Ignoring the usual hustle and bustle of the Ministry of Magic, Harry read some papers in his hands as he walked towards his cubicle. It had been about three years since the Final Battle at Hogwarts and the wizarding society was slowly piecing itself back together. After the funerals and mourning for the fallen, those that had survived had rolled up their sleeves and gotten to work repairing the damage, Harry included.

Harry had thought better of finishing his last year at Hogwarts and had elected to sign up for the Auror Academy, a pilot program started by Amelia Bones before the Ministry had been taken over and relit by the new head, Gwain Robards. Two years in the Academy, and Harry was already running his own Auror team, tasked with hunting down not just dark wizards, but remnants left behind from Voldemort's Death Eaters with his team specializing in reconnaissance and stealth. His time running from the Death Eaters and Snatchers had given Harry a lot of experience in hiding and guerrilla warfare tactics which he passed on to his team.

Ducking a paper airplane, Harry slid into his chair, still going over the papers in his hands. He and his team had just returned from a week-long jaunt in Kirkwall. There had been rumors of a small group terrorizing the local enclaves, claiming they were Death Eaters. Copycats were not uncommon, but to be safe Harry and his team were sent to check it out. Thankfully, it was nothing more than some upstarts thinking they could gain power in the fear they invoked. Now, Harry just had to take care of the paperwork after letting his team head home for the night.

Sighing, Harry picked up a quill and started filling in what was needed. Really, all he wanted was to go back to his apartment, have a quick shower, and sleep. His wishes were dashed, however, as a head popped up above his cubicle wall.

"Potter! Welcome back! The Minister heard you were here and wants to see you." Harry hid a wince. The Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was the last person Harry wanted to deal with at the moment. For the last six month Harry and the Minister had been fighting about Harry's future in the Auror Department. Harry liked his job and his position in life. Shacklebolt, however, claimed that eventually there would be no more dark wizards to hunt down worth Harry's attention and that he should start looking at a bigger picture. Specifically something public.

It came as no surprise to Harry that after the war and the shock had worn off that there were many different camps of thought when it came to him. On one hand of the spectrum, the public declared him a hero, a savior, and should be treated as such. On the other, however, the public saw him as a precursor to the next rise of evil. These people had seen the power he had and feared what he could one day represent. It was a tossup which way the paper portrayed him on a daily basis, but the two extremes were always present with little in between.

In order to combat this, Shacklebolt had wanted Harry to become something of a philanthropist. A 'face of the Ministry' he had suggested. Harry took one look at what the Minister was proposing and immediately declined. Shacklebolt's main argument, however, was to curb the unrest caused by those that feared him.

And they feared him for good reason. It was the fire Harry controlled that caused most of the anxiety. Harry had 'discovered' this bright, brilliant fire early in his Hogwarts career and had slowly taught himself how to control it and its many aspects. He has used this fire to literally burn through his foes as he raced through the English woods. Elementals, Hermione had researched, were not unknown, but had gone extinct and had been for several centuries. Harry was the first to crop up in nearly three hundred years. Their extinction had come about due to controversy and, of course, discrimination against them due to the source of their fire – their soul. At the time, there had been a Dark Lord that had specialized in Soul Magic. As such, anything to do with Soul Magic, as it had been dubbed, had been deemed dark and thus unacceptable to practice. It had not been banned, surprisingly, but those that practiced never made it far in wizarding society. Slowly, practitioners disappeared from the British Isles, but the fear of the power the fire gave them still remained. It was Shacklebolt's goal to stop the fear before something drastic came of it.

Harry understood. He really did, but enough was enough. He was not cut out to wearing a suit and tie and parading in front of people. He understood wanting to calm the masses, but he couldn't really care less. He had become desensitized to public opinion. He could wield fire that hadn't been seen in a very long time. Big whoop. If people thought he was suddenly going to start throwing fire balls, that was their problem.

Returning his quill to the inkpot, Harry pulled a tired smile and faced his coworker. "Thanks. I needed to talk to him anyway." His coworker, the name of whom Harry had forgotten as he was rarely in the office, smiled back and waved as he left. Harry's smile immediately dropped. It was best to get the meeting over with. The paperwork would still be there in the morning.

Pushing away from his desk, Harry took his time making his way to the Minister's office. As he walked past other cubicles and hallways, he paid no mind to the buzz of those in the Auror Department. With practiced ease, he ignored the raising hairs on the back of his neck from the intense scrutiny he received from his fellow Aurors and various coworkers. It wasn't just public opinion on him that was divided.

It didn't take long to arrive at the Minister's office. The secretary took one look at him before ducking her head and waving her wand at the door to the office. With a mumbled greeting, she told Harry that the Minister was waiting for him. Harry ignored her and walked through.

Shacklebolt was filling out papers as Harry approached. Harry stood at attention once he covered the small space to the front of the desk, politely waiting for the man to acknowledge him. Finishing the page he was on, Shacklebolt looked up and gave a crooked smile. "Don't just stand there, Potter. Sit. You just got back, didn't you?"

Harry nodded his head as he took a seat. "Thank you, Minister. You wanted to see me?"

Shacklebolt waved a dismissive hand. "Still with the formalities, huh? How many times do I have to tell you to call me Kingsley? You and Granger, I swear."

Harry gave a small smile. "And it is because of Ms Granger that I continue the formalities, sir. She would have my head otherwise."

Shacklebolt chuckled as there was a knock at the door and the secretary came in with a tea set. "The tea you asked for, Minister."

"Ah! Good. Thank you. You can leave it on the desk." The secretary hurriedly did so, making sure to give Harry a wide berth before quickly leaving. Shacklebolt sighed as he poured himself a cut of tea. "And that is why I still think you should accept my proposal, Potter."

Harry lifted his eyebrows slightly as he feigned ignorance. "Whatever do you mean, Minister?"

Shacklebolt gave him an exasperated look. "You know exactly what I mean, Potter," he said as he pulled a newspaper from a drawer. It was the Daily Prophet with yet another article speculating on Harry. Slapping it on the desk for Harry to read, he said, "People are starting to rally, Harry. It won't be long before the public will be clamoring for me to do something. At least this way there is less of a possibility of you getting lynched. Tea?"

Harry held in another sign. "Tea would be lovely. Thank you." He watched as Shacklebolt poured another cup of tea before looking around the room. The hair on the back of his neck had not gone down when he entered and it was making him antsy, but he couldn't spot anything amiss with a quick glance over.

"I'm sure there are ways we can compromise on this, Harry," Shacklebolt said as he held the saucer in his hand. Harry's smirk was answer enough. Shacklebolt gave another sigh as he handed Harry his tea. "I'm only trying to do what's best."

"It wouldn't be enough," Harry commented as he accepted the drink. "They will demand more and more of me until I am all but transparent to them, and even then they will want more." He paused to blow on his tea. "I've tried to blend in ever since starting Hogwarts, and then did my best to remain hidden in order to survive. I'm no politician, Minister."

Shacklebolt gave another sardonic smile. "I guess there's no convincing you, is there?"

Harry gave a thin smile over the rim of his cup as he took a sip.

Tea.

Merlin's beard but he hated tea. Coffee too for that matter. Anything that had to be prepared actually. Too many chances for someone to tamper with it.

Like the tea he could smell in the air. Some kind of green tea. Very potent if his nose wasn't deceiving him.

Harry laid very still as the darkness in his head slowly lifted. The tea perfumed the air and a quiet murmur could be heard. It took a moment or two for him to switch from English to Japanese in his head, but he faintly heard two men talking.

"…only a kid, Hibari."

"All the more reason to bring him in. He has been causing trouble for quite some time now. The best place for him would be in a home with discipline."

"He was able to move, despite my Flames, with, and I swear to kami, Flames of his own. You know an ordinary children's home would not be able to handle a kid with Active Flames." There was that word again. Flames. Was it the same as his fire? Only, he hadn't been using his fire, had he?

The other man sighed. "Then what do you expect me to do? I cannot just let him go. If he returns to the streets there is a good chance the Momoyokai will go after him again or attract other unwanted attention. Next time he might not crash into one of your bonsai."

"Then let him stay here."

Harry could practically hear the cocked eyebrow when the man he now recognized as the Head of Police, Hibari, said, "And you will look after him?"

"Of course. Should be easy compared to some of the other jobs I've had."

Hibari again sighed. "And his foot? You said he was favoring it."

"Twisted ankle. Nothing a wrapping, a brace, and some rest won't cure. Unless you know a Sun in the area," the man said with a lit in his voice.

The officer gave a small huff. "Fine. I'll start on the paperwork. Are you sure about his, Yama…?" The voice became fainter and any reply was too soft for Harry's ears.

With the two men further from where he was, Harry focused on his senses. He was on a soft yet flat surface. There was a blanket covering him and a pillow under his head. The light was dim through his eyelids and the dull roar of falling rain helped him locate a window. Daring to open his eyes, Harry looked around the best he could without moving. The ceiling was ordinary and there was a sliding window to his left. It was dark out now. A low table on the far wall to his right held a pot of tea, a few cups, and a small oil lamp which gave off the soft lighting. There was a door facing Harry where he laid. Over all, a very Spartan room.

His surroundings surveyed, Harry focused on himself. Someone had wrapped his ankle and bandaged his wounds. There were plasters covering his cheek and forehead. Some of his fingers were wrapped up as well. Gone were his usual clothes and instead he was wearing large sweatpants and a simple shirt.

Soft footsteps signaled someone approaching the door. Before it could slide open, Harry closed his eyes again. He listened as the person stepped into the room, closing the door behind them before heading for the low table and sitting down on the floor. They poured themselves a cup of tea before taking a relaxing sigh. It was the man from before.

"I know you're awake, kid. No use denying it." The man was right. Remembering the ease with which he had taken down the yakuza, Harry could only conclude that this man had some sort of combat training and Harry was sorely out of practice. If it came down to it, Harry knew he would not have beaten this man in a fight, let alone deceived him.

Opening his eyes, Harry turned his head to look at the man who saved him. He sat leaning against the wall, the oil lamp casting dramatic shadows over his face. Propped up beside him was the weird slatted pole he had used to put down the yakuza members.

Seeing him awake, the man's face broke into an easy smile. "Oh good. I was wondering if you were going to ignore me or not. That was quite the ruckus you caused in my yard, I'll have you know," the man admonished. "Dealing with Hibari is not one of my favorite past-times, but I guess it worked out, no?" The man paused to sip his tea, perhaps to give Harry the opportunity to reply. Harry remained silent.

The man continued. "I don't imagine to know what led you to crashing into my bushes, kid, but whatever it was has some very bad people after you." Harry couldn't help but give a huff of derision before turning his head away. "Oh-ho. So you do know what I'm talking about. Hibari keeps the Momoyokai mostly in check, but he is limited in what he can do. The fact that they are going after a street kid like you concerns him." Harry continued to remain silent. "I don't know if you noticed or not, but there are not a lot of homeless in Namimori, and it's because of the Momoyokai." Harry turned back to focus on the man. He had noticed that there were not a lot of people living on the streets which was unusual. "They believe that the streets are theirs so any who use them should be paying them to do so. It's driven the homeless into the neighboring areas instead." The man paused to sip more of his tea. "Therefore, since it's dangerous for you to remain on the street, especially with that ankle of yours, you'll be staying with me for a bit. My name is Yamamoto Tsuyoshi. Sushi chief. Nice to meet you, kid," the man, Yamamoto, introduced with a smile. While Harry was sure the smile was supposed to be friendly and reassuring, the light from the lamp turned it sharp and almost sinister.

Harry closed his eyes and turned his head away again. He could not sense hostility from the man, at least not yet, but there were people that could hide their intentions. Occlumency users were especially hard to read. If the man had wanted him dead, he would be already. The fact that he had obviously called the police also assured Harry that he meant no harm.

But he had trusted other before.

Yamamoto gave a quiet laugh. "The strong silent type, huh? No worries. I'm sure we'll get along fine. We can go over specifics in the morning," he announced as he set his cup down and got up, grabbing his pole as he did so. "You just rest for now. We'll talk later." Yamamoto turned a knob on the lamp and the light dimmed. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't run, alright? I didn't wrap you ankle only for you to damage it in the dark. See you in the morning." With that, Yamamoto slid the door open and walked out, shutting it behind him.

What a strange man, Harry thought, but he couldn't complain. He was in a soft bed with a warm blanket. He had stopped Officer Hibari from taking him and had saved him from the yakuza. Besides, so long as his ankle was damaged the danger the Momoyokai posed was very real. At least for tonight he was relatively safe.

Exhausted, Harry tried to relax his body and go back to sleep. Fuck this shit. His ankle throbbed, his body hurt, his scratches itched, and his head was pounding. He'd deal with it in the morning.

AN: And break! Hopefully a little bit of back story in order to fill in some of the pieces.

You guys have been amazing! It makes my day every time I see a new review saying that they are enjoying my writing.

I know that the interaction between Tsuyoshi and Harry was minimal, but I hope to change that in the next chapter, so stay tuned!