans for any. Harry had given them Grimmauld Place as a wedding gift, and Tonks had taken it upon herself to have the place made over. Harry had to admit that the results were spectacular; he was often glad to come over and unwind with his godfather - uncle - and have some semblance of family.
"None of that, today, luv," she said saucily. "Here yer goin' on a nice lil' vacation and I get to inherit your case load. Thanks a bloody lot."
She tried to look angry and failed miserably, so she ran her hands through his hair. "Come on. Wolfman Jack's in the kitchen."
"Harry!" Remus said, standing up from the table. He came and embraced his godson/nephew/son he never had and Tonks conjured a fresh pot of tea. "So you're heading out, I hear."
"Yeah, in just a little bit, actually," Harry said.
"I've heard Discworld's pretty wild," Tonks said. "You be careful out there, pard."
"We'll see," Harry said. "It's going to be different, that's for sure. Look, I really came by to ask you if you'd check in on Hermione while I'm gone. I know she's going to mope and worry."
"Of course, kiddo. Count on us," Tonks said.
"Let me know if it's true that the Disc is overrun by beautiful women of questionable virtue," Remus grinned, which earned him a smack on the head from Tonks. "What was that for? Just an innocent inquiry."
"Hardly innocent, knowing you," Tonks said smugly. "And besides, what about the woman right in front of you?"
"Ah, yes, but then, although it is undeniable that you are beautiful, your virtue isn't in question, it's known," Lupin said, devastatingly. He leaned in and kissed his wife, who was beet red and trying - and failing - to think of a withering riposte.
"Ugh, watching family kiss," Harry said. "I'd say get a room, but you have several dozen in this place."
"And the kitchen's always the best for snogging, anyway," Tonks said, breaking off the kiss. "Now get going, I'm on my way out the floo as well, and Remus is up to no good today, I'm sure, also."
They strolled to the fireplace. Tonks gave Remus a huge kiss and groped him. "Back at the usual time, love," she said, and she floo'd to the Ministry. Remus hugged Harry one last time. "Anything happens out there, you run like hell, and get your ass back here," he said quietly. "The rest of you, too. But this is serious, Harry. I took a double first in arithmancy. I know enough about the Discworld that the usual rules don't apply. So don't pretend they do. You need to put someone down, do it. You need to run, do it. Don't play hero in a place where heroes tend to die. You hear me? You need to run, you run."
"I hear you," Harry said. He hugged the last Marauder and floo'd to Hogwarts.
The portrait of Albus Dumbledore looked at him, but said nothing, and the glanced at McGonagall and nodded. Minerva walked towards the door, and placed her hand conspicuously in her pocket. She removed a key ring and dropped it on the floor, before saying, "Harry, our guest wizard will be arriving in a few minutes. After that, we will have to wait for the magical energy to rest for some time before sending you. This will give you an opportunity to talk with him and get last minute instructions." She turned to walk towards the door.
"Um, professor, you seem to have dropped-" Harry began.
"I'M COMING POPPY," McGonagall shouted at the top of her lungs, rushing for the door.
"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, behind him.
"Yes, sir?" Harry said, confused.
"Quickly, now. Pick up Minerva's keys and open her filing cabinet. Red key. Third drawer, back," Albus said.
Harry dashed to the keys and opened the cabinet. The third drawer of the filing cabinet held files in the front, but in the middle it was cut off and held a small object wrapped in cloth. Opening it, he found a pair of two-way mirrors such as he and Sirius once used. This set, however, was much smaller, and one was encased in a slim, wooden case, and the other had a heavy, silver backing.
"Now run up to the owlery, and send the silver one via one of Hogwarts' Express Owls to Hermione Granger, in your London apartment," Dumbledore said. "If you write your address on a label with Minerva's quill, and place it in one of the white envelopes from her desk, it will get there safely and quicky. Keep the other mirror in your pocket. The owlery may be opened with the brown key on Minerva's ring."
Harry looked at the portrait. "Professor?" he began.
"We have no time now, Harry," Dumbeldore cut him off. "You must have a way of contacting us in emergency and Ms. Granger is your best hope if you need assistance. She certainly is always welcome here should you need information we can provide. The mirror in the wooden case will survive the journey to Ankh-Morpork; the silver one is Hermione's. Now run. And come back here, before you go into the Great Hall. There are a few things I need to tell you."
Harry did not wait another instant but placed the mirror into the envelope - which suddenly seemed to shrink to fit it - and placed the label over the outside. He raced to the owlery and chose one of the Hogwarts owls with its distinctive protective cap. "Here you go," he said, "Hermione Granger, care of 4A, Glamour House, 7 Victory Place, Docklands, London, E14. What's inside is breakable, so please do set it down gently."
The owl hooted and sped off, and Harry quickly returned to the headmistress' office.
The portrait of Albus looked carefully at Harry. "Harry, as you have no doubt gathered, there is mischief afoot in Ankh-Morpork. You should be on guard at all times. Expect the unexpected. I believe your new colleagues will treat you kindly, but they are all seasoned professional troops, and will expect you to act the same.
"I strongly advise you to reserve your opinion and keep quiet about things, at least for the first few weeks," Albus continued. "It is vitally important that residents of the Disc do not know about Earth. Your commanding officer, the wizards, and perhaps a few elite members of the Watch will know your true identity. Conceal yourself from all others. A cover story will be fabricated. Finally, try to learn as much as you can. You may find that the skills that the other members of the Watch possess are learnable and practicable in your field here in London. You are, after all, on secondment. Represent us well, and make us proud of you, not that we have any doubts about your ability. If all else fails, remember that you have allies in your companions. Finally, Harry, I do not know if you will get the opportunity, but if you do, I advise you to attempt to visit the Kingdom of Lancre. If you can go there, please try and visit an old friend of mine, Misstress Esmerelda Weatherwax. Bring her some candy, if you can do such a thing. It would mean much to her."
"Yes headmaster," Harry said.
"You will find some bars of Honeydukes' best reserve dark in Minerva's bottom drawer," Dumbledore said. "They were, I believe, a special private gift for Minerva upon her achieving Head Witch in the Wizengomet. I'm sure they would go over a treat for Miss Weatherwax or whomever else you meet. Please take them, leave her keys on the desk, and proceed to the Great Hall to receive our guest."
Minerva's going to hex me into oblivion, Harry thought. He took all the chocolates he could find, opened his wallet and dropped six galleons into her drawer. He left the keys, and grabbing his already-shrunk luggage, walked to the Great Hall.
On the floor of the Great Hall, a five-sided pentagram had been etched, with a candle at each point. The Hogwarts staff were chanting quietly and holding hands in a circle just outside the pentagram. McGonagall stepped forward and threw a handful of sulphurous ash into the pentagram, taking great care not to break the lines of magic.
The pentagram glowed blue, and Harry watched dumbstruck as a form began to take shape. It seemed to be screaming and bloodied, and spun in a six-dimensional knot before finally coming into purpose with a loud pop.
The man - for so it was - was clad in red robes with brown trim. His pointy hat had the word "Wizzard" written on it in sequins. At his feet was a small chest, which seemed to scurry menacingly by itself. A large vase, containing a huge bouquet, was next to the chest, with a small card attached.
"Well, that was moderately agonizing," the man said. The morphic field collapsed, and the pentagram ceased to glow.
Suddenly, the flowers went from gorgeous, full blooms to dead, shriveled husks. At the same time, a puzzled look struck the wizard's face, and he went grey, clutched at his chest, and fell to the ground with a dull thud.
All Harry could do was to look on in astonishment as Madam Pomfrey raced through the pentagram to the side of the visitor.
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