Full Summary:

The Golden Trio's relationship turns to ruins about a year after the downfall of Voldemort. Suddenly, they aren't so Golden anymore. Betrayals ensue, lies are told, and friendships once thought to be unbreakable are broken.

Five years later, though, the peace restored to the wizarding communities is being threatened. Muggles are being killed and raising interest with both world's press. Now, as the head of a team of Aurors in New York and after five years of hiding, Harry must return to the one place he swore he'd never go back to.

But if he thought things would remain the same in his absence, he was wrong . . .

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 1

Miles from home, a man named Harry Potter woke with a start. When he opened his eyes, he half expected to be at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, or his old apartment, but, much to his surprising disappointment, he was not.


He was in New York City, hiding from the wizarding world in England, from his friends, his family.

As his hands groped about the nightstand for his loathsome glasses, his mind unwillingly thought about what had woken him up and left him in such a state of disarray.

Taking a deep breath, he sat up in bed and tried calming himself, as he was shaking a bit. While he lied with his head against the headboard, he felt a small trickle of sweat trailing down his cheek and promptly used his hand to wipe his face.

He had been dreaming. Well, more like having a nightmare. Which was odd, since he hadn't had one in such a long time.

At first, after the initial defeat of Voldemort, the dreams had been his only true companion for quite some time. But, eventually, and miraculously, those dreams, those nightmares had stopped. Why, he didn't know, but who was he to question such a stroke of luck?

So he couldn't fathom what had triggered the nightmare again.

The nightmare was always the same—blackness. Nothingness. He was walking around in utter darkness, unable to find a single source of light or happiness. Loneliness welcomed him with open arms and left his heart heavy. There was no one. Only himself. He shivered and dared not to think of the possibilities of the return of his nightmare.

He was positive that it sounded absolutely silly that nothing terrified him, but it was his most prevalent fear since he killed Voldemort. There was nothing for him back in England and his vivid nightmares had only confirmed his thoughts. All that greeted him was a bleak, terrifying abyss. He was alone with none of his friends or family nearby. The only positive thing he had going for him was Teddy and he wouldn't trade his godson for anything.

Harry knew it was wrong to just take off with him, but legally, Teddy was his. Documents were signed and everything and he wasn't about to abandon his godson. Besides, Ron knew he had him and that he was safe. After their fight, he'd informed his best mate that he'd had enough and he was taking Teddy with him. He could only hope the youngest male Weasley had relayed that information to everyone else.

As his thoughts drifted, time seemed to get away from him. He wasn't aware how long he had been lying there, staring blankly at his ceiling, nor did he care. But, he did have work in the morning and knew full well that he needed to at least try to not look like a zombie when he showed up at the office. So, he removed his glasses, set them in their rightful place on his nightstand, and tried to force himself to go back to sleep. His attempts, however, were in vain. Any time he ever had one of his nightmares, he tossed and turned for hours and ended up feeling more tired than ever.

Consequently, after about a half hour of doing the very thing he knew would happen, he decided to give up on any chance of sleep and reluctantly threw his covers off of him.

"Uncle Harry?" a small voice called from the doorway.

Shifting in his bed, he turned to find Teddy clutching his favorite stuffed animal. Harry once again grabbed his glasses and motioned for his godson to come in. "What's up, buddy?"

"I'm hungry."

Harry chuckled and ruffled the child's hair. This kid was always hungry, yet he was as lanky as Harry had been in his childhood. "Okay. Give me a minute and I'll be in the kitchen, all right?"


The sound of small feet padding across the carpet put a smile on his face. He'd imagine Teddy was already climbing his favorite barstool and swinging his tiny legs back and forth.

He sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair before gracefully sliding out of his bed and mindlessly shuffling across the room to make his way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. When he had first traveled to the States he had detested the stuff, but now his body refused to function properly in its absence. It was like an addiction to him.

When he got to the kitchen, a smile tugged at his lips as his godson was doing the very thing he predicted. He allowed himself a moment to just watch him and enjoy his presence. He honestly didn't know what he would do without that little kid right there. It was so strange that a mere child of six could hold a grown man together. It wasn't as though he were completely miserable, quite the opposite actually. He'd grown to be rather happy in New York. But Teddy was the golden ray of light in his life, as corny as it sounded.

"All right, pal. What do you want for breakfast?" he asked as he got the coffee filters from his cabinet.

He asked the question without really needing to. He already knew what the answer was going to be. It was the same every morning. The boy wanted nothing but pancakes for breakfast and if it weren't for the babysitter he'd hired, he would have been in big trouble because he'd had no clue how to make the things.

And sure enough, Teddy didn't fail to disappoint. "Pancakes," he answered, as his legs were still swinging wildly to-and-fro.

Harry laughed, but as he grabbed the pancake mix and peered inside the box, his laughter fell short. He put the box down and raided the cabinets for an emergency back-up box that he always kept, but found nothing. "Crap. Okay, we're going to need a backup choice, Ted. Are scrambled eggs okay?"

"I like scrambled eggs."

"Is that a yes then?"

Teddy vigorously shook his head up and down to confirm his 'yes' answer and Harry grinned at him and ruffled his hair. It was times like these that he was thankful Teddy was a relatively low-maintenance kid.

Before he got to work on Ted's breakfast, he started the coffee and allowed himself a minute smile as the smell wafted through his nostrils, instantly giving him a small nudge awake.

The scrambled eggs took no time at all to make and after they both had their breakfast, Teddy asked if he could go watch Spongebob Squarepants, and while Harry hated that show with every fiber of his being, it was his godson's favorite thing to watch in the morning, and Harry had a very hard time telling him no when it came to inconsequential stuff like that.

He got the television set up and while Teddy was watching that God-awful excuse for a cartoon, he walked over to his mail and began sorting through it. He had been too tired last night to actually go through any of it, so he decided he might as well use this time to see if he had anything worth opening.

"Junk, junk, more junk," he mumbled. Most of it was credit card applications and magazine subscriptions, none of which he wanted. Just as he was getting ready to toss the lot of mail into his trash bin, his eyes widened at a return address. "You've got to be kidding me."

After much internal debate as to whether or not he should even open the blasted letter, his curiosity got the better of him, as it often did, and he finally tore the damn thing open. He held his breath in anticipation as he began to read:


I know it's been a while since we saw each other last, but since you gave me your address while Vernon and I were in New York, I decided to use it. I know you probably didn't think I'd keep it, so this is most likely a bit shocking to you. Anyway, I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for protecting my family. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you for putting aside whatever ill feelings you had towards us and looking out for us. If there is ever anything you need, I'll do what I can for you.

Dudley wanted me to say thank you for him as well.

Hope you are well.

Petunia Dursley

P.S. Please don't worry about yours and Teddy's location disclosure. Your secret is safe with me.

Harry openly gaped at the letter.

When he had run into his aunt and uncle about six months ago in the city, he had been absolutely certain that nothing had changed. Thankfully, Teddy had been at the babysitter's and hadn't been exposed to his only relatives. The pair of them looked as cross as ever, so, imagine Harry's surprise when his aunt, who had been no better than his uncle as far as treatment of him went, greeted Harry in a civil and almost—almost—pleasant demeanor. She had commented on his still unkempt hair and Harry had honestly been surprised that she hadn't offered up further, or worse for that matter, criticism.

It was his Uncle Vernon who had delivered in fine fashion, adhering to Harry's expectations. Snobbishly, and rather rudely Harry might add, Vernon Dursley peered down his nose at Harry and examined him as though he were a bug that he desired to squash. His uncle then proceeded to ask Harry what he was doing in the United States, in New York City no less, and questioned him on his finances. Clearly he still believed Harry to be dirt poor.

Harry merely smiled at his uncle, letting the blatant insult roll off his back and said, "I live here now. New York is my home. As for my finances, Vernon, I can assure you that what you make in a year is like pocket change to me."

Vernon had turned beat red and started to retort when his Aunt Petunia nudged her overly large husband and gave him a stern look that Harry often remembered her lavishing Dudley with. Apparently, it had the same affect on overgrown men.

Instead of allowing things to become increasingly awkward, she had actually asked how he was adjusting to American life, looking genuinely interested in his answer. Upon taking the time to explain things, Harry had watched in unabashed amusement as his uncle had huffed and puffed, reminding Harry of an angry, raging bull with smoke coming out of its nostrils as it scratched the ground below with its hoofs. When he had began mumbling under his breath, she had actually told his uncle to be quiet. It was all Harry could do to keep himself from laughing out loud.

The small act of kindness from his aunt had thrown Harry into a state of temporary insanity and he had stupidly offered his contact information to her. But, in all fairness he had never believed she would actually keep it, much less use it.

"Huh," he muttered.

That was definitely a blast from the past and one that he'd rather not revisit. His time with his aunt and uncle hadn't exactly been ideal, so he wasn't too keen on reconnecting with them.

But as much as the offer shocked him, and even flattered him, there was no way in hell he'd ever go to the Dursleys for anything. Not ever.

Nope. Hell would freeze over first.

He wished them well, he did. He harbored no resentment anymore. It was a long time ago and it was in the past. But just because he had learned to let go of his distaste and any bad blood between his only living relatives, did not mean that he had chosen to take a liking to them.

However, since his Aunt Petunia had taken the time to write him, he supposed it was only fair that he do the same. After much debate of using the typical wizarding mailing system, he had finally resolved that he would use the muggle mail system. He couldn't help the smirk forming on his face, though. He could only imagine his Uncle Vernon's face if he saw an owl dropping off a letter to their house after all these years.

Aunt Petunia,

Thanks for the letter. You were right—I was shocked, but I'm glad you wrote. Please, think nothing of it. You were my mum's sister and the only family I have left; of course I would keep you lot safe, even if you were a pain most of the time. And I'm just fine, thanks. Work is a bit crazy at the moment, so I'm surprised I even have time to write this letter. Anyway, tell Dudley I say hello.

Hope everything is okay on your end as well.


He briefly scanned the letter once more before sealing it into an envelope and addressing it. Harry still couldn't quite believe that he had heard from his aunt. It made him wonder how others were doing . . .

He shook his head and pushed that line of thinking out of his mind. He had not thought about his life in England for years, with the brief exception of the time he had run into his aunt and uncle, and he wasn't about to start now. When he had brought Teddy to New York with him, he'd vowed to put his past behind him and try and move on. And he thought he'd done a pretty damn good job of it, too, and he wasn't going to let that get turned upside down. Not just because of one stupid letter from an aunt that he had barely spoken to when they had lived together.

So, he quickly busied himself so his mind couldn't wander there again. That part of his life was over. He had made sure of it. There was only one person from his life in England that knew where he was and Harry trusted him completely. As a matter of fact, that person, Oliver Wood, was living in New York as well. He'd resigned from his position with Puddlemere United and went into training to become an Auror. His schooling and experience in the war had proved to be more than adequate to gain acceptance for the training and Harry couldn't be happier about that fact. They both worked together and had reacquainted themselves almost instantly. Oliver was much more pleasant to be around since he was no longer his captain and he always gushed over Teddy, especially when he'd been just a baby. The pair got on tremendously and Oliver often informed Harry of how glad he was that Teddy was in New York with them.

"Uncle Harry, can I have another glass of milk, please?" Teddy inquired without looking away from the television.

"Sure thing, buddy. Why don't you pause Spongebob and come in the kitchen, yeah?"

Harry chuckled when he heard grumbling coming from the living room but, unsurprisingly, his godson complied and promptly shuffled over to the kitchen and climbed up his barstool while Harry poured the drink.

He was quite thankful for the distraction Teddy had just provided, as his thoughts were running a little ramped at the moment and he always liked to busy himself when he became too lost in his own head. While he was up, he took the opportunity to pour himself another cup of coffee and then sat down on a barstool as he began reading the paper.

As he was flipping through the pages, a small article caught his eye and he could feel his eyes narrowing as he read:

Unsolved Murder in Queens:

Early last Tuesday at approximately 5:30 A.M., law officials entered the home of reporter Danielle Morrison to find her deceased after receiving a 911-phone call from her. She claimed that someone was in her house, but when police arrived, they found no signs of forced entry and Ms. Morrison's door was tightly locked up. Stranger still, when officials found her body, they found nothing physically wrong with her. It was as though she had just decided to die of her own accord with her eyes frozen in terror. Police are asking . . .

Harry trailed off, not needing to read the article any longer. He had a pretty decent idea of who killed that muggle reporter. Maybe he didn't have an exact name, but he at least knew the cause of her death. But what he didn't know was why. He had had many encounters with this muggle woman; she had been downright nosy to be perfectly honest. She had actually trailed Harry a couple of times and he had to modify her memory more times than he cared to count. The only thing he could think of that could have gone wrong was that she had just started to trail the wrong wizard, obviously a wizard that had no qualms using the killing curse.

A surge of guilt washed over him. Maybe if he had taken the time to protect her like his gut had told him to, she wouldn't have gotten herself killed. He had known that she was digging into his world—trying to discover the truth that magic was real, that there was another world that her kind did not know about. He had actually kept a close watch on her for a period of time, but then his life had taken a crazy turn and things had gotten so hectic that he had completely forgotten about this woman.

He angrily threw the paper on the counter and rubbed his face tiredly, dejectedly. He should have done more.

"Potter," a voice said, coming out of nowhere.

He glanced over at the fireplace to see Oliver Wood, the only link to his past in England, talking through the flames. "What did you need, Wood?" he asked as he walked over.

"Good morning to you, too."

"The point Oliver? Some time today, please," he said moodily.

"Fine, fine. Don't get your knickers in a bunch. First things first—where is my favorite six-year old?"

Right on cue, Teddy came barreling over to the fireplace and gave Oliver a wide, toothy grin. "Oliver!"

"Mornin' pal. Are you behaving this morning for your Uncle Harry?" He nodded enthusiastically and Oliver scoffed. "Shame on you. You remember what we talked about, right?"

"Very funny, Wood," Harry said, unable to stop the twitch in his lips. He placed his hand on Teddy's head and moved the child in question behind him. "Say goodbye to Oliver and go get dressed, all right? I have to drop you off at Nanny Kate's."

The small boy's shoulder's sagged in disappointment and he looked positively glum. It wasn't that he disliked the nanny, he just hated having his 'Oliver-time', as Oliver had apparently deemed it, interrupted. "Fine. Bye Oliver."

"Hey, chin up kiddo. When I get some time off work, I promise it'll be just you and me for a whole weekend. How's that sound?"


"Well, I'd pinky swear it if I could, but seeing as I'm talking to you through a fireplace right now, that's not exactly going to work. We'll do a hypothetical pinky swear and we'll chalk it up to a real one, how's that sound?"

Teddy grinned once more and held his pinky as though he were linking it with Oliver's and then trotted off to his room.

"A whole weekend?" Harry asked with an amused twinkle to his eyes. "You're sure about this?"

"I've done it before," he said somewhat defensively.

"Yeah, but that was when he was a baby. He will wear you out faster than you can blink. Sometimes I come home to find Kate ready to box his ears because he's so rambunctious."

"Speaking of, when are you going to ask that woman out on a date? It's so obvious she's into you."

"Uh, how 'bout never?"


"Never. Moving on please. Now why did you ruin my perfectly calm morning and pop your head into my fireplace?"

"Fine, then. Killjoy," he mumbled. "McLaughlin wants you at the office ASAP. There's been some activity—"

Harry sighed and nodded. "Morrison, right?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"It was in the Times," he said sullenly.

Oliver made a sound of distaste. "You actually read that rubbish?"

"Rubbish? I believe it managed to report the death of Morrison quite accurately, did it not?" He smirked as Oliver scowled. His former team captain truly despised muggle newspapers for some reason. "Besides, I am living in a muggle flat, which means there are muggle neighbors to contend with, which means that I—"

"All right, all right. I get it. Anyway, get your scrawny arse to the office, got it?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow and couldn't suppress a grin. "Scrawny? Who kicked your sorry butt the last time—?"

"Whatever," Oliver mumbled. Wood never had been able to accept defeat easily. "See you at the office, Potter."

And then, his face was gone. There was just a fireplace that Harry was left staring at, grinning widely.

He quickly retreated to his own bedroom and changed, and then replaced his glasses with his contacts before heading to Teddy's room.

Thankfully, the young boy was dressed and ready to go with his backpack in tow, no doubt filled with all of his favorite toys and movies. "You ready to go, buddy?"


Conveniently enough, Kate's place was right across from theirs, so they didn't have very far to go. She was a witch herself, which was yet another convenient source of help. She had been one of the first people Harry met in his flat and she was very friendly and offered immediate assistance when she discovered that Harry had Teddy in his life. Instantly, they became good friends and while she was often curious as to what had happened in his past, she never pried and for that reason, Harry eventually broke down and told her everything one night when he drank himself into oblivion.

He knocked on her door and seconds later Kate greeted them looking rather put out. The first thing Harry did was try to pick his jaw up off the ground. The second thing he did was try not to laugh. She must have noticed because she scowled. "Not one word out of you, Potter. Is that quite clear?"

He would have been fine had it not been for Teddy, who exclaimed, "Ew, Nanny Kate, what's wrong with your hair?"

A burst of laughter escaped Harry's throat and he was soon doubled over at the waist, having trouble breathing. Kate's hair was a royal mess. It looked like a dye job gone horribly wrong. The normal auburn color was now a cross between burnt orange and a dull yellow. He wasn't quite sure what she could have possibly done, but it looked awful.

Harry finally looked up from the ground, still chortling, and saw that Kate was beyond annoyed and he suddenly began fearing for his life. She smiled sweetly at Teddy, ignoring his hair comment and said, "Sweetheart, why don't you go inside and get all of your toys set up, all right? Maybe later we can bake something together."

Teddy merely shrugged and started to go inside when Harry stopped him. "Hey! No goodbye hug for your uncle?" His godson came back over right as Harry crouched down beside him. "I'll swing by to get you as soon as I can, buddy."

"'Kay," he said as squeezed passed Kate and ran over to her living room to dump his toys out of his bag. He heard Kate chuckle at his antics but when he looked up at her, she was frowning at him.

"I thought I said not one word from you, Potter."

He smiled cheekily and folded his arms. "You did, but you said nothing about laughing."

"Bastard," she mumbled under her breath.

His grin widened and he kissed her on the cheek, as was customary between them and strictly platonic despite Oliver's claims, as he prepared to leave. "I'll be back after work. And have you forgotten you're a witch? Fix your hair, Nanny Kate. It looks awful." Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that she got her wand out, probably to hex him. But he was faster than her as he grabbed his own wand and apparated into the office, however he still preferred flying, truthfully. Much as he didn't like to admit it though, apparating was faster and far more convenient.

As he was walking through the halls of the office, he couldn't help but think how much things had changed since he left England. When he had first moved to the States, he had been wary of doing anything that involved magic. But when he had finally come across some American wizards, the first one being Kate, he had realized that his name had made no difference to them. They had known his story, of course, but he hadn't been treated the same as he had been in England and he had been thrilled.

So he quickly accepted a job offer to work for the American Aurors and he loved his job. He couldn't imagine returning to a muggle lifestyle and was thankful for his choice of location. His team of Aurors rarely dealt with foreign affairs. He had asked specifically to be placed on a team that would remain in the States, so he never had to worry about running into old acquaintances while on the job and so he wouldn't be far away from Teddy.

He was head of the team, and, after much teasing and goading from his former school mate, Wood had finally let it go and accepted that he was now receiving the orders instead of giving them. At first, people had been reluctant follow someone younger than them with less professional training, but when they had actually seen him in action and had heard Wood's accounts of his numerous battles, they had eventually forfeited any reservations they had had and fell in line brilliantly. Their team had such a cohesive flow that Harry couldn't fathom working with a different one.


Harry jumped at the sudden disturbance of his thoughts and turned to see his boss, Jerry McLaughlin, standing behind him with a less than pleased look on his face. The balding, aging man motioned for Harry to follow him. Inwardly, Harry groaned. He knew that look all too well and knew what was coming.

And what was coming was likely a week's worth of no sleep. Just perfect.

"My office, now."

And without another word, Jerry retreated back the way he came, leaving Harry pondering what could be so important that had his boss acting this way. Jerry was one of the most laid back people he had ever come across, so it was startling to Harry that his superior was so tense at the moment. It was just one muggle reporter. Right?

After Harry practically jogged to catch up to Jerry, his boss motioned for him to close the door and come in. "Have a seat," he said as he motioned towards the chair.

His nerves got the better of him and any time he got nervous, he had a hard time sitting down. "I think I'll stand, if that's okay."

"Do whatever you like. Just don't pace."

"Right," he said with a nod.

To keep himself from doing the one thing he was ordered not to do, he leaned against the wall and crossed his feet at the ankles and his arms. "So what's up, Jerry?"

He sighed and ran a tired hand through his hair. "There's been some . . . activity."

A confused look graced Harry's features as he crinkled his nose. "That muggle reporter, Morrison? I know—" he abruptly stopped when Jerry started shaking his head.

"Not just her. That's why I called you in here. Look, the rest of the team is unaware of this information. I wanted you to be the first to know." Jerry leaned across his desk and began whispering, as if he were telling Harry a secret. "It was not just Morrison that was discovered. There have been others that have had distinct characteristics of the Killing Curse, but it's all been hushed up. We have an inside man at one of the muggle police departments and he's informed the chief of what's going on. Well, vaguely. The chief is on a strictly need-to-know basis," he said with a grim look on his face.

"Who are the others?"

"There have been three. One was a man by the name of Tony Moore, he was a detective for the NYPD—that one was, understandably, a little more difficult to keep quiet. There was quite a big fuss about it, actually. Anyway, the next two were much easier to keep under wraps. The next was Patricia LeBelle, a sous chef at one of the restaurants in Manhattan. And finally, the last one, until Morrison was found, was Mark Gomez from one of the accounting firms in downtown Brooklyn."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and scowled. "But what's the connection here? Aside from the fact that the same thing killed all of them, I mean. There's usually some kind of connection, right?"

"That's the thing, Harry. We don't know. All we know is that there is a witch or wizard out there who is starting to raise suspicion and a body count. That's four people in the last five months and no leads."

"None at all?" Harry asked glumly. That wasn't good. Usually they had at least something to go on.

But when Jerry hesitated, Harry felt hopeful. He knew his boss well enough to know when he wasn't being completely honest. "Come on Jerry, what's going on? What do you know that you don't want to tell me?"

"There is one person we have in mind. He escaped from Azkaban when all of the Death Eaters broke out around eight months ago. There had been no activity for a while after they escaped, so security was lax. Plus, with their master defeated, I guess no one really saw a point to do a worldwide manhunt for them."

"Who'd you have in mind Jerry?" Harry said impatiently.

"Lucius Malfoy."

Harry's face blanched. That was certainly unexpected, and, on top of it all, made no sense. As far as Harry knew, Malfoy had never shown a spark of interested in Americans. "What business would Malfoy have in killing American muggles?"

McLaughlin shook his head and shrugged. "That's what we don't know. All we have right now is guesswork and hunches, and even those are minimal at best."

"So why call me in? Why my team?" he asked warily.

"Because, Potter. You're familiar with England. You've lived there for most of your life—"

Anger rose in his chest and he could feel his infamous temper flaring, threatening to break through the surface. "Damn it, McLaughlin! We agreed!" he yelled. "I told you that I wanted nothing to do with England! And besides that, the killings are happening on American soil, why go back to England?"

Jerry sighed and sank back in his chair. "I realize that you want to stay away from your home country, Harry, and I'm sorry. But you're the best damn Auror in this company and we need your help with this before it gets out of control. And we go back to England because we believe that Lucius is not the one doing the actual killings. You know as well as I do that it is highly unlikely that Malfoy would ever step foot in America."

Harry had to agree with him on that one. He had had many encounters with Lucius and knew that Americans were on about the same level as muggle-borns for him. "You think he's the puppet master, then?" Harry asked.

Jerry paused took a deep breath before nodding. "I need you to do this, Harry. It's an order," he said firmly. "Is that clear?"

Harry hated when Jerry went into boss mode. This was the one part of the job that he detested. He had always been so used to doing things his way—he had never really had to worry about following orders before, so this was slightly new territory for him. But, he complied. Just as he always did. So, he gritted his teeth and nodded, bitterly. "Yes, sir. When do I leave?"

"You and your team of Aurors leave first thing tomorrow. I suggest you debrief them and head back to your apartment so you can pack. Do I need to make travel arrangements, or are you going to apparate?"

"Apparating's fine."

"Good. I've written all necessary information down for you. Take this packet and keep it with you. Study it. Learn it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Jerry motioned to the door, signaling that their meeting was finished. "Get going. You've got a lot of work ahead of you, Potter."

Harry nodded and left the office so he could make his way to his team members. There, he found Oliver, Claire Winters, and Jim Demeter all waiting for him. Wood was the first to speak. "What's going on, Harry?"

He sighed and reluctantly relayed the orders to his team.

"Pack your bags, team. We're going to England."

Hello there!

This is my first Harry Potter fiction and I am extremely apprehensive about positing it. People are very loyal to the series and I admit I'm rather nervous to the response I'll get. I think that's honestly part of the reason I've held off on posting this for so long.

I've been working on this for probably just shy of a year I think. I've got about ten chapters written up and I'd imagine there's probably about five or six to go, so I figured I should probably go ahead and give this a go. I've called on the great Wizard of Oz to give me some courage.

This is a Hermione/Harry tale, though they will not be together right away. They have many, many hurdles to overcome throughout this particular journey, so I hope readers of the story (should there be any with any kind of luck!) will be patient with me. I'm not a writer who generally throws her main couple together right at the off and I have a ridiculous addiction to drama. I just thought I should say those few straight-forward things about my writing style. I know a lot of people tend to get impatient with me, so I thought I'd give some fair warning. Lol.

I'm going to try and keep this in line with the series, but I have changed a few things around for my own benefit of this story. I was disappointed when Harry didn't take in Teddy and that didn't exactly sit well with me. So in my world, Harry chooses to take in his godson. Plus, it will serve for a greater purpose later on in the plot.

Also, this will contain no bashing of Ginny or Ron. I love both of them, but I'm a Harry/Hermione shipper at heart.

It's starting out as a "T" rating, but could very well change in the future. I haven't decided if I'm going to brave the sex-writing scenes or not.

This story has no beta. It's been previewed for content, that's all, though (EDIT: Which, I feel like a heel for forgetting to mention, HoplessRomantic984. She's been absolutely fabulous for previewing this for me!). I've tried to catch any mistakes, so please forgive any blaring errors. If they're super annoying and I still haven't caught them, please let me know and I'll fix it in a jiffy.

Anyway, I hope this wasn't a completely dreadful start. I love feedback, but please do refrain from flames, or I'll send you my own Howler (not really though). I do accept constructive criticism, though. That is very welcome!