[Authors Note]

Uni's been hard lately, so I decided to write this as a bit of a break from my other responsibilities. Isn't a one shot but not planning much for this unless anyone is incredibly interested.

Chapter's a bit all over the place but I've kind of accepted that that is my style atm. Though I made an effort to make it clear when each and everything happens in regards to everything else (something I didn't implement in Academia cause I didn't realise it was an issue) a Reviewer pointed it out to me there anyway so I guess this is a way for me to correct it.

Anyway, whatevs. Tell me what you think if you want, this is just a bit of a passion project that I'll add to on the fly.

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-CHAPTER START-

HunterXPotter

Chapter 1: The Hundredth Blow

[20th August 1994|12:31]

The nigh-crippling waves of nausea and the aftereffects of Side Along Apparations (the deeply uncomfortable feeling of being shoved through a straw) couldn't even dent the victorious smirk that curved up Ron Weasley's lips. His father, sister and his older twin brothers brushing off dust and inhaling crisp air harshly to offset the nasty feelings of Apparation whilst Ron stood grinning ear to ear. Well, except for his dad Arthur Weasley, he was looking about the street as if he had been given a sneak peak of heaven that sunny August afternoon.

"Incredible!" He whispered in soft awe as he looked about himself, brown eyes wide as he slowly turned in a complete circle as he reviewed the houses around them, having gone so far as to Apparate onto the grey, sun-bleached concrete of Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. The home of Ron's best mate Harry and his Muggle family.

"Boys, why didn't you tell me that it was like this?" Arthur inhaled gleefully as his wide, bright eyes took in the uniform, nigh identical houses up and down the street. White houses with dark rooves, flat, well-trimmed front gardens with neat little flowerbeds, "It's all so… quaint and compact. I can't believe Muggles keep their houses like this!"

"Believe it or not Dad," Fred smirked through his reply as he crossed and uncrossed his arms and looked about himself,
"But the last time we came here," George rolled his shoulders back until they clicked, and he stretched out his back,
"It was a wee bit dark." Fred chirped,

"And we were a wee bit high up." George chuckled.

Arthur's smile and starry-eyed gaze faltered after their joint reply, Ron's own smile faltering also as he winced at the memory. A quiet glare was shot to his deviously grinning elder brothers, a quiet beg and warning against the pair reminding their father of the loss of his beloved flying Ford Anglia, a more heated glare sent to their smug and smirking sister who undoubtedly was hoping for the opposite,

"How about we just go and get Harry?" Ginny surprised them by speaking up and bringing their dad back to the real world from within his Muggle obsessed stupor. His return to reality signified by an almost visible jolt (as if a stream of electricity had rattled through his system) that had him snap around to face magnetic North and march forward with a gigantic grin plastered on his face,

"Of course, Ginny! We're on a mission after all, to Number 4!" he declared exuberantly as his dark brown robes whooshed about him with every step he took. Fred and George responded with wordless cries of equal enjoyment as they scurried along behind, ensuring that if the crack of Apparation and the sudden appearance of a quintet of redheads hadn't drawn the locals attention their volume would. Ron and Ginny shuffled along behind them in stark embarrassment, the girls lips twisted into a grimace that reeked of regret. Ron contemplated what harm there would have been if they had just let their Muggle obsessed father sight see for a little while longer, as they smuggled Harry out of his relative's house.

"Well done, Gin." He huffed,

"Shut up Ron." She scowled.

Seven. Ginny, Ron (and to a MUCH lesser extent) alongside Fred and George had to wince and suffer through their father pressing the doorbell for Number 4 Privet Drive a grand total of seven whole times before the screeching of chairs and a slamming of a door hit their ears. The quartet wondering what behemoth lived within this building to make such a heavy sound when coming down the stairs, with Arthur smiling cordially as he stepped back and waited patiently for the door to open.

Emerging from behind the crisp white door with the golden number four was a walrus-esque being. Despite it having been dark, two years ago and the gigantic, bloated imitation of a human had been in navy blue, pinstriped pajamas; the sons present behind their grinning father immediately recognized the gentleman as Vernon Dursley. Even the cheery disposition of the eternally gleeful twins took a hit in the face of their friend's uncle, dominating the doorway with his ridiculous size as his small blue eyes took in the five of them and his bushy black moustache quivered and bristled like a thick caterpillar lying on his top lip,

"Can I help you?" False politeness, his question came after a silent yet blatant appraisal of the family as his stubbly fingers tightened on the door as his nostrils briefly curled up and he grimaced at them before schooling his face. Ginny and Ron glared whilst Arthur's smile failed to falter in the slightest (and should anyone have been watching them at that time, they would have seen a cold edge develop in the eyes of the cheerily grinning Fred and George),

"Hello there, sir. Am I correct in saying you're Vernon Dursley?" Arthur asked with politeness and cheer, Vernon's eyes narrowed in a little more suspicion as he responded with a curt (almost aggressive) 'Yes', "Lovely, my name is Arthur, these are my sons Ron, Fred and George and my daughter Ginny. We actually came to pick up Harry."

His rather red face seemed to morph quite quickly to purple as his glaring eyes seemed to narrow into slits, his knuckles turned white and his arm shook from his vicious grasp on the front door and his entire form radiated disgust and rage as he took them in. Ron sensed rather than saw the fist clenches of his brothers and the slow return of the glare by his sister in the suddenly, incredibly tense atmosphere,

"Oh. So, you're one of them."

That comment alone completely deflated Ron's mood, turning everything sour in his eyes and fully wiping the smile from his face as he visibly scowled back at the displeased Muggle man before them. Being referred to as 'them' with such a foul tone really brought attention to those offhand comments his best mate had made about how his Muggle family,

'aren't really fond of magic…'

"Is he here?" Ron piped up, beady eyes turned to him and his father looked over to him in surprise, "When I called on that phone-thingy I did say that we would be here in a couple of days, but I thought you'd want him gone as soon as possible."

"Ron!" His father snapped at his son's impertinence, but the boy kept talking,

"And I know he wouldn't want to be here any longer either." Ron let the ice flow through his tone, completely unperturbed by the deeper purple that the man's face transitioned to as he glared down at him like a fleshy mountain of malice. The boy's ear's flared pink then red under his gaze but he still nurtured the desire to deck Harry's uncle.

"Vernon, who's at the door?" A shrill female voice sliced through the air whilst Arthur tried to apologise for the rudeness of his son, Vernon called over his shoulder,

"Some of the freaks, Pet. They're here for the boy." Vernon's gaze left them briefly, missing the hate in the young one's eyes at being called 'freaks' but their dad took offense at something else,

"Well hang on. Where do you get off calling your nephew 'boy'?!" their father's genuine rage left the quartet with completely baffled expressions, not just at their father's words but also at the clear and present expression of fear on the Vernon Dursley's face. The bulbous man stood a head taller than their father and was clearly built a lot larger than their rake thin, greying father in his patched, secondhand robes. Baffling.

"The boy isn't here." The shrill voice again, closer this time. Stepping aside, as if that were his cue to move out of the way, Vernon revealed a stick thin woman in a yellow and blue sundress with an astonishingly long neck, "If you're taking him today just send him back to get his things and don't come back."

"W-We don't want any of you… funny business near our family and our home." Vernon piped up from beside his wife, obviously regaining his confidence in the face of the irritated wizard. Though, Arthur didn't seem to be placated at all, arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on his face that Ginny took as HER cue to cut in before they got into a row with on the intolerant Dursley families doorstep,

"If he's not here, could you please tell us where to find him?" She stepped around her father and drew the couple's attention to her, weathering their scowls and disdain with a polite smile whilst she wished death upon them from inside her head. The woman huffed and the man scowled, Ginny's ears flared red as she prepared to be a little less polite,

"The sooner you tell us,"
"The sooner we'll leave." The twins, piping up with smiles that would be more than welcome on the face of the Devil, an appropriate pair of terrified expressions appeared on the faces of the recipients as the two visibly and blatantly fingered their wands as and after they spoke.

"The dump!" The woman, the five of them then registering her as Harry's aunt Petunia, "He's been down at the dump with that woman all day."

"Now leave us be and never return!" Vernon barked out a scared order and slammed the door in the face of the Weasley's, the lot of them jumping some what at the sudden harsh sound and left reeling for a few seconds while they registered the information they had received.

"Should we knock and tell em that we don't know where the dump is?" Fred spoke first without looking away from the door,
"That would probably annoy them much further." Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and rolling his head back with a sigh. A pregnant pause appeared

"So… will you be getting the doorbell, dear brother? Or will I?" George inquired and smirked with Fred even making a move to do so, but their father snapped about to face the road again and decided to just stride up to the pavement away from Number Four.

"Let's just… leave them. Come on, we need to find directions or a map." He called out, some cheer returning to his tone as he took off down the street. Ginny was quick to trot along, Ron followed suit after one last loathing glare at the house in question and Fred and George only started jogging along when the three of them were nearly out of sight. Leaving a small, innocuous looking package on their doorstep addressed to the couple's son with harsh, devious little grins splitting their face as they ran along.

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[20th August 1994|13:09]

About thirty minutes later, after an awkward conversation with an elderly lady through her front door (said door cracked only slightly open as she leaned about to hold the conversation, occasionally shifting her leg back to shove at the loudly meowing cats trying to escape), a sharp trundling bus ride that had Arthur muttering about how quaint Muggle public transport was in comparison to the Knight Bus and a bit of a trek through a far less picturesque part of Little Whinging than Privet drive, the five representatives of the scarlet haired Weasley clan arrived at the plot of land dedicated to the Little Whinging Landfill. Dusty litter laden paths cut between piles on piles of rubbish that reached

If the identical houses and gardens of Little Whinging had excited the father of the Weasley's, the expression of sheer RAPTURE that burst across his face at the incredible heaving towers and mounds of rubbish and the discarded made his previous expression look like disappointment.

"Is that a car? A WHOLE CAR?!" Arthur squealed, voice high as his brown eyes glittered. Jabbing fingers at the red chassis of a minivan sat atop a veritable mountain of yellowed, moldy mattresses, "These Muggles are crazy. Look over there! Those are those DVD things, a whole box of them!"

Their father flitting back and forth between item after item was something Fred and George watched with barely concealed hilarity. Meanwhile Ginny and Ron were wrinkling their nose at the oppressive stench and looking about at the mess,

"Why would Harry be here of all places?" Ron whined as he turned his gaze to the direction of the vicious bangs and crashes that his dad had simply brushed off as Muggle equipment,

"Do you think they lied?" Ginny questioned as she too turned towards the noise, crashes of glass quite clear to the ear as she crossed her arms and looked towards it too. Suspicion and confusion on her face as their father marvelled at a sack of dirty basketballs, "What even is that?"

"Well Ginny, Muggles have big metal contraptions that they use to sort out all of their rubbish after it's been dumped in places like this." Arthur turned to them after ushering the twins away from the DVD's he had mentioned before, an odd blush reddening his cheeks as he refused to let them look in, "Muggles apparently have this odd system where they separate some of the rubbish to be reused and made into other products that they can use again."

"I heard that on another continent they have a whole city like this." Ron supplied to an already incredulous Ginny as he looked around for a person or at least a clue, directions to his best friend would be appreciated but were not forthcoming. "I here it's run by the mafia or something like that."

They looked to their father for confirmation, but he was crouched down to get a better view at an intricate golden coloured portrait frame. The silent question forgotten as they spread out to look around for themselves.

"So, how are we going to find our boy Harry then?" Fred and George asked simultaneously, and the group were left with pensive expressions. Until…

A smack like a thunderclap hit the Weasley's ears where it was quickly followed by a heavy WHOOSH of air buffeted past them, a dark blur flying past at breakneck speed.

BANG! A vicious slam of something hard and large smashed into the red vehicle Arthur had been so lovingly regarding a few moments before. The crunch and groan of metal and the shattering of glass had wands drawn and terrified expressions plastered onto the faces of the five red heads as they turned to the minivan seeking answers at what on earth had just happened.

To find the one they were looking for, Harry James Potter, extracting himself from the wreckage with a wince and a snarl. Sans glasses but dressed in a white vest, black shorts and matching trainers as he glared past them (likely not even seeing them) to where he had flown from.

"H-Harry?" Ginny gasped out as he staggered free of the mess, swiping off shattered shards of glass and rolling his shoulders,

"Bloody hell, Harry mate, are you alright?"

There was a blur of motion, one second Harry was gasping in heavy (slightly pained breaths) right in front of them and the next he was gone. Vanished from sight with a torrent of displaced air buffeting the family as he breezed past them far faster than anything they had ever seen. Gone but an impact like a cannon firing from the east (the direction he had flown in from) acting as some clue as to where he had gone.

Ron bolted after his friend after the briefest of time had passed, following the path scoured through the dust and dirt towards the area where the colossal racket originated from. His family quick to follow in that direction, confusion and concern etched onto five faces as they followed a winding path for a few minutes before reaching some kind of clearing in the rubbish.

The area was colossal, the kids registering that the flat area clear of nearly all rubbish (with towering piles and mounds marking a loose border around the area) were occupied by three things.

The first was a black board. The black surface held within a pale wooden frame held up on two legs that balance on small, black, plastic wheels. Complete with ghost white chalk and what must have been Harry's glasses sitting on a miniscule shelf with its black surface dominated by a veritable sea of tally marks.

The next two couldn't really be classified as things, that was entirely inaccurate. They were people. Two people, quite clearly, locked in blisteringly fast and aggressive combat with one combatant quite clearly head and shoulders above the other.

The superior of the two was a woman, and she was one of the most beautiful women the five had ever had the pleasure of seeing. Golden hair shimmered in the sunlight as it hung long and elegant down at her hips, silky and glorious. Her thin frame, long legs, petite chest and shining peach skin were draped in a small sundress that ended just past her knees. Her bare feet tapped, stepped and danced about as she swatted, kicked and battered away at her attacker with a gleeful grin and a lilting, bell like laugh and teasing words of encouragement with a voice as sweet as honey,

"Come on my darling, you only need one more." She grinned with white teeth as she swept a strand of golden hair behind her pointed left ear. All whilst she snatched her kicking opponent ankle out of the air, twirled like a ballerina and hurled him into the distance with a serene smile on her face that spoke of nothing but glee and pride. Seconds later, the black and white blur lunged back at a speed beyond the redhead's comprehension, the woman's pale blemishless arms blurring through the air as her attackers flung fists and kicks seared through the air at comparable speed.

It went without saying that the second individual was obviously Harry.

Taking a second to look away, Ginny returned her gaze to the blackboard wondering if there was any correlation. The tally marks took some counting, but her final verdict was ninety-nine after some soft deliberation as Harry flipped and smacked away at the woman, blurring and hopping around as she intercepted with vicious chops, strikes and kicks and the occasional throw that hurled their friend many feet away into different piles of rubbish and mess with equally explosive force as earlier. Only for him to return and slam back at her completely unperturbed.

The wildest part of this situation, beyond the blistering speed of the vicious battle in the Muggle landfill was the savage strength of the blows slamming into Harry. Not because of the vicious slaps and slams against Harry's skin that sent him hurtling away, more the fact that he would be up on his feet and launching himself back into action (from what should have been beyond lethal blows) as if he were only mildly inconvenienced. A fiery determination burning in his emerald gaze.

"W-What the bloody hell is going on here?!" Ron hissed out, his family silently sharing the sentiment with his father far too baffled to reprimand him for his language. Wondering what the context was behind this incredibly wild situation…

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[22nd July 1994|16:33]

Raucous laughter lost and insignificant in the general, bustling noise of King's Cross Station. A few glares of impatience or irritation were thrown in the direction of the rambunctious group laughing, joking and weaving a way through the crowd on their way to the exit. A portly woman in a smoothly ironed red smock and a well worn beige cardigan trotted along at the back with a content and serene smile warming her face as she took in the children with her, sharing the same furious fiery orange hair as five of the group she supervised. The first, a girl who looked to be a younger, thinner spitting image of the woman, regaling her mother excitedly with a tale whilst sneaking small looks and shy smiles at one of the boys ahead. A boy, likely better to call him a young man, stood rigid and tall as he strode beside a girl a head taller with pretty blonde hair that reached her mid back who was hanging on every word he said. The next were identical twins, one was snickering and adding small jabs at a shorter, freckled boy who could only be a younger brother whilst the second was whistling a tune and looking about him boredly. Molly, Ginny, Percy, Fred, George and Ron Weasley were walking away from the magically hidden train platform 9 ¾ after another year at Hogwarts school of Withcraft and Wizardry. Accompanied by Percy's girlfriend Penelope Clearwater and the youngest son of the families two best friends, the bushy haired brunette with slightly pronounced front teeth, Hermione Granger and the national, wizarding celebrity, Harry Potter, who was in a heated "discussion" with Ron about a Quidditch match from the day before. Backed up by Fred who had a copy of the Daily Prophet in hand with 'A Tragic Defeat: England Loses 390 - 10 to Transylvania' in thick black script on the front page,

"I'm telling you it was just a fluke." Ron exclaimed huffily as they walked, shoving along a silver luggage trolley that his things were resting precariously on and occasionally shooting wary glares at the miniature, hyperactive owl Pigdwidgeon who hopped and bounced gleefully in his tiny cage, "England just had a bad game, and Transylvania were knocked out of the competition in the next match. We could have bloody beaten Nigeria, they're a shocking team!"

"You're delusional if you think that was a fluke little brother." Fred laughed as his black-haired teammate nodded along, "You've got the face the facts, England's just a bad team."

"It was fluke!" Ron shouted but Harry cut in quite quickly before his friend could launch into another longwinded explanation or excuse,

"Nah mate. That match was Transylvania smacking us around for twenty-four goals, their keeper letting us have the one and then their seeker just decided to put us out of our misery." Harry Potter declared with a pearly, joking grin, hands linked behind his head as they walked through the crowd and laughed out, "Mate, England tanked, and it is NO surprise."

"Frisby let the side down." Fred shook his head in disappointment as he slipped the folded copy of the Daily Prophet under his shoulder and synced up with his brother's jaunty tune. The pair whistling away as they hopped and skipped along,

"So, have England ever won the world cup before?" Hermione piped up with a curious question as she cut a path through the crowd with her luggage trolley. Her flat faced cat Crookshanks mewing as they trundled along as he licked away at his orange paws,

"Have England won the world cup? Have they bollocks." Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head in clear defeat. The boys seemingly satisfied and victorious as they emerged from the bulk of the crowd and made their way out into the street.

Harry's sharp green eyes found his family and they radiated an air of disappointment yet steely resolve from behind his thick glasses,

"Well, that's me over there." Harry jerked his head to his impatiently waiting uncle, "I guess I'll be seeing you in September."

With that there began a long period of goodbyes. Hugs, back slaps and handshakes abound, Ron told Harry that they would ty and get him from the Dursley's so they could see the Quidditch World Cup together. Then Hermione streaked off to the left to her smiling and waving parents, the Weasley's crossed the carpark to start their trek to the Leaky Cauldron (for a quick Floo back to the Burrow) and Harry ambled reluctantly over to his scowling Uncle.

"You took your time." Vernon's scathing comment as he scowled down at his raven-haired nephew, glaring at the unapologetic youth whose defiant gaze met his,

"I know you just think they're freaks, but they're my friends. So, I had to make sure to say goodbye properly." Harry said stiffly, though a small half smirk tugged at his lip as he sarcastically added, "Aren't you happy that you're waste of a nephew is at the very least polite."

Vernon's lips thinned, his face reddened in anger as he snarled down at the boy,

"Where are your bloody things? And that bloody pest of a bird?" He snapped, noting that despite his friends having pushed along their trunks and pet carriers on the provided trolley's, Harry had walked along sans everything.

"In my pocket." Harry supplied with pouty lips that he refused to allow to split into a massive grin (despite the incredible urge) at his Uncle's fury at the mere insinuation of magic as he clocked his meaning, "And I sent Hedwig ahead to hunt. She'll arrive this evening."

Calming himself a bit, Vernon's stance and tone became authoritative as he shoved out his hand,

"Give them here then." He ordered, and Harry fished out the two things from his pocket, the owl cage that looked almost like a decorative key chain (with the thin chain atop it to allow it to hang from the ceiling) and his deep brown trunk which had been shrunk to the size of a matchbox. Harry dropped them into his uncle's hand flippantly though his accompanying smirk did give the man pause, "What are you smirking at?"

"Well, I was just imagining those two suddenly growing massive because they've been away from me too long. They'd give you a proper fright when they burst out of your pocket whilst we're on the road." Harry grinned impishly whilst his sharp uncle went from confused and apprehensive to fearful and almost a bit furious,

"What have you done you brat?"
"Absoloutely nothing. But spells only really work if they have magic to feed on to stay active. So, with those having been shrunk with-"

"ENOUGH!" Vernon's shout drew attention to him which paled his purple face as head turned, leading to speak in a voice nary louder than a whisper, "Don't you say that word around me boy. Just take the blasted things, I don't want anything to do with whatever freakishness you've put on them."

Having successfully blagged his way into keeping his trunk with him, Harry had to suppress an even bigger smile as he accepted them back and slipped them back into the pocket of his jeans. Vernon somehow seemed both skeptical and outraged but he miraculously didn't press the subject any further. Simply jerking to the back of the car with a stubby thumb and making his way to the driver's side of the silver car, Harry surprised to find neither Petunia or Dudley inside but knew better than to ask his Uncle anything, instead settling in as they eventually rolled out of the carpark and weaved into London traffic.

"This will be the last summer I spend with you." Harry said as they rolled onto the A roads nearly an hour later, not bothering to see his Uncle's reaction as he watched all manner of automobiles whiz back and forth past his window, "The Weasley's will probably come and get me midway through next month, then I won't be coming back."

"What are you blathering on about back there, boy." His uncle seemed to be making an effort to keep his voice in its usual abrasive tone but couldn't quite hide an undercurrent of hopefulness. Harry wondered if he really was a freak, as he cared so little about his Uncle's clear desire to finally be rid of them, perhaps it was just that the feeling was mutual, and he wasn't a closet sociopath, "Speak boy!"

Harry let a small scowl rest on his face but shook his head, turning his eyes to find his Uncle's in the mirror and did as he was told,

"I've got enough money saved to move out now, and the likelihood to make quite a bit more if my plan is successful." Harry folded his arms and curiously watched the widening then aggressive narrowing of his uncle's eyes,

"Oh, so you've been hoarding cash and making us pay for everything for you?!" Harry's snort seemed to be ignored as Vernon launched into a rant, "And what, at fourteen years old, you're going to just spit in the face of your aunt and I? After we took you in, gave you food to eat and clothes to wear and have raised you-"

Harry laughed. Humourless, bitter, loud. He stopped his Uncle's tirade as he released peal after peal and had to wipe tears from the corner of his eyes and steady his breathing,

"Aww, Uncle Vernon! After all this time do you finally care about me?" His voice sugary sweet and condescending, turning his Uncle's face purple in fury as he laughed again, "Is this your way of saying you'll miss me if I leave?"

"You little shit!"

Vernon turned in his seat and made a sort lunge at his nephew, pushed to the point where his beefy fingers cut through the space between them to reach him. His hand evidently seeking to strike, grab or strangle the boy as the boy arched away and the car began to veer and lurch about,

"Pay attention to the road or you'll kill both of us." Harry hissed out in fear as his fingers dug into the leather seats, heart lunging into his throat as the car swerved towards the guardrail and only settling down a bit when Vernon panickedly corrected the vehicle and kept wide blue eyes on the road ahead as he sweat an ocean onto his seat, "Jesus Christ."
"Watch your mouth, freak!"

"Keep your attention on the bloody road!" Harry snapped and Vernon, despite a brief murderous glare into the mirror at him, did as instructed. A vicious, murderous tension permeating the air for the rest of the ride back to Little Whinging and only one other exchange being made,

"What are you even going to do anyway, when you leave and make this fortune of yours?" Vernon's words were just as condescending as Harry's earlier ones, though Harry's disinterest failed to get the rise from him that it had from the older man, "Did you get some freak job with your kind?
"No, I didn't. I'm doing it in the 'real world'." Harry sighed out as he rested his cheek against the cool glass and closed his eyes, feeling his uncles expectant gaze and growing irritation,

"Well speak then you brat. What are you doing?" He snapped, "Don't think I'm going to let you run off and do anything foul or illegal that will look bad on my family."

"I promise that should I succeed I have no doubt you and Aunt Petunia will be vaulted as saints or legends." Harry smirked as he just felt his Uncle scowl and vibrate in anger once again,

"Tell me what you are running off to do you brat!"

The smirk dropped. Harry's eyes snapped open and back to the mirror at the front of the car with a frightening intensity, almost freezing Vernon Durlsey solid in his under their weight before Harry spoke in a low, firm and determined tone,

"I'm going to take the Hunter's Exam."

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[23rd July 1994|09:15]

The bus trundling through the streets of Little Whinging contained so few people this morning. Stunning Harry as he quietly sat at the back and peered carelessly out of the window. He smiled at the cloudless blue of the sky and pinched his eyes shut when the sun leaped out from behind the back of a building. Humming a Weird Sisters melody under his breath as the smattering of pensioners, other teens and other commuters in the bus busied themselves in their seats. The woman in the soft grey blouse and the pencil skirt was hissing obscenities at whoever was on the other side of the phone. The white-haired couple behind her had dozed off, shoulders and heads touching as they breathed softly and contently (unperturbed by the noise of the bus or the jolt of the journey). A trio of dark haired boys (supervised by a hawk-eyed parent sat a few seats in front of them) were comparing some kind of brown backed trading cards with excited, rambunctiousness, their volume bordering on shouting and their arms and hands flying about in exaggerated gestures. Leaving a few of the other riders to scowl in their direction whilst Harry smirked wistfully at the back of the bus as he ignored them, his thoughts were elsewhere. Despite being 'home for the summer' his mind still remained in Hogwarts (his real home), as far back as prior to Christmas as he rolled further and further towards his location…

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[19th December 1993|22:30]

Harry swung his legs back and forth through the cold air of the dark classroom as he sat on a dusty abandoned teachers desk. Though he would often wonder why the school had so many empty, unused classrooms, he counted himself fortunate that he was able to find himself one so late that wasn't occupied by snogging Hogwarts students or mass murderer Sirius Black. Who, thanks to his infiltration into the school and his attack against the Fat Lady (and his evident yet unseen presence around the Hogsmeade area), had left a multitude of staff members and students keeping an eye on him. He was Black's target after all.

And as comforting and flattering as it was that so many people were fretting and worrying about his safety with every step he took through the castle (he felt a bit guilty for this) but the constant attention and mothering was aggravating.

He thanked whatever deity that was watching over him for the existence of the Invisibility Cloak, snickering a bit at the possible panic some of his more annoying 'guardians' would have been in if they pulled back his curtains and found out he wasn't in bed. Though that quickly faded when he registered how unnecessarily cruel that was, especially as thoughts of a worried Hermione and Ron invaded his brain to add another layer of guilt.

He sighed as he lay back on the firm desk to stair up at the ceiling, a harsh sneeze echoing in the dark room as Harry watched the dust motes dance above him in the pale moonlight from the small windows. His mind wasn't in that room that night, it was two days in the past as he lay in reminiscence.

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[17th December 1993|14:30]

A career meeting at thirteen may seem counter intuitive or odd for those raised in the world of Muggles. However, considering that this was the academic year where Hogwarts students decided exactly what they would be studying for their external exams two years later, it made a little bit of sense to have students spend about ten to fifteen minutes with their head of house to talk about their elective courses and give them one last chance to change their minds.

As Fred, George and Oliver had told him, it could be more accurately referred to as an elective meeting, talking about your grades and giving him info about the other electives to see whether he felt like switching. Then a quick chat at the end to see if he has any idea what he wants to do as a job.

"To be clear Mr Potter, anything said or agreed on in this meeting does not have to be set in stone." She had said, allegedly comforting words delivered with her usual stern tone, "This is just a talk to see if you would prefer changes in your electives for the upcoming academic year."

"Ok Professor."

"Good." Professor McGonagall, draped in her satin, emerald robes and her jet black and crooked pointed hat atop her head of onyx hair, her slender hands ruffled through thin sheets of parchment as she oozed her stern, no nonsense attitude as she peered through small circular glasses at the inked page.

"You have averaged an Exceeds Expectations across the board in your subjects, you have shown considerably high degree of work in your practical spell work." She nodded as she read before peering into Harry's eyes from over the top of her own spectacles, "Your grades are consistently high in Charms, Defense and my own class."
Harry felt a ghost of pride or appreciation at that and he couldn't help but flush and fidget further in his seat, though he felt her expression harden slightly before she spoke again,

"However, you are quite clearly found lacking in Herbology, History of Magic and of course Potions." Harry flinched, and his eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of his least favourite subjects, particularly the last one, "I understand you have had your… disagreements with Professor Snape and you have not achieved higher that and Acceptable in that subject which is a clear dissonance from the majority of your courses."
"It's because Snape has it in for me." Harry spoke up heatedly but flinched and quieted down under McGonagall's suddenly hard glare,

"Professor Snape, Mr Potter." She corrected sternly before leaning back with a straight back, "And whether that is true or not and Professor Snape's alleged bias is affecting your grades, your OWL's are an external exam so at the very least you can expect an unbiased examination of your skills in the subject."

"In two years time?" Harry's delivery was flat and unimpressed, McGonagall seemed momentarily irritated but also sighed and allowed a ghost of a half-smile to show some kind of understanding or defeat,

"Please keep the cheek to yourself, Mr Potter." She smirked and then flipped through the parchment with the occasional thoughtful hum and Harry sat by awaiting his Head of House's.

"Now, I remember you had certain… issues with our own eccentric Divination Professor." There was some clear snide and disrespect in her tone, reminding Harry of his Head of House's clear disdain of Professor Trelawney and her morbid gimmick of predicting his death (and those of other students), "And there have been some difficulties in Care for Magical Creatures."

A reminder of Hagrid and Buckbeak's current situation lead to gritted teeth and balled fists in his lap, determination burning through his veins as he took a steadying breath,

"I don't have any problems with my electives. As… interesting as Professor Trelawny is, the ability to see into the future is probably one of the most interesting and immediately practical things I can think of that we've been taught. No offence Professor."

Her expression didn't change so he assumed (hoped) she hadn't taken offence so continued,

"And Care looks like it will be really useful for the job I want to do." Harry smiled, reminded of the guilty endorphin explosion that rushed through his system at the fact that he had another reason to actually take that course in the first place besides the fact that Hagrid was his professor and that it was an 'allegedly' easy O. McGonagall's eyes widened slightly, and she leaned forward in her seat with a curious air,

"Ah, so you do have a career path in mind?" Harry noted a lack of surprise behind her glasses at the question, though he himself was surprised that he had let that slip. Regardless, Harry allowed a small smile to his lips and a soft nod,

"Mmm hmm, I'm going to become a Hunter." Harry stated proudly, smiling with bright green eyes behind his big round glasses. Bright eyes that were quick to note the stark shock on his Transfiguration Professor's face at his declaration,

"A Hunter? You want to be… a Hunter?"

"It's not what you think, Professor. In the Muggle world it's a-"

"I know what the Hunter occupation is, Mr Potter. I was stunned that such an occupation would be something that would interest you." The interruption was quick and accompanied by a raised hand silently ordering her student to pause, "I am more than knowledgeable of the Muggle world and many of its various job opportunities.

She visibly searched for words and Harry, never knowing his Head of House to be so visibly indecisive, waited politely for her to speak again,

"Before the war…" She froze for a short while, the woman quite clearly lost in reminiscence as Harry patiently yet curiously waiting for her to continue, "I did have a husband. He was a Muggle. It caused quite the stir in the higher levels of the Ministry for the sake of secrecy, I learned much of the world through him."

She paused for breath and Harry was left in a speechless. He felt a bit embarrassed for not considering that his Head of House had a life outside of the castle, let alone a married one, but then he made note of her use of the past tense and a well of sympathy bubbled forth,

"The pity isn't required, Mr Potter. Though it is appreciated." His Deputy Head spoke up and Harry flushed slightly but offered a weak smile in return to her genuine, appreciative smile that briefly softened her face. She cleared her throat, "He mentioned having taken the Hunter exam in his youth and the risk to his life. But I feel that you are aware of that?"

"I am, Professor." He empathetically answered and was met with a harsh sigh as she rubbed a weathered hand across her face and pinched at the bridge of her nose,

"I wonder why this career choice fills me with such dread when I had half expected you to say you wanted to be an Auror or a professional Quidditch player." There almost seemed to be a dry laugh laced into her words as she spoke, her half smile far more pronounced as Harry noted her pinched brow and the bitterness and sarcastic humour in her smile. "And as dangerous as those professions are, I somehow would have been entirely comfortable if you chose them rather than this one."

She turned pensive for a time before elbows were planted on her desk, her fingers laced together and she addressed him with a crisp, stern tone as she stared her student down,

"Tell me, why do you want to become a Hunter?"

Harry's eyes widened at the blunt delivery of such a question. Her dark eyes were searching, watching as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers clutched at his trousers and his head briefly ducked as he searched for resolve,

"F-Freedom." Harry said slowly, voice shaking before he released a sigh and his voice hardened like steel, "Hunter's can do pretty much anything, go anywhere and as amazing as the magical world is there is nothing that compares to it."

McGonagall's gaze lost some of its searching edge as her brow creased together,

"Freedom?"
"I… don't want to talk about it, Professor. Just know that I'm serious about this and am planning on taking my exam after either my OWL's or NEWT's."

Minerva McGonagall found herself torn as she watched her student shift in his seat and beg her not to continue. On one side one of her dearest student, a brave boy who wore his heart on his sleeve who she worried had a rather poor homelife, leading to her desperate not to do anything to harm him more than the forces beyond this castle. But, alternatively, he wasn't just one of her students, he was Lily and James's child. A little boy whose parents she adored as much as she cared for him, and the idea of the boy launching himself into a career so dangerous for reasons he refused to go into. What would the two of them think? Was she supposed to talk him down? Direct him away?
She looked over at the boy, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact, but there was a fire there. A flame of determination and hard resolve that went hand in hand with the furious stubbornness his mother and father had displayed all those years ago, when THEY sat on that side of her desk.

A sigh. Loud and explosive.

"The only thing I can tell you Mr Potter is that the Ministry of Magic is not particularly fond of wizards and witches moving to find work in the Muggle world." McGonagall spoke, any sign of her emotional turmoil non-existent as the stern, no nonsense Transfiguration Professor returned in full force, "Magic has a way to respond to strong emotions, regardless of age or proficiency in using it. The risk to the Statute of Secrecy and our discovery has the Ministry heavily disincentivizing it."

Harry quickly recognized the sense behind it, though he was curious about the fact that even adults could possibly have bouts of accidental magic. Such a thing never considered by Harry and he was briefly left wondering why he thought it didn't happen,

"Then the Ministry will try to stop me from becoming a Hunter?" Harry asked slowly, not relishing the idea of facing off against the Minister for his right to his dream,

"In most cases wizards and witches are able to slip under the radar and the Ministry either doesn't find out or doesn't care to stop them and simply monitors the situation." McGonagall continued, watching the pained realization dawn on Harry's face as she said her next piece, "But those from the old families or those who make a name for themselves don't tend to get that privilege."

"So, they're definitely going to try and stop me then." Not a question, a sour statement that as accompanied by a wince and grimace,

"I do not mean to be dramatic but there are usually some rather heavy options that the Ministry will take." Professor McGonagall continued on with a somewhat grave tone, "If they cannot convince or incentivize you to remain in the magical world for employment, then they may take measures to ensure that you are incapable of breaking the statute."
Harry wondered if that sentence was designed to be as threatening as it was, the idea of a magical societies government taking measures to silence him couldn't be pleasant. Possibly picking up on Harry's thought process, or possibly entirely wrapped up in her warnings and ensuring they were correctly delivered, Professor McGonagall saw fit to give him some indication as to what to expect when she spoke again, and a chill rolled down his back at the sentence that came.

"You may have to make a choice. Where, for the safety of the magical world and its secrecy, you may have to sacrifice your magic."

.

[19th December 1993|22:34]

Fingers drummed on the table a nonsense beat onto the surface before the hand flew up to Harry's mouth as he sneezed again, the action briefly energising Harry again and leading him to sit back up.

His head turned, looking over his shoulder to an envelope. Signed in his hand and taunting him from under its moonlit spotlight, Harry's eyes narrowed at the offensive letter, but he simply crossed his arms and turned away from it.

It was a request- no. For as incredible as his Master had been in training him all theses years, the letter he had written to her from within this dusty old classroom was nowhere near polite enough to be registered as a request. It was a demand, a demand that briefly read;

Master,

I have had a change of heart. I don't want to wait until after my OWL's to take the exam, I want to do it as soon as possible.

Instead of staying on until fourth year, I want to take the Hunter Exam. What do I need to do to make that happen? I will accept any punishment, humiliation, disgrace or reprimand you or the world can levy against me, but I will be taking the exam next year. With or without approval.

I await your reply,

Harry

A soft tremor ran through his hand as he scooped up the letter between his fingers, swirling around and throwing his legs back over the table, Harry rolled to his feet his eyes not leaving the white envelope.

"Hoot."

Hedwig. A rapid rapping of an impatient bird's beak smacking on the window as a way to get her human to let her in, leaving Harry to turn to his slightly unimpressed gaze to his owl and to smirk. Amber eyes looking up at the mirth filled emeralds of her human which lead to her loudly hooting again and whacking the window again with her beak. Harry moved to open it and let her in after that silent command and was whacked by white wings as she flew into the room and made a display of circling around the room before settling on his shoulder, ruffling her feathers and nipping at Harry's ear in between preening. Harry lovingly caressed her chest feathers and felt his dear friend hum and relax in bliss at his gentle caresses, even as he sighed to himself.

"Hedwig, I'm thinking about making a decision that is potentially the dumbest thing I've ever done." Harry looked out into the moonlight, basking in the lovely chill delivered by the open window,

"Hoot?"
"Well, I'm going to ask Master to let me take the Hunter's exam early." Harry explained to the curious hoot, "I've been training for nearly a decade but even then, there's no prepping for what I could be facing."

A wing swat stuck the back of Harry's head, a smile lighting up his face as she hooted indignantly at him with angry eyes,

"I know, but no matter how long I wait there is no way of knowing what will happen or who I'll have to fight." He tried to placate Hedwig, but she continued to glare over at him, "Hedwig, can I tell you something?"

There was no immediate answer, but then Hedwig nudged his cheek with her head and he took that as indication to speak,

"I'm worried. Not because of the danger, but… Professor McGonagall said that if I want to be a Hunter I might have to stop being a wizard."

Hedwig didn't respond but he felt the tension in her tiny muscles and the tightening of her talons in his shoulder, he smiled and gently caressed her chest feathers with a gentle smile,

"It's okay Hedwig, no matter what, I promise I'll take care of you. No matter what happens." Her eyes closed, and she nuzzled into her human's gentle hand, "I just don't know. Magic, at the end of the day, is the only real connection I have to my mum and dad. But being a Hunter, that's everything I've ever dreamed of."

Harry looked away from his silent and pensive companion staring up at the ceiling as he had for past few hours. A shiver ran through him from a particularly frosty breath of December air and his right hand closed around something when he shoved his cold hands into his pocket. He laughed, the idea running through his head ridiculous, immature and likely downright insulting to not only his deceased parents and the magical world but to his own dream itself. But it didn't stop him from turning his head to his owl with a smirking mouth and a golden Galleon in hand.

"Heads I stay a wizard. Tails I become a Hunter."

And, with a flick of his thumb, Harry launched the coin into the air, hand outstretched and patiently waiting for whatever fate had in store for him.

.

.

[23rd July 1994|10:20]

A vicious slap echoed through the Little Whinging Landfill that left the victim with a vicious red bruise and split lip. Though, he did not stumble or fly away, he did stand cowed but determined before the seething female towering over him,

"Sorry? You meet me with such an impertinent demand and you think a simple 'sorry' is adequate?" her voice a tilting soprano that seemed almost too high from her petite, thin form. The slender hands that had struck him gripped her white dress covered waist before she moved to fold her arms, "How dare you. I will not be spoken to in such a way, in person or writing, not even by you my darling. Do not forget this, not now not ever."

Under the piercing blue gaze that bore into Harry the boy nodded and apologized again, quietly cursing himself for taking such a tone with his Master in that letter even though he did not regret voicing his desire to take the Hunter exam. Looking up at her, as she stood a head above him, he noted the softening of her hard expression and a soft smile twisting up her pink lips,

"Be that as it may, I am pleased to see your conviction." She responded, folding her hands behind her back and abruptly twisting away from Harry and began to walk away. Harry allowed his Master to walk a few paces ahead, only following after she tucked a strand of her golden hair behind an exceptionally pointed ear and crooked a finger to have him follow.

"Despite your rude delivery, my darling student, I did make sure to send your application along to the Association." A finger wag punctuated every syllable, "and got a lovely letter from the Chairman in confirmation."

She twisted back around with a smile like the sun as realization dawned on Harry like

"So I-"

"Yup." She chirped with a soft, a gleeful laugh like a tiny bell highlighting her words, "You have official permission to enter the Hunters Exam."

Harry's heart soared, he couldn't hold back the smile that split his face, hot tears brimming at the corners of his eyes with a light in his eyes that could have blinded the world,

"However."

The light was stunted. Harry's smile faltered as his eyebrows knitted closer together and realization hit Harry a lot faster. A sour taste in his mouth twisting his lips into a grimace as he carefully inquired,

"What are you going to make me do?" He asked slowly, tone hollow, resigned and accompanied by a heavy sigh as he held her gaze with a depressed and wary eye, "You're not just going to let me go?"

Her glorious sneer was the resounding 'NO' that he did not need vocalizing. She moved onwards in the space that they occupied, a clearing of sorts, an area bordered by several story tall piles of rubbish and discarded that would take anyone a few minutes to walk the diameter of. They weren't quite in the center of the area or on one of its edges, but it still took some time for Harry's master to make her unhurried trip towards the edge of the area, back the way they had came in in fact. Here they had dropped their bags and things by a discarded blackboard held within a cracked but solid wooden frame that his master pulled up to stand on its rickety legs.

"It's simple really." Harry's ears rang and he winced harshly as his mentor drug elegant sharp nails across the smooth surface of the blackboard, she scooped a thin stick of white chalk from the bottom and tapped it twice against its black surface, "To get MY permission to take the exam, you have one simple task to accomplish."

"You have from now until the end of the summer to strike me. One. Hundred. Times!" She smirked at him with an aura that exuded victory as she emphasized every word with a smug enthusiasm, "No Nen and no magic. I'm not allowing you to breeze through this exam with that Hatsu of yours, and your Ministry won't let you use your wand either. So, your only option are your weapons and hand to hand."

Hands folded behind her back and dark green eyes keeping a steady but bemused gaze on her student, she continued speaking (not allowing her apprehensive protégé time to formulate a reply),

"And if you are not able to strike me, to use what I have taught you to beat me, then you do not deserve to make it to the exam."

Harry knew better than to ask questions, to complain or bargain or negotiate. He even knew that staring up at her in incredulity at her ridiculously unfair demand for too long. A decision had been made, and there wasn't a woman more stubborn than his master, especially when violence and battle were concerned.

He wondered if all Enhancer's were really this single minded?

His fist was swatted away with the back of her hand as he stuck, moving from his position a few feet away to almost nose to nose with his opponent in less than a tenth of a second. The punch soaring through the air towards her completely unfazed face with his second hand, only for it to be tabbed away with a sharp strike from the same hand again. Fist after fist after fist, blistering speed beyond what the majority of the human race would consider possible, rained down onto the smirking woman like fist sized bullets, smacked, blocked or sometimes evaded by the attacked. She just smirked up and over at her desperately focused attacker.

BANG!

"Gah?!" Spittle and bile (shoved up his body) shot forth from his throat and mouth as the violent impact of a tank shell of a punch that collided with his stomach far faster than Harry could even see. The pain left gigantic black spots on Harry's vision, but it didn't quite knock him unconscious.

Which was perfect for the kick he had thrown just before…

Her guard had a gap now, her right harm extended in the uppercut that had struck his stomach, he folded in his abdominal muscles purposefully almost as if he were grasping at the fist that assaulted him. But at a speed he hoped was comparably undodgeable (combined with a hope that he was sneaky enough or his master was distracted enough that this would make contact) his kick flew towards her smooth cheek. It connected with a CRACK that shook her body and snapped her head back with its vicious force.

'That's one!' He celebrated silently in his brain, a split second before he was struck again. His eyes losing the glint of victory as he paled at the murderous intent that assaulted every sense when she snapped her crisp green eyes back to him and spun about. Her weight was thrown behind an open-handed strike that clashed against Harry's stomach once again, and he was GONE with that collision. Sent flying with another wordless shout of agony as surprise as the world blurred past him, his momentum slamming him towards a veritable mountain of the discarded waste of humanity with a frighteningly high velocity. He had a second to react, maybe two or three, but not long until he was buried in and under whatever rubbish he had been punted towards.

Twirling in the air and righting himself, Harry's fingers dug through layers of dirt, dust and muck to find purchase in cold wet stone. Ten minuscule finger tracks carved into the stone ground leading up to the area that Harry eventually stopped slinging. Fingers and arms burning but otherwise, intact and unharmed as he came to a stuttering halt. Muscles spasming in pain and exertion but very much working and Harry remaining very much alive as he looked up and back to where he had flown from.

Harry gasped in as harshly as he could before he flinched from his aching position in the broken pile of mouldy, discarded wooden boxes that he had toppled. He watched his mentor wipe the back of her hand across her soft lips with a growing, sadistic smirk and a murderous glint in her dark green eyes.

"That was one." She growled lowly.

Harry shivered with fear…

.

.

[20th August 1994|13:10]

Whitney Acacia's hands blurred, to the naked eye, but she felt nary a breeze ruffle her locks nor did she take much notice of the speed at which she blocked her attacker. Blows like with the force and speed of lightning slammed into nothing but air as she bobbed, weaved, stepped and slapped to avoid her apprentices relentless (almost desperate) assault.

They were deep into the nineties at this point. Whitney took a moment to review the blows she had taken over the past twenty-eight days.

There were the classics, so simple and so boring that she had honestly thought that he would be too proud to use them: dust in the eye, sneak attacks from behind structures (often ones he had thrown her way) and just plain battering her with relentless, unending barrages of attacks as a ruse or front for one solitary attack he intended to blindside her with.

It hurt her pride more than she could express that a good dozen of the attacks she had sustained had been because of that 'trick'.

But at the same time, there had been some real stand outs. Her personal favourite being when Harry had gone so far as to burst up from below the ground and fire off a crippling kick to the apex of her spine, having dug a rudimentary tunnel for that attack alone after she'd sent him home for the day on the 9th.

She was proud of her little student, the darling that had looked up to her just under a decade ago and begged her to make him strong. She was proud of his cunning, his intelligence, his strength and the skill he had cultivated, both with her and whilst outside of her influence.

'He's at ninety-nine.' Whitney noted to herself as she lunged forth, slipping up and past the boot clad leg and slashing across to backhand her protégé. His emerald eyes flicked to her hand in recognition of her attempt and he acted fast, ramming out his own hand and snagging her wrist; Harry not strong enough to stop the impending blow but skilled enough for something else. He used her iron hard arm as leverage, shoving up to have her strike sail under him and he twisted in the air away from the momentum that carried her onwards.

She snapped about, flouting that particular law of physics with her incredible strength and speed to her apprentice who was landing. A palm strike, short, fast and aggressive, flung at his chest like a viper, a viper that smacked meatily against his crossed arms (acting as a shield and buffer to the attack he could not evade).

SLAM! He was pushed back several feet but not sent flying off of his feet or sent hurtling away at a ridiculous distance as he was before. A back flip stopped Harry from falling onto his back and ass after he was flung back as if struck by a lorry. A warm, violent throb ran up and down his arms as Harry uncrossed them, but he shook them harshly, ignoring the pain, and lunged forth to strike his master again with a determined growl and an animalistic ferocity.

A kick off to the left avoided his Master's vicious charge, the woman lunging for him across the distance as he were merely a step away rather than several feet. A pivot and roll on the same foot (that he planted firmly as she passed him by) and a monstrous rolling kick snapped towards her ribs. She dropped and rolled under and away from the kick and her apprentices subsequent stomp, surging to her feet and snapping a punch to his lips. His arm came up to take the strike, shaking his body before he moved to parry the predictable attacks to his body. Firing off a side kick in reply, Whitney jumping back a bit as Harry hoped she would, having wanted more space over expecting impact.

"Harry!" A shout of worry, outcry that Harry did not hear in his focus, Whitney spared a glance to the group of redheads that had arrived a few seconds before. From memory she could identify them as the Weasley's, she had never met the Wizarding family but knew of them from what she had received in letters from her apprentice.

That distraction is all she needed to receive the one hundredth blow, a slice on the cheek and her arms paling to the solid strike of the knife that pierced her shoulder as she turned to the wall of knives slicing through the air in her direction. Turning she had found the arms of her apprentice blurring as he hurled projectile after projectile in her direction, one flying her way a hundredth of a second after the next. Black, razor sharp knives falling into his palm with the slightest flicks and movements of the wrist that flashed towards her like a swarm of giant highspeed flies. There were barely a few feet between them which meant (giving the oppressive speed that they travelled through the air) that there was no hope of simply dodging them without being nicked or struck.

This was a new strategy, not entirely unique or revolutionary but he had never attempted anything of the sort for the past ninety-nine blows. The surprise gave her pause, the speed and distance cut off a few of Whitney's plans of attack and evasion but as she took the second to form a plan the first of the volley was upon her. Human instinct called up her arms to protect her head and face, leading to them being flayed by blades that cut past or burrowed into flesh, a single knife finding home in her shoulder while she blocked or dodged the rest. A smug feeling roiling in her stomach, a feeling that drowned her bitterness at her defeat.

"Was that magic, my darling student?" She sneered her question when the rain of knives halted, carelessly yanking the blades from her body and casting them aside with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. Harry grinned, the smugness she felt inside was displayed in its entirety on Harry's face as he regarded her,

"Nope. Just slight of hand." He declared victoriously, crossing her arms and allowing a sarcastic lilt to lace his tone as he spoke again, "But… if you want to wait for the angry letter from the Ministry…"

"Don't take the tone with me." She laughed, half joking at his cheek but smiling a sincere grin as she spoke, "It's not necessary my darling. Instead I offer you my congratulations."

Harry's face split into a grin of pride, relief and abject victory whilst the Weasley family descended on the two of them in their desperate need to figure out what on earth was going on…

.

.

-CHAPTERS END-

[AUTHORS NOTE]

I had a right good time writing this. A lot more than I thought I would.

To those of you who have read my stuff before, I'll get back to Academia eventually. But with Uni, Work and all the other things going along right now I just wanted a bit of a break and decided to have a good time writing a little idea in my head. I'll add to this when I feel like it.

Have a good one.