A/N: Round 2! And here we go, please leave reviews, preferably not of the flame type.

Disclaimer: Do we actually have to even put this? Naturally Harry Potter is not mine...

Chapter 1: Intentions

Sitting in his office in early July, Minister Fudge was rather torn. On one hand his smear campaign against Dumbledore and Harry Potter and been working rather brilliantly. He had even done a little jig of delight last week when Dumbledore had been striped of his title as Chief Mugwump of the ICW in their July session.

"Only a month and already the world is turning on Dumbledore!" Fudge thought gleefully.

His replacement, however, was not acting how the Supreme Mugwump in Fudge's utopic dream world would. The influential German Hans Muller had been elected in Dumbledore's stead, and while Fudge did not have any particular problems with him per se, Muller's strong sense of justice had brought an unfortunate issue to play that Fudge would have much rather ignored: Sirius Black.

As Muller's first action in office was to press for greater international cooperation in capturing dangerous criminals by creating a binding bounty system where ICW cleared agents could work across borders to, as Muller had but it, "capture ze darkest end moost heinous criminals".

Fudge thought this was all well and good but was not particularly happy that Muller had decided to make Sirius Black his poster child case by offering a massive 2,500,000-galleon award for his capture.

"Thank Merlin I have control of the Prophet' Fudge thought 'or this would have been terrible press like the World Cup all over again"

Fudge let out a long sigh and lay back in his chair.

"Can't have everything in life I suppose."

Lockleap was sitting in his office in Gringotts Cairo as the official ICW missive he had been waiting for came through. The ICW was using Gringotts as the intermediary for the bounty hunters, as Gringotts already had the required logistics set up. Gringotts goblins were quite happy about the profits these new arrangements with the ICW would earn, they would be keeping retainer fees and charging fees on the bounties. Lockleap opened up the missive and read the official contract that would be sent out to the bounty hunters, or 'Independent Hit Wizards' as they generally liked to be known.

The International Confederation of Wizards officially issues a warrant on July 8th 1995 for the capture of the heinous criminal responsible for betraying the British Ancient and Noble House of Potter to Lord Voldemort circa October 31st, 1981 and the murder of a number of muggles in London on November 1st in the same year.

The criminal's full name is Sirius Orion Black. He escaped the British prison of Azkaban through unknown dark means. A recent picture has been attached. Little is known about his whereabouts, all that is known is he is extremely unstable and dangerous.

The capturer of the perpetrator of above stated crimes will be rewarded with 2,500,000 galleons (before Gringotts fees) and given ICW priority access to future bounties. Fifty percent of the prize will be deducted if brought in dead rather than alive.

By accepting this contract you will be given access to all ICW member nations (for full list see article 7, section II of the ICW charter) without visa and registration requirements using the attached magical badge and authority to operate under ICW laws in said member nations. Additionally the badge will give you access to all files needed and clearance to interview anyone that may potentially help your case so long as covered in Article 42 section IX parts A-G of the ICW legal charter. Attached is further legal information for your further reading explaining your jurisdiction, limitations,, and responsibilities. Also included are guidelines on turning in the criminal should you capture him and how to collect your reward.

Herr Herbert Muller

Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, Senior advisor in the German Ministry of Magic

As Lockleap perused the letter he thought deeply about the files on potential bounty hunters he had read. As the test case in a possibly highly profitable venture, Lockleap has great responsibility in choosing whom to send the contract out to. As one of the Managing Directors of Gringotts Cairo Lockleap had great experience with a number of what most ICW representatives would term "unsavory" characters, ranging from professional Creature Hunters, Cursebreakers, and general hired muscle. He realized that the contract recipients must be chosen carefully, these contracts bestowed quite a bit of power and if the silly humans who received them managed to bollocks things up by abusing their power Gringotts would probably lose the contract. This would lead to Gringotts management having Lockleap's head for losing such a profitable venture, and Lockleap did not mean this figuratively. Gringotts management was particularly violent when it came to loss of profit.

Lockleap rolled his tongue as he looked through the files of the prospective contractors. Specifically one file; he had already settled on ten men and women, mostly ex-law enforcement types with a few Creature Hunters and a Cursebreaker thrown in, who had some prior experience with bounty hunting before.

The last file he was considering was the one that troubled him. This one had a much shorter record than most others he was considering, but it was a rather spectacular record in creature hunting, bounty hunting, and even some cursebreaking. Further digging as to why the files record was so short had shown a rather surprising fact that was the only reason Lockleap had not already confirmed the prospect as a recipient.

Lockleap flipped through a number of papers and came upon a short but strongly worded recommendation for the prospect from a Gringotts manager in New Delhi.

"Good enough for me, then."

Lockleap thought as he slowly put the file with the other 10 he had already decided on.

"Besides, his age is be plenty old enough for work, humans coddle their young too much." Lockleap contemplated as he prepared to send out the contracts.

Miles away, at Privet Drive, Surrey, a certain teenager was laying on his bed in the smallest bedroom of a very common two story home. Harry Potter had just finished showing after another day of gardening and housework and was popping the blisters on his hands with a needle he had nicked from the Dursley's bathroom. Harry Potter was also quite cranky. Now most teenage boys would be quite cranky after having done fairly difficult chores and gardening work non-stop for weeks. Harry was not like most teenage boys; rather he probably was nearly nothing like any other teenage boy. For one, he was actually enjoying the mundane work being forced upon him. It was keeping his mind off a number of inconvenient facts, like how he had witnessed a schoolmate murdered in front of him, been apart of a dark ritual to revive his parents murderer, and now said murderer was undoubtedly after him.

"I just get to sit here, with no information from the outside world, while a raving lunatic is after me. Thanks Dumbledore." Harry growled softly before rolling over.

"And for good measure my "friends" haven't even written me."

Harry popped up from his bed and stretched his back, shaking his head trying to clear his thoughts.

"I wonder what the look on Vernon and Petunia's face would be if I went down and asked for more work," Harry thought to himself. "Then again, considering how much work I've been doing I doubt there is any left I could do."

With a frustrated groan Harry fell backwards back onto his bed, no idea just how the innocent wording of a certain document would cause some major shifts in his life.

Deep in the jungles of the Congo, a Gringotts Transfer Box hummed with magic as it delivered its contents. Or it hummed to the only occupant of the tent, who was one of very few who would actually be able to tell you that the box had hummed. That sort of magical perception, while not unheard of, was still rare. The occupant looked at the box with eyes that swirled with brown, hazel, blue and grey. Ignoring the box and slipping on his boots and he finished off his preparations by slipping on his wand holsters and grabbing his two sheathed swords that were leaning against a chair. There was work to be done now. He silently slipped out of the tent into the darkness beyond.

Chapter 2: Moonlit Hunting

Slipping out of the tent, the man strode silently towards a few men congregated on the outskirts of the village. No one noticed his presence until he was only a few yards away, when the shortest member of the four-person group looked up.

"Still trying to scare the daylights out of us Xander? Well, too bad because we are finally getting used to your damn stealth. How you do it I haven't the faintest but would have loved those skills in my school days to peak on the birds in the locker rooms." Said the man jovially.

"Mind keeping that brain off the birds tonight, Jim?" said Xander, purposefully ignoring the rest of Jim's rant.

Jim Mytreus was a rather loud South African in his late 30s who stood about medium height with a barrel chest. He was also rather good at his job, which was why he was here tonight. Xander then turned the three others in the group.

"Anwar, Bekele, Dakarai, are we ready?" The three African tribesmen nodded in affirmation.

"Yes Andikan" one of them, Bekele, replied in his native tongue.

Xander grinned to himself at the name the African tribesman referred to him by, which means "conqueror" in Bantu. Xander was not really sure just how he had picked up the name, trying to figure out what exact action had led to three of the strongest hunters in the local magical tribe to name him so. Maybe it was the fact he had beaten them all in a friendly spar a few weeks prior.

Xander smiled, "They had that beating coming, I may be young but still no reason to be underestimated," he thought.

Xander wasn't even his name either. Alexander Joseph Brennus was the odd combination of symbols that formed his name, or at least he was reasonable confident it was. Certain circumstances of his past meant he wasn't completely certain, but he was close enough. "Xander" was the name he used in Creature Hunting circles, and was a reasonable derivation of his full name that he did not feel odd responding to it.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Xander followed Jim as they headed into the Congolese jungle.

"Eyes and ears open chaps, let's make it back home to camp safe and sound one last time" Jim growled out. Jim's demeanor had changed from jovial to dead serious as soon as they entered the jungle. The dangers in the jungle were great, and they had already had a number of narrow escapes.

"Circe help us if we run into a Nundu," Xander thought as he softly followed behind Jim, keeping his senses on alert. Anwar was currently taking the lead, trying to find a sign of the beasts they hunted, while Bekele and Dakarai followed at the back of the party.

The jungle at night was a trying place on the senses. There was no silence, rather a steady cascade of small noises that constantly made the party flinch and spin around. Wind rushing through trees, small animals moving through bushes, and trickling water were just a few of the numerous sounds that surrounded the party as they moved through the foliage. After 45 minutes of traveling deeper and deeper into the jungle, Xander felt a prickle upon his senses and froze, turning to his right. The rest of the party, respecting immediately stopped as well.

"Got something? What direc..." Jim hissed until he was cut off by Xander's raised hand.

Jim then signaled Anwar back silently. Xander motioned towards Bekele and Dakarai to follow. Jim was an excellent Creature Hunter, but the experience Bekele and Dakarai had at moving silently through the jungle would serve them much better here. Xander drew his wand and unsheathed one of his swords, an ancient looking gladius style sword covered in runes. The trio moved across a few fallen trees, through a pair of ferns, and finally crawled upon a large boulder about 30 feet from where they split off from Jim and Anwar. From their perch they could see, in a small clearing, what they had been looking for: Tebo.

The group quickly reconvened.

"How many?" Jim quickly asked, seeing the look on Xander, Bekele, and Dakarai's faces.

"Eight, five males, three females…males are massive, at least the size of an Ox," Xander quickly responded.

Jim and Anwar both paled. Tebo were not quite in the league of dragons, nundu, or basiliks, but they were still some of the most dangerous creatures to hunt. Giant warthogs with razor sharp tusks, their hides were tough and spell resistant. To top it off, they could magically make themselves nearly invisible. In the local tribes it was considered an honor if two hunters themselves took down a single full grown Tebo.

"The danger is great Andikan…very very great," murmured Bekele.

"We are only two away from our contract quota, and we still have six days…" Jim said quickly.

Xander was barely listening, however, as he was already formulating a plan

"Oh Merlin, I know that look, we are going after the buggers aren't we," moaned Jim.

"We'll take a vote as always, but I have a plan." Xander said quickly. "More of a general idea…but they don't need to know that," he added to himself.

"Explain." Anwar replied quietly.

"Well, how's everyone's transfiguration?"

The group was loosely spread around the clearing, surrounding the small pack of Tebo. The Tebo were so far unaware of the group's presence; a few had taken to lying down while the rest were grazing. Xander's plan was simple; at Jim's signal (he had the best view from atop the boulder) they would transfigure walls around the Tebo, trapping them in.

Xander adjusted his wand and took a deep breath, calming his thoughts. A clear owl hoot streaked through the night and Xander began quickly muttering under his breath and swishing his wand. A 20-foot tall wall quickly formed out of the soil and mud at the edge of the clearing. Once completed, Xander transfigured the wall into solid granite for good measure. Xander's skill bordered upon what some would call prodigious; the entire process took less than five seconds.

Xander quickly peered around. Though the rest of the group's transfigurations were not of the same caliber of his, they would do the job

"Show off," muttered Jim as he joined Xander, clutching his knees and gasping for breath. "Thorough" Xander replied quietly. Jim had also made an earthen wall, about 15 feet high and reinforced with a few logs he had integrated to prevent its collapse.

The pair then walked over to Anwar and Dakurai. The pair were gassed and on their knees but grinning madly. They had combined efforts to transfigure the last portion of the wall, changing the grasses of the clearing into massive wood posts and growing them to be 25 feet tall. It was an impressive display of magic, but clearly both were spent.

"What are you two smiling so much about," barked Jim.

"Capturing eight Tebo a great honor for our tribe," responded Anwar, "We shall be celebrated for days when we returned," he finished as Dakarai nodded beside him. He then shifted his gaze across the clearing and waved.

Xander and Jim turned and saw Bekele jogging, practically skipping, towards them, oblivious to his surroundings. He had been on lookout duty during while the others focused on their casting. Suddenly he stumbled, and a piercing scream cut through the jungle night.

"Shit!" Xander cursed as he began sprinting over to Bekele, Jim following close behind.

"Careful, let's not get ourselves taken by whatever got him" Jim called out from behind.

They closed the gap in seconds only to find a frightening sight. Bekele was on the ground, clutching his a leg, eyes wide in terror. Across from him a massive 18 foot long Ashwinder was rearing and hissing, preparing for another strike.

Jim froze in fear, muttering, "Oh Merlin and mother of all that is magical," before letting out a stream of curses that would have made the drunkest sailor blush.

Xander never stopped moving. With fluid movement he quickly drew the Japanese katana on his back with his right hand and slashed it in unison with the wand in his left.

Most wizarding cultures had long abandoned swords and other weapons for solely using wands. The old War Arts that combined magic and sword had descended into a thing of myth and legend. They were difficult to master, and as magic had advanced and new spells had been created they had become obsolete. Nevertheless, there were some instances, Xander knew, where the War Arts were unmatched. Sheer cutting power was one of them.

The cutting spell connected with the enormous snake mid-hiss, slicing it cleanly in half lengthwise. The spell did not stop, however, and cut through a dozen small plants and a rotten stump before finally hitting a thick tree, leaving a long deep gash along its trunk.

"Circe! That must have gone 30 yards. Never seen something like…never even heard of a cutting spell like that for Merlin's sake!" Jim exclaimed as he stared in awe.

Jim and Xander quickly hurried over to Bekele. Anwar and Dakarai, who both became very pale when they saw Bekele, soon joined them. "Damn!" Xander cursed.

Bekele was barely holding onto consciousness. He had been bitten just above the ankle and the wound licked with magical fire from the Ashwinder venom. A charred skin was steadily spreading up his leg.

"We need to cut it," Jim said grimly. "Fast."

"Stun him," replied Xander, who then turned towards Anwar and Dakarai and explained what they were about to do.

Xander sheathed his Japanese sword and switched it for the ancient gladius. Jim straightened Bekele's leg.

"Sword looks a bit dull…simple spellwork might be better here," said Jim with a questioning look. "See the runes? Makes it so the sword can only be messed with by really powerful magic. Hoping it will help against the venom." Xander replied. Jim nodded and bent Bekele's other leg back so it wouldn't be in the way.

"You cut, I'll be ready to close it up," Jim said gruffly. Jim had picked up some Healing skills from a brother who worked in a magical hospital in Johannesburg. Xander lifted the sword, and aimed carefully, then nodded to Jim. The blade came down quickly, shearing the leg off just below the knee in spurt of blood. Jim worked quickly to staunch the bleeding and seal the wound.

"Bugger!" Jim exclaimed, sweat pouring down his forehead. "I'm not skilled enough for this and if we don't get it closed soon he's a goner."

At that moment Anwar managed to snap out of his trance and pulled out a bottle filled with a dark green mud-like substance. "Good for wounds, made of jungle plants," he stammered before rushing over and unceremoniously dumping it all on Bekele's stump.

There was a tense moment before they saw that the bleeding had all but stopped. The wound was a raw, angry red as Jim went over and looked at it. 'Must be sort of like Dittany.' Xander thought to himself.

"No sign of any poison left, I think we made it or at least he's stable enough." Jim sighed in relief.

"Still need to get him to a Healer." Xander said. Ashwinder venom was not stuff you messed around with.

"Aye he should be fine though. I'll Apparate him back to the village and find the Healer." Jim replied. "Think you three can take care of the Tebo?" The trio nodded, in the rush they had nearly forgotten the Tebo that were penned in only a dozen feet away. "Then see you in a bit." Jim said before disappearing with a soft pop.

The Tebo hides needed to be intact to fulfill the Hunting contract, so Xander chucked a well-sealed vial over the wall and heard it break on the other side. The fumes from the potion would knock out the Tebo for at least a few hours. After listening closely for a few minutes and hearing no movement, Xander took down a portion of the wall and the trio went to work.

Due to the magical nature of the Tebo, they couldn't be shrunken whole. The trio went through the bloody work of decapitating each of the Tebo and then skinning their hides. They also cut off each of the tusks, which were also valuable as they were often used as wand cores. After an hour of work the hides had been wrapped and bound. Anwar and Darukai had shrunken the bodies of the Tebo and were packing them away as well.

"Tasty meat," Anwar grinned. "Jerky and stew too," Darukai replied. They were much chattier now that Jim was gone and they could speak in their native tongue, which Xander had picked up enough of to follow along.

As they were finishing up, Xander wandered over to the Ashwinder. It had been a monster specimen, thick as his thigh and sporting an enormous head. Xander could see as the insides of the serpent slowly burned up; the fire magic that had powered the creature in life now consumed it in death. Only the skin was being spared from the flames. "Your kill, Andikan, your spoils," said Darukai as he came to stand beside Xander. Xander nodded, "Help me skin it?"

They both kneeled down and worked carefully to remove the skin without getting burnt. Ashwinder skin was useful; it was extremely fire resistant and tough once treated.

"Could use some new gloves," Xander thought to himself.

Anwar joined them and they had soon completed the task. Xander thanked the pair for their help before they also Apparated back to camp with a series of soft pops. The first rays of the sunrise had just begun to peak over the horizon.

Xander moved about his tent, weary from a night of work. The tent wasn't large by magical standards, but was comfortable. It was laid out like a loft, no separate rooms but containing a bed, desk, kitchen, and sitting area all in one space. A bathroom was through a door between the kitchen area and the bed. Xander propped his swords against a chair by the door, then slipped off his belt, boots, and jacket, all made of dragonhide. Xander then took off his shirt and walked over to the kitchen sink, conscious that he had company.

"Glass of water, Jim?" Xander called out. Jim was standing in the entrance. "Sure."

Jim pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, watching as Xander grabbed a couple glasses and filled them from the sink.

"Ya got a collection of scars that could compete with any I've ever seen," observed Jim.

"Anyone in this kind of work picks up scars, you probably have quite a few yourself," responded Xander as he sat down at the table, sliding a glass over to Jim.

"Aye, but the one on your neck has got to have a story behind it," Jim said as he took a sip.

Xander raised his hand and felt behind his head. A thin scar started just behind his ear and ran to the top of his shoulder. It had been one of his closest calls.

"Picked it up in a cave in India." Xander responded quietly.

Jim leaned back and raised his eyebrows. "I heard you were part of the team that went after some basilisks. Guess that isn't just a rumor, Xander?" The only response Jim got was a shrug. Silence filled the air as the two sipped their waters.

"I don't mean to pry, but just how old are you?" Jim asked softly. Xander looked up at Jim and shrugged the question off again.

"Isn't my business I suppose, and well skill is skill and by Circe you have plenty of that." Jim then downed the rest of his water and stood up.

"Just wanted to let you know, Bekele is going to be fine. I contacted Gringotts to let them know we finished and they are going to pay us our fee and will give us the commission once the Tebo hides are sold. Should be good money for 45 hides."

Xander nodded before Jim continued, "I'm heading home, or well to a pub at least, by the end of the day after a nap, but I just wanted to let you know been a pleasure working with you these last three weeks, and if you ever need a partner for another contract, I'd be more than happy to work with someone skilled enough to take down a Tebo single-handedly as you did more than a few times. Good luck to you and lemme know if ya ever need something."

"I will," Xander promised as he stood up. The two exchanged a handshake and goodbyes before Jim left the tent.

Xander wandered over to a mirror, replaying Jim's words in his mind. Xander's hands started tracing the scars that littered his chest and back. His right hand felt that back of his shoulder, where a small tattoo of an angry war god like Buddha was inked into his skin.

"But just how old are you?" Jim's words echoed in his mind. Sighing, he thought, "I didn't answer not because I didn't know, but because I have no idea."

Xander looked up at the mirror. He was tall, just shy of 6 feet, and slimly built but with extremely defined muscles. Not the kind of muscles that showed through clothes, but built for function over form. With his combination of muscles and scars a neck-down view of Xander would make one think of an older veteran warrior. However, the face did not match that image in the slightest.

"Haven't stopped growing yet, but I have slowed down," Xander muttered to himself.

"So what probably 17 or 18? Maybe 16, maybe 19?" Xander's earliest solid memories were from about 11 years ago, and he guessed he was probably around six, maybe seven, at the time. Memories from before that were very spotty and he didn't try to recall them often, for good reason.

Xander wandlessly summoned a shirt and slipped it on. He then remembered that something had arrived in the Gringotts Transfer box that sat next to his bed and strode over to it. Settling onto his bed Xander quickly skimmed through the packet of files before setting it down next to him.

"Was planning on heading to Europe anyway, and I have never been to Britain before. Gives me as good of reason as any too." Xander thought to himself. Summoning his wand, he quickly set up some wards around his tent before drifting off to sleep.

Harry Potter was sitting down for another dinner in silence at the Durselys' house. His hands throbbed slightly from the work he had done today, pruning the trees in the backyard. He picked silently at his food, a portion pitifully small for what a teenager needs, whilst Dudley hounded down his potatoes. Vernon was ranting again about some issue or another at work. Harry only picked up on a few words: "idiots…failures…can't find good labor these days." In other words, it was a standard Vernon Dursley tirade. Petunia absent-mindedly was agreeing with everything Vernon said; the entire dinner was nearly a carbon copy of every other dinner that summer. Tonight, however, was about to rapidly diverge from the norm.

Nearby, walking through Little Whinging and towards the innocent looking residence at 4 Privet Drive was a rather strange sight for the area. The man was tall, skinny, pale, and dressed in all black. He had a large, aggressively spiked mohawk that contained streaks of crimson. On the back of his head was a skull tattoo accentuated by complex runes in blood red. He sported silver earrings and a black stud on his nose. He was nearly the walking definition of everything the Dursleys would despise. As the man came to his destination on Privet Drive, he purposefully strode towards the door, a strange look somewhere between unbridled glee and reverent prayer crossing his face.

Harry froze at the sound of the explosion. The Dursleys were also completely still, before Vernon snapped out of his trance and bellowed, "The hell!" before standing to peak around a corner towards the front door, where the noise had come from. Harry then heard a scream of Diffindo and saw the spell flash. Vernon, caught by surprise stumbled backwards onto the kitchen table, upending it. Harry acted on instinct and dove behind the table; a whimpering Petunia and Dudley soon joined him.

Vernon sat for a moment, mouth gaping in shock before registering what was going on. Harry Potter knew Vernon was not a brave man. Stupidity and bravery can be confused at times, however, so it didn't completely surprise Harry when Vernon started yelling from his sitting position.

"WHOEVER IN GOD'S NAME YOU ARE GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE, FREAK!" Vernon screamed with impressive volume. He then turned on Harry.

"This is your damn fault and you better fix it! You and your freakishness and your damn freakish kind…" Vernon was promptly cut off mid rant as Harry heard the cry of "Bombarda". A spell flash passed the corner and hit a chair a few feet away, disintegrating it instantly.

"I WOULD BE ABLE TO DO SOMETHING IF YOU HADN'T LOCKED MY DAMN WAND UP!" bellowed Harry over the din as he dragged Vernon behind the upturned table.

Harry knew that the situation was somewhere between "Fall of Atlantis" and "End of the World" bad. Harry was wandless against an unknown assailant who was skipping the soft spells and going straight for deadly curses.

Harry started looking around, desperate for something that could get him out of this situation. He looked up just in time to see the assailant turn to corner. The man looked as if he belonged to some sort of satanic cult.

"Don't worry, I come to free you from the pain of this world," said the assassin with a smile and an accented voice as he raised his wand towards Harry. Harry's heart was in his throat and he his brain seemed to have stalled.

Just as the man began mouthing the spell, Harry heard a yell and saw the telltale red light of the Stunning Spell flash inches from the assailant's Mohawk. The man turned towards the front door and returned fire at this new entrant; clearly annoyed he had been disrupted.

Harry moved without thinking, grabbing a large china plate that lay on the floor and chucking it with all his strength at the Satanist assassin's head. The plate connected right on the man's temple and he instantly crumpled to the ground. An eerie silence settled for in the kitchen before a tall broad chested man came into view. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead and had a number of lacerations on his arms.

"You alright?" he said in a deep baritone, looking at Harry.

"Who are you?" Harry replied somewhat bewildered.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, I'm an auror. Again, are you alright?"

Harry meekly nodded while his mind began to race. The combination of the crazily dressed assassin, the auror who magically seemed know that he was in danger, and the carnage around him, had Harry's brain in overdrive.

"How…" Harry trailed off until he was interrupted by a growl coming from Vernon.

"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED AND WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" Vernon bellowed, ignoring the fact that Shacklebolt had probably saved their lives.

"Sir…" Shacklebolt began before getting cut off. Vernon was gaining steam.

"Bloody Hell! I don't even want to know. Take your freakishness and your freaky friend and get the out of my house." Vernon yelled while motioning at the still unconscious would be assassin. He then turned to Harry.

"You. This is your fault. You and your weirdness." Vernon said with an oddly quiet voice. "You can get the hell out of my home to. Take your things and get! Go with your freaky friends and get out. This will never be your home again to you and your…your…just OUT. GET OUT!" Vernon ranted, growing louder with every word until he was shouting at the top of his lungs. His face had gone from a normal complexion to red to an interesting shade of maroon.

Harry sat there for a moment staring in shock. Then his miserable years with the Dursleys began racing through his mind. The Cupboard. Dudley's Clothes. Marge. The Beatings. Meals. Freak. For once Harry's shame was drowned out by anger. Before Kingsley could say a word, Harry uncorked the years of frustrations straight at Vernon.

"FINE. THIS WAS NEVER MY HOME ANYWAY," Harry yelled. Plates, glasses and light bulbs all shattered at the accidental magic unleashed. Harry didn't notice the carnage he just caused as he stormed off towards the cupboard under the stairs, where all of his magical belongings were. Harry vaguely heard Kingsley swear behind him but didn't even register it.

Miles away, in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, a strange instrument let off a great puff of red smoke. Professor Dumbledore froze in shock for a moment before rising from his chair swifter than a man his age should and hurrying towards the Hogwarts front gates.

Just as Harry was trying to pry open the door to the cupboard three more aurors burst through the front door.

"Harry James Potter! Hands up, your under arrest for breaking the use of Underage Magic, breaking the Statue of Secrecy, and assault! Put your wand where I can see it!" Yelled the leading auror with his wand trained on Harry.

"Bloody Hell! I don't even have my wand! How can I be under arrest?" responded back a shocked Harry Potter.

"Stand down Dawlish, Jones, Whittman," came Kingsley's deep baritone voice. "No one is arresting Harry Potter tonight."

"Kingsley! What in Merlin's name…" the leading auror, Dawlish, trailed off gaping like a fish as Kingsley came into view, levitating the unconscious assailant in front of him.

"The magic picked up by the Trace wasn't Harry's, it was this man's along with a pair of Stunners from me. I can personally attest to it plus Harry's wand is stuck in that cupboard. You can do Priori Incantado on this man's wand and ask the Muggles in the kitchen for confirmation if you need it," stated Kingsley coolly.

"But I have orders to arrest Potter" began Dawlish.

"And I'm telling you to stand down, or do your oaths to justice mean nothing?" responded Kingsley calmly. Dawlish paled slightly at Kingsley's words.

"Fine, Jones do Priori Incantado. Whittman help Kingsley, I'll get statements from the Muggles." Said Dawlish before turning to Harry. "Potter, don't go anywhere until we are done."

"I'll be on the lawn," growled out Harry. After nearly being killed by an insane assassin, arguing with Vernon, and nearly being arrested, Harry was not in a good mood. He finally succeeded in yanking open the cupboard. Stepping into it, he found his wand on a shelf, and slipped it into his back pocket. He then grabbed his trunk and broomstick, and started dragging them out the front door and towards the lawn. He had just made it through the door as he heard Vernon explode in a stream of curses at the auror Kingsley had referred to as Dawlish.

Harry dragged his trunk over to the lawn took a seat on top of it. Folding his arms over his knees, he knew he probably shouldn't be out in the open right after someone had just tried to kill him. "Whatever," muttered Harry. He no longer cared; he was simply too fed up with life itself at the moment to particularly care.

Kingsley and the other auror, "Whitting? No, Whittman," thought Harry, emerged moments later from the front door levitating the assailant. The man was bound in conjured ropes.

"You take him back to the Ministry, I'm going to stay here and help finish up," Kingsley said with a certain finality. Whittman nodded before grabbing the levitating man's elbow and disappearing with a pop.

Before Kingsley had time to say a single word, Dawlish and Jones emerged out of the house, Dawlish looking rather frustrated. The front door slammed shut behind them. "Vernon probably gave him quite the work over," Harry thought to himself smirking. Dawlish then turned his gaze to Harry.

"Alright your story stands up, though I didn't get much of a statement out of those Muggles," said Dawlish. "I better get back to the Ministry to clear this up, Kingsley will take your statement. Oh, and sorry about all this," finished Dawlish, not looking particularly sorry. Harry only nodded before Dawlish and Jones also disappeared with a pair of pops.

"Dumbledore know yet?" asked Harry. Kingsley had taken up an alert position next to Harry.

"I'm sure he does and is probably on his way, I'll wait to hear your side of what happened until he gets here. No point in making you repeat yourself," replied Kingsley.

Harry finally got a good look at Kingsley. He was tall, especially by British standards, easily 6'3 or 6'4, and seemed well built, not quite like a rugby player but still broad shouldered. His head was shaved bald and his dark skin seemed to blend into the night contrasted with his white teeth. Someone had patched up the cuts he had received and the only sign of the previous conflict were a few rips along his sleeves. He wore deep crimson robes, just as the other aurors had, and had on solid leather boots. Two rings on his right hand shone slightly from the moonlight. If Harry had to guess, he seemed to be in his early 30s.

Just as Harry turned away from Kingsley, Dumbledore appeared with a soft pop. He wore a long midnight blue robe and had an exhausted look on his face. Striding over to the pair quickly, Dumbledore shot Kingsley a questioning look.

"Guessing you know the wards fell," said Kingsley. "From what I can tell, they aren't coming back either. We better move to somewhere secure before we get into it."

Dumbledore looked around, "Where is Mundungus?" he asked. "Haven't seen him since we started duty," Kingsley practically spat out. Harry looked a bit shocked; Kingsley had been the definition of calm but the venom with which he had spoken with surprised Harry. Dumbledore let out a long sigh and rubbed his temples in small circles.

"Hogwarts, then," was all he said to Kingsley. Dumbledore finally turned towards Harry with an unreadable look.

"Harry, I'm sure you have much on your mind, but hold it in for a moment. Now, have you ever Apparated?" said Dumbledore. When Harry shook his head, Dumbledore simply nodded. Dumbledore pulled out his wand, shrunk and pocketed Harry's belongings, and then held out his elbow towards Harry.

"It is not the most pleasant sensation the first time. Now, simply grab my elbow firmly and hold tight." Harry complied silently.

The trio disappeared into the night. Harry had just left Privet Drive, never to call it home again.

As they sat in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, Harry thought Dumbledore looked at least a century older than he had 30 minutes ago. When they had arrived in the office, Dumbledore had promptly gathered his pensieve and set it in front of Harry.

"I will spare you from retelling the story if you agree to give me the memory of tonight's events, Harry. There are almost no repercussions as the memory I will extract is but a copy. It should, however, allow me to see the most accurate depiction of events." Dumbledore had said. "Kingsley, I will need your memory as well, though we will start with Harry's."

Now, after Dumbledore and Kingsley had finished watching Harry's memory through the pensieve, there was a thick silence. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. Wrinkles had spread across his face and large bags sat under his eyes. Even his beard, which had always seemed to almost glow silver, had lost its sheen. Seeing Dumbledore in this state seemed to mollify the burning desire Harry had for information.

Kingsley stood off to the side, staring at Dumbledore expectantly. When Dumbledore finally spoke his voice came out almost as a rasp. "Kingsley, go to Headquarters and let Sirius know that Harry will be there shortly. I will take him there after a short but needed conversation. Afterwards, see if you can find Mundungus and…escort…him back to Headquarters and make sure he does not leave until I arrive. Also alert Moody." Kingsley nodded before heading out the door. During Dumbledore's speech Harry had actually perked up in a bit of excitement.

"I'll be living with Sirius?" he blurted out to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore cracked a tiny smile. "Yes, though first we must discuss tonight a bit, as I'm sure you are bursting with questions."

Harry's mind immediately exploded with activity. All the questions he was dying to ask suddenly flash through his mind. "What is Voldemort up to? Why haven't I gotten any information? How's the effort against him going? Why am I stuck at the Dursley's? Why hasn't anyone contacted me? Who was that man tonight? Why did the aurors almost arrest me?" Harry thought, his brain in overdrive. Just as Harry open his mouth to no doubt let loose a discombobulated rant, Dumbledore held up his hand.

"If I may, perhaps I shall speak first to perhaps, head off some of your curiosity" Dumbledore said, a slight twinkle returning to his eyes. That twinkle soon disappeared as Dumbledore began speaking again. "First, however, I must ask you a question…have you been having any dreams of Voldemort lately or has your scar hurt you recently?"

Harry thought for a moment before answering. "No sir, it has been a bit strange but I haven't felt a thing."

Dumbledore nodded, "Before I begin, you must understand that certain questions I cannot answer and certain information must remain private. I will do my best to allay your curiosity but I hope you will respect that." Harry was not happy with this but nodded nonetheless, his knew he would not budge the man believed to be the greatest wizard of the age.

"Alright, first off I'm sure you wonder why I had you return to Privet Drive for the summer. That answer is simple, I believed it was the safest place for you." At that, Harry opened his mouth to interject. How the hell could the Dursleys' be the safest place for him with Voldemort running around? It wasn't like they could ever protect him. Dumbledore raised his hand before Harry could speak, however.

"Allow me to finish. I believed it was the safest place for you because of certain wards that existed there and nowhere else. When I first brought you to the Dursleys' almost 15 years ago, I used a ritual that extended the protection your mother gave you to create very strong blood wards around the property. These blood wards could only exist where you had a blood relative, in this case your Aunt Petunia. The wards would prevent any that intended harm to you from entering the area, and because they were not just based on blood, but your mother's love, Voldemort could still not penetrate them, even after his terrible ritual this last June where he took your own blood."

Harry nodded, he didn't completely understand how "love" could make a ward, but understood the general premise. He also knew that Dumbledore had supposedly forgotten more magic than most people ever learned, and admitted that if anyone could come up with the ward that had just been described, it would be Dumbledore. Harry's only question now was if these blood wards were so powerful, what happened tonight?

Dumbledore's expression then turned extremely sad and apologetic as he continued; "Now Harry, it seems I owe you a great apology. As one has greater responsibility, it seems the oversights also grow exponentially. You are probably asking yourself why these wards failed to protect you tonight. It seems I made a grave mistake in trusting the wards as much as I did. The wards worked on intent, and I did not realize the rather large loophole that left. Have you seen the gap in the wards I refer to?"

Harry thought deeply for a moment. "Intent based? Loophole? Gah I have no idea how wards work!" thought Harry. "Sorry sir, but I don't see it. The attacker tonight pretty clearly seemed to what to hurt me. How wasn't he stopped?" said Harry

Dumbledore's expression seemed to change slightly into what Harry thought of as "Professor mode", something Harry remembered from his past conversation where Dumbledore would seemingly try to teach Harry through questions. "Well, here comes the headache…" was all Harry could think.

"Do you remember what the attacker said just before Kingsley's cast his first Stunner?" asked Dumbledore with a bit of eye twinkle.

It hit Harry like a jolt of electricity. "Don't worry, I come to free you from the pain of this world," the words ringing through Harry's head.

"He didn't think he was hurting me, did he sir. It almost sounded like he thought he was…helping…me somehow…and…and because of that he didn't have any intent to hurt me so the wards didn't stop him," Harry rambled all in one breath.

"During the school year that would be 10 points for Gryffindor. Voldemort must have been searching for a way around the wards and hired an outside assassin with a…unique world view to circumvent the wards," said Dumbledore. "So again, I must beg your forgiveness Harry. I should have realized such a loophole and by failing to do so, I put you in danger. I had guards keeping watch just in case but still, I am truly sorry."

Harry looked up at the old grandfatherly man he had so much respect for. Harry still had all of his pent up frustration from the past weeks, but seeing Dumbledore so defeated, Harry had a hard time blaming him.

"It's fine Professor, no one is perfect and Kingsley came in time anyway and I can hardly blame you for trying to protect me." Dumbledore smiled Harry's response.

"Thank you Harry, now it is getting late but if you have any questions I believe you deserve at least a few more answers before you are off to see Sirius." Harry spoke almost the instant Dumbledore had finished talking.

"So I really don't have to go back to the Dursleys'? I mean Vernon kicked me out and the wards aren't perfect but I really don't have to go back," said Harry, trying to conceal his rising hopes.

"No Harry, you will not be going back. Actually, I forgot to mention, the blood wards no longer exist. When your Uncle kicked you out and you accepted and left, with you both agreeing that it was no longer your home, the wards fell as one of the requirements for their existence was broken," replied Dumbledore serenely.

Harry didn't register most of Dumbledore's words, he had stopped paying attention when it was confirmed he didn't have to go back. His mind had quickly moved onto other questions, which he began blurting out as fast as he could.

"I just want to know what's going on. What has Voldemort been up to? What kind of attacks have their been? What is everyone doing to stop him?" Harry said quickly.

Dumbledore paused for a moment before leaning forward, placing his elbows on the table and steeping his fingers in front of him. "Voldemort has done relatively little in direct action. His great plans were foiled when you escaped from him alive this last June," began Dumbledore.

Harry was a bit confused, "How did I foil his plans?"

Dumbledore smiled a little, "You managed to alert the world of his return, robbing him of the element of surprise. During the first war he had quite the force, made up of men and creatures from most of Europe. Now we know he has returned, and we can try to stop him or at least match his efforts."

"Why can't we stop him now? There were only maybe like 30 Death Eaters last June...surely the Ministry and the Aurors are strong enough to crush him?" Harry asked.

"Ahhhh well there is where actually currently lies our greatest issue in the fight against Voldemort. Do you happen to recall what the Minister's attitude was last June to Voldemort's return?" said Dumbledore.

Harry was pensive for a moment, trying to recall what Fudge had said that night. "He doesn't believe Voldemort's back?" Harry asked hesitantly. Surely no one was that stupid.

Dumbledore only nodded. "Bloody Hell!" yelled Harry, "How can he not believe he is back? He doesn't even believe you?"

"Alas, no he doesn't believe me. He seems to have convinced himself that actually this is a grand scheme of mine to remove Cornelius as Minister and take his place. He has begun a propaganda campaign against me that has been surprisingly successful," said Dumbledore.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, "How has it been successful?"

Dumbledore pushed his fingers together and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. "You must remember; Cornelius is not particularly powerful himself. He does have powerful supporters, however, such as Lucius Malfoy. These men are the ones who I believe are playing the strings. Their efforts have managed to have me removed as Supreme Mugwump of the ICW and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I don't know if you know what those exactly entail but they are reasonable powerful judicial positions. My removal has…curbed…my influence fairly significantly. They also have begun to exert significant control on the Prophet. Thankfully, I still have a chocolate frog card."

Harry was trying to get his head around everything he had just heard. He was in shock; Fudge sounded even more idiotic than Crabbe and Goyle, and they were Crabbe and Goyle for Merlin's sake!

"So let me get this straight. There was a golden opportunity to crush Voldemort early, right?" Dumbledore nodded in reply.

Harry continued, "But Fudge is the puppet of a bunch of Death Eaters and he got convinced that it was all a big plan for you to take his spot as Minister?"

Dumbledore nodded again, his eyes even twinkling a little.

Harry was now gaining steam, "So the Ministry is doing nothing except telling people we are crazy liars. So Voldemort now has plenty of time to lay low and plan his takeover."

The events of June, thoughts about Cedric's death, and weeks of frustration from the Dursleys' now manifested themselves in Harry's rant. His voice had so much venom that it even shocked Harry a bit.

"And because Fudge controls the press, not a soul believes he's back and we are just waiting for Voldemort to start blasting through the country with a massive army filled with Merlin knows what and start killing everybody." Harry snarled. "Bloody Hell! I don't think I have ever heard of a bigger brain-dead prat than Fudge, and I lived with Dudley!" finished Harry.

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes seemed to have returned a bit of their old spark. "Now usually I would have to reprimand you for such language, but I think in this case I will simply pretend I didn't hear anything," said Dumbledore. "You have summarized the situation admirably, though there is one point that is not quite correct. As you may be able to guess from Kingsley tonight, not everyone has been so foolish as to ignore the signs. During the first war against Voldemort, I led a group called the Order of the Phoenix against the Death Eaters. It was a sort of militia per se. Your parents were instrumental members actually. I have brought back the Order and made efforts to recruit once more. Though as you may imagine, the current environment has been a difficult one."

"Is that the 'Headquarters' you were referring to earlier, sir?" asked Harry.

"Yes it is, and with that I believe we should move to get you there as it is quite late and Madam Pomfrey would likely have my hide if I didn't get in a bed soon," replied Dumbledore while standing up.

In the back of Harry's mind he knew he still had a host of questions, but with all the frustration from the idiocy he had just heard he couldn't seem to think of them. He looked up to see Dumbledore pushing a scrap of paper towards Harry. "Please memorize that quickly," Dumbledore told Harry. The scrap read:

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at 12 Grimmauld Place, London.

Dumbledore then handed Harry's shrunken objects to Harry before pulling out his wand and tapping a quill on his desk while muttering Portus. The quill began glow a soft blue.

Dumbledore then looked up at Harry, "I have business to attend to so I unfortunately won't be accompanying you, though I know there is someone there who is quite excited to see you," said Dumbledore. Harry saw that his eyes had regained their customary level of twinkle, but he still looked incredibly ancient. "Now grab hold, and I shall see you tomorrow. Goodnight Harry and try not to worry."

Harry wished the Headmaster goodnight, his mind still whirring with all the new information he had just gotten. The minute he touched his quill he felt a great jerk upon his navel and disappeared from the office.

Dumbledore sat down again in his chair, taking off his glasses and placing them on the desk. The man most Europeans called "the greatest wizard of the generation" felt very tired.

Harry had seen many strange sights since being introduced to the world of magic. The one he found when he arrived at Grimmauld Place, however, ranked pretty high on his list. He had arrived in what he had once imagined had been a grand entrance area. Now, while spacious, was somewhat dark and dusty. It was laid out in a large oval with a grand staircase rising to his right. The wood accents were all extremely dark and the color scheme seemed to consist of a combination of black, grey, and midnight blue. An ancient wooden buffet was against the wall to Harry's left, and seemed to be accented with silvery snakes. The room had a musty smell.

The room's rather dark nature was only a small part of the strange sight, however. In the middle of the room was a grand crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Hanging by chains from the chandelier was some sort of ragged bundle that Harry suddenly realized was a man. The skin that was exposed was red with welts that Harry recognized as the telltale signs of the standard Stinging Hex. The man was hanging upside down so that his face was inches from the floor. That was where the strangest part of the scene was. Harry saw a very familiar looking shaggy black dog lifting its leg and peeing directly into the face of the hanging man. Harry wasn't sure whether to burst out laughing or intervene.

"Erm...hi?" Harry said tentatively. The dog immediately perked its ears and spun around, running towards Harry. Halfway there, the dog transformed into a black haired man who closed the gap to Harry in a couple steps and wrapped him in a giant bear hug.

"Harry! Are you alright? Thank god you are finally here!" Sirius said with a mix of excitement and concern.

Harry was smiling, and some of his frustration and negative emotions washed away with the hug. "Its great to see you too Sirius! And I'm fine, though could use a wash and bed. Also, I'm almost afraid to ask, but…who is that?" Harry said as he motioned towards the chained man.

"Tired? Let's get you to a bedroom, I already have one fixed up!" Sirius said jovially. He then turned to where Harry was motioning with a furious look that he was failing to mask. "Oh that? Don't worry; it's just a big, stinky, piece of Dung. Now follow me up that stairs so you can get some shut-eye. I'll give you the full tour tomorrow," said Sirius as he led Harry up the stairs.

Once at the top of the stairs, Sirius led Harry left and opened up one of the first doors. The hallway had matched the entrance, dark, damp and musty, so naturally Harry wasn't really expecting what he saw when Sirius pushed open the door.

The room was bright and trimmed entirely in crimson and gold, Gryffindor colors, and was enormous by Harry's standards, bigger than even the Dursleys' master bedroom at Privet Drive. There was a large king size bed flanked by two wooden nightstands. A large matching dresser was on one wall with an expansive desk next to it. Harry froze and gaped at it all for a moment.

"How do you like it? I've been getting it ready for you for the last few weeks," said Sirius with a knowing grin.

Harry finally snapped out of his trance, "This is brilliant Sirius! It's like a luxury bedroom version of the Gryffindor dorms! It's awesome!"

Sirius let out a big smile, "Glad you like it. The bathroom is right over there -you got your own- and I'm down the hall if you need anything. I'll let you clean up and get some rest, since you must be exhausted. We can catch up in the morning. Oh and let me unshrink those," Sirius said as he drew his wand and waved it at Harry's shrunken belongings. He gave Harry another hug before leaving the room.

As Sirius left, Harry finally felt the exhaustion of the day hit him. He knew it had to be somewhere close to two or three in the morning. He barely made it into the shower and was asleep moments after he had gotten into his new bed. Harry's exhausted brain seemed to have momentarily forgotten just how much his life had changed in the last 12 hours and he fell asleep without sparing a thought to his day.

A/N: Hit the review button! Do it!