AN: Don't believe the hype. I'd rate this 3.5/5, decent time waster at most. This is pretty much a laid back, highly skilled, semi-alcoholic, former Spec Ops Harry Potter who finds himself trapped in the past for no particular reason. It's written more as adventure/comedy story with a dash of James Bond, Indiana Jones, and Dresden Files influences and shouldn't be taken too seriously. Features magical/physical combat, detective subplots, and inappropriate one-liners. Enjoy.


"Another," murmured the slumped form of one Harry James Potter, as he motioned for another shot of firewhiskey.

The stench of liquor and a hint of cinnamon encompassed the young man, as he swiped the shaggy mess that was his hair out of his eyes and knocked back the whiskey like a seasoned professional. The magical burn of the liquor slid down his throat before settling into a familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach.

"Another."

The aged bartender glanced contemplatively at the wizard, before reaching beneath the counter and grabbing a bottle of Odgen's finest.

"Knock yourself out," grunted the old man as he slid the entire bottle of whiskey over the table, where it smacked lightly into the wizards palm, "Fresh outta the brewery."

Harry nodded gratefully and gave a two finger salute in appreciation. Odgen's Old Firewhiskey. Brewed 1976. Harry took a long swig straight from the bottle, relishing in the taste. He'd been stuck in '76 for three months now. He had no idea how he got here. Or how he could get home. Or why he was here. Or what the hell he was going to do. This situation wasn't exactly covered under normal school curriculum at good ol' Hogwarts.

Of course, there was always the possibility he was drooling aimlessly in the mental ward at St. Mungo's and was just simply batshit crazy.

Ehh.

Harry downed another fifth of the bottle. It was a sad day when being crazy was the most likely option. The howling roar of wind and snow sounded loudly through the bar as a trio of wizards entered the warmth of the Hog's Head Pub. Despite his inebriated state, Harry felt the atmosphere of the bar suddenly change, with the majority of its patrons falling silent.

"Can I help you boys?" came the relaxed drawl of Aberforth Dumbledore as he cleaned a filthy looking mug.

A trio of hooded men stood threateningly in the middle of the bar. The ringleader moving towards the old bartender, while his partners stalked predatorily throughout the room.

"Actually," responded the cultured voice of the ringleader, his voice dripping in arrogance, while his face was hidden in the shadows of his cloak, "You can help..."

The trio pulled down their hoods, revealing the silver skull masks that marked them as Death Eaters. The shouts of fear and shuffles of moving furniture pierced the air as the bar's patrons scrambled frantically to get away.

Before the Death Eaters could finish drawing their wands however, Harry was already in motion. Sliding off his seat, Harry hooked his left arm through the bar stool and swung it violently up and over his head onto the burly Death Eater closest to him. The impact shattered the stool into a million pieces as the Death Eater crashed into the ground bonelessly.

"The hell?-"

Flicking his wrist, Harry released his wand from its holster, and quickly cast a silent summoning charm at minion number two, sending the smaller man suddenly hurtling towards him. The Death Eater ringleader fumbled with his wand as a devastating haymaker punch from Harry caused a sickening crunch as the other unfortunate Death Eater flew unconscious over the bar counter.

"Avada Kedavr-" started to screech the Death Eater before an explosion of pain slammed into his chest and sent him careening into a wooden table, breaking the ancient furniture in half.

A silent cutting curse sliced into the Death Eater's hand, sending the screaming Death Eaters wand and a few fingers to go flying away from the man.

"I s-surrender!" cried out the sobbing man, his severed hand cradled tightly to his belly as he slid back frantically from the man who disarmed him and his team in seconds. Harry's eyes narrowed in anger at the whimpering man, before grabbing the wizard by the scruff of his robe and lifting him harshly from the ground.

"I accept your surrender" growled Harry as he brought the Death Eater to his eye level, the man's mask long since lost in the violent exchange.

"T-thank yo-" started the Death Eater before Harry grasped the back of the coward's head and slammed him face first into the support pillar of the Hog's Head.

Harry grunted with pleasure at the obvious broken nose of the unconscious grunt, as the would be assailant slumped onto the ground. Harry could feel the awed and fearful expressions of the bar's patrons as he stepped over the motionless bodies of the Death Eaters and swiped his bottle of firewhiskey from the bar. A final swig drained the last of the liquor from the bottle as Harry let loose a sigh of satisfaction. A pained grunt came from the first Death Eater Harry had incapacitated with the stool as the burly man struggled to rise to his feet.

A burst of shattering glass exploded everywhere as Harry slammed the newly emptied bottle on the head of the Death Eater, sending the bloody Death Eater back into the earth.

"Nobody said you could get up."

Harry glanced up at Aberforth, the aged bartender slowly lowering his raised wand. A contemplating look in his eyes.

"Sorry about the mess," quipped the time traveler, shrugging.

Aberforth continued to stare at him with that calculating look, before shrugging also. "Consider your bill paid son."

Five minutes later, the distinct cracks of apparition sounded loudly as a group of people appeared outside the Hog's Head.

"Aurors, nobody move!" came an authoritative cry, as ministry Aurors came barreling through the doors, their brown trench coats flapping rapidly behind them.

Harry leaned against the bar tiredly as he watched the half dozen or so Aurors cordon off the area and proceed to stun and tie up the fallen Death Eaters.

"You the one responsible for these idiots?" asked the harsh voice of a red headed female Auror, cornering Harry at the bar.

Harry nodded his head silently.

"Nice work," complemented the Auror, flicking her pixie haircut out of her face as she motioned towards the Death Eaters, "You really did a number on them. I'm Auror Amelia Bones. I'll be asking you a couple of questions."

Harry raised an interested brow. Back in his time, Lady Amelia Bones had been the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and was the aunt of his classmate Susan Bones, before she was eventually murdered by Voldemort in the summer of '96. Seeing the petite woman as a twenty-something attractive witch was a bit disconcerting, to say the least.

"Name?" asked Amelia, a notebook and self-inking quill in hand.

"Harry."

"You got a last name?" asked the Auror exasperated.

"Just Harry."

"Alright then 'Just Harry'" said the Auror biting her bottom lip in frustration as she started to scribble furiously, "Current place of residence?"

"Scotland," responded Harry nonchalantly, the thought of his warm bed sounding better and better by the second.

The annoyed growl of the young Auror sounded as Amelia struggled to maintain her professional composure.

"Okaay, then can you at least tell me exactly what happened here?"

"Couple of Death Eaters decided to show up and play, I explained to them why that was a bad idea. Simple as that."

Amelia let loose an unladylike snort, "You're going to have to give me more than that 'Just Harry'. According to witnesses, you took down these three in a matter of seconds. "

Glancing up and down at the wizard and wrinkling her nose Amelia continued. "Apparently while intoxicated. I understand you may not want to talk to me, but if you're not going to cooperate, we're not going to get anywhere."

Harry sighed as he grasped the edge of the bar for support, "Look, Amy."

Ignoring the indignant Auror's protest, Harry continued, "It's not you it's me."

"Excuse me?"

"You got over a dozen witnesses here and I'm sure someone will be willing to give a pensieve memory of this scuffle or something. But I've been drinking since noon and these guys ruined a perfectly good buzz. So I'm going to go back to my room and pass the hell out. If your boss gives your pretty little arse any trouble just tell him it was out of your jurisdiction."

Harry flipped his hood back over his head and started to stagger away from the bar.

"Hey hold on, you can't just-"

Harry rolled his eyes as he stumbled back towards the Auror and rolled his left sleeve up, dispelling the semi-permanent glamour on his forearm.

"Check it."

The red headed Auror's eyes widened in shock before whipping out her wand to verify his claims.

Auror Bones rocked back on her heels and ran a hand through her hair as the ministry identification spell came back positive.

"Y-you're free to go I guess," exclaimed the Auror, staring at Harry in a mixture of awe and frustration, "I mean, you're free to go sir!

Harry grinned drunkenly as he rolled his sleeve back down.

"Like I said Amy," slurred Harry, as he reached over and tore the page with his information on it out of the Auror's notebook and stumbled out the door into the raging blizzard outside.

"It's out of your jurisdiction."

"Did you just let the suspect leave Bones? The hell are you doing?!" came the indignant voice of her partner, Rufus Scrimgeour.

Amelia didn't bother with her normal snappy response, but instead floated the official piece of parchment that was conjured when she checked "Harry's" identity to her partner.

"Is this real?" asked the subdued voice of Auror Scrimgeour, staring at the parchment in apparent disbelief.

Written across the parchment were three words overlayed on top a magical seal.

Unspeakable. Field Operative.

"Yes."

"Holy shit."


"Al. I got sumthin' for yah," the gruff voice of Albus Dumbledore's younger brother cut through the headmaster's silent office like a knife. His stony visage flickered green in the ancient fireplace of the headmaster.

"Aberforth, my dear brother," started Albus carefully.

"Bah!" exclaimed the floating head before suddenly disappearing from the fireplace.

Albus raised a curious brow as his fireplace roared and flashed green, depositing his estranged younger brother into his office. Taking a moment to scan his surroundings, Aberforth snorted lightly in contempt. "I see your office is stuffy as ever Albus."

"Well I was thinking of redecorating, why just the other day I was speaking with-"

"Cut the crap Albus, you know how much I hate the sound of your voice," interjected Aberforth, as he raised his wand to his brow and proceeded to pull out a silvery substance and flick it into Albus's pensieve, "Hog's Head was attacked."

Albus's cheerful persona dropped as he suddenly became serious. "I see. Death Eaters? What were the casualties? Why was I not informed?"

"T'is happened no more than ten minutes ago. As for the Death Eaters, they were handled. No casualties."

The wizened old headmaster sighed in relief, as his aged body visibly lost tension. "I am glad your dueling skills are just as proficient as they were during the Great War brother."

Aberforth scoffed loudly, "Wasn't me. One of my customers put 'em down. Young lad."

Albus raised a brow yet again in interest, "This young man, he is a skilled dueler?"

"Wouldn't know," grunted Aberforth, "The lad used maybe three spells, if that. A summoning charm, banishing charm, and cutting curse from what I could tell. He's a fighter that one. No doubt."

"Truly?"

"Aye. You said to be on a lookout for recruits for your little order. You might want keep an eye on this one," said the bartender waving his hand towards the pensieve, his memory of the event slowly swirling within, "Take a look. The fight is barely half a minute long."

The old headmaster nodded sagely as he moved to delve into the memory of the event. Diving into the pensieve's memory, Albus found himself stepping into the familiar rundown bar his brother had owned since the War ended thirty years ago. The old man smiled at the gruff image that was his younger brother, the hostility that was always present in their conversations missing as he went about serving his patrons.

Ever since Ariana...

Shaking his head, Dumbledore glanced around the bar, scanning its patrons. Mr. Abbott and his not so secret mistress, Miss Quinn, Hufflepuff class of '58. Over there was old Brackius Filch seemingly passed out in the corner. Continuing his once over, the headmaster saw nothing but the various familiar faces of former students and regulars.

Except one.

Sitting alone at the bar, a young man, no older than twenty five by his estimate, was tucked in the corner, obviously intoxicated.

"Another."

Pausing the memory with nary a thought, Dumbledore made his way behind the bar to get a better look at this mysterious young man, stepping through the ethereal form of his younger brother Aberforth as he did so.

Tired.

That was the first adjective that came to mind as he attempted to profile the young man's features in his head. There were obvious bags under the man's eyes, as if he hadn't slept well in weeks. The long jet black hair that hung to his chin was haggard and unkempt. The barest hint of stubble graced his jawline while a curiously shaped jagged scar rested on his forehead.

Continuing the memory, Albus watched as the man called for another shot and raised it ever so slightly, as if he was toasting someone who couldn't be there.

And the lad's eyes.

Piercing emerald, yet dulled with a thousand yard stare. Eye's that had seen far too much for someone of his supposed youth.

As Dumbledore watched the Death Eaters entrance into the bar and the young man's brutal dismantlement of them, he couldn't help but be reminded of the brave men and women who fought alongside him in the depths of Germany.

A soldier.

They say a soldier never forgets and as Albus watched the inebriated young man slam a bottle into the back of a Death Eater's head, he couldn't help but be reminded of his time during the Great War. Times had changed. The current conflict with the self styled Lord Voldemort was a different style of warfare. Murders in the dark. Disappearing friends and family. A magical war fueled by fear. Racism. Blood purity. A war of terrorism.

Gone were the days of old, where armies faced off on the field of battle. Transfigured beasts tearing each side to shreds, conjured weapons falling from the skies, and where witches and wizards came together to murder each other by the thousand.

Wars that created legends of heroes and villains wielding incredible skill and power.

Charlus Potter. Cygnus Black II. Elphias Doge. Alastor Moody. Edgar Bones.

War makes killers out of everyone.

And after watching the brutal efficiency the young man displayed, Albus confirmed his belief. This unknown was without a doubt a soldier. It wasn't difficult to see the obvious experience the young man wielded while fighting multiple opponents. Possibly a fighter in the Vietnam conflict that had just officially ended a year prior?

Albus stroked his beard as he exited the memory to the familiar confines of his office.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention Aberforth, your help is always appreciat-" Albus was cut off by the sudden roar and flash of green that signaled his brothers departure.

The old headmaster sighed and slumped tiredly into his seat. He had much to think about. People to talk to. The Aurors let the young man go after only a few questions. Why? Aberforth's memories were unclear. Perhaps a visit to Miss Bones was in order?

So much work to do.

After a lemondrop of course.


"Wake up you slacker!" echoed a loud feminine voice as the pounding on his door continued to sound, "I swear to god if you're slacking off because of some poor young witch you seduced I swear-"

Harry groaned tiredly as he wandlessly motioned with his hand at the door, opening it for his current disruptor of sleep.

"Hmpghh..."

"What was that? Was that a 'Thank you oh Madam Rosmerta for the job and a place to stay despite being an undeserving prick,' I hear?" came the sarcastic voice of Rosmerta, current owner of the Three Broomsticks.

"Mmhm... Go 'way Rosie," groaned Harry as he covered his head with a pillow and curled into the fetal position, "I'm tryin' to sleep..."

"Wrong answer."

Harry yelped in pain as he was dragged off his bed comforter and all on to the freezing cold wood below.

"Bloody hell woman! What's your problem?" moaned Harry as he struggled to untangle himself from his current position on the floor.

"My problem is my bartender/manservant comes shambling in at who knows what hour causing all sorts of ruckus, proceeds to sleep through his entire first shift, causing poor old me to work all by my lonesome!"

Harry sat on his bed facing away from the sun as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, "Manservant?"

"Consider it a new job title."

"Ugh. Fantastic. Sorry 'bout that Rosie," said Harry, as he summoned a clean shirt off his dresser and started to get dressed, "Yesterday was a bad day."

"That's Mistress Rosie to you Mister!" said Rosmerta haughtily, raising her nose in faux contempt, which was quickly becoming apparent to Harry was her way of forgiving him.

The Boy-Who-Lived pulled his shirt down over his head and gave her a disbelieving stare before deadpanning, "Forgive me my Mistress. My body is willing and able. Shall I ravage thy beautiful Mistress now or later?"

Rosmerta blushed lightly at the thought before turning on her heels briskly, "Perhaps later slave. But for now, we have an inn to run! Musketeer's away!"

Harry shook his head at the cackling form of his current boss, "We can't be the Musketeers until you hire a third person you bloody maniac!"

"Details!" came the faint cry of Madam Rosmerta.

After his initial arrival in the past, Rosmerta was the first person to befriend the haggard and confused person that was Harry James Potter. It wasn't long after Rosmerta deemed Harry interesting, that Harry found himself employed as Rosmerta's assistant bartender/waiter. And apparently manservant now also. It wasn't the action packed life of a Ministry Unspeakable but he didn't mind.

It was odd, being unknown.

Back in his time, the sheer popularity that was bestowed upon him as the Conqueror-Of-Voldemort made his initial plans of working as an Auror impossible. So when he joined the Unspeakables after a single year as an Auror it was a dream come true. Not only was he granted the anonymity that came with being an Unspeakable, but he also became the youngest person to ever become one of the famed Unspeakable Field Operatives.

The best of the best, UFO's were the deadliest witches and wizards the wizarding world had to offer.

Though Harry always wondered if the wizarding world knew what the muggle definition of UFOs was.

Probably not.

Aurors dreamed of the day when the mysterious special forces of the wizarding world would recruit them into their elite organization. Vampire wars, wild nundu's, inferi infested ruins, Harry had seen it all and then some in the eight years he had served as an Operative.

Harry cast a quick scourgify in his mouth as he shambled out of his room into the busy seating area that was the Three Broomsticks.

Somehow being a Unspeakable wasn't nearly as stressful as his current job.

"Hello, my name is Harry and I'll be your server today, what can I get you started with?"


Lily Evans blushed as the cute waiter stepped away to grab her and her friends drinks, much to her best friend Alice's amusement.

"He is cute isn't he Lily?" giggled Alice as she shamelessly watched the waiter walk away, her eyes glued to his bum.

"Shut up you," growled Lily as she punched her friend lightly, "He's at least in his twenties!"

"That good enough for me..." Alice sighed dramatically.

"He's probably ten years older than you!" exclaimed Lily, her face starting to match the color of her hair.

"Age is but a number is it not?" said the other girl dreamily.

"He could be married!"

"I'd make a wonderful mistress..."

"I forbid you from flirting with our waiter Alice, no matter how cute he is!"

"Ahem," coughed a masculine voice lightly, "Your drinks ladies."

Lily froze, mortified at the presence of the dashing young waiter as he laid out a pair of butterbeers for the two girls.

"And while I thank you for your concern Miss, I'm afraid your friend would fail the Marauder Age Rule..."

"Age rule?" asked Alice, while giggling at her friends horrified demeanor.

The waiter grinned roguishly, "Half your age plus seven. I'm afraid you're five years too young for me my lady."

"Harry! Stop flirting with schoolgirls and get back to work! Merlin forbid you adding fuel to a young girl's imagination!" cried out the smug voice of Rosmerta from behind the bar, "Tell them private dances are for witches seventeen and up, no exceptions!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Way to project your sexual deviancy on me Rosie! I saw you eying up the Prewett twins earlier like pieces of meat you scoundrel you!"

The heads of the two seventh year twins popped up in interest as Rosmerta shook her fist in anger, "Lies! All of it lies!"

Harry chuckled as he turned back towards the two Hogwart's school girls, "Excuse me, I need to go calm down Rosie before she goes on a warpath. She's just jealous because she's not getting enough attention..."

"I heard that scumbag!"

"Cheers!" grinned Harry as he ran away, dodging a magically enchanted broom from hitting him in the head.

Lily squeaked at Harry's sudden departure before glaring daggers at her best friend, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I've never been so embarrassed in my life!"

"Oh lighten up Lils, t'was all in good fun! I'm going to buy a pensieve just so I can see Miss Tomato Face all over again!"

"Shut up. I hate you."

Alice fell off her chair giggling.

Ignoring her traitor of a friend, Lily focused on the conversation of the nearby tables beside hers.

"-so then I ripped off my dress and asked him what he was waiting for-"

Nope. Moving on.

"-mustn't forget to purchase those golden cauldrons, the potion seems to react negatively to bronze-"

Boring.

"-rumor 'as it there was a Death Eater attack last night at the 'og's 'ead..."

Lily perked her head up in interest, motioning for Alice to shut up and stop laughing. Traitor.

"Blimey. You'd think the Headmaster would have canceled the students Hogsmeade visit if there was an attack!"

"See that's the thin'... Someone took 'em out before they could fire a single spell! Wiped the floor with 'em in a matter of seconds according to ol' Brackius," the middle aged wizard leaned towards his companion conspiratorially, "Drunk."

"Merlin!" exclaimed his portly companion.

"Nay," said the other wizard with a toothy grin, "Rumor 'as it... T'was him..."

Lily followed the crooked finger that pointed towards the person who apparently single handedly stopped a Death Eater raid.

"Oww! Damn it woman! I surrender! Bloody hell!" cried out the curled up form of 'Harry the cute waiter' as he was pummeled by a pair of enchanted brooms, a mop, and what looked like wooden bucket.

"Him? He looks harmless?"

"Aye. Tell that to the three Death Eaters in intensive care. An ol' flame of mine, Trudy, the barmy ol' bint, says one of them's in a ruddy coma. Physical trauma she says..."

"Blimey."

Lily turned away from the conversation to Alice, who was apparently listening just as intently.

"You think it's true?" hissed Lily quietly, stealing a glance at the mysterious waiter, who was currently fending off the attacking brooms with a wooden chair.

"I don't know... He could be a retired hit wizard... A bit young, but you never know?"

"Hmm..." hummed the young witch, as the raucous cheers of the crowd roared in approval as Harry snapped the last of the attacking brooms across his knee and raised the broken pieces above his head in triumph.

Lily locked eyes with Alice as they both rolled their eyes simultaneously.

"Definitely someone else."

Lily chuckled as the Prewett twins lifted the conquering waiter on their shoulders officially proclaiming him as the Bane of Household Cleaning Supplies.

But if Harry the Waiter didn't stop those Death Eaters then who did?


"Crucio."

The gasping screams of a squirming Death Eater echoed throughout the chamber for barely ten seconds before the torture curse was released.

"Really Lestrange? That was barely a punishment. Truly, your tolerance for pain is lacking."

"F-forgive me my lord."

"Yes, yes. You are forgiven," echoed the cultured voice of Lord Voldemort, as he sat upon his conjured throne within his meeting chambers, "Congratulations on your engagement to Miss Bellatrix Black by the way. When is the wedding?"

"N-next summer... The Blacks demanded a traditional wedding during the summer solstice."

"Ahh tradition. How lovely," whispered the Dark Lord as he twirled his wand lazily through his fingers, "So tell me Rodolphus. Why is it that I have three Death Eaters in intensive care at St. Mungo's and not a single article detailing an attack at Hogsmeade?"

"My lord, they were... Incapacitated."

The Dark Lord rolled his eyes before waving his wand, "Crucio."

This time the screams of pain did not stop after ten measly seconds.

"Good god Rodolphus get up. Your father would be rolling in his grave if he could see you," mocked Voldemort as the Lestrange struggled to his feet, "Really, if your father wasn't an old friend of mine, I would've killed you long ago."

"F-forgive m-me m-my l-lord..."

"Now listen Lestrange. Organizing a revolution requires no small amount of planning. Certain people need to be eliminated, specific groups subjugated, and particular places need to be razed to the ground. And as your glorious leader, it is my responsibility to lead us to victory, am I speaking slowly enough?"

Lestrange nodded as he kept his head bowed low.

"So when I assign a simple task to one of my Lieutenants, is it too much ask that it is accomplished?" asked the Dark Lord mockingly, "So I'll ask just one last time."

The atmosphere in the chamber suddenly became suffocating as the relatively light tone of the Dark Lord transitioned into rage, "What happened Lestrange?"

"M-my lord," gasped Rodolphus, "There was a w-wizard. H-highly skilled. Took out Rosier and his men in seconds. I-I have the pensieve memory of one of our supporters. Lord Abbot's m-mistress..."

The overwhelming weight of magical power vanished as quickly as it appeared, as the Dark Lord summoned the vial containing the memory into his hand.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place Rodolphus?" said Voldemort, the charismatic dark wizard chuckling softly, "It would have saved you a crucio or two."

"I-I live to serve my lord."

"Indeed my faithful servant. You are dismissed."

Voldemort watched as the Lestrange scrambled out of his chambers.

"Now," whispered the Dark Lord malevolently, gazing into the swirling memory within the vial, "Let us see who dares defy me..."


"Order up!" came the upbeat cry of Rosmerta as Harry deftly swept his way through the crowded Inn to the bar.

"Table seven Harry!"

"Aye, aye Cap'n!" quipped Harry as he summoned the tray of food to his arms, already making his way to the table.

It was already that time of year, Hogwarts students were on winter holiday, people were bundled up while shopping for Christmas presents, and the Three Broomsticks was as busy as ever. After the failed Death Eater attack over a week ago, Harry had noticed that security for the village had been subtly increased. The number of Aurors patrolling the village had definitely seen a jump, while a quick glance of the Three Broomsticks revealed at least a trio of plainclothes Aurors. Obviously working as undercover security.

"Alright that should be one house special and a coffee, enjoy your meal!" rattled off Harry absentmindedly as he laid out the food and drink on table seven.

"Why thank you my dear boy," Harry froze at the grandfatherly tone, "I've always found Rosie's cooking to be quite divine don't you agree?"

The former Unspeakable focused on the old man carefully sipping his coffee, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

Harry flinched.

"Ahh," Harry paused, slamming his occlumency barriers in place, just in case, "I'm sure Rosie would be delighted Mr. Dumbledore."

The headmaster chuckled lightly, "Please. Mr. Dumbledore was my father. Call me Albus, I insist."

Harry outwardly smiled and nodded, while inwardly his mind was racing in panic. Albus Dumbledore wasn't lauded as the second coming of Merlin for no reason. He was without a doubt one of the most powerful, influential, and intelligent wizards to ever grace the wizarding world.

This was no chance encounter.

"Of course Albus, is there anything else I could get you or..."

The headmaster's eyes only twinkled harder, "Perhaps you could spare an old man a chat? It's so very rare that I get a chance to meet new people."

Harry gave a half hearted grin, "I would love to, but I really should be helping Rosie right now... Busy night and what not."

Albus gave off a grandfatherly smile as he motioned towards the bar, "It seems your problem has just been resolved."

Glancing up Harry let out a snort of amusement at the Prewett twins dressed up as Mexican waiters saluting Rosie dramatically.

Looking back at his old professor, the old man motioned to the seat across from him. Letting loose a sigh of defeat, Harry slid silently into the chair across from Albus. Dumbledore looked... Young. Not so much that he looked any different physically than he would in the nineties but... Lighter was probably a better adjective.

Not weighed down by his failures. Not yet.

"What can I help you with Albus?" asked Harry, taking the initiative in starting the conversation.

"Hhmmm... Consider this an old man's curiosity," started Dumbledore as he took another swig from his coffee mug, absentmindedly creating a privacy ward around the two, "Not too long ago, someone dear to me shared the most fascinating memory."

Harry nodded slowly.

"You see, after witnessing this memory, I found myself curious as to who this young man was that possessed such an interesting skillset," continued Dumbledore amiably, "Imagine my surprise when my inquiries came up empty. No name. No history. No trace."

Harry slowly gathered his magic, ready for anything. His attempts to create a false identity had been more expensive than he had expected and he had hoped to stay under the radar long enough until he could afford it.

It seemed his drunken brawl with the Death Eaters ruined that particular plan.

"So that brings me to my first question," Dumbledore leaned forward placing his hands together, "Why is a Ministry Unspeakable working at the Three Broomsticks as a waiter?"

Harry almost winced at the question. What the hell did he say while he was drunk? A jumbled memory of a red headed Auror and an identification charm flashed across his thoughts.

Oh shite.

How the hell did he forget blowing his cover like that? Eight years as an Unspeakable and nobody ever knew his identity, but one drunken encounter in the past and he spills his identity like a bloody rookie! Next time he was going out to the pub, he swore to Merlin he was going to imperio himself to not be an OpSec risk. Nicholas would have beat him senseless for his breach in security.

Harry glanced back up at Dumbledore, who was waiting patiently for an answer.

To tell the truth? Or not?

"I'm retired,"

Half truths would work. Technically, it wasn't even a lie.

Albus raised a curious brow, "Retired?"

Harry nodded confidently, "Retired."

"You wouldn't mind proving that would you? As Chief Warlock I have the authority to verify your claims. Although you would still fall under the protection of the Unspeakable act of 1769. I would be unable to enquire any further..."

Harry's mind raced in thought. This could work. It was impossible to fake the magical seal that identified him as an Unspeakable. And although he would be completely unknown in the current Department of Mysteries, any Unspeakable other than the Head would be unable to see his true identity and callsign.

And if the Chief Warlock could be swayed to help, he might be able to get an official identity through legitimate channels. Rolling up his sleeve, Harry released the semi-permanent glamour that his the magical tattoo burned into his forearm. The image of a cross with a serpent draped around the shaft as well as detached wings and a floating crown faded into existence.

The old man pulled out his wand and lazily cast the ministry identification charm, a small piece of parchment suddenly popping into the old man's hand. The headmasters eyebrows shot upwards in surprise.

"Praefectus Castrorum?"

Harry's eyes narrowed as he wandlessly summoned the parchment into his hand. The information on it more detailed than he had expected.

Unspeakable. Field Operative.

Rank: Praefectus Castrorum

Callsign: Loki

Name: XXXXX XXXXX XXXXXX

"You shouldn't have been able to see that much," shot Harry semi-accusingly.

"Forgive an old man's deception. While my capacity as Chief Warlock does not grant me this knowledge, my position as Supreme Mugwump does," the headmaster said apologetically, "Although I am surprised at such a high rank achieved at such a young age. Praefectus Castrorum is no small accomplishment."

"It helps being good at what you do..." said Harry offhandedly as he rubbed his temples lightly, "So what happens now?"

"That depends on you my boy," said Dumbledore, "Tell me."

"What do you know about the Order of Phoenix?"


"Padfoot! Go long!" cried out James Potter as he winded back and launched the battered old quaffle across the Great Hall.

"The hell Potter!?-" cried out a Slytherin that James nearly hit with the quaffle.

"The handsome but talented Sirius Black dodges out of the way of a pack of Hufflepuffs," narrated the fifth year Gryffindor Sirius Black as he ran across the Great Hall floor, "He jumps on the Ravenclaw table and leaps for the quaffle!"

The Black heir leapt through the air, catching the quaffle with surprising grace, twisting in midair and landing successfully on the massive table.

"The pass is good!" cried out the squeaky voice of Peter Pettigrew, the portly student also narrating the action.

"Take the shot Sirius!" laughed James as the last of the Marauders, Remus Lupin conjured a trio of miniature quidditch goals in front of the Head table.

"For GRYFFINDOR!" roared Sirius as he leapt through the air the quaffle flying straight towards the middle hoop.

"He shoots, he scooorrreess-"

The audible smack of flesh on leather cut off Sirius's premature celebration, as a hand reached out and caught the quaffle mid flight.

"Huh?"

"It seems Gryffindor fails to score at the last second Mr. Black," chuckled the wizened old form of headmaster Dumbledore as his young black haired companion tossed the quaffle back at the Black family heir.

"Messrs. Black, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew. That will be twenty five points from Gryffindor."

The marauders grinned sheepishly in response.

The old headmaster's eyes twinkled mischievously as he continued, "Thirty points goes to Mr. Lupin for a conjuration well beyond his years. Now run along boys."

"Will do Headmaster!"

The marauders high-fived each other as they made their way back to the Gryffindor table, their antics somehow earning them five points.

"Way to go Moony! That conjuration totally got us out of trouble!" laughed James slapping his werewolf friend lightly on the back, "Too bad Sirius couldn't make the shot!"

"Hey! I resent that! There wasn't supposed to be a Keeper!" complained Black jokingly.

"That bloke came out of nowhere! Wonder what he's doing with Dumbledore?" said James, a contemplative look on his face.

"Lily! Did you see him? What's he doing here at Hogwarts?" came the excited giggle of Alice Wood, best friend of Lily Evans.

Perking up in interest, James grabbed Sirius and Remus by the back of their collars and dragged them towards Lily and Alice with Peter waddling behind.

"What's that I hear? You fine ladies know who Dumbledore's mysterious Keeper is?"

"Hello Lily, Alice," politely said Remus as he struggled to get out of James's grasp, while Sirius decided to go completely limp.

"Hello boys," smiled Alice before lightly punching Lily on her shoulder, "And that's just Lily's dream date, Harry!"

Lily blushed crimson before shoving Alice halfheartedly.

James gasped dramatically, "But Evans! I thought our love was forever?! Who is this scoundrel who dares steal the heart of my one true love!"

Lily rolled her eyes at Potter's antics, "Oh shut up Potter. He's at least twenty five, Alice is just being silly."

James shot up like a rocket, "Peter! Remind me to purchase an ageing potion next Hogsmeade visit! Lily likes older men!"

"Sir! Yes sir!"

"I hate you all."

"So what's the deal with Lily's dream guy? I swear I've seen him before," asked Sirius, sidling up next to Alice flirtatiously, a cocky grin across his face.

Alice cocked up a brow in amusement before continuing, "That's because he works at The Three Broomsticks with Madam Rosmerta. Lily's just waiting until she's seventeen so she can get a private dance from Harry."

"Ooohh scandalous," grinned Sirius.

Lily started to bang her head futilely on the table.

"Apparently there's been rumors Harry took down a couple of Death Eaters singlehandedly, but I'm not sure how true those rumors are."

"That guy? He looked more like a quidditch athlete than a dark wizard catcher?" quipped Sirius.

Remus took a seat and stroked his nonexistent beard in thought, "If he's meeting with the headmaster there might be some truth to those rumors. It's not like Dumbledore is seducing young waiters to his quarters right?"

Lily's eyes widened dramatically in horror.

Alice grinned, "Ooohh scandalous..."


"Sooooo... What did Dumbledore want from you Harry?" asked Rosmerta, leaning over the bar, her considerable cleavage hanging from her robes. Harry chuckled at Rosie's scandalous expression as he flicked a lone knut down her blouse, "Just a little recruitment drive."

Rosie's eyes widened before she whispered conspiratorially, "The Order?"

Harry grinned roguishly as he leaned in closer to his boss, "Nope."

"Damn it Harry!" groaned Rosmerta playfully swiping at the former Unspeakable's head.

"Forgive me my Mistress," smiled Harry, throwing back a shot of firewhiskey, "I turned him down. Joined the HDF instead..."

"The Hogsmeade Defense Force?" asked Rosmerta, taking a shot herself.

"Got it in one Rosie," quipped Harry as he leaned against the counter, "Though I thought it stood for Hogwarts Defence Force.."

Rosmerta leaned her delicate chin onto her fists, "Why'd Dumbledore recruit you?"

Harry cocked his head to the side curiously, "You haven't heard the rumors?"

"What? The one where you took out a group of Death Eaters single handedly? I thought that was just your fanclub making up stories!"

"Yeah well-wait. Fanclub?"

"If there was a most beautiful contest here in town, me and you would be king and queen darling..." Rosmerta said saucily, her cheeks rosy from the alcohol.

"Merin. I'm cursed."

Rosmerta laughed joyously, the brunette smiling widely, "You're just a regular heartbreaker aren't you Harry."

"Couldn't be farther from the truth Rosie," Harry smiled, raising his shot glass to his drinking partner.

"So what exactly does being in the HDF entail?"

Harry shrugged as he reached behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of Crown, "Not much. There's a training weekend once a month, similar to the muggle Territorial Army. If Hogsmeade or Hogwarts is ever attacked I'd be part of the defense."

"Oh? When's your first training weekend?"

"That reminds me Rosie," Harry grinned mischievously, "I won't be coming in this weekend."

"You son of a bitch."


"Hello, my name is Auror Amelia Bones, and I'll be in charge of your training," said the steely grey eyed Auror, her gaze moving across the rabble of witches and wizards spread out in front of her.

"The HDF is not designed to create an army, but is instead designed to give volunteer witches and wizards such as yourselves, the ability to better defend yourself, your families and homes.

The petite Auror rested her hands on her hips, glaring intently at the crowd.

Harry gave the Auror a cheeky grin, causing the redhead to double take.

"I-uh-my partner here Auror Scrimgeour will take over from here," said Amelia as she waved to her partner next to her.

"Indeed. I am Auror Rufus Scrimgeou-"

"You..." hissed the female Auror dragging Harry away from the crowd, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What? Not excited to see me Amy?"

"That's Auror Bones to you," said the Auror, crossing her arms across her chest, "And why is a..."

Amelia paused, glancing back and forth, "You know... Joining the HDF?"

Harry ran his hand through his disheveled hair and sighed "Look Amy. I'm retired. I shouldn't have even revealed to you my status when I did, but I was drunk and didn't have my head on straight. And seeing as how Dumbledore will have my hide if I go around obliviating everyone who knows, here I am."

Amelia cast a wary gaze at the former Unspeakable, "Dumbledore?"

"Who else?" quipped Harry, "Personally, I'd much rather be inside than out here in the bloody cold."

"There is something called a warming charm you know."

"Ahh yes," grinned Harry as he pulled out a silver flask from his coat, "But that's what the firewhiskey is for."

Amelia rolled her eyes, "I'm not sure if this training is going to be any help for someone of your... expertise... I've heard rumors of the training you guys go through."

"Worse."

"Excuse me?"

"Whatever you've heard? It's worse than that. You don't fail the Q-Course... You pass or you die."

Amelia shifted awkwardly at that morbid fact.

Harry shrugged, "But yes. This training is pretty pointless for me."

"What about me then?"

"Hmm? What about you?"

Amelia puffed up slightly, "Seeing as you are a member of the HDF and I am in charge of overseeing force readiness, what if I duel you?"

The former Unspeakable raised an amused brow. The petite Auror deflated slightly at the reaction before plowing on, "You need someone to keep you from going rusty and I could benefit from dueling someone with your supposed skills."

Harry shrugged before quipping flirtatiously, "You think you can handle this Amy? When I go hard, I don't stop until I'm on top."

Amelia rolled her eyes at the double entendre, "Don't come crying to me when I wipe the floor with your special forces ass."

Harry grinned.

"Feisty."


"So how do you want to do this?" asked Harry as he followed the cute red headed Auror.

The day had gone by relatively quickly, with Aurors Bones and Scrimgeour assessing and training the newest HDF recruits while Harry just kind of hung out in the background. His prodigal abilities far surpassing the basic stunning and shield spells everyone else was working on.

After everyone was dismissed for the night, Harry followed Amelia through the floo network to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's official practice arena.

"No holds barred, alternate Unforgivables okay with you?" asked Amelia, moving towards the middle of the arena.

"Sounds good to me," said Harry cracking his neck in anticipation.

These were the kind of rules Harry could get behind. Alternate Unforgivable's were simply different colored spells representing each Unforgivable.

Granted, the Unspeakable program made liberal use of the cruciatus and imperio spells and only used the killing curse alternative in their practice spars.

"Ready?"

Harry let Amelia settle into her dueling stance, watching silently as he stood across from the Auror, his hands resting in his pockets. The former Unspeakable chuckled at the indignant look Amy gave him at his relaxed stance.

"Ready when you are Amy..."

The red headed Aurors eyes narrowed in concentration, "On three."

"One. Two. Three."

A trio of silent stunners exploded out of Amelia's wand scattered at eye level, chest height, and at knee level. The spells were fired in such away that a target couldn't dodge left, right, or back. A quick finishing technique that was infamous for succeeding when a perpetrator couldn't get a shield up fast enough.

Despite being impressed at Amelia's casting speed, Harry grinned at the predictable move. Diving forward, Harry twisted past the stunning spells before rolling onto the sandy ground in front of his opponent. Despite the incredibly unorthodox tactic, the Auror stood her ground and started throwing a series of bludgeoning and stunning spells at the Unspeakable. Harry charged forward at the Auror, his wand still strapped to his forearm, and slid under the onslaught of spells sliding until he was almost in arms distance.

The female Auror, unnerved by the rapid assault cast a quick protego, a shimmering shield snapping into existence, as she took a reflexive step back.

Grasping the sand that made up the dueling arena, Harry flung a handful of the blinding material at the Aurors face, her arm instinctively covering her eyes, as he snapped to his feet and moved within arms reach of petite Auror. Hooking a foot behind the girl, Harry slammed his left palm into her chest, knocking the Auror off balance and onto her back. Without missing a beat, Harry's wand shot out of his right arms holster and rested lightly on the woman's delicate throat.

Harry grinned at the fallen Auror, "I believe that's a win for me Amy..."

Amelia gasped as she struggled to breathe, the wind knocked out of her, "Y-you j-just wanted t-to touch m-my chest... J-jackass..."

Harry chuckled as he held out an arm for the Auror, the petite woman grasping on to his forearm as he pulled her up.

"All in all, not too shabby Amy," quipped Harry lightheartedly.

"L-liar. You kicked m-my ass in l-less than f-fifteen seconds," groaned Amelia as she bent over gasping for breath.

"Head up Miss Bones," chided Harry, forcing the Auror to rest her hands on her head, "You could've done much worse Amy, a few technical issues to work on, and you'll be lasting whole minutes against me!"

"Jackass."

"Seriously though, you've got some skills Amy. Your casting speed was phenomenal, while the nonverbal spells doesn't give your opponent an idea of what you're casting," complimented Harry as Amelia listened intently, "However; your battlefield awareness could definitely use some work."

"How so?"

"I would've used those bludgeoning charms on the earth in front of you, it would've obscured my view of you and allowed you to get some distance on me. Using your environment to your advantage can be the difference between life and death.

Amelia cast a contemplative eye at the former Unspeakable, before nodding.

"Only other thing I can think of is your footwork. When people start throwing AK's around, the last thing you want to be is a stationary target."

"AK's?"

Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion before shrugging, "Forgot you people have a different set of slang. The killing curse."

"AK's..." said Amelia, rolling the term on her tongue, "I like it..."

Harry shrugged again before motioning to the Auror, "You up for round two?"

Amelia slammed her fist into her palm, blowing her asymmetrical pixie haircut out of her eyes.

"Bring it on punk."


Harry couldn't stop grinning as he walked through the hall of the ministry, his sparring session with Miss Bones going far better than he had initially expected. The feisty redhead was a quick study, quickly adapting the advice Harry gave her into her fighting style. The Auror being skilled enough to give him a slight challenge when he was facing her.

The former Unspeakable chuckled, the look of frustration on the beautiful Auror's face when he told her their longest bout was fifty nine seconds was priceless, especially considering he lied about the time. Harry could definitely see how Amelia would go on to become the Head of the Department of-Harry froze, before dropping to the floor, an overpowered stunning spell flying overhead.

The former Unspeakable rolled forward as a group of shimmering wizards faded into appearance around him. Releasing his wand from his holster Harry twisted past a black curse as he scrunched his eyes shut and cast a nonverbal Lumos Maxima, the flash temporarily blinding his assailants. Still in motion, Harry grasped the closest assailant and wrenched the wizard's arm violently behind his back.

The sound of breaking bones and a single gasp of pain was all the unfortunate wizard had time for before Harry planted a dragon skin boot into his back and sent him tumbling into a pair of his blinded comrades. Harry quickly sent a pair of banishing charms at a pair of conjured wolves, the quick work of an attacker who was able to spell his vision back.

"Bastard," growled a burly attacker, his cloaked face hidden as he threw a savage right cross that connected with Harry's chest, sending him crashing into the corridor wall.

Grunting in pain, Harry ducked under another brutal looking swing and swiped a hidden knife from his boot, slamming it into the inside of the man's thigh.

A roar of pain broke the silence as Harry cast a wandless banishing charm, sending the burly attacker flying across the room.

"Imperio!" cried a female witch triumphantly, as the silvery curse connected with the former Unspeakable.

Harry froze and raised his hands in the air seemingly caught under the Unforgivable as he effortlessly dismissed the mind control.

"Nice shot kid," complemented one of the cloaked assailants, "This guys deadlier than he looks. I want him tied up and stunned, I don't want to take any chances with this one."

"You got it boss," replied one of the attackers, raising his wand to stun the former Unspeakable.

Harry took that as his cue to disagree.

Lashing out, Harry connected a quick jab to the face of the wizard about to stun him, and hooked an arm around the female witch that had cursed him, dragging her back from his attackers.

"Oh shit-"

"Not another step," ordered Harry coolly, his wand pressed against the witch's head, "Or the Rookie gets it..."

The supposed leader raised both his hands up carefully, although his companions still kept their wands trained on him, "Alright, let's not do anything hasty here..."

Harry snorted, "Coming from the Unspeakable squad that tried to ambush me? You could've at least left the greenhorn at home..."

The hooded leader glanced at his companions before continuing, "Then you know who we are?"

The time traveler rolled his eyes, "That was a textbook snatch and grab op if I've ever seen one. Word of advice for next time, the protections on your snazzy face concealing hoods can fail if someone overpowers the hell out of a light charm.

The Unspeakable nodded, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Now, if you want to confirm my identity like civilized members of society, I promise I won't hurt your precious rookie."

"You bastard," growled the female witch as she struggled in his grasp.

"Stop struggling Valkyrie. We'll play nice."

Harry nodded, before motioning to the Unspeakable holding his face, "You, guy who I nailed in the face. Cast the spell."

The Unspeakable growled audibly as he looked to his leader for approval. Receiving it, the wounded man stalked over to Harry and his hostage.

"No funny business. You try to cast anything other than the ID spell and Valkyrie won't be getting her wings if you know what I mean. You understand?"

The Unspeakable nodded tersely, anger obvious in his body language.

"Let's get this over with."

The Unspeakable moved within arms reach, the body of Valkyrie separating the two wizards, and slowly rolled up the sleeve on the arm held tight to Valkyrie's neck, revealing the tattoo that marked him as an Unspeakable.

"Cast the spell."

The man slowly cast the identification spell causing a small piece of parchment to appear.

"Aww shit," groaned the Unspeakable as he read the words magically carved into the parchment.

"What's wrong?" asked the Unspeakable leader, his wand arm twitching in anticipation.

"He's legit chief," said the Unspeakable tossing the parchment to his leader, "A bloody Praefectus Castrorum..."

Harry would bet serious money that the faces of all the assembled Unspeakables were all currently shocked.

The only people who currently had a higher rank than him was the Unspeakable Field Commander and the Head Unspeakable.

Releasing his hostage, Harry gave a nonchalant shrug at the obviously staring Unspeakables.

"You should probably report to medbay boys and girls," said Harry, "And you. Centurion."

The Unspeakable jerked in surprise before nodding.

"Let's go have a chat with the Boss yeah?"


AN: I know. Awesome. Now I probably should be working on my other stories but when inspiration hits, you just roll with the blows. This is my attempt on a time travel story that hopefully breaks away from the mold and a Harry that utilizes physical violence just as much as magical.

Harry can best be described as a semi functioning veteran with a slight drinking problem. He can function relatively well in normal society, but uses alcohol as a crutch. And while Harry may seem a little cockier than normal, his attitude is based off my time in the army. You don't fuck with the best. And that mentality definitely rubbed off on Harry in the eight years he served as an operative.

Romance won't be a large part of the story, but if I do throw together a pairing it will be a heterosexual relationship. Nothing against slash, but that's just not my cup of tea.

Word of warning. I'm a proud flag waving, gun toting, American soldier, so american terms are sure to find their way into the dialogue. It probably doesn't help that Gavin Free is my primary source of British slang. Its up to you guys to correct me when I inevitably mess up.

While Voldemort didn't get much screen time I plan on portraying him as a charismatic revolutionary with bouts of rage, rather than the insane monologuing snake thing he was in canon. Should be fun.

Let me know what you think, what you liked and what you didn't. Your thoughts on a young Amelia Bones, the HDF, and anything else you found interesting. I have at least three arcs planned out, and a tentative conclusion. Which is more than I can say about my other stories. Hopefully you enjoyed it and until next time.

-Private Jenkins

Edited 11Oct2015