Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe is NOT mine, I'm just playing in JK Rowling's sandbox. Hopefully I'll be able to add to this wonderful world that she has created.

A/N: The first bit here is from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, chapter one (The Other Minister).

It was then, as he stood with his back to the room, that he heard a soft cough behind him.

He froze, nose-to-nose with his own scared looking reflection in the dark glass. He knew that cough. He had heard it before. He turned, very slowly, to face the room.

"Hello?" he said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

For a brief moment he allowed himself the impossible hope that nobody would answer him. However, a voice responded at once, a crisp, decisive voice that sounded as though it were reading a prepared statement. It was coming – as the Prime Minister had known at the first cough – from the froglike little man wearing a long silver wig who was depicted in a small and dirty oil-painting in the far corner of the room.

"To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond immediately. Sincerely, Fudge.' The man in the painting looked enquiringly at the Prime Minister.

"Er," said the Prime Minister, "listen…it's not a very good time for me…I'm waiting for a telephone call, you see… from the president of –"

"That can be rearranged," said the portrait at once. The Prime Minister's heart sank. He had been afraid of that.

"But I really was rather hoping to speak –"

"We shall arrange for the president to forget to call. He will telephone tomorrow night instead," said the little man. "Kindly respond immediately to Mr. Fudge."

"I…oh…very well," said the Prime Minister weakly. "Yes, I'll see Fudge."

Prime Minister Blair quickly found his seat and waited for Fudge. His eyes darted to the dark corner of the room. A whoosh of emerald green flames brought Blair's attention back to the fireplace where a portly man wearing a green pinstriped cloak and clutching a green bowler hat. The portly man brushed off the soot from his clothes and straightened up.

"Ah Prime Minister," Fudge said walking over to the desk and extending his hand. Blair just looked at the outstretched hand, keeping his own on the desk. Fudge's warm smile slid off his face and his hand dropped back to his side.

"What do I owe the pleasure of having the Minister for Magic in my office at this time of night?" Blair asked sharply. "I have better things to do than…"

"Excuse me Prime Minister but I am no longer the Minister," Fudge said quietly.


"The wizarding world has ousted me and my replacement, Rufus Scrimgeour, shall be here momentarily," Fudge said. "He's meeting with Albus Dumbledore at the moment."

"I see," Blair said. "So what is it that you want Fudge?"

"Perhaps it is best if we wait until Rufus has joined us."

"You will tell me what is going on now or I will personally throw you out of this office Fudge," Blair barked, getting to his feet towering over the small portly man.

Another whoosh filled the office as emerald flames erupted in the fireplace. A man with a long tawny hair with streaks of gray marring the mane, to Blair, Scrimgeour looked much like an older lion. He walked with a limp yet his eyes seemed to take in every detail of the office.

"So you're the new Minister for Magic, right?" Blair asked sharply.

"Correct," Scrimgeour said, his wand still in his hand. "So Fudge has briefed you then?"

"No," Blair said. "He hasn't told me anything other than he's been sacked."

Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow at Fudge before turning back to Blair. "Well Prime Minister, we're at war," the tawny haired man said bluntly.

"What do you mean 'we're at war'?"

"It seems that You-Know-Who has returned from the dead somehow, and is currently waging war against the wizarding world," Scrimgeour said.

"What do you mean he 'has returned from the dead', how is that even possible?" Blair asked.

"We're not sure," Scrimgeour said. "Dumbledore said that You-Know-Who wasn't truly dead but that's not the point."

"What do you mean that's not the point!" Blair growled. "You have a maniac running up and down the country causing untold havoc and chaos and you think that's not something I should now about."

"What can Muggles do against the most powerful Dark Wizard in history?" Scrimgeour sneered. "You don't have anything that could possibly stop You-Know-Who."

"Really? And how would you know that? We Muggles, as you call us, have quite a bit of success dealing with terrorists," Blair said. "And from what you've told me this You-Know-Who is a terrorist."

"This is our problem Prime Minister!" Scrimgeour shouted. "We will handle this, I only came here as a courtesy for you and the rest of the Muggles."

"Well you aren't doing a bloody good job of it," Blair roared. "I've got the people calling for my head because of what's going on out there, because of you! And I can't tell them the truth or they would have me committed! You have until summer's end to get control of the situation, or I will!"

"That's an empty threat," Scrimgeour growled. "You Muggles can't hope to stand a chance against wizards let alone the Darkest Wizard of all time!"

"Get out," Blair barked. "Get out of this office right now or I will have you thrown out!"

"You are just a Muggle, what could you possibly do to us," Scrimgeour sneered. "In fact, you won't even remember..."


"Drop them scum," a voice growled from behind the Minister. Scrimgeour froze as he felt something cold and metallic push into his neck. Fudge yelped as a shadow seemed to detach itself from the wall and come up behind the Minister. "I said drop them, both of you!"Two wands clattered to the floor. "Good, now then, I believe the Prime Minister told you two to leave his office. So get moving!"

"What about our wands?" Fudge simpered.

"I'll send them along shortly."

"You won't get away with this," Scrimgeour snarled. "You're making a mistake, possibly the last mistake you'll make in this office."

"Is that a threat Mr. Scrimgeour?" Blair asked lightly. "Because if it is, then my men have strict orders to handle threats with extreme prejudice."

"Move it," the voice behind Scrimgeour said, pushing lightly. Scrimgeour growled lowly but allowed himself to be led over to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of powder from his robes and tossed it into the flames, which turned emerald green. With a whoosh, he vanished, Fudge following a few seconds later.

"You're not truly going to give back their wands?" The Prime Minister asked.

"I always keep my word," the shadow said. Crack! The two wands held in the shadow's hands snapped themselves in several places. The man then tossed some powder into the flames and called out, "Office of the Minister for Magic," before tossing in the remnants of the two wands. Once the flames returned to their normal color, the man pulled out his own wand and waved it over the fireplace which glowed white for a second then returned to normal.

"That should take care of any unwanted visitors," the man said turning to face the Prime Minister, his wand disappearing up his sleeve.

"Well done Private," Blair said.

A shadowy figure wearing black combat fatigues stepped out of the shadows. Emerald green eyes were framed by wire framed round glasses while a mess of inky black hair hung from his head to slightly cover his eyes, making them seem even more piercing and intimidating.

"Thank you sir," Harry Potter said as he took the seat in front of the Prime Minister.

"It seems that you were right," Blair said. "It is a shame that even in the highest seat of government there is still bigotry and discrimination."

"Indeed," Harry said. "I hope that this proves to you that the Ministry of Magic is totally incapable of handling the current situation."

Blair nodded. "I have some reports from your commanding officers," he said. "They say that you are a natural at hand-to-hand combat as well as on the range."

"Thank you sir," Harry said.

"And your minders still haven't noticed anything?"

Harry chuckled. "Nope," he said. "The wonders of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Of course, having Dumbledore tell all my friends that they shouldn't write me helps."

"You know I still have trouble thinking about everything that you've told me, and that it was less than two weeks ago," Blair said.

Flashback (Day after Hogwarts Express returns to London)

A soft rustle of fabric from the shadows of the room gained the attention of all the occupants of the room. All movement in the room ceased as the inhabitants of the room took notice of the scrawny black-haired young man who looked no older than fourteen had suddenly appeared in their midst.

"Mr. Prime Minister," the boy said raising empty hands. "I mean you no harm, I swear. But I must speak with you about something of national importance. But first, I need to make sure that this conversation isn't overheard by unsavory types." In a flash, a stick appeared in the boy's hand and with a mutter of "Obscuro!" the portrait of an ugly man wearing a white Victorian-age wig was suddenly covered by a thick black cloth.

"I swear to you Mr. Prime Minister that I mean you no harm," the boy said, a white flash of light surrounded the boy.

"What was that?"

"That was my oath taking effect," the boy said. "If I meant you harm, I would be dead right now."

"How can we be sure to trust you?" one of the Prime Minister's bodyguards growled, his hand on his sidearm.

"Honestly, I'm not sure what else I can do," the boy said.

"What's your name son?" the Prime Minister asked.

"Harry Potter sir."

"Harry Potter, I've heard that name before."

"I'm sure you have," Harry muttered. "Just as I'm sure that you haven't been notified that a terrorist has currently returned and is wreaking havoc on the Empire." Harry then launched himself into a history lesson about himself, Lord Voldemort, or Tom Riddle and their roles in the wizarding world. How Riddle was an orphan dumped at an orphanage during the Second World War, how he learned that he was a wizard and then came to Hogwarts. Harry then told the Prime Minister of his own experience in the magical world.

An hour later, Prime Minister Tony Blair slumped back into his chair when Harry had finished telling him that the wizarding world, a world hidden in plain sight, was once again under siege from a terrorist that was supposedly so powerful that he was nearly invincible as well as had caused the general population to fear even speaking his name.

"And you say that you are the one who is supposed to kill this Riddle person?" Blair asked.

Harry nodded wearily. Blair saw that the eyes of this boy, no man, held the same age-old stare of those who were returning from the battlefield. Men who had seen to much death and destruction and yet they knew that they would see more in the coming years.

"Several months before I was born, this person made a prophecy saying that someone matching my description would have the power to defeat Riddle," Harry spat. "I don't honestly believe that Divination has any bearing on real life. But the two major players in this war, Dumbledore and Riddle believe in the prophecy and so at some point I will have to face Riddle."

"And what is this power that will enable you to defeat Riddle?" Blair asked.

Harry's face took on a dark look. "Dumbledore believes that the power is 'love'," he said. "I know," Harry continued at the look on Blair's face. "There is some research to suggest that a witch or wizard's magic becomes more powerful when they are under the influence of strong emotions but I believe that Dumbledore is just stringing me along. He's known about the prophecy ever since it was made, and yet didn't tell me until just after I saw the last member of my family being killed. I don't trust Dumbledore any longer; I don't trust the wizarding world to do what is right if they ever did. If they find out about the prophecy, they'll just sit back and force me to do all the work for them."

"So what do you want Mr. Potter?" Blair asked.

"Just Harry sir," Harry responded. "I want to sign up for the military. I need training in how to beat Riddle. Dumbledore might think that 'love' is the power but I think it is justice. It's time that Riddle and his Death Eaters pay for their crimes. Riddle has nearly fifty years of magical experience on me, so I want to use something that I know he has no idea how to counter and that's mugg…no; I refuse to use that term anymore. It's demeaning to those without magic. The world at large knows how to deal with terrorists much more effectively than the wizarding world."

Blair blinked. "Are you serious son?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"I've learned enough from Hogwarts," Harry said. "Dumbledore's plans for making me his little puppet backfired on him when I was forced into competing in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I used that year to study ahead; I can honestly say that I could probably pass my Defence, Transfiguration and Charms NEWTs right now with at least EE. Runes and Arithmancy most likely I would pass with an A. I've learned enough magic to get by for the time being, but the war is going to escalate sooner rather than later. I have this summer to get ready; I don't think I'll be returning to Hogwarts. Now that I've taken my OWLs, I don't have to return."

"How old are you Harry?" Blair asked.

"I'll be turning sixteen July 31st," Harry said. "I know it's two years too young to sign up but I was hoping that you would make an exception for me. I need this, you need this, bloody hell England needs this to end before it gets too bad."

"What about your family, your friends? Surely if you go through with this, you'll be leaving them all?"

"My parents were murdered when I was fifteen months old, I was left at my relatives' house in the middle of the night like a milk bottle, left to rot. I just saw the last member of my family killed right in front of me. My friends, what friends? Friends are people who stick by you throughout it all. They abandoned me last summer at the 'suggestion' of our Headmaster, and it seems that they are repeating their mistake this summer. I haven't heard anything from them since school ended. I guess they would rather listen to a bumbling old fool then their so-called friend."

Blair nodded. "I'll see what I can do Harry," he said. "Perhaps we can come up with a compromise. And I have to know if this is truly what you want Harry, joining Her Majesty's forces is not a commitment that should be taken lightly."

"I understand completely sir," Harry said. "And that's why I need this, I need to be pushed and learn from the best if I want to have a chance at defeating Riddle and avenging my parents and Sirius."

End Flashback

"So how much longer will you need until you feel that you are ready?" Blair asked. "That hourglass thing has been a godsend according to your trainers."

Harry grinned. "Yes, I've heard the same things," he said. "I would estimate that I need at least another month of heavy training before I would feel comfortable about beginning the plan. The main question is will I ever be ready to face Riddle, and I can't answer that question. All I can hope for is that I will have learned enough to kill him."

"When you first came to me Harry, I was quite confused and a bit out of my element," Blair said. "But these past two and a half weeks, I have spoken with Her Majesty several times…"

"Her Majesty?" Harry choked.

"Yes, Her Majesty," Blair said with a grin. "And She has had people looking into why the magical world 'vanished' from the larger world. Well, just before the Conquest, the English Crown deemed the wizarding world 'worthy' of self-governance as long as they made sure their issues didn't spill over into the outside world."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Well they failed miserably there didn't they?" he said.

"Too true," Blair said. "So then Her Majesty has requested that you return to Hogwarts and search out those who are loyal to Her Majesty in hopes of bridging the gap between the two worlds."

"Her Majesty wants me to 'infiltrate' Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Indeed," Blair said. "You have told me that the magical world is a very dark and dirty place. However, while witches and wizards might be in a 'separate' world, they are all still under the Crown's rule and subject to Her Majesty's laws. While in the magical world, you will be our conduit, Her voice."

Harry blinked. "If you and Her Majesty feel that is best, then I am honored to be considered and will do the best that I can. I know that muggleborns and some half-bloods will be pretty easy to convince just because of the bigotry and discrimination that they face in the magical world."

"We both know that you will do wonderful," Blair said. "Now perhaps you should get back to base before you are missed."

Harry nodded. "Until next time Mr. Prime Minister sir," he said. Harry vanished with a soft pop as the Prime Minister leaned back in his chair.

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A soft pop heralded the appearance of an older man on Privet Drive, a man the likes of which most of the inhabitants of Privet Drive had never seen. A long white beard that nearly reached the ground was only barley offset by the eye watering purple robes with silver stars and comets streaking across the fabric.

Albus Dumbledore strode up the walkway to the door of Number Four Privet Drive and smartly knocked on the door. A moment later, a horse-faced blonde woman threw open the door.

"Yes, can I help…YOU!" Petunia Dursley shouted.

"Hello Petunia, judging from your reaction it seems that young Harry forgot to mention that I was coming to escort him away," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

"The boy isn't here," Petunia said.

"Now, I will assume that…what did you say?" Dumbledore stammered.

"The boy wasn't at King's Cross when we went to pick the freak up," Petunia snapped.

"What are you saying? Surely Harry returned here," Dumbledore said. "I had people stationed at King's Cross to make sure he returned here."

Thundering footsteps echoed up and down the hallway as Vernon Dursley appeared around the corner panting like an angry bull. "FREAK!" Vernon shouted. "Get the hell out of my house! We don't want or need your kind darkening our doorstep, when the boy wasn't at the station when we went to pick him up that was the final straw! We don't want him, we never wanted the freak, so leave us be!" Vernon stormed up to the door and slammed it shut right in Dumbledore's face, nearly snapping Dumbledore's long, crooked nose once more.

Dumbledore waved his wand, checking for the wards that he had set up when he first left Harry here all those years ago. His eyes widened when his wand registered that the wards had fallen completely and actually had been down for nearly three weeks, ever since the start of the holidays.

"Oh Harry, where are you run off too?" Dumbledore asked before he vanished from Privet Drive with a soft pop.

Dumbledore reappeared in front of the Burrow. No one had been able to enter Grimmauld Place since Sirius had died, so Dumbledore had moved headquarters to the Weasley's ancient home, the Burrow. Molly Weasley had been very happy about this, as it enabled much stronger protections to be placed around the property.

"Ah Albus," Molly cried as Dumbledore entered the kitchen. "We weren't expecting you for hours, where's Harry?"

"I'm afraid that Harry wasn't at Privet Drive when I came to collect him," Dumbledore said. "It appears that the wards have also collapsed, and have been down ever since the term ended."

Mrs. Weasley was going to start shouting and screaming but the pounding of feet made her turn her attention to the door where Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had just appeared.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, looking around wildly for her black-haired best friend. "Professor, where's Harry?"

"I'm afraid I do not know," Dumbledore said. "Harry wasn't at his relatives house when I arrived to escort him here. It seems that he managed to give the Order the slip and had not set foot in his relatives' home since last summer."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked sharply, her eyes narrowing. "You mean Harry's missing!"

"It seems so," Dumbledore said heavily. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I must ask you if you have heard anything from Mr. Potter since school let out?"

"How could we?" Hermione cried. "You forbade us from contacting him, just like last summer. Don't you recall how angry Harry was when he arrived at Headquarters! For the second straight year, Harry saw someone killed right in front of him and instead of being surrounded by friends and family, you sent him back to his atrocious relatives, whom he hates and who hate him!"

"Hermione Granger! Do not speak to the Headmaster like that!" Molly shouted.

"Mrs. Weasley, you are not my mother!" Hermione snapped. "So I would appreciate it if you would be quiet, you saw how Harry acted when he came to Headquarters last year. I know you think of us all your children but we are not! Harry doesn't like being kept in the dark, which is something you did all last year."

Dumbledore frowned. "I understand your anger Miss Granger but I do not appreciate your tone," he said.

"Well too bad," Hermione snapped. "We are not at school, so you aren't my Headmaster. Right now you are just Mr. Dumbledore, an old man who has made many mistakes regarding Harry Potter from where I can see."

"She's right," Ron spoke up. "Harry was furious when he came to Headquarters last year. We told him that you said we couldn't tell him anything but it didn't matter. This year, you have had no reason from barring us from writing to Harry. So what was it, why couldn't we write to Harry?"

"This behavior is not becoming of a Hogwarts prefect Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, a headache building behind his eyes.

Hermione and Ron got to their feet and stormed off. Molly looked like she wanted to take both Hermione and Ron over her knee for their attitudes toward Albus Dumbledore. Yes Molly was furious with Albus for somehow losing Harry but that was no excuse for those two acting like that toward him, he was Albus Dumbledore for Merlin's sake. A few moments later, Hermione and Ron came storming back into the kitchen. Two metal badges were thrown onto the table.

"Consider this our resignations then," Hermione said. "If being a Hogwarts prefect means having to spy on our best friend and betraying his trust, then neither of us wish to be associated with that title. You nearly made us lose our friendship with Harry after last year, no longer. It is not your job to decide what goes on in Harry's life outside of what happens at school."

Dumbledore frowned. "I see," he said. "And do you agree Mr. Weasley?"

"I've already made two major mistakes when it comes to Harry's friendship," Ron said. "Not trusting him during our fourth year, and listening to you last summer. I'm sorry sir but I don't feel like striking out."

"Well done Ronald," Hermione beamed at Ron's use of the Muggle phrase.

"Very well then," Dumbledore said. "I will ask you if you do hear from Harry, if you would ask that he contact me so that we can make sure that he is safe?"

"We will do what we feel is right Headmaster," Hermione said.

Dumbledore nodded as he recognized the casual dismissal. He stood and bade goodnight to Hermione, Ron and Molly before taking his leave.

A/N 2: Here's my newest story, Is it Vengence or Justice? (tentative title). This story as you can tell begins during the summer after fifth year. This will be taking place of my other story Power He Knows Not, I have decided to put that story and The Silent Partner up for adoption because I have lost interest in them. So anyone is welcome to continue them, let me know if you decide to take up either story because I'd like to read what they become. This story won't have much bashing, or more its questions the characters decisions in a way that could be construed as bashing. I want to give my answers to some of the plot holes that developed throughout the Harry Potter series.

Please read and review this story, my attentions on this site will be focusing on this story and True Meaning for the time being. Enjoy


A/N 3: Hey there, this is a revised chapter. I've gotten several reviews pointing out some flaws in the chapter, and I have gone back and tried to fix them. Let me know what you think of the new chapter.