Harry Potter And The Half Blood Pimp – Part 1

COMPLETE

Part 1 of 3.

I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, or any other property of Warner Bros and J.K Rowling. This story, if read on will NOT have any sexual scenes within. This story was erased and caused me to be banned temporarily from so I hope every one enjoys this new and improved version. This story is about Harry Potter, in an alternate universe, where he was raised by a pimp. It ships Harry/Hermione, Remus/OC, Sirius/AnythingThatWalks, Neville/The Patil Twins, Ron/- His Hand(I hate Ron). Enjoy, please, read and review, I love to hear your opinions on my story, and value any comments. Even the bad ones…

A young man of about six sat at a ratty wood table next to an older man. They were both dressed in pin stripe suits, their clothing belaying the fact they were living beyond their means. The young child mimicked his companion, rubbing his temples while his elbows rested on the table.

"Damn bitches better get home with my money." The man voiced, as the squeaky boy next to him concurred. "Yea… bischessss better get home with your money."

"Language Harold." The older man chastised the young boy. Though a small smirk played across his features, revealing the fact that he wasn't truly mad. "Remember Harry, no matter what, a women is a beautiful thing, and you should take care of them. Keep them safe, and let them do what they do, whether she is a nun teaching children, or a hoe turning tricks, you stand up for your ladies."

The young boy nodded furiously as he churned his mentor's words in his mind. They were words to live by, and little Harry cherished every word that came from his mentor's mouth.

Four Years Later -

"C'mon Harry, we have to deliver Cynthia to a John, then we have to go do business with the new guys on the block." His mentor yawned, as he tossed Harry a set of keys. "You're driving us there."

"Sure thing Silver Magic." Harry knew he was to young to drive, and if he ever got caught, he and his mentor would be in a world of shit, but he drove for SM any ways. Harry didn't know Silver Magic's real name, and he probably never would, he only knew his own name, because it was written in a locket with a picture of some women holding a baby, most likely him, that was dangling from his neck when Cynthia found him in a dumpster.

Harry couldn't have been more than a year old, but there he was, crying away inside a dumpster, and kindhearted Cynthia just couldn't let him die. So she scooped him up, and took him home to Silver Magic, who decided to take Harry in as an apprentice, and raise him to become a real pimp. No one knows why Silver Magic took Harry in, or why he was so smitten with the boy, but no one questioned him, and Harry grew up strong and tough in the streets.

"SM, When do I get a pimp name?" Harry asked as he ducked in the driver seat of their Cadillac, trying to dodge Cynthia's hand as she tried to muss his hair.

"Boy, you don't get a pimp name till you pimp some'en." Silver replied with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. "You just keep watching, and you learn them skills up right, and we will have you all named up in no time. Right now, you ain't old enough to be pimpen no one Harry."

"Yea Harry, you pick a name too soon and you will end up with something like The Kiddie Cuddler, or that bitch ass kid who thinks he's a G." Cynthia grinned as she pressed Harry's buttons.

"Hoe, don' be makin' Harry all self conscious. We'll set you up proper with a fine name some day. Not till you old enough tho'." SM finalized their conversation with a wave of his hand.

Harry nodded; he knew SM wouldn't bullshit him, and that he was going to inherit an established Hoe-Dom when SM finally retired, if he did. It mattered not to Harry though, he was just so happy to have a family, he knew though, from his talks with SM that Harry was going to be raising in the ranks soon.

"Fine Small Magick…" Cynthia giggled.

"Hoe, don't be getting smart with me." SM waggled a finger in Cynthia's face, a stern expression etched into his features. SM was known for being kind but tough, but that was what made all the women flock to him.

"We're here." Harry grinned as he parked the car down the street from the building they were supposed to go to. It was a small hotel, known for renting by the hour, and not asking questions.

"Good job. You still need to work on using the brakes smoother, but you're learning right Harry." SM beamed as he got out of the car. Harry swiftly followed his mentors actions, and helped Cynthia out of the car, allowing her arm to intertwine with his, he walked arm in arm with her, following SM to the hotel.

"Thanks Harry." Cynthia giggled, she loved how gentlemanly Harry could be, it wasn't weakness, he exuded confidence and she knew that he had love in him. She knew Harry would grow up to be a fine pimp some day.

"You keep such a soft hand Harry, and you'll break it the first time you have to use it." SM scolded as they walked through the front door of the hotel. Harry didn't even glance at the name, they were all the same any ways. They may glimmer on the outside, but they were all havens of smut and sex on the inside. SM and Harry made sure of that.

Harry tipped his hat at the young man behind the main desk as they walked past, accepting the nod from the welcomer. They were expected, and Harry knew it was time to get to work.

"Meet me in room 203 Harry, after you drop Cynthia off in room 301, knock twice." SM instructed, Harry didn't move, nor make a sound, but SM knew he was listening. Harry was an intense person, when it was time for business.

Harry watched as his mentor left him and Cynthia in the elevator at the second floor, his gaze locked on his walk, trying to soak in SM's style. That left Cynthia stifling a giggle as Harry strutted with Cynthia at his side out of the elevator when they reached the third floor.

Harry rapped sharply on the door with his two knuckles impatiently. "Open up, it's the delivery man." He called. He waited a moment, and just as he were about to knock again, the door opener swiftly to a purple faced man.

"SHHHH. I don't want to attract attention." The purple-faced man hissed. He was tall, fat, and wore an over coat that read "Grunnings" on it.

"Bitch, don't shhh me." Harry raised his voice indignantly "Let me in bitch." Pushing past the rather large man, he shoved him backwards, while yanking Cynthia in. "Now let me lay down some ground rules for you fat man." Harry began, "First off, don't you hurt my bitch, you fuck up and it yo' ass. Second, you got half an hour after I leave this room, but she better damn well be allowed to pick up her cell phone if I call to check up on her. Third, you pay half now and half at the end." Harry then extended his hand as the fat man handed Harry a thick stack of crisp pound notes. "Finally, you hurt her, I'll fucking kill you."

The purple-faced man was for sure nervous about the whole situation. Harry could smell it, but he walked out of the room and paid it no mind. Every one was nervous, if not for only the first few experiences.

Harry entered the elevator, and made his way over to room 203, knocking twice he waited a moment before a strange looking man opened the door and ushered Harry inside. The man was fairly thick, not exactly fat, but very heavyset.

"Ah! Thank you Goyle." Exclaimed a tall slimy grease ball with long blonde hair. Harry didn't like these guys, he couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew something was wrong. His intuition was telling him to run, but he would NEVER leave SM in a situation without back up.

"Hi." Harry stated flatly, looking around the room. "Where is SM?" Harry thought, as he realized the room had only he, the slimy git, and fatty in it. "So, where did Silver Magick go?" Harry question, as he slowly placed his hands in his pockets, laying his grip around a bali-song knife that he received from Cynthia for his "Got Found day."

"The bathroom." Slimy drawled, a hint of malice in his eyes.

"Right." Harry replied as he leaned up against the wall, assuring himself no one could sneak up on him. The situation was bad, he knew Silver Magick probably wasn't even alive, and the only way he could make it out of this one, was with a little preventative action.

Realizing the slimy git and fatty where sharing a look, Harry struck into action. His knife bursting open with such speed, it was nothing but a blur; the soft chatter of the steal clicking together as he stabbed fiercely into a rather large vein in fatty's leg was drowned out by his screams, but before Harry could turn his attack on the blonde haired bastard, he fainted.

At least, he thought he had fainted; he was floating, outside his body. He could hear the blonde haired git giving a command to him. "Jump out the window."

"No… That would be dumb." Harry thought.

"Jump."

"I shouldn't…"

"Jump."

"Well, may be it wouldn't hurt if I did."

"Jump damn it!"

"Ok."

And Harry jumped out the window.

"Well, that takes care of that. Hurry up and stop bleeding, and lets go report to Voldemort that our plan is coming together perfectly." Git grinned.

"Sure thing Luscious." Goyle grinned. "Voldemort will be real pleased with us."

"That he will Goyle, that he will." Luscious Malfoy laughed.

30 minutes later

"Ugh." Harry groaned as he realized he wasn't dead. Though, being dead was the least of his worries, as he was currently perched precariously on an awning perhaps a foot below the window he jumped through.

"Na, I must have been hit over the head and pushed out the window, I wouldn't have just jumped." Harry assured himself as he attempted to navigate back up to the window he had fallen out of. After a few minutes of grabbing his courage, he pulled himself up through the window and found SM's body in the bathroom.

Harry would have cried, if he had the time. SM had discussed with Harry many times, what to do in-case of an emergency like this. He immediately grabbed all of Silver's jewelry, his wallet, his cell phone, every thing but his underwear Harry collected, stuffing every thing he could into his pockets.

Harry bent down and closed SM's eyes, a look of horror on his face that only solidified the idea that they must have poisoned him, as he didn't have any bludgeon or bullet wounds on him.

Meanwhile in a Castle far far away-

"Perhaps we should send someone to see why he has not replied to our owls Dumbledore." A stern looking woman with glasses inquired, a look of concern fleeting within her eyes.

"I will send Hagrid then, Professor McGonagall." Dumbledore nodded sagely.

"Is that wise Albus?" McGonagall question, her stern look melting away into outright fear.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life." Dumbledore only twinkled.

Back at the hotel

Harry out right kicked the door to room 301, peeling it off its hinges; Harry stepped into the room, dirty, tired, angry, and slightly psychotic. "Cynthia, we're going, you're finished." Harry yelled before he realized there was a crumpled mass on the bed.

"OHHHH Hell fucking no!Fat mutha'fucka don' fucked the fuck up!" Harry screamed as he walked over to Cynthia, her face looking something like ground beef. "Shit shit shit." Harry exclaimed as he checked her pulse, finding a faint one, he grabbed the phone, dialed 911, and walked out of the room in a hurry, rushing back to their car he jumped in and hauled ass home.

At a normal looking house on a very normal street

"So you're saying that there were never a Harry Potter living here huh?" A gigantic man inquired as he stared down at a horse faced woman.

"That's right, now leave." She replied, trying to slam the door shut on the rather large man unsuccessfully as he currently had his finger planted firmly against the door.

"This is the Dursley residence, right?" the giant asked again.

"Yes… now LEAVE before my husband gets home from work." The horse-faced women implored. As if on queue, a rather normal looking automobile pulled into the driveway, piloted by a purple-faced man wearing a Grunning's over coat.

"And who are you?" The purple-faced man growled as he excavated himself from his to small car.

"Hagrid, keeper of keys at Hogwarts, I'm here to pick up little Harry. You are Vernon Dursley, and you have Harry. At least, you had better." Hagrid growled, trying to be as intimidating as possible.

"No idea what you are talking about. Be gone freak." Vernon grumbled as he pushed his massive frame past Hagrid, a scowl on his face.

Hagrid could only glare as he stepped back from the door. He knew they had Harry; they must be trying to hide him. He would report to Dumbledore immediately, in the hopes that he could help. "If only I could just burst through this door, but the Ministry would have a field day with it." Hagrid thought as he gripped the portkey Dumbledore had created for him.

In a normal looking apartment in the heart of London

Harry sat at the kitchen table of the apartment he had shared with SM, his elbows against the wood; his fingers slowly massaged his temples, but today was different, as tears streamed from his eyes freely. He had lost the only real father he had ever had, and his only true motherly figure lay in a hospital somewhere.

"Mutha fucka." Harry whimpered, as he wiped at his eyes. "What the fuck am I gonna do? Why God?" He pleaded to the heavens, before spluttering, his mouth filled with a coppery taste.

Harry had never really prayed before, Silver had never really gone to church, but Harry had a pretty good hunch that whatever spirits out there watching him were currently reveling in the pain they had created.

Harry spent the rest of the night waiting at the kitchen table, calling the rest of the harem to attention when they all returned home. He had a lot of explaining to do, and he wanted to do it all at once.

"Girls, I gots us some bad news." His lips twitched, as he bit back tears. "Silvers… hes… hes done got killed." Harry breathed as tears slipped from his eyes. "Cynthia ain't much better either. She's in the hospital."

The resounding gasp from the three women in attendance only solidified the harsh truth, Silver was gone, and he wasn't coming back. His reverie interrupted by Macey, with dark skin and pink lips, she had always been one of the most popular girls in the stable, "So what we gonna do?" fear obvious in her eyes.

"I'ma kill the mutha fucka's who did Silver, and the fat fuck who took out Cynthia is gonna get a real nice surprise visit from me." Harry growled, steeling his resolve to become the new Pimp King.

"Harry, you don't even have a name yet, this isn't going to work." Victoria, was a blonde with a vocabulary as large as her chest, Harry never knew why she didn't get a regular job.

"I got's my name trick!" Harry shouted, "I ain't gonna take no mo' shit. The street's are gonna damn well know, King Magick done come to claim his throne, I'm the heir to Silver's dynasty, and I'm gonna lay down a new law." His voice strong, steely, and filled with malice, he was truly an intimidating sight at the moment, for a boy so young.

That was the day Harry Potter died, and King Magick was borne. No longer was he Silvers sidekick, he ran the streets now, and he wasn't going to take what happened lying down. He knew, if someone didn't pay for what happened to Silver and Cynthia, he wouldn't be accepted as the new King, as he would be viewed weak, so he began with the bottom, and started searching for the ones who caused him so much grief.

The general population of thugs who didn't take King Magick seriously, found he was a force to be reckoned with on a stormy night only a week from after SM had passed away. As Harry sat in the Cadillac, only a few feet away from his harem as they huddled under an umbrella in skimpy out fits, he noticed a small red sports car pull up.

Taking note that Macey had approached the car, he abstained from counting his money, and watched in fascination as she began the verbal dance to finalize a deal. He couldn't hear here, but he knew all the same, it was nothing but innuendo, double speak, and prices.

Then it happened, the stupid bastard in the little red sports car tried to yank her in through the window, and Harry was out of the Cadillac in a flash. The flash couldn't have moved faster then Harry at that moment. His hand intertwining with the brass knuckles he used as a belt buckle, he was at the drivers side door of the car within moments, smashing his hand in-between Macey and into the face of her assailant.

Macey staggered back, a small cut over her cheek where the man had cut her with a razor blade, fear in her eyes. "Oh hell mutha fucken no!" Harry screeched as he yanked the man out of the car window, pummeling him repeatedly in the head with the brass knuckles clutched firmly in his grip. "No Mutha Fucka! It don't be working like that!" The man was dazed and on the floor, blood pouring from the wounds on his head, but Harry wouldn't stop. He began stomping the man repeatedly, kicking, and punching him as he lay on the ground. He couldn't even cuss coherently any more, it sounded something like "Mutha; fish; dick suckin; mutha trick;"

After Harry finally got his frustrations out on the man, he backed off, taking a moment to wipe the blood off of his hands on a clean piece of cloth on the John's shirt. "Now then mutha fucka." Harry spat, as he tried to straighten his suit. "Get back in this mutha fucken car." He growled as he yanked the man up by his collar and threw him in sports car. The man tried struggling a bit, but Harry slapped him, ending his revolt. "Give me this mutha fuckin wallet." Harry continued, yanking the mans wallet out of the passenger seat, "Now don't let me see you round these parts no more, or next time, I will kill ya. Bitch ass mutha fucka." Harry then slammed the door shut, and watched as the man peeled out of there swerving down the road.

"God damn mutha fuckin weirdos, how come these bitches can't just pay they money, get they dick sucked, and get the fuck outa here." Harry muttered to himself as he walked over to Macey, inspected her wounds, and then sent her back to work, after reassuring her that he was there to take care of her.

Harry could only smile as he walked past the cop car he had ran past when the John had attacked Macey, the cop only nodded as Harry gave him a curt wave, and then motioned for Victoria to give the officer a freebie. Harry knew, to really run the streets, he had to not only keep the John's, gangstas, and other pimps happy, he had to keep the cops happy to, and with Harry starting to make waves in the way things are done, keeping the cops happy was going to be a big part of his plan.

Albus Dumbledore was mad, madder then he had ever been before. "So Mr. Dursley, you are telling me, you have no idea what I am talking about when I speak of a Mr. Potter…?"

"That's right, never heard of him." Vernon Dursley replied, blissfully unaware that as he spoke to this barmey old man, the most powerful wizard alive was probing his mind.

"Mr. Dursley." Dumbledore took a breath to gather his thoughts before he killed this man, "I know what you did. As it is, I am currently unable to kill you."

Mr. Dursley visibly stiffened, as the old man sighed.

"As much pleasure as I would get out of it, I have nothing left to do but to find Harry, as I would do much less good for him if I were in Azkaban." Dumbledore continued, ignoring the look of fear and puzzlement on Vernon's face.

"How do you know he is even alive then, huh?" Vernon ventured, courage bolstered by the news that Dumbledore couldn't kill him.

"You sir, are to stupid to understand." Dumbledore spat as he stood up, a slightly surprised look on his face as the door to the Dursley residence flew open, a very flustered looking women with bubblegum pink hair stood in the doorway, he mouth gaping like a fish.

"SIR! Professor Dumbledore!" She breathed; her lungs gasping for air, as she must have ran a very long way, because the apparition wards were still intact around the house.

"Yes my dear Nymphadora?" Dumbledore serenely inquired?

Nymphadora Tonks visibly scowled at the use of her first name, before straightening herself, drawing in a large breath of air, and then blurting out, "Sir. I think we found him."

"Really?" Dumbledore and Vernon inquired in unison. Vernon received a scowl from both Nyphadora and Albus for his troubles. "Where is he?" Albus questioned, anxiety filling his voice.

"That's the bad news." Tonks continued, "See, he had a run in with some dark wizards, we don't know what happened." Her face visibly fell as she informed Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of all time, that his charge might well be dead.

"Take me to the scene." Dumbledore pressed.

"Port key." Tonks confirmed as Dumbledore reached out testily to the small shoe, anger evident on his features.

As they arrived inside a small hotel room, Dumbledore immediately noticed the white chalk marks visible in the bathroom. "Harry?" He asked, pointing in the room.

"No, just some panderer." Tonks eased Dumbledore temporarily, "Harry was right here, but let me show you." Tonks immediately reached into her pocket pulling a small pink stone, placing it into the middle of the room, she stepped back against the wall, allowing Albus room to accompany her.

Albus Dumbledore had been to many crime scenes in his day, but very few were ever high profile enough to use the recall stones. The recall stones channeled the aura's of all individuals in the room from a certain point forward, allowing you to watch a "ghost" type creature reenact every thing that happened from the last point of high magickal use.

Albus knew a true dark wizard would cast wards to prevent the stones from tracking them, so it came as no surprise as he saw two hollow silhouettes, one with a knife sticking out of its leg, while another cast a spell on a ghostly visage of a young man with a rather lightning bolt shaped energy rift on his forehead.

"See Albus?" Tonks whispered, as she pointed at the boy. "I do believe that would be Harry, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, but…" Albus gasped as he watched the young boy leap out the window, then the energy faded, obviously the attackers had apparated.

"Don't worry." Tonks placed a hand on Albus' shoulder, "No body was found, and we believe he landed on the awning just outside the window."

"Well, that is definitely news, though whether this is good or bad, I cannot say yet." Albus sighed as his mind churned over what little information he had.

"Well, at least he is alive, right?" Tonks offered, confused at Dumbledores reaction.

"Perhaps, but it leaves many questions unanswered, most importantly, why is he still alive?" at the incredulous look coming from Tonks he continued, "He is the boy who lived, and he just had a brush in with two very powerful dark wizards, yet, he made it out again."

"I guess I see your point." Tonks nodded.

Dumbledore felt at least 100 years older as he began to walk out of the room, his left hand occasionally rumored, the affects of stress beginning to take its toll on his aging body.

Another year passed, with no sign of the boy-who-lived, the magickal world was in chaos. There were many questions, and few answers on why the child was not at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore was under pressure to find Harry. Little did he know that Harry was currently cavorting with a member of the magickal community at the very moment Dumbledore was attempting to explain to the Wizengamot why Harry was not present at Hogwarts.

It was rare that Harry laughed, since he had transformed himself into "King Magick", but he felt particularly comfortable around the odd man who showed up every Wednesday. He always smelled like whiskey and cigarettes, but he always paid cash and had a new joke for Harry.

Though Harry thought he had a strange name, Ol' Fletch as Harry had come to call him was nonetheless, a wonderful customer. He showed up, paid Harry in full up front, spent his 35 minutes with Macey, and then told a quick joke and was gone until the next Wednesday. It was like clockwork, and Ol Fletch always kept King Magick's palms greased with crisp new pound notes.

That was all that ruled Harry's life, the mighty pound note. He was raking in the money, and with Cynthia back in the stable and out of the hospital, Harry felt like his life was fairly complete. He had a little revenge to get on with, but at that point in his life, he was fairly content with his new title.

At the ministry of magick

"Prostitution is illegal Fletch." Tonks chastised the old wizard as he sat in her cubicle in enchanted handcuffs. "We can't keep bailing you out, the only way we can get you off, is if you turn in your panderer."

"Now, I can't be doing that." Fletch grumbled.

"If you DON'T do that Fletch, they are gonna put your ass in Azkaban!" Tonks yelped as she slammer her hands onto her desk.

"They can just put me there then, I ain't putting old KM in the slammer just because of the Minister." Fletch hissed defiantly.

"Then we have no choice, you will be forced to help us." Tonks lamented as she called in two other guards to administer a potion to fletch. She had always hated this part of the job, but if she didn't sacrifice Fletchs panderer, she could truly ruin her ability to function as an agent of the Order of the Phoenix, where her true heart lay.

Harry's Apartment

Something was wrong, Harry lay in bed wide-awake, he could smell trouble, and it wasn't the three women in bed with him currently. "Shit." Harry cursed as he rolled out of bed and reached into his dresser drawer. His fingers curled around the grip of a machete, as he placed a small pistol into the pocket of the shorts he pulled over his naked bottom. Harry was loath to discharge the pistol, as all firearms are HIGHLY illegal in Britain.

"Harry?" Cynthia whispered as she noticed Harry removing the weapons from their hiding spots.

"Shut up bitch." Harry hissed as he slowly opened the door to the hallway, taking a small peek. His heart felt as though it would burst from his chest as he realized there were at least seven intruders in his home slowly making their way towards his bedroom door.

"Fuck this shit." Harry thought to himself as he withdrew the handgun from his pocket and slowly cocked the hammer with his thumb. His index finger deftly removed the safety, as he waited for any sound that the intruders where in front of his door. A small scuffing sound alerted him to the presence of someone standing before his door.

TAT TAT TAT!

Bullets burst from his pistol in quick succession, his fully automatic pistol splintering the door into many pieces before Harry through the gun to the ground and rushed into the hallway swinging his machete, the clip now empty on his weapon. Then, like before, there was nothingness. He was completely floating and his mind was arguing with itself about whether or not to drop the machete.

Harry never really believed in God, but he certainly knew there was a higher power that was looking out for him that day, and no matter what you said, he would never deny the fact that SOMEONE was looking out for him that night. He would also have to say, the next time he finds himself in mortal combat, he will certainly wear more then boxer shorts to a fight.

"Gad damn it's cold." Harry cursed as he sat up right on the hard marble floor of a strange room. "Where the fuck am I?" He wondered as he noticed the glass window and heavy wood door that adorned the walls in the room.

"Shit, I done got arrested." He cursed again, just as the door opened to reveal a rather pretty looking young women in a police uniform, but her bubblegum pink hair is what surprised Harry.

"Ugh, I hate these guys." Tonks groaned inwardly as she stepped into the room. "Always the same, they get picked up, pulled in here in their underwear, and then I have to explain to them they were on drugs and ended up arrested. Stupid Fletch. Ugh, he's grinning at me."

"Hullo'." Harry grinned as he stared at the pretty officer. "How do you do?"

"Fine." Tonks growled, doing her best impression of the tough cop. "I have a few questions for you."

"Ask away love." Harry smirked, as he leaned back in his seat, his feet up on the table. "I have all the time in the world. Though, I want a lawyer."

"Done." Tonks grumbled as she motion towards the glass, and then the door opened revealing a rather tall woman with bushy brown hair and slightly bucky teeth. "This is Patricia Granger, she will be your lawyer." Tonks scowled.

"Hello Mr."

"Stevenson." Harry finished for her.

"Of course." Patricia smiled.

"My client, Mr. Stevenson will not be answering any questions, and furthermore, your methods of obtaining an arrest warrant is suspect. If within one hour, you cannot come up with a signed statement by a Mr. Fletch that he has been purchasing "Prostitutes", from Mr. Stevenson, then Mr. Stevenson is free to leave."

"Wammo." Harry snickered at the look on Tonk's face.

An hour later, Harry was strutting his way out the front door to freedom, wearing a hat and long jacket issued by the Police. "Allow me sir." Harry laughed as he opened the door for a strange looking old man, wearing bright billowy clothing and a pointy hat.

"What a nice young man." The elderly gentlemen mused as he bowed and entered the foyer.

"Albus!" A dark skinned officer grinned as he shook hands with the elderly man. "What brings you here old friend?"

"I have come because of Tonks, she wishes to speak to me." Albus continued, "Ah, there she is! Good speaking to you Shacklebolt, see you soon."

"You to Albus." Shacklebolt laughed.

Tonks looked flustered as she walked up to Dumbledore, her face slightly pink and her normal bubblegum hair was a sickly green. "If you could Albus, could you come with me? I think we found Harry."

"Wonderful!" Albus clapped as he walked with Tonks to her cubicle. "As you can see from these records, any of these three boys could be Harry, from what we have seen." Tonks explained as she handed Dumbledore a small stack of pictures.

"No, sadly, none of these boys have his aura, or his parents aura. It is a rare aura, that I would recognize on sight." Dumbledore nodded sagely.

"Well, if you say so." Tonks sighed as she cast the pictures into a drawer.

Dumbledore picked up a small manila envelope off Tonks desk, opening it to the picture of a young man without a shirt grinning with a plate with numbers under his face. "It couldn't be." Dumbledore assured himself as he watched the thick green aura convoluted around the body of the boy.

"That is some panderer we tried to put behind bars, damnedest kid I ever saw, he's like…"

"Twelve or Thirteen." Dumbledore finished for her.

"Yea." Tonks confirmed, a confused look on her face. "He's a pimp out in a seedy part of London though, we know he is, but we can't get him on it."

Dumbledores face fell as he listened to Tonks. Could Lily' and James son be a… a… panderer? "Where is this boy now?" Dumbledore inquired.

"He just left." Tonks grumbled.

"Wait." Dumbledore raised his hand, the rusty cogs in his brain spinning as he remembered the young man opening the door for him, the green aura around him convoluted like James and Lily'. Dumbledore burst from his seat, his hips popping like firecrackers as he rushed towards the entrance to the Ministry, the door burst open and he flung his head outside, scanning the sidewalks.

Two Days Later

THWACK! The blow staggered Harry as he stumbled forward, a few drops of blood dripping from the crack in his scalp. "This is not my god damn week." He thought as he landed on his knees.

"Listen ya little shit, ya'r to young to run these streets, and we gonna take care of you." The random thug laughed as he and his two cohorts beat Harry mercilessly, leaving him to awake in a gutter.

"Mutha…" Harry spluttered as he pulled himself with his hands out of the alley into the street before passing out again.

His head was killing him and he couldn't feel his right leg, but by the sound of the voice of the men next to his bed, he must be pretty fucked up.

"Albus…"

Their speech was to garbled for Harry's ears for him to understand, but he caught small snippets about a school and about himself. "I wish they would shut the fuck up." He screamed in his head, a dull haze surrounding him, and they did.

"Albus, how can you be sure this is him?" A stern looking women hissed just outside a hospital room. "He is… he's a street animal." She sniffled.

"Minerva, that is no way to speak of young Harry." Albus Dumbledore smiled serenely. "We have found him, and that is what matters my dear lady."

"But Albus, if it is true, he is a… a… well, you know what he is! It's dreadful, I cannot even say it, and it dishonors the Potter's name." Tears openly streamed from her eyes in her grief.

"If this is true headmaster, I for one vote not to allow Potter into Hogwarts." The greasy man sneered, with a grim look of satisfaction behind his eyes.

"Now now Severus, there will be no problem with young Harry attending Hogwarts." Dumbledore laughed. "I'm just so glad we found him."

"Blah." Harry groaned as he sat up in bed, his head pounding. "Who the fuck are you?" He hissed as he realized there was a strangely dressed man with greasy hair next to his bed.

"I am Professor Snape." The greasy man replied snarkily. "I am just here to make sure you don't die before you can wake up. We have much to talk about."

"Right…" Harry smiled as he assessed his injuries, his leg still didn't work right.

"Drink this." Snape grumbled as he handed a silver flask to Harry. "It's not poison, if I wanted to kill you, I would have already."

"Thanks." Harry replied as he chugged the fluid, it burned like fire and felt like it was eating through his intestines. "Good shit." He laughed, without even a cough.

Snape only arched an eyebrow as Harry began to pull himself out of bed and gather his belongings. "Where are you going?"

"Business." Replied Harry.

"Of course." Snape scowled as he followed Harry out of the room and down the stairs, past the receptionist and across the street.

"Stop following me git." Harry growled

"I can't leave you, orders you know." Snape hissed back.

"Fuck you." Harry replied, hoping to scare the man off to no avail.

Eventually Harry found his way to his apartment, and made straight for his car. After checking the trunk for something, he hopped into the convertible vehicle only to realize greasy had gotten into his back seat, and now there was an old man sitting next to him.

"I always loved a good car ride." Albus Dumbledore squealed.

"I am going fucking nuts." Harry whimpered as he shook his head and started the motor. "Absolutely fucking bonkers."

"So, where are we go- OOOF" Dumbledore exclaimed as Harry flipped the switch to his hydraulics, the classic convertible Cadillac bouncing to the rhythm of Harry's pounding music.

"You know, I feel pretty fuckin good." Harry shouted over the crescendo of crashing bass, "What ever greasy there gave me, was some good shit."

"You will be feeling it in the morning, I assure you." Snape replied matter of factually, an expression that simply shouted unamused on his face. "I do believe some of your injuries will be permanent."

"Fuck it… It ain't nothing but a thang." Harry laughed sarcastically, his grin turning to grim determination as he began limping out of the vehicle, having arrived at their destination.

"Perhaps, the effects will become more noticeable sooner." Snape smiled as he watched Harry drag his leg towards the boot of the car.

"What exactly do you plan to accomplish here Harry?" Dumbledore smiled at Harry before gripping lightly at the door as the hydraulics purged and the car lowered to the ground.

"My name is King Magick old man, and I'm here to take care of business." KM replied grimly

"I do believe Severus will be accompanying you then, and I shall wait here." Dumbledore smiled as he watched Harry withdraw a rather wicked looking baseball bat with nails in it.

"Ugh." Severus sighed as he excavated himself from the back seat of the Cadillac. "I hate being a baby sitter."

"Fuck off mate." Harry sing songed as he used the bat as a walking cane, navigating his way towards the house they had pulled up to.

"I take it you plan to get revenge for what was done to you… correct?" Snape inquired, his face devoid of emotion.

"That's right." Harry confirmed.

"Well, if I was Minerva, I would discuss with you how revenge is wrong, and we should live and let live." Snape nodded in contemplation.

"Really?" Harry scratched his chin as he thought about that.

"I'm not Minerva, don't get any blood on my robes you little heathen." Snape shrugged as he kicked the door open to the small apartment.

"KNOCK KNOCK MUTHER FUCKERS!" Harry bellowed as he limped into the room behind Snape, his weapon dull with rust under the harsh electric lights.

"Oi! Its that little shit!" One of the thugs who had beaten Harry screamed as he tipped out of his chair.

"That's right it is!" Harry laughed as he hobbled past Snape, swinging his makeshift mace like an ace. "I've come for a little retribution."

"As much as I hate young Harry here, he certainly knows how to have a good time." Snapes revelry was interrupted by the sickening thud of bat and nail colliding with flesh. "Oh yes… a wonderful time."

SLAM!

POP!

THWOM!

SQUISH! "Oh my… that sounds delightfully awful…" Snape grinned, as much as he hated baby sitting, he rather LOVED watching this crippled disgraceful half-blood pimp beat people silly.

CRACK! "I do believe I soiled my knickers after that one." He grinned to himself as he watched Harry scream some creative profanity at his previous attackers.

"I think this ones dead." Harry finally interrupted Snape, as he prodded the man with his stick.

"Ah yes, he was the squishy one." Snape grinned.

"Right." Harry confirmed.

"Well, that's it then, lets go." Snape returned to his normal clammy self.

"Right-o." Harry grinned as he hobbled out of the room following Snape, slowly whistling the tune of Still Fly, an American rap song by Big Tymers.

"So, did you accomplish your goals?" Dumbledore questioned, his face serene.

"I would say so." Harry laughed as he took his blood soaked coat off and tossed it into the gutter, with his bat. "Let's go get something to eat, courtesy of…" Harry opened the strange wallet, gazing at the id within. "Bernard, he really wants us to go run up his credit cards to, so lets go party."

"Harry, we wish to discuss something with you." Dumbledore confided as they sat eating at a small diner. "I wish to educate you."

"Do what? You old piece of shit, are you implying I'm indignant?" Harry proclaimed.

"You mean, ignorant." Snape corrected.

"Fuck you." Harry smirked.

"Harry, you're a wizard." Dumbledore explained.

"I'm a what?" Harry gaped.

"A wizard Harry, I can help you understand your life, your parents, everything." Dumbledore implored. "Think Harry, haven't you ever done something you can't explain?"

"Hmm." Harry thought, "Well, one time I ended up on the roof of a building when I was younger, because I was running from some thugs."

"See Harry?" Dumbledore continued, "Anything strange, all the odd things in your life, I can bring full circle to you."

"Yea, I see what you're talking about." Harry stroked his chin. "One problem though."

"What is that Potter?" Grease ball sneered.

"I isn't talking to you." Harry hissed.

"Listen you little piece of…" Snape was cut off by a wave of Dumbledores hand.

"What the fuck is your dysfunction?" Harry growled.

Snape only stared after making eye contact with Dumbledore.

Harry scowled, obviously putting up mental shields sub consciously as his face became unreadable. "Look, I am established, homies."

"What do you mean Harry?" Dumbledores face etched in confusion.

"I got a presence, I am the hood." Harry nodded, an almost sage like wisdom shining behind his eyes. Harry stood then, "Look, get in contact with me in a few days, give me some time to think."

"I will do that Harry." Dumbledore confirmed, as he watched Harry turn to leave. "Take care."

"You to old man." Harry waved as he left.

"Severus?" Dumbledore inquired after Harry had left.

"Yes Head Master?" Snape asked.

"What is homies?" Dumbledore asked.

"I think it is a type of sexually transmitted muggle disease." Snape grinned inwardly.

"Remind me to take Harry past St. Mungo's for a routine check up before we let him loose at the school." Dumbledore thought out loud.

"Yes sir." Snape grinned.