Chapter One.
Harry was twenty-three today. It was a balmy ninety-eight degrees outside his small London flat, which had an air conditioning unit that was still not working at one hundred percent and was today packed with twenty of his closet friends and what he had in lieu of family. Harry was sweating so profusely that even his hair was a little matted down. His guests were frequently stepping outside to cool down, a thing which Harry envied. Dean was sitting on the couch making a valiant attempt at flirting with one of Harry's co-workers. His co-worker, Abby, was in no way interested in Dean, or Seamus before him. Abby was twenty-one, dark haired, blue eyes, completely stunning and crashing the party. She had come because she had, for some years, wanted to be Mrs. Harry Potter. Harry of course preferred Mr. Potter to be without a shared last name.
Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen whipping up course after course, Mr. Weasely was walking around amiably striking up conversations with Harry's other guests. Ron was standing across the room from Hermione pretending to be interested in the conversation he was allegedly having with Neville and not the conversation that Hermione was having with Fleur. He was doing this because they had recently had a row that went so badly that it had become common knowledge that Ron was once more staying with his parents. The rest of the surviving Weasleys were throughout the apartment doing various things and chatting with various people. Harry on the other hand was doing none of these things.
He was just trying to escape the crush of the crowd in his apartment and hoping that everyone would eventually see themselves out so he could lock his door and hide until fall. He was tired of opening presents, tired of talking to people about what he and, what he suspected the sole purpose for the initial question was, what they were doing. Harry had not meant to become jaded by his fame, he just had. It hadn't happened over night, and it wasn't something he liked about himself, but he was now tired, most of all, of talking to people about anything. It always, without fail and often without warning, seemed to turn into either an interview or the opposite part attempting to impress him. It drove him crazy, no one seemed to just act like themselves around him. In this vein no one was a bigger offender than Ginny.
She spent her time around him either trying to look as ravishing as possible or parading an seemingly limitless number of pretty boys in front of him. He couldn't figure out if the message she was sending was that she wanted him desperately or that she was totally over him, and more so he really couldn't force himself to care. The only person he wanted to talk to, and the one person who seemed not to try to impress him, was the one person he was too afraid to talk to.
Hermione was always herself around Harry. He loved that about her. She didn't over embellish her life or her job, she was a professor at Hogwarts. She didn't make any effort to dress her best, or over apply makeup. She didn't bother to tame her wild hair. She was just Hermione, the girl he had always known. He wanted badly to catch up with her, but dared not to. Ever since her and Ron started to fall apart earlier in the year Harry had avoided getting involved. He remembered how bad it was when Neville and Luna had broken up, so bad in fact that Luna had decided not to come to his party but had instead invited him over to her place for a Neville free celebration. Harry did not want to pick sides in what was likely to be the biggest breakup in the group, and really he wouldn't know what side to pick anyway. They were both his best friends.
But more than any other reason it was because of how he had felt about Hermione in the last few years that he was so terrified to speak to her. As much as he disliked the idea of her confirming that her and Ron were on the outs, he loathed the notion that she might tell him they weren't. He had only felt this conflicted once before, and that was because he was staring down the fact that he would have to murder someone before he turned eighteen. The fear bubbling up inside him currently was exactly like that fear and also totally different. They both had far reaching ramifications. Just like there are still former Death Eaters that attack him at weird hours and after long months of planning, he didn't want Ron added to their numbers. He really couldn't bear the thought of Ron not being his Best friend, still he was having an absurd amount of trouble baring the thought of not talking to Hermione.
After a few hours of internal dissonance had passed Harry went into his bed room, moved the coats from atop his bed to the floor and sat down. He began, as he oft does, to stare at his hands. He felt into his back pocket for his wand. It was a quick movement, the same kind he used to make sure his wallet was still on his person. He laid back in his bed and looked at the ceiling. He was just about to close his eyes and slip into a very short coma, only about a dozen or so years, when he heard an explosion in the living room. Followed by twenty screams beginning at the same time and some ending far before others.
He jumped to his feet, whipped the wand from his back pocket and raced for the door to his room. When there he threw it open and surveyed the scene with a glance. Everyone seemed to be okay, apart from most of them being off their feet. Nothing more than superficial cuts and bruises. Where Ron had formerly been standing, he was now laying with his feet poking out of the kitchen door, there was a hole in the side of the building. It allowed for what would have been, had the hole not been in the side of his apartment, a lovely view of Diagon Alley. Floating just outside the new subtraction from the architecture were four people in dark cloaks on broomstick. They were wearing masks which were unmistakably those of Death Eaters. They were laughing, high reedy laughs.
Harry Launched himself behind his over turned couch, only to bump his head into Abby's. She gasped, noted it was Harry who had bumped into her and not Dean or Seamus and began to shiver with fear into him rather than the upholstery. Harry put a had on each of her shoulders and pushed her back to face him. She had small cuts miring her naturally stunning features. She looked up at him expectantly, though what she expected was unclear to both of them. She had her eyes half closed as if hoping to kiss him and her mouth half open as if waiting to scream again. Instead of letting either thing happen Harry spoke to her.
"You need to stay behind this couch, do you understand?"
"What?"
"Stay behind this couch, if you move I can't guarantee your safety. Stay near me."
"O..Okay."
"But if you crowd me, so help me I will throw you out to those Death Eaters myself. Clear?"
"Yes."
Harry stood up and fired off four stunning spells. The Death Eaters fired off spells of their own, all unforgivable curses and all but the killing curse. In the confusion Harry only landed one spell causing one of the Death Eaters to fall from his broom. Harry sprang from behind the couch and yelled for someone to provide cover fire. He skidded almost completely to the lip of the hole in his apartment, pointed his wand down and shouted, "Mobilicorpus!" The stunned body of the Death Eater floated to ground unharmed. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
He got into a crouch and headed back into the flat for cover, the spells of what had turned out to be Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Mr. And Mrs. Weasley flew past his head and at the broom bound Death Eaters. Hermione managed to get one confounded enough that he was blasting leg locker curses at his mates. Ron Had managed to take control of a third Death Eater's broomstick and was repeatedly flying him into a wall adjacent Harry's place. Neville had been hit with what looked to be a pretty nasty, but sloppily cast Petrificus spell, he was on his belly but both of his arms were still mobile. Once behind cover Harry put his quick thinking to work on a solid plan.
"Everyone get to cover!" He shouted.
Within the space of seconds everyone had obeyed his command. The Death Eater's were beginning to recover. Ron's victim had even managed to regain control of his broom. They fired into the apartment for several seconds before it seemed to dawn that they had no available targets. Harry finally got the opportunity he was hoping for. He looked over at Hermione, she was looking directly at him, in a way she had never looked at him before. The concern was the same, but the pride seemed brand new. He would have been at serious risk of his pants bursting into flame if he didn't say that he liked the look. He looked back at the kitchen and let out a sigh. He stood up quickly and waved his arms so the Death Eaters would see him. He heard loud protests from his friends at his actions, but if he had had time to explain every facet of his plan he was pretty sure it wouldn't work anyway.
The Death Eaters snapped to attention and all brought up their wands at him. Harry had noticed before that they didn't seem to be casting the killing curse, he hoped that this meant that they were either unwilling to because this was a warning or that they were unable to because this attack was not something they had really sat down and took time to think out. As soon as the first syllable of a spell that Harry knew was going to be Crucio was uttered he raised his wand at the hole in his apartment and internally hoped his plan was as stupid or crazy as it seemed. He then yelled.
"PROTEGO!"
A blue shield of light glistened into place in the spot where once a wall stood. It shimmered like holograms in exceptionally expensive science fiction movies. For half a second Harry worried that it wouldn't stay, that it was too large a shield to maintain at all. But it stayed. The Death Eaters, who were now in the process of casting their curses, were unable to cancel their magic and watched as balls of electric red light collided with Harry's spell. The Protego charm did exactly as it was intended to, and more precisely exactly as Harry hoped it would. The Crucio curses collided with it and instead of dissipating they bounced back to their senders.
The three remaining Death Eaters were hit squarely by their own harmful curses and writhed for a few seconds before rider and broomstick plummeted to Earth amid screams and howls of pain. Hermione, Ron and Neville raced forward, exactly as Harry had only seconds before and rescued the Death Eaters from particularly bad descent related deaths. Harry let down his charm and called for his broom, which soared into the living room and squared off in front of him. Once mounted he bolted for the ground below.
The Death Eaters had, in that short amount of time, gathered up their unconscious comrade, mounted their own brooms and took off. Harry, who was at one time a pretty talented seeker, tore after them at top speed. His own broom, which was the best that money could buy only three years ago, was unable to match the top speed of the brooms of the Death Eaters. Failing to over take them in speed he tried to out maneuver them. He raced up into the clouds, miles above his quarry and angled his broom for a diagonal shot. He raced at top speed, the wind flying past him and nearly deafening him, he had not gone this fast in the air in some time.
The Death Eaters had apparently not seen him shoot up into the sky behind them and seemed to be of the mistaken idea that they had simply lost him on their superior brooms. Soon Harry rocketed into the group, slamming into the rider in front. The Death Eater lost his balance and fell from his broom. Harry had not expected him to topple so easily, he turned downward and raced after the falling Death Eater. When he was only inches from him Harry extended his arm to try and catch the robes of the man in free fall, physics be damned.
However in those seconds the Death Eater had regained his senses and had shouted, "Accio Broom!" with his wand extended. Harry had to veer violently to the left to avoid being side swiped by the wildly incoming broom shaped missile. The Death Eater Caught hold of his broom and raced off with the rest of his pose. Harry tried again to out maneuver them, but they would not fall for the same tricks. They launched spell after spell, slowing down Harry's progress and increasing their already, faster broom aided, lead. Eventually Harry had to admit defeat. He paused in midair to shout swear words after the specks on the horizon which at one time had been clearly visible adversaries. Before turning his broom around and heading home.
He tried to fly back in through the same hole in his wall he had flown out of, but one of his guests had already repaired the damage with spells. So Harry flew down to the street and did a quick sweep for clues. He found nothing but street trash. Some crumpled newspapers, a balled up invitation to an open house for a new shop, some wizard trading cards that one might find in their candy. He picked one of the cards up randomly. As luck would have it the face on the card turned out to be his own. His face looked out at him with tired green eyes, a half hearted smile and his unmistakable scar. The back of the card had a short biography, listing his accomplishments. Besting Voldermort, Team Seeker and later Capitan for his house Quidditch team, Lead investigator and Auror for the Minsitry. It had some statistics too, but Harry didn't really care. He dropped the card to the floor and took the stairs back up to his flat. The street below had seemingly been a bust, he had hoped to find a wand or some tattered robe or something.
He climbed the stairs two at a time trying to get the cards out of his mind. He couldn't understand why they were lingering there. Normally when he dismissed a clue it had the good sense to stay dismissed. He thought that perhaps he just didn't really care for the fact that his face was now greeting the same card set that he had once bonded with his best friend over at the tender age of eleven. He shook his head and walked into his apartment. His guests were putting everything back that they could and magically repairing the rest.
When she saw him Hermione rushed over to see if he was okay, but also to see if he had learned anything. Harry told her that they had outrun him and that they had left nothing behind. Hermione put him on the couch next to Abby and went into the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley to make some tea for the more shaken guest, and a something for Harry for being "So brave."
Abby looked over at Harry with the customary longing she always had, mixed with the customary hero worship he got when the department forced him out to Hogwarts to tell the kids about his job. Ron squeezed in between the two and turned to face Abby.
"Anne, right?" Ron began.
"Abby." She corrected.
"Oh, look I'm terrible sorry."
"No problem."
"Abby then." He continued sweetly.
"Yes?"
"Shit off will you." He demanded.
"Well excuse me!" She huffed.
"I'm trying to."
She left the couch offended, ranting about how manners were clearly lost on men nowadays. Harry stifled a laugh as Ron turned and smiled at him.
"What happened out there?"
"With the Death Eaters? Nothing. They got away."
"Are you okay?"
"Well, honestly I got to tell you mate, I feel like I should be practicing on the old broom a lot more often."
"That embarrassing was it?"
"They out paced me like I was standing still. It's not the sort of thing that makes you feel heroic, you know."
"I hear that." Ron sighed, "Bill and Fleur's kid out raced me a few weeks back. I've never, mind you never felt the need to call someone a whipper snapper before, but boy did I ever that day."
Harry and Ron laughed and reminisced for awhile, like they used to before the world started thinking of Harry as more than a sob story. Before long Hermione joined them, with Harry between her and Ron as subtly as she could. Mr Weasley began to excuse the party guests and then himself and his wife in order to alert the Ministry of this latest attack, until finally it was the three old friends, again for the first time in a long time, sitting in a room by themselves. At which point silence prevailed. The three just sat uncomfortably, the recent attack, and the recent developments in their friendships and relationships once more placing the weight of the world squarely on their shoulders. Finally Hermione broke the horrible quiet.
"Does.. uhm... Does this sort of thing happen often?"
"This? Are you kidding, Harry throws the best parties." Ron smiled until a challenging look from Hermione sent deep into the couch and deeper into angry muttering about how she never got his sense of humor anyway.
"No. Well, yes and no." Harry finally answered.
"Yes and no?" Her eyebrow shot up.
"I've been attacked before, but never at my flat. The location of this place is a ministry secret. Usually it's just poison in my food at restaurants and packages containing really mad hexes and such at work. This sort of thing is brand new."
"Wait, people are attacking you on a regular basis?" Ron sat forward, "But you're the savior of wizard kind!"
"Not everyone was happy to see Voldemort go, Ron." Hermione lowered her brows and stared ice cold death at Ron. Harry shivered, "There have always been pockets of subversives out there that believe the Dark Arts are the birth right of pure blood wizards."
"We can clean up the aftermath of their attacks on muggles and muggle borns, but we can't clean up their dirty thoughts, mate." Harry opined.
"Merlin." Ron put his hand to his forehead, "Some people are so backwards."
"Why don't you have a guard or something?" Hermione leaned close to Harry, too close for proper friendly if you were to ask him, but where Hermione was concerned too close was about a block away by owl some days. Especially if she smelled as good as she did then.
"Well, like I...uh..like I said, they've never attacked me at home."
"And you didn't get anything substantial off them at all?"
My god, Harry thought, Have her eyes always been so amazing? He shook his head once to get rid of the thoughts of her, then had to shake it again because the wizard trading cards resurfaced. This time though the shake didn't work. He knew something about those cards had bothered him, it had just taken awhile for it stir around correctly in the back of his mind.
Something about the trading cards was off. For example, why should they be there? Children's collectibles seemed out of place, at his end of Diagon Alley. Sure he would see the occasional candy wrapper or some graffiti magiced into life against the wall of his building from time to time, as anyone would wherever they may be, but his area of Diagon Alley had only the book store and the wand shop at any close distance, and it was summer. Kids, regardless of how studious they may be, were not likely to be back to school shopping yet. When this piece fell into place other seemingly small things did. Fast brooms. Both Harry and Ron were Quidditch enthusiasts. They both loved racing brooms, they both owned racing brooms, and at this point in their lives, Ron a successful Auror as well as Harry they could both afford to spend a little extra on their similar interest. Yet they both owned brooms that were a few years old and no longer top of the line.
And moreover, something didn't sound right to Harry about their laughs. It took him a few seconds to realize that the laughs, those high reedy laughs were familiar, but not in the sense that they sounded like voices he recognized. More they were familiar in that everyone has heard the sounds of children laughing.
"Oh hell." Harry said aloud, "I think we have a bigger problem."