Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Glee.
Harry walked into the office of Kingsley Shacklebolt, interim Minister for Magic until a new Wizengamot could be elected, most of the previous one either rotting in prison, fleeing from the Law or lying dead on the battlefield, many of them at Harry's hand. Voldemort had finally been defeated after a long siege-style fight that had occurred in Hogsmeade. The devastation to the magical town had been immense as Harry, along with the aurors and the remnants of Dumbledore's army, had fought a seemingly unending tide of death eaters and hit wizards. There had been no Hollywood ending to the battle, Harry and Voldemort had not met in the centre of the battlefield as everyone watched, rather, Harry had attacked Voldemort from behind and had managed to land a lucky blow. Unfortunately for Harry who had, somewhat naively, thought that that would end of all the problems facing magical Britain, it didn't.
The final battle had taken place over 6 months ago, and since then, Harry had averaged about 4 hours of sleep a night, despite his best attempts to gain more, his time completely taken up with tracking down the Death Eaters and trying to instil confidence in the new regime, as well as encouraging muggleborns to join the magical world. Now he was approaching the Minister for Magic, having been warned by numerous Healers about the possibility of burnout and that he had to take it easier, or slip into a coma.
"Hey Shack." Harry greeted the tall, dark man currently camped behind a mountain of paperwork.
"I did not sign on for this." responded Kingsley as he leant back in his chair rubbing his temples. "Anyway what do you want? Sorry about sounding brusque, but I haven't time for pleasantries. No one mentioned the amount of work I had to do."
"As you know, I have been given a prescription of sorts from St. Mungoes. They want me removed from active duty otherwise I would, how did they put it, "slip into a sleep deeper than Sleeping Beauty," and obviously, I don't want to do paperwork, so..." responded Harry, before trailing off slightly as he collapsed into the seat opposite Kingsley's desk.
Kingsley looked down at his table for a minute casting a silent spell to move the paperwork off the desk so he could look at Harry, and when he did so, there was an comprehending look on his face. "You want to go after Draco Malfoy and his mother." At Harry's nod, Kingsley continued, "You think Lucius is after them for turning, don't you?"
Harry nodded again, the memory of Lucius swearing revenge upon the duo after disowning them had been weighing heavily on Harry's conscience, especially since he had been integral in convincing them to change sides. After news broke that Voldemort had been vanquished, they had left Britain to pursue a new life under a Government-approved alias. "I vowed for them, whether I like it or not, they are a part of the Black family and are my responsibility, I need to protect them."
Kingsley sighed, "I'm sorry, I don't know where they are, only Madame Bones did, and she's on extended leave somewhere in the Himalaya's right now."
Harry laughed, "That's alright, I know where they are." Seeing Kingsley frown confusedly at him, Harry smiled, "You don't know where they are, but they still had to go through Gringotts. They bought a house using the last of the money from Narcissa's old vault, and I, as her family head, am entitled to see a ledger of all her expenditures and income."
"You didn't come to me for permission, did you?" asked Kingsley, rhetorically, but Harry answered anyway.
"I just wanted to let you know. If you need me, send me a Patronus." Kingsley stood, and extended his hand. Harry stood, slightly shocked knowing the older man's reputation for only shaking the hands of people he deeply admired and respected.
"If any man is fit to replace Albus Dumbledore as the most powerful wizard alive, it is you." Kingsley praised, smiling as Harry shook his hand, "And I would have loved to watch the two of you duelling."
Harry smiled in response, remembering the venerable, old wizard who had taught him to fight after his Godfather's death, before pulling out his wand and conjuring a vial. "It's the least I can do for you." Harry said in response to the look of confusion in Kingsley's eyes, before he tapped his head and pulled out a memory of one of his and Albus' later duels. That duel had actually taken place just before Dumbledore's death at the ends of Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, and had been one of the few times that Harry had managed to defeat the ancient wizard.
With a crack, Harry appeared outside a small, slightly dilapidated bungalow in Lima, Ohio-the new residence of Draco and Narcissa Black. He strode forward confidently, dispelling his notice-me-not charm when he failed to notice any nearby muggles who might have otherwise seen his sudden appearance, and knocked on the door. Mere seconds later, it was flung open by a tall, blond haired boy with a somewhat genial smile that faded as he recognised just who it was that was at the door.
"Draco, who is it?" came a voice from one of the other rooms, to which the boy responded.
"It's Saint Potter." spat the blond Slytherin.
"I thought we had got onto a first name basis after I stopped you going to Azkaban. You remember that?" remarked Harry calmly, and slightly mockingly. Just as he finished speaking, a very attractive blond woman with startling blue eyes walked into view.
The middle aged woman, who still looked in her twenties, smiled upon seeing Harry, the complete opposite of her son's behaviour. "Harry, come in."
Harry accepted her invitation, hugging the beautiful woman as he did so. "It's great to see you again, Narcissa."
"So, what brings you here?" asked Narcissa as they sat down in the cramped kitchen.
Before Harry could respond, Draco spoke up, "No doubt he's here to gloat about being the Golden Boy, and laugh at how far we have fallen, that or he's going to threaten us with prison if we don't do something he wants."
"Actually," answered Harry. "I'm here because you, whether we like it or not, are family. Lucius is still on the loose, and so I've come to stay with you two for protection." He continued.
Narcissa looked uncomfortable, before she spoke up at Harry's questioning gaze. "We only have two bedrooms, and no money for a move. We spent all we had putting a deposit on the house."
"As I said, we are family." responded Harry before he spoke faux imperiously, "No member of House Black shall ever live in such conditions as these." Narcissa smiled, but it faded as Draco stormed out of the room.
"What's up with him? I distinctly remember less animosity last time we talked." asked Harry.
Narcissa frowned, "He's changed since you last saw him. He's going to the local high school, and he has muggle friends, seeing you brought back old memories and actions. You brought out old memories that he isn't proud of. Plus, you offering money hurt his pride." Although the topic was somewhat sombre, she spoke with pride in her voice as she talked of how her son was becoming a better person.
Not long later, Harry stood, offering his hand to Narcissa as he did so, helping her up as well. She took it, shooting Harry a questioning glance. "We're off to buy a house, and get me enrolled at school." Narcissa smiled, her face lighting up as it did so, before she queried, "How will you keep up? I mean, you haven't gone to Muggle School in years. Draco had to do a lot of intensive studying before he went."
"I've kept up my studies, one of the benefits of being a friend of Hermione, plus, if Draco can do it, so can I." responded Harry, eagerness obvious in his voice at the prospect of challenging his old nemesis once more.
Harry slumped down in the bed of the new house, bought with Black family money, even if the deal was hurried with a bit of magic. It had taken most of the day for them to find a house that all three Black family members liked, but they had finally settled on this large two-storey house, with 4 bedrooms (Narcissa had insisted upon having a guest room) as well as 2 bathrooms, 2 living rooms and a large kitchen and dining room.
Harry had quickly enrolled at McKinley High School, using magically forged transcripts from his previous school, called Stonewall High in England, where Harry had top marks. Harry had initially laughed at this, wondering what the Dursley's reaction to this would be, if they ever found out. Taking Narcissa's advice, Harry had spelled the transcript so that anyone who read it would instantly believe it, and not want to call Stonewall for information about Harry. Harry cast around his room, large but sparsely decorated with pale blue paint, no posters, and a single TV mounted in a corner on top of a table. His chest of drawers was adorned with pictures of Harry and his friends, the DA and others he'd met that he considered families. Most were actually muggle pictures, something about Harry's upbringing giving him the controversial opinion that they better captured the essence of the moment. A wardrobe sat against a wall. Harry sighed; the scarcity of his possessions was depressing. Nonetheless, he gave himself over to sleep, only to be awoken what seemed like minutes later by Draco, who was talking to him, "-7:45, school starts in 15 minutes and that car is leaving in 5 minutes."
Blearily eyed, Harry pushed himself away from the warm embrace that was his bed. Stumbling around the room, he managed to get changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Still, half asleep he wandered downstairs, only to sudden leap into alertness when Narcissa approached him from behind with a plate of toast. "Can't go to school hungry." she commented.
Harry thanked her, grabbed the toast and ran out into the car where Draco was waiting for him, idly noticing how uncomfortable it felt to call him Draco. "Now, remember." began Draco, "You're my cousin from England, and you want to come out here to experience America."
"I know, we went over this yesterday." Harry responded grumpily.
Draco quickly interrupted, "But you have the attention span of a gnat, and the memory of a goldfish. Who knows what you remember?"
Sooner than Harry would have liked, they were pulling up outside McKinley High. "Now, when school ends, go to the music room, I have glee. Follow me to the office, you need a timetable."
"What's glee? And why should I go there?" responded Harry.
"Show choir, and because I'm your lift home." answered Draco, his voice similar to the one used to explain things to children.
"You sing?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow.
"I was in the choir back home." Responded Draco as the duo walked into school towards the office to get Harry's new timetable.
"We had a choir back home?" questioned Harry, "Why did I not know?"
"That's why I said you have the attention span of a gnat, you notice nothing and yes we did. Flitwick taught it."
Just as Harry was about to respond, his battle-honed senses spotting a flying purple projectile that was moving towards his face rapidly, and he quickly spun out the way, dropping into a fighting stance, one hand already flying to his wand holster, only to stop as he remembered there were muggles around.
A quick glance at Draco saw him to be covered in some sort of purple water/ice hybrid. Instantly, Harry's eyes sought out the culprit, or culprits as a couple of jocks, or at least Harry assumed they were jocks based on their jackets, high-fived each other and began to walk on. Draco answered Harry's questioning look, "This is what you call being slushied. It's happened to everyone from Glee club." Harry's fiery temper was stoked higher at the tone of resignation in Draco's voice, eerily reminiscent of how Harry had spoken to people when he had suffered under the Dursley's tenure.
"I hate bullying." mentioned Harry, to which Draco looked at him, remembering the story of Harry's childhood which had somehow been leaked to the press by Rita Skeeter. Before Draco could stop him, Harry was already marching after the jocks, yelling at them in a slight paraphrase of Ron, "Oi, piss for brains!" Both of the jocks looked around, causing Harry to laugh derisively. "You actually responded to that. You do wonders at disproving the stereotype that jocks are Neanderthals." He told them sarcastically, before angrily saying, "Now, I think you owe my cousin an apology, you spilt your drink on him." Harry's eyes, if anyone had bothered to look at them, were filled with fiery determination and resolve. He had faced down Voldemort and all manner of dark and evil wizards, infinitely more powerful than a couple of knuckleheads with more hands than brain cells. People turned to look at the confrontation, the new kid looking very dangerous as he drew himself up to his full height, even if it was only 5 foot 9, and flexed his aura.
Despite how intimidating Harry looked, the jocks were either dumb enough, or cared enough about public opinion to face off against him. "I don't think so." said one, before the other said, "Whatcha going to do about it?"
Harry chuckled, "Do you do that to show a united front, or are you each actually incapable of holding a conversation on your own?" The question caused the two jocks to look at one another, before they reverted to type and one swung a massive arm at Harry, who simply seemed to blur out of the way, catching the arm as he did so before pulling the bigger boy to the ground. The other attempted to attack in the same way, obviously not learning the lesson the other boy had just been taught. This time, Harry moved out of the way, before punching the jock below the armpit, winding him, before a light punch to the stomach knocked him down. As neither made any move to get up, Harry turned away and walked over to Draco, mentioning, "They send their apologies." Draco led Harry away from a stunned crowd who had just watched two of the toughest guys in the school get beaten up in a matter of seconds.
Harry and Draco quickly moved to the general office and picked up Harry's timetable and locker number, and both were excused from first period so Draco could show Harry around. However, the bell rang and Harry had to leave Draco for first class, which was Algebra.
The next few seemed to last an eternity as Harry moved from class to class, introducing himself to a few classmates and being told what to catch up on, as well as learning that despite not having any formal, muggle education for the past few years, he still followed the class easily, especially in English, although science proved to be a much tougher opponent. Harry wasn't sure if that was a sign that the work Hermione had forced him to do was just that good, or whether public schooling was just that bad. As he mused on this, Harry slowly ambled into the canteen. As he collected his food, he turned to search for Draco, spotting him sitting next to a black girl, a boy in a wheelchair, a gothic Asian girl and a boy who appeared to take way too much time on his appearance, before walking over to them.
He plonked himself down beside Draco, and said, "Hey." to the people who were sitting at the table, well aware they were staring at him. Despite the intense scrutiny he was under, he casually took a bit of the food he had been given and swallowed with a frown. "This isn't food, this is cardboard." mentioned Harry, only years of surviving off table scraps at the Dursley's giving him the ability to continue eating; old habits die hard, and Harry never turned his nose up at food. "Anyway, I'm Harry Black, Draco's cousin."
"You're the new guy who beat up Karofsky and his friend for slushying Draco, aren't you?" asked a newcomer, who was a girl with black hair and a wide-beaming smile. She quickly continued, "Oh, I'm Rachel Berry, the star of the glee Club!" It was obvious from the way the others reacted to this that it was a common sentiment from the girl.
"Yip I did that, and who are the rest of you?" asked Harry, gesturing at the table.
"Artie." mentioned the guy in a wheelchair.
"T-Tina." stuttered the gothic Asian.
"Kurt." answered the boy who had taken ages on his outfit and appearance.
"And I'm Mercedes." responded the black girl.
Harry narrowed his eyes before haltingly asking, "Like... the car?"
She nodded, "My dad's a massive car freak."
"At least your dad isn't a mechanic who forces you to work with him." responded Kurt. And, just like that, Harry had been accepted by the odd camadarie of people.
"Anyway," said Rachel, before staring intensely at Harry who was still eating his prison food, "Are you joining the glee club? We need more members."
"No." answered Harry shortly.
"Why not?" asked Rachel indignantly.
"It's obviously not stage fright, and I remember you sang that song with Hermione at Ron's...funeral." continued Draco, finishing with a look of understanding, and indeed he was right.
"When I sing, it reminds me of that day." said Harry nostalgically, remembering how Ron's funeral had been attacked, and both Hermione and Ginny had been killed. "And too much does that anyway." Before anyone could press him on this subject, and Rachel certainly looked eager to, Harry felt something moving towards his head, and he leapt to his feet moving out of the line of fire as he did so. When he saw the object that forced him to move was a football, he quickly caught it before it could hit any of his lunch mates. Guessing where it had come from, he began to walk over to the table filled with what where presumably, football players, throwing the ball to them as he came closer.
"Now that my back isn't turned, anything you wanna say to me, or do?" asked Harry, narrowing his eyes at them. A number of them stood in response, before another pulled them back down.
"Guess we lost control of the football." mentioned the peacemaker, who was a tall black haired boy with a genial expression on his face. Another one of the footballers spoke up,
"Best not sit with those losers anymore of we could lose control a lot more often."
Harry smirked at them, "You call them the losers, coming from the team who haven't won a football game in years, that's rich. And you already lose control of the ball enough on the pitch; don't start doing it off the field as well."
Although this comment wasn't very well received by the group, one of the guys laughed, before standing up, extending a hand. "I'm sensing a fellow badass here, so I say this nicely, don't sit with them, it'll destroy any cred you manage to earn at this hole." asked the Mohawk bearing man.
"Noted, but I think I'll sit with them anyway." answered Harry as he shook the man's hand. "I'm Harry."
"Puck." came the short reply. "Maybe you should come to practice sometime, show us how it's done, unless you can simply criticise."
"Maybe." answered Harry with a small smile, before he nodded and walked back to the table.
"How did you do that?" asked Artie.
"Yeah." said Mercedes, "Why didn't they crush you?"
"And can you teach us?" continued Kurt.
"Natural brilliance is not something you can teach!" answered Harry faux pretentiously, before he laughed, "Honestly, be confident in yourself. I was confident because I knew they wouldn't do anything with a teacher in the corner. Speaking of which, why hasn't any of the teachers said anything to me about beating up those two idiots this morning?"
"Probably because they wouldn't have told a teacher they got beaten up when they outnumbered you." mentioned Draco with a familiar smirk. As the group finished eating, the bell rang for the end of lunch.
"So Harry." said Kurt as he stood, "What class are you in now?"
"I am in double Spanish with Mr. Schuester. What sort of surname is that? Is it like an amalgamation of a shoe and mister? Should I just call him Mr Shoe?" Harry's reply forced a weak laugh out of the group.
"He's a good teacher, plus he takes Glee." said Mercedes with a smile, before she said her goodbyes and walked away, leaving Harry to walk to Spanish with Kurt. Harry walked into the classroom and the teacher smiled at him, "You must be Harry Black."
Harry nodded, "The one and only."
"There is a seat beside Quinn you can take." said the teacher, who Harry guessed must be Mr Schuester. When Harry made no attempt to move, the teacher sent him a questioning glance to which Harry responded. "I don't know who that is."
"Oh, it's the girl in the cheerleading outfit." said Mr Schuester, gesturing at the girl in question who duly raised a hand. Harry moved over to sit beside her, idly wondering what school made people wear cheerleading uniforms outside of practice, despite this thought, the teenage side of Harry absentmindedly praised the authorities for that, as he noted the girl's attractiveness, which the uniform only accentuated. Spanish, as it turned out, appeared to be mostly oral as most of the class was spent simply repeating what Mr Schuester said, something which Harry excelled at due to the fact that Dumbledore had forced him to learn a number of languages to aid his spell casting when the incantation was in another language, and Spanish was one of these languages due to the large number of Spanish spell crafters. As Harry made to leave the classroom at the end of the class to go to Art, he was stopped by Mr Schuester. "If you need any help catching up in class, let me know and I'll organise a few classes for you."
"That's O.K." responded Harry in Spanish, "I know a little Spanish." before he nodded to the stunned teacher and left.
He quickly learnt that Art seemed to simply be a class where everyone got to draw what they felt like, as long as they didn't talk too loudly. Unfortunately, there was no one in the class who Harry knew, so he simply took an empty spot and began to draw.
The teacher had given a rather vague command, so Harry simply drew a copy of a picture he had at home in which the ministry six, apart from Harry who took the picture, were standing under a tree. As the class began to draw to a close, he was feeling quite proud of his work, all the people in the drawing looking like their real life counterparts, but a quick glance at the person beside him made him feel like he had just drawn a smiley face in crayon. It was outstanding, and looked completely real as clothes seemed to ripple in an unseen breeze and people's expressions were captured perfectly. It was a perfect representation of a trio of people walking down a street.
"Wow." exclaimed Harry, drawing the attention of the girl beside him, who was also a cheerleader based on her uniform, "That is incredible. I feel like I'm 5 years old again and drawing letters in steamy glass."
"Thanks." responded the girl, who appeared to be a little unused to such compliments if the slight blush she was sporting was anything to go by. "I'm Brittany."
"And I'm Harry Black." answered Harry, but unfortunately any further conversation was cut off when the bell went and Brittany left the room with her friends, Quinn and another cheerleader. "Now to find the music room." muttered Harry, remembering Draco's command for the end of the day.
A quick 15 minutes later found Harry standing outside the music room, listening to an awful rendition of "Sit Down, You're Rocking the Boat!" which featured Artie, the guy in the wheelchair, as the male lead. Harry snuck into the room, and stood beside the piano, a stroke of luck as he was able to stop Artie rolling into it during the crescendo of the song.
"Are you going for irony in this, or is there something I'm not getting?" asked Harry, to which Mr Schuester replied, "There's a lot of potential here."
Rachel quickly dropped her jazz-hands stance, and despairingly spoke up, "We suck."
Mr Schuester shook his head, "It'll be fine, everyone starts off a little rusty at the beginning."
Close to an hour later in which Mr Schuester attempted to force the group into singing the song anywhere near well, they were finally allowed to leave, and Harry walked with Draco to the car, talking with the other Gleeks as he did so.
As they began to leave the school in the car, Draco sighed, "Alright, make your jokes."
"I can't." responded Harry, "That was simply awful, it was beyond bad. Although," he said, "You're actually a pretty good singer."
"Thank you." Draco said, accepting the praise, even if he was a little dubious about doing so.
Hi, I'm back, and I'm starting a new story. Although, that's just because my other stories don't seem very good to me, and I can't be bothered editing them in the middle of my exams, anyway please review.