Summary: Harry Potter had everything that most people would envy after the War: fortune, fame, and adulation. But when a Voldemort from a different dimension threatens the entire multiverse, it's up to Unspeakable Daphne Greengrass to drag a reluctant Chosen One through time and dimensions to save their existence. But Daphne soon discovers that even the best laid plans can easily go awry. Loosely inspired by Paladeus's "Champions of Lilith" challenge (but quite different). AU elements.

Author's Note: some clichés are no doubt unavoidable given the huge volume of HP fanfiction, but I'll do my best to avoid the biggest offenders. Things I'll try best to do: no bashing, no harems, no OP protagonists, no stupid/incompetent villains, no 'backwards bumbling idiot Wizarding society'. Not a canon rehash.

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Chapter 1

The score is still tied at 230-230 in this extremely close Championship match between the Wimbourne Wasps and the Montrose Magpies. The Wasps chasers have the Quaffle and are advancing on the Magpies. Jameson passes to Lance, and – OOH! Narrowly dodges the Bludger there, Lance passes to Bell and Bell SCORES!

240-230, Wasps now. Still no sign of the Snitch. The Wasps' Seeker, national hero Harry Potter, led the league in Snitch catches this year, but the Magpies' seeker Eva Taylor was close behind at number two. The Wasps of course are the second team where both Potter and Bell are teammates; they were teammates of many years at Hogwarts on Team Gryffindor.

The Magpies with the Quaffle now and looking to score, but a well-placed Bludger by Button causes Smith to drop the Quaffle, and – Oh, wait a minute! Potter's diving towards the Wasp's goal hoops, has he seen the Snitch? Taylor is diving after Potter, but she's not closing the distance at all and – AND POTTER CATCHES THE GOLDEN SNITCH! AND THAT'S THE MATCH! THE WIMBOURNE WASPS ARE THE 2004 GREAT BRITAIN QUIDDITCH CUP CHAMPIONS!

.

Katie Bell felt her face begin to hurt from the strain of keeping a forced smile on her face. They had just won the National Quidditch Cup, and instead of being able to enjoy her offseason and relax, she was forced to participate in endless amounts of PR events and 'meet and greets.' Thus, her current presence at a Ministry charity gala at the Minister's Manor where the Wimbourne Wasps were the guests of honor.

The entire team was gathered there, including all the reserves and the coaches. Well, the entire team except for the most famous Wasp of all, Harry James Potter. Katie wanted to punch the seeker for abandoning her almost immediately after they arrived. No doubt he was off flirting with some fangirl or two, while Katie was stuck talking to a bunch of boring politicians and their rich donor friends.

Oscar Jameson, the current captain of the Wasps, pulled Katie to the side and whispered to her in an annoyed tone. "Where's Potter? Minister Fawley wants a photo with the entire team."

"How should I know?" Katie asked. "I'm not his mum."

"Well you're his flatmate, and you arrived together," Jameson argued.

"He lets me stay in his Wimbourne flat during the season, but he's hardly ever there!" Katie protested. "We split up after we arrived anyways. He should be here somewhere."

Jameson sighed. "Well go look for him, and get back as quickly as possible. I want to get this over with as much as you do."

"Why do I have to go?" Katie whined.

"Because you're the only one that Potter listens to! And because I said so, and I'm the captain!"

"If I'm the only one he listens to, then I should be team captain," Katie grumbled as she stomped off to find her missing teammate.

Katie decided to ignore Jameson's command for quickness, and took her time getting a glass of red wine first at the open bar. The ballroom was decorated extravagantly, with chandeliers of bluebell fire and marble floors. Waiters dressed in fancy dress robes bustled about, carrying trays laden with champagne flutes, glasses of wine, and hors d'oeuvres. Katie idly thought back to the Hogwarts Yule Ball that took place during her fifth year, and Harry Potter's pathetic bumbling around on the dance floor during the Champion's Dance. It was oddly endearing. Ever since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts, every year had been filled with crazy and unbelievable events. Judging by the experiences of other Hogwarts alumni, her years there had definitely not been the typical Hogwarts experience.

Katie absent-mindedly played with the frills of her dress robes while she sipped her wine. She didn't exactly consider herself a tomboy, but she was a professional athlete. She didn't exactly have a lot of opportunities to attend fancy parties like this one. Her parents, while both magical, were firmly middle class and she did not grow up attending balls and galas. The dress robes that she was wearing, a cream-colored garment with ruffled skirts, did a decent enough job of showing off her athletic frame, but all anyone at the gala had wanted to talk to her about was Quidditch! She had even shaved her legs and put on makeup for this. All that effort to make herself look presentable seemed to have been a waste. She could have shown up in her Quidditch uniform and gotten a similar response.

With a sigh, Katie downed the rest of her wine and set off to find her teammate. Finding Harry Potter turned out to be an easy task. All she had to do was follow the high pitched giggling of brainless fangirls, and soon enough she found the ex-Boy-who-Lived draped over a pair of blond bombshells, and holding a glass of Firewhisky in hand.

She could admit he looked rather dashing in his dress robes, which resembled a muggle long-coated tuxedo with a white bowtie. His raven black hair was messy as always, but he wore it with such confidence that it almost seemed intentional. And of course, there were his piercing emerald eyes that helped him earn the dubious honor of Teen Witch Weekly's Sexiest Wizard Alive. He was definitely a late bloomer, and the years since the War had been good to him. Not that she would ever go there of course. He was, after all, a rather obnoxious git these days, and Katie had plenty of self-respect. Plus, she liked her men tall. Harry had some good qualities, but height was not one of them.

"Katie!" Harry greeted his teammate with a hint of a slur in his voice. "Come join us!"

"Are you drunk already?" Katie asked disdainfully. She eyed the two women in his company. Bad bottle-blond dye jobs, immodest robes that showed too much cleavage and skin to be appropriate for such a classy event, and stiletto heels that hurt Katie's feet just by looking at them. Yup, they were Quidditch groupies, no doubt lured to the event with the potential opportunity of meeting one of the Wasps or even Harry Potter himself.

"Yes," Harry admitted, "but I'm also a very rich and exceedingly handsome gentleman, so you'll have to allow me this one vice."

Katie snorted and rolled her eyes. "If only that was your one vice, Harry Potter. How did you possibly get drunk so fast? The gala just started."

Harry shrugged. "I may have gotten a head-start before we even came. Anyways, these two lovely ladies, Carol and Amelia-"

"Carly," "Olivia," the two ladies corrected simultaneously.

"- right, Carly and Olivia have expressed an interest of a tour of my manor in Whitstable, and you should definitely join us," Harry said. "Three's a crowd, but four is a guarantee of a good time!"

Carly and Olivia on the other hand, did not seem to share Harry's enthusiasm at the idea of another girl joining them for the night. Judging by the dirty looks they were sending Katie's way now, it was as if they were trying to vanish her with just their minds. Katie had been a professional Quidditch player for several years now already, and was hardly going to be intimidated by a pair of groupies.

Katie sighed and simply reached out and grabbed Harry by the neck of his dress robes and started dragging him away. "Beat it ladies," she called out to the two fangirls, who were now glaring daggers at her.

"Dyke bitch!" One of the fangirls muttered quietly at their retreating figures, but not quietly enough to escape Katie's ears. She immediately stiffened and had to resist the urge to turn around and send a blasting curse at the bitch. Honestly, just because she was a professional athlete did not mean that she was a lesbian!

"Ooh, I love it when you get frisky," Harry murmured as he stumbled along with Katie. "So, your place or mine?"

Katie rolled her eyes, but was almost thankful for his interjection now that the tension she was carrying had evaporated. "The rest of the team is waiting for us," Katie said, ignoring Harry's statement. "And the Minister of Magic wants a photo with you."

Harry grimaced. "Fawley is a tool," he muttered under his breath.

Katie chuckled softly. "No arguments here."

The two teammates and friends made their way over to where the rest of the team was gathered, alongside several prominent Ministry employees and the Minister of Magic, Alfred Fawley.

To Harry's estimation, Fawley was a simpering buffoon of a man that reminded him too much of Cornelius Fudge. Harry had hoped that his endorsement of Kingsley Shacklebolt would have been enough for Shacklebolt to win the election, but the voting public evidently did not want a warrior and fighter in charge once the War was actually over. Thus, they elected Alfred Fawley, a pureblood from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight family lines, and things had quickly gone back to business as usual.

Jameson scowled at Harry and Katie, but he kept his displeasure to himself and didn't scold the pair for disappearing for so long.

"Ah, Harry Potter, my boy!" Minister Fawley exclaimed once he spotted the Wasp's star Seeker. He pulled Harry in, shaking his hand furiously. "So glad you could make it!"

"Likewise," Harry grunted back without any enthusiasm. Why do these old farts always insist on calling me 'my boy'? Harry thought. I'm a fully grown man now, and I certainly am not 'theirs' in any sense of that word. Harry idly thought back to the oft-repeated Muggle joke about how all old white politicians were boy-loving perverts. Meanwhile, photographers bustled around them as Harry smiled half-heartedly while trying his best to tune out the clacking of the camera shutters and blinding flashes.

"- so what do you think?" Fawley asked.

Harry blinked rapidly. He had completely missed whatever it was that Fawley had said to him. "Err, I'm not sure yet. You'll have to ask my agent," Harry offered, hoping that he hadn't just made an ass out of himself. Judging by the frown on the Minister's face now, however, it appeared that he might have failed in that regard.

"If you'll excuse me," Harry said, "I have to go use the lavatory."

Katie looked at him in alarm and mouthed 'don't leave me alone here' at him, but Harry bravely soldiered on and ignored her. Instead of heading to the loo though, Harry went straight to the bar and acquired another glass of firewhisky.

Harry was just about to go seek out the two fangirls that Katie had pulled him from when he felt a tingle of magic upon his senses. It was the faintest sensation, one that he doubted anyone else in the room could feel, but he was significantly more sensitive to magic than most Wizards. His eyes roamed around the room, searching for the source of the unusual magical aura. Almost immediately, his eyes landed on the waifish figure of a young woman, roughly his age, with silky raven black hair and enchanting violet eyes that were staring right at his direction. She was wearing elegant looking dress robes that resembled a modern Muggle black cocktail dress, and a pair of substantial heels that clearly accentuated her slender legs. The slender woman wasn't as curvaceous as the fangirls that he had blown off earlier, but she was infinitely more intriguing. Not only was she beautiful, but she must have been fairly powerful to exude a magical aura like that.

Harry straightened his tie, grabbed another glass of firewhisky from a waiter passing by, and made his way over. "Why hello there, gorgeous," Harry greeted the young woman with a mock bow. "Harry James Potter, at your service."

The woman merely stared back with a bemused expression on her face. "Do you not know who I am?"

"No, but I'm willing to spend a few hours tonight finding out," Harry replied lasciviously.

The woman merely snorted as she rolled her eyes. "We've met before, Potter."

"A few hours getting reacquainted then," he offered, waggling his eyebrows.

The woman stared silently for a few moments. "You've changed a lot since Hogwarts, Potter," she quietly said, completely ignoring his lewd offer.

"We were classmates at Hogwarts then?" Harry asked, his curiosity now piqued.

"You wouldn't have been caught dead flirting with a 'dirty Snake' back then," she said, extending her hand out. "Daphne Greengrass."

Harry caught her hand and bent down slightly to place a gentle kiss on the back of the hand. "I'm sure I would've made an exception for one as lovely as yourself, Miss Greengrass. But yes, I suppose I'm a much different person now than when we were in school, just as I'm sure you are."

"I imagine very few students from our class, myself included, has changed quite so much as you have," Daphne remarked.

Harry simply shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable with where the conversation had turned to. "Life happened."

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment. Harry cleared his throat, and decided to change the topic before Daphne could press him anymore on that subject. "I do remember you now, Miss Greengrass. You fought on our side at the Battle of Hogwarts, and if I remember correctly, the Greengrasses were one of the few Pureblood Slytherin families that didn't side with Voldemort."

Daphne's lips quirked up into a small smile. "Yes, that's mostly accurate. One of my Uncles actually took the Mark, but Father cast him out of the family after the War."

"Hmm, must have missed that trial," Harry remarked.

"I'm not surprised. You've been busy with your new occupation…" Daphne frowned almost imperceptibly for a moment before clearing her throat. "But that's not what I'm here about. I'm here on business actually, and there are some rather delicate matters that I must speak with you about."

"Of course. So, do you want to get out of here? I've a lovely view of the sea from one of my manors in Whitstable that I would love to show you."

Daphne rolled her eyes again. "Not a chance in hell, Potter. Would you meet me for lunch tomorrow at noon, at The Hippocampus House? You should be free now that your season is over, right?"

"So you wish to be wine and dined first, eh? I have a feeling that you'll be well worth it," Harry remarked.

Daphne crossed her arms over her chest and sighed in exasperation. "Has anyone ever told you that you're exceedingly obnoxious?"

"Oh sure, but most women I've met don't seem to mind it." Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Most enjoy a certain amount of bravado when they meet their great hero and savior. What is your business, anyways?"

"Hmph," Daphne snorted, quickly running out of the patience necessary to deal with the celebrity. "It wouldn't be wise to speak of it here. Will you have lunch with me or not?"

"I would be honored to go on a date with you, Miss Greengrass," Harry responded cheerfully.

"It's not a date, Potter. Just remember, tomorrow at noon. Don't be late." With that said, Daphne turned around quickly, her raven hair flicking over her shoulders, and sauntered away.

Harry simply stared at her retreating figure, admiring the view until she completely left his vision. His date with Daphne tomorrow promised to be interesting at the very least. In the meantime though, he had some fangirls to find.

.

Harry blinked groggily as consciousness came back to him. His head pounded in pain from the telltale signs of a hangover. With a flick of his hand he summoned a pain relieving potion and a nausea reducing potion from his well-stocked stash. He popped open the vials and downed them one after another in a single gulp each. He felt the potions begin doing its work almost immediately, and he sighed in relief. As far as he considered, miracle hangover cures were the single best thing to come out of the Wizarding world. Without them, he would have seriously reconsidered his commitment to imbibing dangerous amounts of alcohol every day.

Harry turned his head and gazed at the warm lump next to him in bed. Carol? Or was it Amelia? Flashes of the previous night entered his mind, but what he remembered most vividly were the piercing violet eyes of Daphne Greengrass. He sighed and pushed himself out of bed, taking care not to wake his still sleeping guest. "Weren't there two of you last night?" Harry muttered quietly to himself.

Harry waved his hands again, and silently summoned a change of clothes and his wand holster to himself. After changing quickly, Harry gingerly moved over to the large balcony doors in his bedroom and stepped outside onto an expansive balcony, where the crisp sea breeze and mild ocean scent immediately assailed his sense. He breathed deeply, soaking it all in. He had a couple of properties scattered throughout Great Britain, but his seaside manor near Whitstable was his favorite. For one, the ladies that he took there always loved the view. Secondly, it was far enough removed from most Wizarding establishments that he could avoid being harassed by fans who don't respect his boundaries.

Harry sat on a lounge chair for a few minutes, just soaking up the morning sea breeze.

"Dobby!" Harry called out.

With a sharp crack, the diminutive House Elf Dobby materialized in front of Harry. "Good morning Harry Potter sir! Dobby is here!" The elf greeted cheerfully.

The little elf was dressed ridiculously, as usual, wearing a pair of mismatched socks and what looked like a Nutcracker soldier's uniform. Dobby, of course, was immensely proud of his wardrobe, which he had purchased with his own earnings. The latest Headmaster at Hogwarts after Headmistress McGonagall retired, Gilbert Abbott, had balked at the idea of paying wages to a House Elf, and Dobby was unfortunately fired. The poor elf was inconsolable at first, but Harry had found out and hired Dobby right away. He even doubled his wages (Dobby had talked him down from tripling his wages).

"Good morning Dobby. Will you see to it that my guest is fed and taken care of before you kindly usher her out?" Harry requested.

"Of course! Will Harry Potter sir be having breakfast here as well?" Dobby asked hopefully.

"Sorry Dobby, I think I'm going to go bother Katie for a bit, and I'll cook something myself." Harry smiled apologetically at his elf. "I have a lunch meeting to get to later, so I probably won't be home until supper."

With an almost silent pop, Harry twisted in a turn and apparated away from his Whitstable residence and reappeared almost instantaneously in the kitchen of his flat in Wimbourne. His flat in Wimbourne was significantly smaller than the large manor that he had just traveled from, but it was luxuriously furnished and had ample space for himself and his flatmate. Harry opened up the refrigerator, grabbed a carton of eggs and various vegetables for omelets, and began preparing breakfast after setting a pot of coffee.

Cooking for the Dursleys had been a chore, but ever since leaving Hogwarts, he had come to enjoy the activity. It was a great feeling to take a bunch of raw parts and create something amazing that exceeded its sum. Plus it never failed to impress the ladies. Picking up a knife and giving it a quick twirl, he began chopping and dicing vegetables for the omelet with speed and precision that could've only come with years of practice. Dobby of course was quite disappointed whenever Harry chose to cook, but his disappointment was considerably outweighed by his gratitude and joy of often being invited to dine with Harry at the same table.

Harry didn't bother trying to keep quiet while he bustled about in the kitchen, and the commotion soon woke his flatmate. Katie Bell stumbled out of her bedroom bleary-eyed, her short brunette hair splayed about messily, and wearing an old t-shirt and loose flannel pajama pants.

"Ooh, don't you look sexy in your nightie!" Harry teased, with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Shove it, Potter," Katie grumbled. "Where's the coffee?"

Harry pointed towards a large mug that he had already poured for her. Katie plopped herself down on a seat at the kitchen's breakfast bar and began imbibing large gulps of coffee. Harry plated the omelets, and dropped Katie's plate right in front of her. Katie wasted no time grabbing a fork and stuffing a large bite into her mouth, letting out a moan of pleasure as she began chewing.

"Hmm, now that's what I like to hear from you," Harry said.

Katie rolled her eyes at him. "In your dreams, Potter."

Harry sighed dramatically. "Frequently, my love."

"I'd kick your arse if it didn't mean I had to put down my plate."

Harry grinned and began digging into his own breakfast. "Any plans for today?" He asked.

"Another meeting today with penny-pinching Parsons," Katie spat out, with a look of annoyance on her face.

Parsons, the GM for the Wimbourne Wasps, was loved by the team owner for constructing a championship team without spending too much more money than the other teams in the league. He was considerably less appreciated by the players on his team, due to his habit to skimp on amenities for the team and his bitter and ruthless haggling during contract negotiations.

"Well, you can let your agent know that the great Harry Potter won't re-sign with the Wasps when his contract expires next season if Katie Bell is not on the team."

Katie gaped at him. "You'd do that for me?"

"Make empty rhetorical threats? Sure, why not. Not like I actually have to do anything myself."

Katie rolled her eyes and swatted Harry on the arm. "You're such a brat. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Besides the free rent, chef service, Quidditch trophies, and that I probably just doubled your next contract?"

"Yep, besides all that. It's probably because you're short and I feel sorry for you."

Harry gasped and clutched at his chest. "Ouch! You wound me, my love."

"What about you?" Katie asked. "What are doing today?"

"I have a lunch meeting in London. Do you remember Daphne Greengrass from Hogwarts? She was a year below you, in Slytherin."

"Yeah I remember her," Katie said as she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "She's like the very definition of a pureblood princess. Smart too, from what I remember. She agreed to go on a date with you? And here I thought she actually had taste."

"Did you say something?" Harry said idly. "I blanked out just now thinking about all the fun potions I could slip into the food that I feed you."

Katie laughed. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry."

.

Harry made his way towards Diagon Alley shortly before noon. He had showered and changed, of course, and was dressed casually in a bespoke long sleeved shirt, designer jeans, and desert boots. He almost never wore Wizard robes anymore in his day to day life, and was actually credited by Teen Witch Weekly for starting the 'Muggle fashion trend' amongst the young wizards and witches of Wizarding England. In truth, he had not intended to make a fashion statement at all. He simply wanted to be able to transition to and from the Muggle world at any time.

The Hippocampus House was one of the newer establishments there, having sprung up in Diagon Alley after the sudden numerous availabilities after the War. Many businesses there had either been destroyed by the fighting, or lost their owners due to Voldemort's insane purges. Harry strolled inside the restaurant and looked around. The first floor of the restaurant was the main dining room, and was already filled with diners enjoying their lunches. A set of stairs near the hostess station led upwards.

"Oh my," the young hostess blushed prettily upon seeing Harry enter the restaurant. "Mr. Harry Potter!"

Harry smiled warmly at the hostess. "Yes, I believe there should be a reservation under Greengrass."

"Yes, your guest is here already. Please follow me."

The hostess led Harry past the main dining room and up a flight of stairs to the second floor, where there were numerous private rooms. She stopped Harry in front of one, and after a quick glance around, pulled out a small notepad.

"I hate to trouble you," she said quietly, "but would you mind giving me an autograph?"

Harry ignored the tug of annoyance he felt, and smiled graciously. "Of course, anything for a fan."

After signing the autograph, Harry stepped inside and quickly scanned the room with his eyes. It was simply decorated, but still managed to exude a sense of understated elegance. There was no other furniture besides a small table with chair, where Daphne was already sitting. A couple of watercolor paintings hung on the walls, and a fireplace with a small jar of floo powder on the mantle was centered on the opposite wall.

Daphne was sitting down already with a glass of white wine – half empty already – in front of her. Instead of Wizards robes, she was dressed in a muggle outfit that consisted of a white silken blouse, knee length skirt, and dark stockings. She was wearing sensible flats instead of heels today, but Harry still thought her legs were quite shapely.

"You look absolutely lovely, Miss Greengrass," Harry complimented her. "I do like the muggle attire."

Daphne acknowledged him with a small nod. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. Please have a seat."

Harry sat down across from Daphne, who promptly pulled out a small cube from her handbag. She tapped it with her Wand, and Harry felt a small pulse of magic emanate from the stone.

"Don't be alarmed, it's simply an anti-eavesdropping rune stone," she explained. "I imagine that you're someone who values his privacy. Please, go ahead and order. The coq au vin here is quite delectable."

Harry nodded gratefully as he picked up the menu.

"Knotgrass Mead," Harry said to the menu. With a virtually silent pop, a large mug of mead appeared right in front of him. After a short pause, he ordered the coq au vin as well. If there was one thing he appreciated about Wizarding restaurants, it was the near instantaneous service.

"Well you have me here, Miss Greengrass," Harry said with a lopsided smile. "I'm all yours."

"So it would seem," Daphne responded. "I'm sure many witches would kill to be in my position right now. I suppose congratulations are in order, for both your championship and MVP award."

"Thank you," Harry said. "It's the third time actually I've won the championship since I started playing

"I am curious though. Why Quidditch?" Daphne asked.

Harry laughed softly. "Did you really invite me here to ask about Quidditch?"

"No, but humor me?" Daphne responded. "I'm a bit curious. After the war, you could've done literally anything. The Aurors and Unspeakables must have recruited you. You could have ran for one of the non-hereditary seats on the Wizengamot. Youngest Minister of Magic ever wouldn't have been out of your reach."

Harry twisted his face in disgust. "Yuck! You couldn't pay me enough money to deal with politics. And as for Quidditch… well, why not? I make a boatload of galleons, and I'm the envy of every Wizard."

"But you did deal with politics," Daphne pressed on. "Right at the end of the War at least. You pushed for reform, ruined the Malfoys and several other Pureblood families, and even tried to get Shacklebolt elected."

"Yup, and it was a tremendous waste of time," Harry replied. "I don't have to deal with that lot most of the time at least if I'm just playing Quidditch, at least. Most of my fans are common folk. Good old honest, hardworking, common folk."

"So you're a man of the people then?" Daphne asked.

"Of course," Harry replied, with a cheerful smile.

"Nice watch," Daphne commented, letting her eyes fall to the large timepiece on Harry's wrist. "What is it?"

Harry grinned. "You like it? I got it in the Muggle world actually. It's a Patek Philipe."

"And those cost, what, twenty thousand Muggle pounds at least?" Daphne asked, with a bemused expression on her face. "Real man of the people you are. Why on Earth would you need that when you can cast a simple Tempus charm?"

Harry merely shrugged as he took another sip of his mead. "I spend a fair bit of time in the Muggle world. Can't be pulling a wand out at a lot of places I frequent."

"And the watch impresses Muggle women?" Daphne asked.

"Is this really what you're here to talk about?" Harry asked, deftly changing the subject. "My interest in Muggle women? I'm surprised you even know what a Patek is."

"You're not the only one who spends time in the Muggle world," Daphne admitted. "But you're right. It's not exactly what we're here to talk about, but I just wanted to know why you gave up so quickly. I understand your frustration, but change doesn't happen overnight. Hermione is still at the Ministry, doing her best to push her agendas."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Daphne at the mention of Hermione, his easy smile falling off his face. "I didn't need to spend any more time to figure out it was a lost cause," he scoffed, passion creeping into his voice. "After all we did and all we sacrificed, the Wizarding sheeple elected that inbred mouth-breather Fawley as Minister of Magic instead of Shacklebolt, and then it was back to business as usual with Pardons flying out of the Minister's office like candy when Pureblood gold came pouring in. Shacklebolt would've been a real force for reform."

Harry let out a huff before he continued speaking. "At the end of the day, people, all people not just Wizards, simply don't want change, no matter how much they actually need it. All magic ever did was make Wizards even lazier and more complacent than the rest of humanity. Wizards would rather bury their heads while the rest of their World burned to ashes. Dumbledore gave a hundred years of his life to better our society, and Wizarding England tried to ruin him just because he told the truth when nobody wanted to hear it. I didn't think I could change this society without becoming something more like Voldemort than Dumbledore. So fuck them all. I play Quidditch and make a ton of galleons, and I spend most of my free time in the Muggle world pretending you lot don't exist. Flying on a broomstick was the only time I ever felt truly free anyways."

The sudden change in Harry's demeanor shocked Daphne more than a little, but her face betrayed none of her inner thoughts as it remained absolutely blank, save for the slightest pursing of her lips. "When Voldemort took over the Ministry," Daphne said slowly, "a lot of decent people had to do things they didn't want to just to survive. I agree that Fawley is not exactly an inspiring leader, but our society would've completely collapsed if we imprisoned everyone who assisted Voldemort or stuck around in the Ministry during his reign. The fines levied against the lessor offenders were instrumental in rebuilding our infrastructure. Fawley's done as well of a job as can be expected rebuilding our war-torn society. And you would do well to remember that I and many other Purebloods fought on your side at that last battle at Hogwarts."

Harry sighed as he took a deep gulp from his mead. "I do remember, and I deeply appreciate it. I also deeply regret how many good people I led to their deaths at that dreadful battle. Quidditch is where I belong. And I don't think I should have that level of responsibility again."

Daphne's eyes softened as she stared at Harry. "It was a war. A lot of good people lost their lives, but nobody blames you for that."

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Enough about me. What about you, Miss Greengrass? Do you enjoy your work as an Unspeakable?"

"Wh-what?" Daphne sputtered out, unable to hide the shock on her face. Harry almost regretted not timing his conjecture until she had a mouthful of wine. "How did you know that I'm an Unspeakable?"

Harry grinned, pleased that he guessed correctly. "Last night, when you said you couldn't 'speak' about your business."

"That doesn't automatically mean I'm an Unspeakable!" Daphne protested.

"Well you did kind of admit it just now. It was mostly an educated guess," Harry said. "But there were other signs. You insist this isn't a date, but you asked that we order food and drinks first, which is a common tactic to try to get one to stay longer for a sales pitch. The privacy rune stone you have is used by Aurors, but I've spent time with Aurors and you definitely don't carry yourself like one. Unspeakables get access to all the Auror toys, and they recruit only the brightest. We weren't friends at Hogwarts, but I know you were near the top of our class. Also, you called Hermione by her given name instead of 'Granger' earlier. Since I assume she still works twenty-four seven, it's hard for me to imagine the two of you becoming acquaintances anywhere besides the Ministry, and I imagine you wouldn't have held back if you had a simple Ministry job."

"You're observant," Daphne commented approvingly. "I can't help but feel I've underestimated you in some regard. But I didn't graduate near the top. I graduated at the top. Number one in our class."

Harry shrugged. "That's alright. I've been underestimated by almost everyone my whole life. But enough about me. And congratulations on the academic ranking. I suppose Hermione being held back a year due to the War nonsense…"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at Harry as her lips thinned. The temperature in the room felt like it had just dropped a hundred degrees. Harry had to resist the urge to shudder as he instantly realized the mistake he had just made. "Not to say... ergh… I mean…" he stammered out. "So, what is your area of study?"

"You should know already that we're not allowed to speak of what we study," Daphne replied

"Somehow I feel like you're going to make an exception for me."

Daphne nodded as she took another sip from her wine. "Alternate dimensions. What do you know about them?"

"A lot less than you I imagine," Harry replied. "Never conclusively proven one way or another. Some scholars have hypothesized that the way our magic violates the Muggle laws of physics is by pulling in or pushing out energy and matter across parallel dimensions. But it's all academic."

Daphne quirked an eyebrow up in surprise.

"Don't look so shocked there, Miss Greengrass," Harry said with a small smile. "I have cracked open a book once or twice in my life, even without Hermione bossing me to do so."

"You never struck me as particularly studious while we were at Hogwarts, but yes what you said is mostly true. Though not conclusively proven, we do believe with almost complete certainty that there are alternate dimensions that parallel ours."

"As fascinating as this discussion is, Miss Greengrass, but I'm afraid I must decline. You're not the first Unspeakable, though you certainly are the prettiest, to try to recruit me, but the answer is still no."

"I'm not here to recruit you into the Unspeakables." Daphne sighed. Her wine glass was empty, and she seriously contemplated ordering another, despite it being the middle of the day. "We need your help."

"With what?"

Daphne took a deep breath. "To save the world."

Harry let out a loud laugh. "Are you serious?"

Daphne nodded fervently. "Deadly serious."

Harry laughed again and shook his head. "Try Ronald Weasley – he's actually an Auror. It's his job to deal with that stuff now. I'm just a Quidditch player."

"The whole world knows you're more than just a Quidditch player, Potter," Daphne said urgently. "There are forces at work that are threatening our very existence."

"Look, I know people think I'm the second coming of Merlin or something, and yeah I'm a fairly strong Wizard, but the truth is that I'm nowhere near as powerful as Dumbledore or Voldemort were. I'm really not that special. I'm sorry Miss Greengrass, I can't help you. Leave it to the Aurors."

"We can't. I'm sorry, I don't want to drag you into this mess either, but it has to be you."

"Why? Don't tell me there's another prophecy or something like that."

Daphne hesitated.

"Oh bloody hell!" Harry exploded. "Are you serious? There's another prophecy?"

"No, there's not another prophecy," Daphne said quickly, "but you are still the chosen one in a manner of speaking."

Harry shook his head again. "I did my part already," he said quietly. He sighed and looked off to the side, avoiding Daphne's eyes. "I fought and killed my dark lord. I don't have anything left to give. I'm sorry."

"Wait, before you go, will you go with me somewhere?" Daphne asked. "There's something I must show you first."

Harry stared silently at Daphne for a moment.

"Please," Daphne implored. "You'll want to see this."

Harry nodded slowly in acquiescence.

After dropping a few galleons on the table, the pair floo'd directly from their private room to the Atrium of the Ministry. The old statues that had adorned the center of the pool in the atrium which depicted the other races subservient to Wizarding kind had thankfully not made a reappearance after the War, but the new statues of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore posing victoriously had disgusted Harry so much that he had not set foot into the building since the statues had been erected.

"It's a bit garish, isn't it?" Daphne asked, seeing the frown on Harry's face as he gazed at the statues.

"That's an understatement," Harry muttered. "Dumbledore wouldn't have liked it either."

The pair made their way straight to the elevators, skipping the Security checkpoint, and began their journey underground to the deepest levels of the Ministry.

"I've been down to the Department of Mysteries before, you know," Harry said.

Daphne smiled wryly in response. "I'm aware. Your break-in while still a student has become a bit of a legend around here. Rest assured though, that security is considerably improved these days. I also guarantee you that you've only seen a fraction of what goes on down here."

Harry chuckled sadly. "One of my poorest moments, I admit. I promise I'm not nearly that foolish these days."

"I'll let you in on a secret if you promise to keep it to yourself," Daphne said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Harry nodded, signaling for her to continue. "What's the lowest level in the Ministry of Magic?" she asked Harry.

Harry frowned, his mind flashing back to the farce of a trial he had to go through his fifth year at Hogwarts when the Ministry tried to get him expelled from Hogwarts. "Level ten, auxiliary courtrooms," he answered.

"The Department of Mysteries is on level 'nine', but geographically it's below level ten," Daphne said. "The elevators are merely enchanted to simulate level ten as the lowest level."

"Why in Merlin's name would they do that?"

"You'll see," Daphne responded enigmatically.

The elevator doors opened, and the pair stepped out into an empty room with a single door. Daphne walked up to the door, and pressed her wand against it, causing the door to swing open. The duo then entered the large circular entrance chamber of the Department. A dozen doors dotted evenly across the circular walls. Harry glanced around, almost expecting the room to spin like it had when he broke in during his fifth year. Mercifully, the room stood still. Despite the passage of nearly a decade, Harry still felt a sharp twinge of regret and sadness as he took in the room. This was where his foolishness had cost his godfather his life.

A pair of Unspeakables wearing long cloaks with hoods that completely concealed their faces with a veil of darkness stood inside the circular chamber.

"Welcome back, Miss Greengrass and Mr. Potter," the taller of the two Unspeakables spoke to them. "Has he agreed?"

"Not yet Director," Daphne said. "I'm going to show him the thing."

Instead of leading Harry though one of the doors, the Director pulled out a small crystal from his robes and muttered a quiet incantation directly at it. The entire room rumbled, and to Harry' amazement, a portion of the floor started receding, forming a set of stone stairs that led downwards into a pitch black abyss.

"Lumos" Daphne incanted, causing light to stream forth from her wand. "I suggest you do the same, Potter. It's a long way down." With that said, Daphne began descending down the stairs.

"What lies beneath the Department of Mysteries is our most closely guarded secret," Daphne informed Harry quietly as he quickly followed behind her. "Most of the Unspeakables don't even know of its existence. You wouldn't be wrong to say that the secrecy of what happens above is in part another ruse to keep what lies below safe and secret. And then there's the Oaths that the Unspeakables have to take before they're even allowed down here."

"And what does lie below?" Harry asked.

"You'll see," Daphne responded again.

The pair descended down the stairs, which zigzagged back and forth every few hundred steps. Besides the illumination from their wands, the path down was pitch black.

The two kept descending.

And kept descending.

"How deep does this go, exactly?" Harry asked.

"Very, very deep."

Harry rolled his eyes at Daphne's cryptic answers. "No wonder you're wearing flats today. Did you plan to bring me down here all along?"

"We suspected it would be necessary."

The pair kept descending for what felt like ages to Harry, and his feet started to throb. Sure he was in great shape from his workouts as a professional Quidditch player, but he was rarely on his feet for so long.

"Merlin's balls, we are really far down," Harry muttered. "This isn't some plot to murder me and stash my body where no one would ever find it, is it?"

Daphne didn't bother to respond, which worried Harry just a tiny bit.

"I mean, I'm a professional athlete," Harry continued, "but isn't this tiring you out?"

Daphne let out a light huff. "Believe it or not, Potter, some Wizards and Witches besides Quidditch players do exercise regularly."

"I'm not surprised. You do appear quite fit, Miss Greengrass."

Daphne rolled her eyes at the obvious double entendre. "Make no mistake, Potter, there will never be anything of that nature between us."

Harry felt it before he saw it, and made him stop abruptly. It was the slightest tingle of magic, brushing over his skin and making every strand of hair on his body stand on end. It was in the air, permeating every breath he took it.

"You can feel it already?" Daphne asked. "You're quite sensitive to magic, aren't you? I have to go a couple hundred more feet before I can sense it. Come along, we're not too far now."

Harry nodded in acknowledgment. His sensitivity to magic was something he picked up after the War. Turns out that having a parasitic piece of a Dark Lord's soul in his head that was constantly draining his magic and energy had a detrimental effect on his quality of life. His magic had been forced to overcompensate in a manner of speaking, and after the removal of the Horcrux, he found that his magic responded to him much more strongly than before. He also blamed the Horcrux for why he was such a surly git as a teenager, but Katie had insisted he was just simply another angsty teen.

Harry swallowed nervously and continued making his way down the seemingly endless stairs. The feeling of magic pressing against him intensified as he descended the stairs, which eventually petered out and ended at a small platform that overlooked an enormous cavern that stretched in all directions farther than his eyes could see. Floating a few dozen meters from the platform was a massive crystal emitting a faint bluish glow. Thousands of runes were inscribed all over the gigantic crystal, each glowing a darker blue that contrasted with the base crystal. By the time Harry reached the platform, the aura he felt was so oppressive that he felt like he could barely breathe.

"This is amazing…" Harry whispered quietly, completely awed by the majesty of what he was witnessing. "What is this?"

"This is the Keystone that binds the magic of our world together," Daphne answered quietly – almost reverently. "Nearly two millennia ago, Myrddin Emrys brought the Thirteen Great Wizarding Clans of Britain together and founded what would become the Wizengamot right above us where the Ministry of Magic is now. This is what he entrusted our kind with protecting. And it is dying."