Storm Front: Book One of the Harry Potter Files

A/N: This story is a collaboration between myself and another author, Mister Midnight. He'll be referred to as Mr., here on out. Mr. does post her, but not that often any more, and he primarily posts at fanfiction.net under the moniker of gwmclintok, so I will be posting this here, while he will post it there.

This story can be classified as a crossover, however we will term it as a reimagination of the Harry Potter series. This story takes elements from the HP world, owned and copyrighted by JKR, and elements of the Dresden Files, owned and copyrighted by Jim Butcher, and meshes them together. You will see familiar characters, familiar settings and maybe even familiar scenes, but not in necessarily that order. I have preferred and will continue to prefer the world of Harry Dresden over Harry Potter simply because as this is a reimagination of the two stories, do not be surprised if Harry James Potter actually has a back bone, as Dresden does in his own tales.

With that said, please enjoy the story and we'll take all the constructive criticism you can give.

Chapter One:

Running: The Professional Wizard's Only Required Exercise

“It is a dangerous business going out your front door.” - J R.R. Tolkien

Run away. Me and Monty Python.

Days when I was younger with my father, when I was teenager at Riddle's, when I was a stubborn obstinate teenager studying under Ebenezer, when I was getting my investigator's license, and even now when I had that damn license. I ran.

Run away. Story of my life.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a coward. I'm far from it in fact. I believe in chivalry, to an almost extreme, which works for me and against me, but still. I knew when to stay and fight, and when to run. You have to, if you want to stay alive in my business.

At the moment, I was these acquired skills to chase down a little girl named Hope.

After a long day of finding lost keys, a missing puppy and having to prove a wife was cheating on her husband, I was running through an alley, after a missing child. I don't know why the mother called me up or even hired me, especially since I heard a BOLO for my vehicle earlier in that day in regards to this case.

Means I'm probably not getting paid.

Again.

"Hey kid! Stop!" She chanced a look at me before continuing forward. Lucky me.

I'm kinda used to running away, and unfortunately, to from things. And I'm a tall guy, well above 6 feet. Me and my long legs caught up to her easily, still didn't mean I wasn't any less tired.

"Where do you think you're going?" I grabbed hold of the neck of her jacket, lifting her off the ground.

"Let me go!" She struggled, giving me shin a couple of nice bruises to add to my collection.

"Hey, your mother sent me out here to find you," I yelled at her. She couldn't have been any more then nine years old. She looked like a parent's dream, and I was puzzled when I took the case to understand why she would run away.

"Like she cares," she screamed back at me. "Just doesn't want anyone to know that her precious child ran away." I held my tongue, because I really did think something along those lines when her mother walked into my office.

"Look, I'm sorry about that, but really, I've got to do my job, and getting you back home to her is part of it." She stopped struggling, and I let her feet touch the ground. The moment that happened, she tried to take off, and would have too, if I didn't keep a vice grip on her jacket. Lifting her back up she started screaming again this time trying to break my leg. She reached a level that I thought would break glass at one point.

The things I do to help.

I began to look around carefully. The last thing I needed was to be caught up in another scandal with the police, because I was found at the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to do the right thing at the wrong time. I did not need some nosy neighbor seeing all of this and calling the cops on me. Again.

If that happened, I'd have to go through the investigation, and it probably would get as far as that invoice with her mother's name on it to prove that I was hired. I make every customer sign that, especially if I hope to get paid. I can't afford a lawyer or anything, but usually that threat alone gets people to follow through with paying. Usually. Some people figure it out and I still don't get paid.

I just wasn't looking forward to going through all that.

Again.

The streets were empty though, darkness gathering in all of the corners as broken streetlights lined the street. The alley we were just in at least had a light by one of the doors, however, out here, on the street, there nothing but the occasionally flickering of a streetlight struggling to work long enough for one of its friends to try.

Ah, Chicago, a city of the twenty first century, sprawling across the map as a center of commerce and culture. I could have been a real sicko, and I wasn't even given a second glance.

Made me a little sick to my stomach actually.

She finally stopped struggling, but my grip didn't loosen up at all. "Look, I know it doesn't seem like it, but right now, I'm doing what is best for you."

"How can you decide what's best for me?"

"I'm older, wiser."

"Then why are you wearing that coat?" I stopped for a moment, looking at the black duster I wore. It was large, imposing with a heavy mantle and a long canvas flapping around my rather spare frame.

"What's wrong with my coat?"

"It belongs on the set of El Dorado," she snapped. "What are you supposed to be? Ichabod Crane or the Marlboro Man?"

"Two things, what's wrong with El Dorado? And I don't smoke, nasty habit," I shrugged my shoulders. "But I'm wizard to answer you question." She snorted and give me that patented ten-year old child look. You know the one, that says you know everything and there isn't such things a magic. I hate that look.

"You've got to be kidding me." I just shrugged my shoulders. Disbelief was common in my business and after a while I just got used to it.

"It's how I found you." again with the look of skepticism. "Hey, don't be angry with me. You're mom was the one with the brush and your hair."

"You found me, by using my hair?"

"Yeah, actually, it was pretty simple. Just used a little thaumaturgy."

"Thauma -what?"

This was so much better then being kicked. I loosened my grip, figuring I had her attention, at least for a little while. "Thaumaturgy. It's a type of ritual magic. Basically, I am able to make a connection with another person, an event, place, or representative mode. Using a little energy, I make something small happen, that then happens on a much larger scale as well -"

She took the moment I was distracted to turn and bite my hand. Hard.

A few words not meant for virgin ears slipped out and she was off running again. This time toward the bridge. Her pigtails flailed behind her, and even with my long legs I couldn't catch her before she got there.

She got to the bridge first, hurling herself over it and toward the other side.

"Wait!" She didn't know this town like I did. She didn't know what could pop out in the dark.

She just laughed at me though, and kept on running.

I know this town pretty well, after living in it, or around it, for about ten years now. You learn a thing or two about the city. I don't say that I know everything, and I really only know the general facts.

Fact: crossing water at night can be beneficial if you are fighting a Black Court vampire.

Fact: crossing a bridge at night can be dangerous if there is a troll underneath it.

Fact: Trolls are mean son-of-a-bitches that just love to eat children.

Fact: Trolls aren't the brightest, and really only care about their basic needs.

She was running, at least until a large, rubbery arm, squeezed its way out of the manhole at the center of the bridge. In a single swipe, I watched as the greasy fingers wrapped around her small ankle. If I had thought she was screaming loudly before, she broke new barriers at this point. Her knees buckled underneath her, scraping against the asphalt. In the flickering streetlight, I could see the blood already on the kneehigh socks she wore.

"Kid!" Haunting laughter echoed through the street, coming from the darkness beneath the arm. My strides reached their limit as I raced toward her. It took me all of two to get to close enough to jump.

"What is it?" She tried to hit it, but her hands just bounced off the rubbery flesh. "Let go! Let go!"

I jumped the rest of the way, letting my weight land on the rubbery flesh. The heel of my hiking boots landed on the wrist of the troll. A howl of pain replaced the laughter as the fingers loosened. That was all it took for the kid to twist her ankle,escaping the grasp. Cost her the shoe she wore as well as that sock, but I figured mommy would happier replacing them then the kid.

I pull her into my arms, her head burying itself in my neck. I began to backpedal as fast as I could without tripping over my own feet, let alone anything else. My eyes stayed glued to the manhole, as I knew the troll wouldn't be done with us yet.

I was not disappointed, as the troll squeezed through the small hole. It should not have been able to, but somehow, it managed. First came the grubby arm, followed by the shoulder squeezing all the way through the hole. Next came its head, with sharp teeth that could easily tear apart muscle. That stood out on the malformed face as it popped out of the hole. It turned and growled at me, spittle flying out toward us as it lifted itself out of the manhole with the one arm. With a plop, its body slide out and two feet let it wobbly stand. The legs made up little of its body, and how he was able to stand baffled me, but then again, it was magic's prerogative to bend the rules.

The size of him didn't bother, nor did the teeth. What bothered me was the two foot long cleaver the troll was casually swinging around. The flickering lights on the bridge showed the contrast of the silver of the blade, and the dark brown stained to it. My pulled the kid tighter into me as I raised my other hand toward it.

"Stole Grogs dinner." I kept moving backward, not taking my eyes off him or that large cleaver in his hand. "Wizard stole Grogs' dinner."

"You know the rules Grogs." I took another step back, watching the troll swing the cleave back an forth. The whistle cut through the wind that had picked up. "You can't harm mortals any more, not under the Unseelie Accords."

"Bad children still Grogs." The massive cleaver was pointed at us, and I raised my free hand up, making a fist so the ring was visible.

"Afraid you're going to have to pass on this one." I gathered what will I could, taking all of the fear, desire to protect, and even hunger I had left in me and forced a little of it down my hand.

The magic passed through me and illuminated the bridge, just enough for me to give a face to the shadows that covered the troll. The troll snarled at me, making me pull the kid closer to my neck. The damn thing was too big to get around, not like this. Not without a plan of some sort.

"Stupid wizard, Grogs crush." The thundering footstep shook the bridge, and I shuffled my feet a bit, regaining my hold.

Staring into the darkness is not something for everyone. Even with the right will, the right magic, is not enough sometimes. I have been scarred by the darkness, scarred by the things that go bump in the night. But I'm still standing, with nothing more that really my wits and my fists.

Plus a few tricks up me sleeve.

"You won't want to do that, Grogs." I forced my will a little more and moved my fist further away from my body. The silver light from the ring spread further, lighting us up as if we were under a spot light. Grogs growled and shifted away from us, closer to the manhole. It gave me a chance to take another step back, one step closer to running away.

"Wizard can't, she's mine." The troll spoke, but could only take a single step forward. The cleaver began swing into the silver light, the dark brown dull against the blade.

"Try and you're vapor." I let loose the best snarl I could must through my fear as I gathered a burst of my magic and forced it through the ring. The silver light flooded in front of us and it was all I needed. I took the moment of blindness, and ran off the bridge.

Like I said, me and Monty Python.

I ran several blocks, the wind beating against me and my chest aching. It didn't matter that I knew the troll wouldn't follow me. The further I was from it, the further the kid was from it. Which meant that it was less likely to take the chance of following me.

I turned down an alleyway, and leaned against the wall. My chest burned as I tried to catch my breath. The kid looked out of my neck, staring at me. Wonder and a bit of fear danced in her eyes.

"You going to run if I let you down?" My voice stagged a bit, as my breath hadn't caught up to me yet. The kid shook her head; her stare began to unnerve me a bit, but it wasn't unnatural from someone who had never seen real magic before. I knelt and she let go of my neck, but immediately grabbed onto my hand.

"What was that?" She asked. I let out another breath, and finally felt my heart stop hammering against my chest.

"A troll, nasty one at that." I ran my free hand through my hair, trying to calm myself down. I did not want to stay in one place, not for too long. The cops already wanted me, and while I would be cleared in the end, probably, the experience was not something I wanted to go through. "I'll get us out of here. No worries." I gave her a smile, one that usually got me a free donut or two from the coffee shop down the street from my place.

"How?" There was an innocence in her eyes, one that I hadn't seen in a long time. It had been a few years since I had gotten my license and struck out on my own. Nearly a decade and half since I was placed under the Doom. And in all that time, I had not seen that innocence, not since I saw it in my love's eyes from all those years ago.

"Magic." I knelt down so that we were level with each other. I looked at the ring on my hand before sliding it off my hand.

She sniffled back her tears and stared me defiantly in the face. "There's no such thing as magic." That shook me a little bit. She was ten-years old, she should be full of giggles, faerie dust and wonder about the world.

While she spoke, I took the time to look at her knee and her ankle. the knee was not too bad, but the scraps did not look good. Her ankle was swollen though, at the very least twisted.

"I've seen the Disney movies, and the magical bond parents are supposed to have for their children. But its a lie." She sniffed again and wiped her nose on her sleeve. I pulled her a bit closer, letting her wrap her arms around me again to get some of her weight off that ankle. "Like you and that.... that..."

"Troll." I provided, giving her small smile.

"Whatever," she said, this time wiping her nose on my shoulder. "you should just let me go. That thing won't get you if I'm not there." I didn't answer, just shrugged my shoulders.

The truth was it probably would have let me go before she tried to cross in the first place. Now that I had taken its dinner, well, it would be too good for me.

"What are you going to do?" She moved her head up off my shoulder to look at me for a moment before placing it back on it.

"Find the police or someone, tell them I'm lost." The way she spoke told me that was lie.

She would go back to that bridge.

I wonder sometimes, about courage. Whether it isn't something more than just facing what you're afraid of, getting up off the ground once more after being tossed there by the bullies of the world. Finishing another stack of paperwork, even if you're really not up to it. Maybe its just plain stubbornness sometimes.

I don't know. I'm just a wizard. A wizard in a world that really doesn't care for you, or even accommodate you. A world that is fit for the things that go bump in the night, trolls, orges, vampires, hell even a couple werewolves now and then. And all anyone can really do, anyone normal at least, is grasp onto their sciences books and close their eyes real tight, and just pray. Pray that this is nothing more than a dream and what they are seeing can't be real. But I'm not normal, and I'm not a part of that.

I've never claimed to be normal.

"What's your name kid?" She looked up at me, like I was crazy or something. We're sitting in an alley way, and she's clinging to me like there is no tomorrow. And in her mind, there probably isn't.

At the very least, I'm going to give that back to her.

"What's your name?" I asked again, giving her a small smile.

"Hope," she muttered.

"Hope." I smiled so she could hear it. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Hi." she gave me a small smile back.

"Hi, nice to meet you. You ever seen anything like this?" I raised my other hand, the one with the ring, and gathered what little magic I had left. The silver light from before softened as the nature of my magic took on a different tone. I had gathered my dreams and ideas, my wants, and the little happiness I had in my life. There wasn't much, but sometimes, a little is all you need.

The soft glow of the light on my hand showed me the tears that I had not seen before. Seeing that was enough to give me the push to give her a little present of her own.

"Here." I slide the ring off my finger, the soft glow still coming from it and onto Hope's finger. The light died once it rested against her finger tips.

"Battery's dead." She shook her hand, as if to try and start it up again.

"what was the happiest day of your life?" The small smile that had taken root on Hope's face grew until it spread across her entire face. It was nearly as bright as the light that had come from my ring earlier.

"It was Christmas, before Gramma passed," she said. The smile faltered a bit, but it remained on her face. "Gramma was always nice to me."

"Tell me about it."

"Gramma used to come over all the time," she said. I could see the fear easing in her eyes as she concentrated on happier times. "She came over on Christmas Eve. we played games, had tea time. It was so wonderful."

"What else did you do?" Hope kept her eyes on me, and did not see the faint glow to the ring. The spell I placed on it was rather simple. It was basically a modified mood ring, but gave off a small glow when the person was experiencing a positive mood rather than change your finger a different color.

"Last Christmas, mom got me all of the Barbie dolls from the year." The light of the ring waned a bit. "Told me to keep them in the boxes. She said I couldn't play with them, otherwise they would lose value."

"What about your Gramma?"

"She got me this dolly," She wiped her eyes with my sleeve again. "It's so pretty. It has red hair, with green eyes." She looked at me for a moment, a smile building on her face. "Like yours."

"Like mine?" I returned the smile, the light of the ring building up again. She nodded, her hair taking a moment to catch up with her.

It took her a moment, of us smiling like idiots at one another. But Hope caught on, she stared at the ring, pulling it up in between us.

"There is magic in this world." I took her hand and brought it up to cup her other. I let her look at it for a moment before I spoke again. "And there is beauty. I want to you remember that. We may forget it, we may not see it sometimes. But its there." Her little arms did an imitation of a bear hug around my neck.

"Now what do you say we get across that bridge?" She nodded against my neck, smiling as brightly as the ring. It dulled a little bit as time began to pass. But it would glow again, when she thought about that day, or any other day that could bring her that much happiness.

"how are we going to do that?" She pulled back, again with a wonder in her eyes that a child should have there.

"Well, I'll distract him, you run to the other side." I shrugged my shoulders. It was a simple plan, and as with all my simple plans, I make them unworldly more complicated once I execute them.

"How are you going to do that?" I stood, taking her with me.

"Can you run?" She hesitated, but nodded. "then leave the rest to me."

I've got this people saving thing. Its part of the reason why I became a detective, I wanted to help people in anyway I could. I don't trust the people who watch out for me, they're too set in their ways to understand that things have to change. I swear the average age of my watchers is at least two hundred years old.

"What are you going to do?" Over the course of the last few minutes, I found a bit of my will returning. Enough to give me a spell, maybe two weak ones. Or just one. But it was enough for a spell.

See, magic works off of our wills, and emotions. If you don't gave enough of one, you can substitute one of the others, but you need more of the others as you progress away from your will. Any emotion can be used to cast a spell, but that takes more than it would for someone who still had the energy and the will to do so.

Me, I'm currently pushing the 'E' on my gas tank of will and energy, but have just enough to get the kid to Murphy.

I reached into my jacket, pulling out the drumstick I used as a tool to aid my accuracy. Actually, I picked it up off a trash can a couple of blocks before I found her. But she didn't need to know that.

"I'm going to use this on it." I waved it around a few times for good measure.

"That's a drumstick." When she spoke she gave me that same look at said she could not believe what I was speaking.

"No, no, its my magic wand." I twirled it again before walking out of the alley. "I wave it at the bad guys and stuff happens."

"That's not really magical," she said as she shoved her ring into my face. "This is." Well, can't win all of the battles. At least she believed in magic. Just not when I did it.

The walk back to the bridge was quiet. Not quiet like a church mouse, but horror movie quiet. What I wouldn't pay for some times for a little theme music in my life.

Hope clung to my neck as I walk, and honestly, I don't blame her. This is terrifying, even for a weathered veteran of the craft like myself. That might be a bit of a stretch when it comest to describing my talents, but i know what I'm doing. Most of the time.

I stopped once we got to the bridge. The light that had been flickering before it had finally burnt out, and all that illuminated the bridge were the rough edges from the lamps on both sides of the bridge.

"This is going to be fun." I held back the curses that kept coming to my mind, since I figured I didn't need the mother yelling at me for teaching her kid new and wonderful terms.

A growl came from the center of the bridge, making this seem like all the more wonderful of an idea. "Listen, stay here until I get to the center. When he comes out, I'll distract him and you run across."

"How you going to do that?" I knelt down, but she made no move to let go of my neck.

I took the drumstick out of my jacket and waved it around a bit. She just stared at me for a moment, again with the look like I was crazy. Which admittedly I might be. "Gonna work just fine." I ignored the look again.

She let go of my neck, but took my hand as we walked toward the unknown. I stopped for a moment as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Taking a breath, felt my Third Eye open, and the world became clearer.

Its hard to explain, looking through a Third Eye. Its not like soul gazing were everyone sees something different, and only once. With a Third Eye, you see everything. Everything. From the tiniest hair on your skin to the way the wind moves about. Everything is brighter, the contrast are sharper, and things show you their true nature. I see through veils, through the lies and deceit and even denial. I could see everything.

But it did not come without its consequences though. I had to remember everything too. Like it was branded to your brain, it stays there. You can push it back, suppress it. But the image, the memory of it will not fade with time. It stays with you, haunts you. No matter how much you may want to forget.

I use it sparingly, because there are still some nights where I wake up screaming. I made mental note to add this to the list of growing possibilities.

The lights that were flickering under my normal vision disappeared, and the night shone nearly as bright as the day. I could see two beady, red, eyes staring up at us, focusing upon me. I let go of Hope's hand and took a step toward the troll.

The eyes stayed up me.

"Run." I leveled the wand against the eyes as they moved further up. The head was more deformed then I had thought, inbreeding stealing any amendable traits long ago. "Go Hope. Run!" By the time I had started to speak again, two things happened.

Hope followed orders, for once, and took off toward the other side of the street like I had told her. But that damn troll decided it wanted to bring its filthy body back onto the street. The Third Eye did not engrave smells upon the memory, but the association between objects was usually enough to bring back the awful smell with the image. This was going to be one of those times.

I moved forward at a slower pace then Hope ran. My wand was leveled against the troll as my long legs carried it over to me. The troll wasn't bright, but it had enough survival in him to know that I was the immediate threat. After the theatrical stunt I pulled earlier, of course it would place me as the threat over something that is smaller and running from it while I am moving toward it.

You have to be crazy to try and pick a fight with a troll. Or a wizard. Both work however.

"Wizard come back to play." The troll shoved its body out of the hole, faster then it could accommodate it. The ground around it shatter and I used my free hand to cover my face. My wand remained pointed straight at the beast.

"Damn straight." The troll took a lumbering step forward, causing the bridge to shake slightly under its weight.

Faerie are interesting folk and before they enter our world, the important things of physics really don't apply to them. Trolls where no different. And while mass didn't mean much until them came here, once on our home territory, it was a different ballgame.

Unfortunately for me, the mass of this dumb creature was working against me. The individual cracks of the bridges were etched in my mind, right before I turned off my Third Eye. The damn thing had could out to play and that was good enough for me.

The dirty cleaver swung at me I was lucky enough to be just a hair away from it so that it missed. Of course the other arm that followed it was enough to knock not only the wind out of me but possible the rest of my lunch.

The smash to my limbs was not something I had expected,My back slammed into the brick railing, and I could hear the crack of my ribs. My body fell flat against the sidewalk as the troll stomped my way.

With a groan, I pushed myself to my knees, my hand gripping the drumstick tightly. Pain was not a good conductor, but it was better then nothing. I could not let the best get near her.

"Wizard die. Wizard be dinner." The troll snarled as it stomped over toward me.

"Leave him alone!" Both of us turned to see Hope standing on the other end of the bridge. The light of the ring shown brightly, brighter then it had when she told me of Christmas.

The troll growled in her direction, the bright light taking him away from me.

"No," I groaned, pushing my injured body to my feet. The lumbering footsteps were slow and she was far enough away that it would only be a few moments before the troll caught up to her.

I swayed for a moment, the upright position sending rushes of blood to my head. Nothing like being in vertical to remind yourself you're alive and in pain. Once on my feet, I concentrated on the troll, judging the distance just as I had before. This time though, I had a bigger target then the troll's wrist.

My long legs gave me two steps in stride before I launched myself toward the troll. My arms wrapped around the huge neck and I did my best to hold on. Immediately the damn thing stopped in its tracks and lucky for me, dropped its cleaver as it tried to reach back and grab me. The slime that covered the troll was noxious and the swinging motion the troll was sending me though was not doing anything help settle my stomach.

I still had the drumstick in my hands and after one particularly violent swing, I shoved the thing in up the troll's nose, as far as I could while still holding onto it. Before the damn thing could think about trying to grab my arms, I gathered what will I had left, the pain that had spread through my entire body, but most of all, my concern for Hope, and pushed it through the drumstick.

"Diruo!"

The effect was as immediate as it was painful, for both of us. With my makeshift wand shoved up its nose, the only way for the spell to be released was into the brain cavity of the troll. Apparently, that was a lot smaller then I had thought it to be. The spellfire released from inside of the troll came out of every hole it could manage, and even then it wasn't enough. The eyes were decimated within moments and the shock wave of power coming out of its ears and nose forced me to release my grip on it neck.

It was lucky enough for that to happen. As I let go, the head of the troll exploded, sending me shooting backwards. This time I landed on my side, and a new pain started to run through my body. I opened my eyes when I landed, holding back the groan of pain. The troll stood at the center of the bridge, its arms hanging by its side. The head was gone, a crater on its neck where it should have been.

I had to cradle my right arm to my chest as tried to sit up. The body of the troll was beginning to dissolve, back into the Nevernever. Which meant the goop that covered my jacket was disappearing as well, thankfully.

"Harry?" I looked across the bridge to see Hope standing there, her hands clutching the ring. My glasses hadn't for once broken while doing something incredible heroic or incredible stupid. It depended on the day and how generous I was to myself. I was leaning toward forward today. I had to push myself to stand and not fall asleep right there. This really wasn't over yet, not until I found Murphy.

"Hey kid," I walked slowly, more like limped my way toward her. The light shone a little brighter as I smile down at her. "You did good."

"You mean I helped?" She looked surprised for a moment.

"Yeah." With another groan, I knelt down in front of her. "thanks." She wrapped her arms around my neck, moving to give me a hug on my left side. She was a smart kid, I'll give her that.

"Saving little kids again, Potter?" I knew that voice, and was thankful that the owner found me. Saved me so much time and energy.

"Murphy, you have no idea how happy I am to see you." The short blond just smiled at me.

Murphy was about the closest thing I had to family. She stands probably 5'5" which is short for a cop, but damn if she isn't a person I'd want to get into a fight with. She probably the only person more stubborn then me that I've ever met. We had a go at dating, it didn't work out too well. Actually the term 'fiery blaze' would be putting it lightly how badly it went. No, we salvaged what we could and managed to make a great friendship out it.

She's a cop for the Chicago Police Department, working as a lieutenant for the Special Investigations department. She's the only one to take her job seriously, enough at least to hire me. That was how we met, when she called me and asked me to consult on a homicide that looked like a suicide. Well, it really was thaumaturgy, but I figured it out and got paid for it.

"I figured you'd be too stupid not go looking for her," Murphy made her way over, shaking her head as she knelt next to us. "Especially when there are children involved."

"You know me. Harry Potter. Patron saint of children and lost cause." I muttered as Hope moved a little closer to me, slightly afraid of the new person. "This is Lieutenant Murphy. She'll take you from here." Hope looked at me for a moment, then turned back to Murphy, a small smile on her face.

"Harry's not going to get in trouble is he?" She asked with such earnestness that I don't know if even Murphy could have lied to her. Me, I'm a horrible liar so it wouldn't have worked any way.

"No, he won't." Murphy even smiled at me with this. I could tell when her smile was fake. At least now, there was some sincerity to it. "Let's get you back to your mother."

"Do I have to?" Hope tried to give a puppy dog look to Murphy that would only fail. While Murphy could be nice, I had seen it a few times, but the kid wasn't going to make her change her mind just by being damn cute. It never worked when I tried it.

I stood back up, trying to catch my breath. My chest was being to ache more and arm was close to throbbing with pain. I just hope those potions I had left at home are still good. Otherwise my bank account was going to take a large hit. Again.

"A couple of cops spotted her running off into this area a couple hours ago," Murphy said as she lifted Hope up off the ground. I rolled my eyes. As a kid, I hated it when people talked like I wasn't there. As an adult, I still thinks it sucks. "We put out a BOLO for her, just you managed to get to her first."

"More like she managed to find me." Damn kid nearly ran me over when she came busting out of that alley. "Look, I do appreciate this Murph, but..." I let my voice trail off as I motioned toward my right hand. The rush of adrenaline was dying off and the pain was coming back in spades.

"Of course." Her cheeks flushed as she tried to fix it. "Do you need a lift to the hospital?" I just gave her a smirk, one that I gave after the two dozen or so cases we worked on together. It simple said 'give me a day, and I'll be all better.' "What was I thinking."

"A lift back to my place would be nice." I gave her a full smile as she dropped her head with a sigh. A sure sign that I won.

"I'll have to drop him off first." Murphy had directed the comment to Hope, which caused the kid to smile. Hope was happy for any reason to stay away from her mother longer. "Maybe get you some food too. Hungry?" She nodded, and her pigtails took a moment to catch up to her.

I just followed them back to her squad car. Why her partner wasn't with her, did not bother me. The fact was, she probably told him she was going out for coffee and just didn't return. I didn't care for the man and he really didn't care much for me.

The ride back to my apartment was long, but the window was cool against my forehead. I let my mind wander, and try to relax. The pain was still there, but the relaxation held dull it a little. I had forgotten it was Halloween, which probably was why people didn't pay any attention to a tall guy in a duster. Then again, it is Chicago.

Murphy stopped right outside my place and rushed out of the car to my side. The door opened so fast that I nearly fell out it. When she tried to catch me, she jammed my arm into my battered ribs.

"Sorry." At my growl in pain, she moved her hands to my shoulders, helping me get my feet back underneath me. "sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Murph." I tried to give her a smile, but the pain had grown back to a throbbing sensation. A grimace was all that I could manage.

"Look, let me know if you need anything." She helped me to my door and we stopped there. I normally had wards up that stopped anyone from getting it, but in my rush to find Hope last night, i hadn't put them up. But Murphy didn't know that, and quite honestly, she knew it was safer to wait until I opened the door just on general principle.

"Don't I always?" I gave her that same smirk that got me the free donut.

She just shook her head and gave me her own smirk. She gave me a brief hug, careful to not agitated me injuries. "No, and that sometimes is the problem." After a quick goodbye, she headed back to her squad car and Hope waved her goodbyes. I sent a silent pray up to a God that I didn't believe in any more, asking to keep her happy.

With a sigh, I opened up my door and limped inside. The lights were out, which meant that I had at least remembered to turn them off in my rush out of here. "Where you at Crookshanks?" Normally, my cat was on me the moment I had entered the house. "Damn cat, probably out getting some.” I paused at that thought. “ Lucky cat." I didn't get a chance to head any further into my apartment.

I heard the swing of the sword before I could feel it against my neck. Even with the pain, I did not even shiver under the blade. "Harry Potter, you are charged and found guilty of breaking the First Law." The lights of my home flickered on to show my Warden standing off to the side, his sword against my neck.

"Hey Morgan." My eyes were the only thing that moved as I gave a sideways glance to him. However, they were drawn to the brunette librarian before me. "You brought friends. I'm touched."

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Chapter Two:

In Which We Meet Harry's Babysitter

"If I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business. I do the very best I know how -- the very best I can. And I mean to keep on doing it to the end. If the end brings me out all right, what is said against me will not amount to anything. If the end brings me out all wrong, ten angels swearing I was

right would make no difference." - Abraham Lincoln

"As you already know, the use of magic to kill another is strictly forbidden. You are already under the Doom of Damocles, and as such, no further warning is needed or necessary. The sentence for breaking the First Law, is death. To be carried out immediately."

Have you ever been accosted by a grim-looking man in your own home? That in itself is enough to scare the shit out of anyone. Add to that image the man holding a naked blade about ten miles long and it pressed against your neck? If you have and have not called the police, please seek medical and psychiatric attention. The police really wouldn't do anything about it in this case, but its the thought that counts.

The point I 'm trying to get at is no matter what, being approached like this will put the fear of God into even an atheist. I don't react well to fear and it took my sarcastic comment from before to prevent the string of quasi-Latin from coming out and really screwing me over. Especially in front of guests.

"Morgan, what brings you here today?" We all have ways of fighting off the fear, mine just happens to come with a sharp tongue and quick legs. It was obvious which one I was using right then. Especially since I wasn't quite sure I had the strength to run. "You know as well as I do that the application of the First Law is only to humans. Faeries and other denizens of the Nevernever are not protected under the Law, especially those that try to hurt innocents." As a Warden, Morgan knew this and preached it to the choir. But the fact that I got away with what he considered breaking the Law several years ago, just once and in self-defense, was enough for me to be labeled a bad egg. And for him to find any excuse to use against me. An atom across the line was enough, and it wasn't because he was a bad person, by any means. Morgan believed that the Laws and the punishment for the Laws of Magic should be applied to everyone, no matter what the circumstances. Archaic, yes, but so was the rest of the Council, with a few exceptions.

Morgan himself was an exceptional wizard. You had to be to become a Warden, especially the one that deal with the Chicagoland area. He had been at this longer then I had probably been alive, evident by both his demeanor and the scars he had. They weren't obvious or even physical scars, rather emotional ones that showed when he got involved with social engagements or interactions.

Age is a primary factor in the strength of magic. While I may have had more raw power then most wizards my age, that did not matter as the experience and skills that came with the practice superseded my raw power. And I was more a magical thug in the first place, busting doors in with a burst of air or using my magic to force something to go my way in a fight. I was getting better then just mere thuggery, but still I knew Morgan to be especially skilled in a fight, and with the blade that still rested against my neck no less. But I had seen him perform some magical feats that would have taken more concentration from me than I had, performing them in a blink of an eye.

And he probably did not have a shade of magical ability compared to some of the people on the White Council.

The White Council were the most powerful and arrogant wizards on the planet. They presided over all of us, determining whether or not our actions were considered good or evil. Once a wizard is considered evil, it is improbable for the Council to change its mind and allow for some type of redemption. Not impossible however, as I am living proof that one can stand up to the Council and live to tell the tale.

"Besides, we wouldn't want to make a bad impression upon the newbie." The woman stiffened at being recognized in the conversation. She was already uncomfortable with everything that was going on, and for me to draw her into the situation did not do me any favors.

"Miss Granger." I looked over from my position with the sword still at my throat. "My name is Hermione Granger. And I have been assigned by the Council to watch over you." At this the balance between my throat and the blade fell as Morgan quickly sheathed the sword. My aching body faltered a bit but I managed to lift myself up and off the ground.

"A letter would have sufficed," I muttered. I did not need this; what I needed were the potions in my backroom. "And watch over me, what am I eleven?"

"I apologize for our misjudgment, Mr. Potter," Hermione said, looking between me and Morgan rather quickly. I picked up at she was an underling, following the orders from on high. If anything, that really only made it worse for her in my book. It was likely that she was following the orders blindly, without thought to the consequences in the real world. "However, the Council believes it to be in the best interest of all parties that you were to be monitored on a regular basis."

"What has the Council defined this as then? A friendly visit?" I motioned toward Morgan with my good hand. The throbbing pain had settled back into a dull ache, but from experience this was only a momentary state. I really did need those potions. "Because I'm sure that Chicago PD would see it as breaking and entering."

"We meant you no harm," Hermione taking a step closer. The glare I tossed her when she spoke to me like a idiot made her take a step back. I held back the comment about assault with a deadly weapon, only because I was pretty sure that Morgan could definitely make my death look like an accident, with little to no effort put into it.

"I really don't care if you meant me any harm or loads of it." I limped toward a rather tattered chair that I got a swap meet several years back. Hermione stood in my way, but took a step to the side as I approached. Morgan still stood fuming off to the side as I sat my battered body down. "Morgan, you going to tell me what this is really about? Or is she going to be beating around the bush all night?"

"The Council has assigned Miss Granger to watch over your day-to-day operations." We glared at each other for a moment before I glanced away. Hermione shifted in position, trying to not give away her uncomfortable feeling. Her nervousness was getting to me, making me more anxious in the process. Not a good sign when it came to dealing in magic. "She will be reporting to us any questionable activities that you do."

"That it?" Morgan stared at me, a surprised look on his face. I didn't blame him as there were about thirty lines about babysitters running through my head that I should have let loose. But I was just too damn tired to even care at the moment. I'd be pissed in the morning. "I'd like you to leave then, I've had a bit of a rough night, though I'm sure you're already aware of that." Hermione finally seemed to look at me, shock now covering her face as she saw the visible bruises and my arm cradled to my chest.

"Oh," she let out before rushing over to my side. Both of us just stared at her, Morgan with a bit of contempt in his eyes, but my with a little bit of shock and gratitude. "Why aren't you in a hospital?" She gingerly touched my arm, before I pulled it back with a hiss of pain. "Sorry." she blushed lightly before taken it gently in her hand again. "This is broken."

"I kinda figured that when I fell on it," I muttered. She looked up at me, alarmed for a moment before nodding. "I've got a few potions, this really isn't necessary." She had taken out of her focus, a wand, and begun to prod my arm with it. There were short jolts of energy released each time the wand tip touched my flesh. She stopped after a moment though, and while my arm still hurt like hell, it no long felt like I was in the ninth circle of Hell. Maybe the fourth or fifth, but not the ninth. I know the difference, oddly enough.

"Granger, we're leaving." Morgan barked at her, and she jumped back a good foot away from me. A blush crept across her face as she stood. I managed a smile though for her, which got me a timid one in return.

"Its not much, I just numbed it a bit. But it'll help tomorrow when the potions finish," she mumbled as she rushed over to Morgan. I almost felt sorry for her, because Morgan was an asshole at times, a good guy, but still a major asshole.

But she choose that line of work. She worked for the White Council, and part of me was unsympathetic to her plight. She made her choice, and apparently, I was going to have to live with it.

They left without another word, but Hermione tried to give me a smile as she left. I returned it as best I could as Morgan pulled her through the door before she probably even saw it. It may not be too bad having her 'babysit' me. Still, that was not a pressing matter.

Lifting my battered body up off the chair was not an easier feat. It took me a few tries to get up without the use of my less battered but still broken hand.

"Back so soon?" The musical voice of my backup hard drive filled the room. I held back a smile as I entered my 'dungeon'.

I call it my dungeon because it is has no windows and really is just a room filled with all of my alchemy and warding materials. Plus anything else I can manage to afford. It really was the subbasement of the the apartment complex I lived in. I lived in the drafty basement, which was cheap and how I liked it.

"Found the girl," I tossed my tattered terrycloth robe over my shoulders, my arm still resting against my chest. I shuffled my way toward the shelves that lined the far wall.

Most people don't quite realize why wizards wear robes. It certainly isn't a fashion statement but given the problem that most wizards have around any form of technology, a central heating system is often out of the question in a wizard's home. Technology and magic really don't see eye to eye. Well, they don't for most wizards but I'm working on that.

Back to my point. Magic will cause any technological device beyond the very basic systems to fry. This includes but is not limited to computers, televisions, lamps, anything that held a great deal of circuitry.

A hundred years ago, not a problem for wizards. Now, catastrophe for us. Still, you learn how to deal with it. Buying heavier clothes for winter is one way, and especially a nice heavy robe for your potions lab.

"Do we still have enough of the healing draughts and salves?" I asked. Two golden globes blinked out of a skull on the shelf above my desk.

Hedwig was my backup computer, and until only very recently, my only computer. An elemental of intelligence, she had been bound by another wizard several hundred years ago, and eventually fell into the hands of my late mentor, Riddle. I had managed to get her out of the place before it burnt to the ground and since then we had been partners in law.

She knows more potion recipes and the modifications of them for specific wizards then a human could possible know. Add to that the fountain of information she had gained over the last four hundred years she had been bound, not to mention the thousand she wasn't bound.

Alchemy is a tricky subject at best, and it is necessary for potions often to modified for the specific wizard making the potion. This is simply because magic is a personal energy, and because of that personal nature, each wizard will imbue different ingredient with different amounts of energy.

A sigh echoed through the room as Hedwig popped up out of her skull. Her orange glow floated around me as if she was examining me. "You really need to stop blazing in there without a plan."

"I had a plan, it just failed upon meeting the enemy," I muttered. Hedwig floated back over to her skull as I moved toward the cabinet where I managed to keep a few spare potions, mainly healing ones to mend my cuts and bruises that seemed to be accumulating over the last few weeks.

This is where I both love and despise magic, in healing. While the cuts and bruises, even some broken bones can be managed with the appropriate spell or potion, anything beyond that, anything too complex would require the use of normal methods. Burns for example. Magic can not heal burns and even with broken bones they have to be set, which is a bitch.

"Do they need to be set?" I asked. If that was the case, a doctor would be better for me, however, I'm not sure my bank account could stand up to that.

"No, but you're not going to be able to replace the potions until you get paid. Again." I usually was a bit more careful, but when it came to children, I lose my head sometimes.

"They will back down eventually," I muttered. It may take longer then I'd like, however, but I would be paid. I just hoped that the mother did not try to stonewall me like the last few.

I hate dealing with lawyers.

I swallowed the vile liquid meant to heal my wrist. It wasn't broken anymore, thanks to Granger, and the couple minutes it took for the bone to completely mend was enough for me to know that I had gotten luck without it getting an x-ray. That really was a moot point since I probably would have fried the machine, however, the only pain left was the ache of the muscles, which was not something I could fix.

"So," I sat heavily on a chair by my desk, looking toward Hedwig. "Guess who I got a visit from."

"Morgan." I nodded as I felt my body finally relax after a rather long and unnecessary day. "I take it went as wonderful as it sounded."

"Better, I've got a babysitter now." Hedwig had to have been interested in this because her eyes nearly flared out of the skull. She was bound to it, and although I would have preferred. and she agreed with me, something a little more tasteful, we both had gotten used to it.

"Oh, gossip," the golden eyes danced within the skull. "Tell me, tell me." I let out another sigh. It was morning, nearly seven if the mechanical clock on the wall was right. All I wanted to do was sleep a little bit, maybe even round up something to eat.

"I don't know much about her."

"Ooh, her," a giggle filled the air. "You lucky dog." Yes, Hedwig was a bit of a pervert. In fact, she was the cause of a rave on the U of I Chicago campus several years back. That is part of the reason why I don't let her out too much. "What will Susan think?"

Susan is my on-again, off-again girlfriend, who works for the The Arcane. The paper was a tabloid at best, and rarely promoted anything that was true. Susan, however, had a knack for finding stories that were not only true, but about me as well. That lead to us meeting on more than one occasion, with her sometimes going out of her way to get my opinion about things that really did not have anything to do with magic. But hey, it was the normal folks' prerogative to be confused by magic, let alone be afraid of it. I managed to break Susan of the habit of attributing everything weird to magic, but there were still times when she tried.

"Right now, all I can think about is how wonderful the insides of my eyes look." I leaned back in the chair, my aching body screaming for rest.

"Not so fast, I still want to know what happened out there," Hedwig's voice stilled a bit. She was demanding, but that probably came for working for Riddle for so long.

"Ran into a troll, blew it up." I sat up, and pushed myself up out of the chair. My knees nearly popped as I tried to stand up straight. "Same old, same old."

Hedwig rolled her eyes before staring at me. "You know that isn't going to cut it."

"Well, I figured you weren't that interested in this part of the story." I smirked as the eyes dances once more. "Long story short, the kid ran away because the mother doesn't love her enough. I protected her and gave her something to believe in."

"That would explain the missing ring from your finger." Ever the observant servant. "That will do, for now. Tell me what the hustle and bustle upstairs was all about."

"Morgan got in his head that I broke the 1st Law, and came to carry out the order." I flexed my hand a couple times, ache now at least settling into a dull burn. "Lucky me, I talked him out of it."

"Lucky you." Hedwig rolled her eyes again. "Seriously, though, why do you have a Warden permanently assigned to you."

"I don't know, I wish I did, because then at least I wouldn't feel on edge." I sighed. "I don't think she's really a Warden either. Maybe a Junior one?" I chuckled at this before looking at Hedwig. "You need another novel?" I had managed to get several cheesy romance novels at a swap meet a month ago, in exchange for the ones that Hedwig had already worked through.

"Not yet, Charles has just come back from the front, and he lifted the sweet, not-so-innocent Jasmine into his arms, and about ready to-"

"Stop." I didn't need to be reminded about how bad my romantic life was at the moment. I hadn't seen Susan in nearly a month and that while we weren't that serious, I felt that it was becoming that over the course of our relationship. "I'm going to crash."

"Sweet dreams." Hedwig's voice followed me as I climbed up the stairs. I headed up to my bed, and promptly collapsed.

This actually was an easy day for me. My luck is never that good.

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