HP: Night of the Wolf

It was with an expression of concern that Albus looked back at the orphanage he had taken his leave from, his head shaking at the thought of the boy he had made the acquaintance of.

Tom Riddle was not a normal eleven-year-old. Being a thief was one thing, and bearing a grudge another, but cruelty for nothing but the sake of cruelty was unfathomable to the transfiguration professor.

Young Tom harboured such tendencies amongst other traits that were more than a little unnerving.

Albus had met spoilt children, shy children, and even the occasional bully, but Tom was none these. He was a cruel child with no empathy, intelligent indeed, but lacked any sense of wrongdoing in what he had done.

In the boy's own mind, his actions were justified, and what an unpleasant place it had been to peer into.

Albus shook his head.

No, Tom had experienced a dreary upbringing, his whole life spent within the walls of an establishment where he had received only the most basic of care. From what Albus had seen, there was no love to be had in the home, no compassion, and a lack of nurturing.

The professor considered Harry's dire warning about the boy that would join them in September.

Of course, his former student would be biased towards the Tom that had grown to murder his parents, but was there a possibility that his path could be altered? Was there anything resembling humanity remaining within the boy he had met today?

Albus couldn't be sure, but he would be remiss in his duties if he did not try at the very least to see to it, to nurture the boy and fill the years of neglect he had lived.

Even attempting such did not feel right, but he chose to ignore his instincts on the matter.

Young Tom was but a boy. Surely, he could be helped and shaped into a productive member of society?

Albus hoped so.

If the control of his magic the boy had spoken of was anything to go by, he would be an exceedingly gifted student. For one of his age, he had an exemplary grasp on his magic and could even use it to protect himself or hurt others if he chose to.

Dumbledore frowned at the thought.

Regardless of his own observations, Tom would need to be watched closely.

There were too many characteristics of the boy that could not be ignored, and though Albus would not dismiss him already as a lost cause, there was something within the professor that could not help but think that Tom Riddle had simply been born a person of cruelty.

Few simply were, but at the tender age of eleven, Tom seemingly lacked any sign that he could be saved from himself…

'When the time is right, I will kill him…'

Or Harry for that matter.

(Break)

Harry had seen little of the outside world for the best part of two months, but the city of Ghent was like nothing he had seen before. It was as though he had stepped several centuries back in time, the buildings here from a period long past, but it was charming, and though the folk living here were cautious, they were friendly enough.

There was a strong feeling of unease amongst the population, and Harry suspected that it was not something of exclusivity. He didn't understand much of the language, but in the three days he had been here, he'd heard the name 'Hitler' murmured worriedly more than a few times, another reminder that war was not far on the horizon.

He sipped his coffee and buried his head into the jacket of the homeless man he had bribed into giving it up, the offer of a few days in a warm hotel room with brand new clothes, and hot food too alluring for the suspicious street-dweller to resist.

It wasn't because he was cold that he did this, but he had observed the man he was impersonating do the very same in the hours he had watched him from afar.

Harry needed his cover to be convincing for another few hours.

Already, he had felt the presence of wizards around him over the last couple of days, yet he had managed to evade them thus far, his ruse proving to be a good one, even if he did have to tolerate the smelly garments he wore.

Sleeping rough was not really an issue in itself. Having spent much of his life in a small cupboard, the cover the arches of the local butchers offered was enough to keep him out of the worst of the rain, unless the wind blew it at him.

Much to his relief, that didn't happen often, and when it did, he merely accepted it for what it was.

The only magic he had cast had been to alter his features, and nothing more.

He had fed himself on scraps that he could find in nearby bins, and the butcher had even given him some roasted pork that had not been sold. Even the coffee he was nursing had come courtesy of a generous passer-by who had deposited a franc in the tin he had placed before his feet.

Such a simple gesture had made his morning all the better.

He remained calm as he became aware of magical folk nearing his position. They rounded the corner quickly and entered the butchers.

For a moment, Harry thought he had been caught, and could feel a pair of eyes boring into his back.

The witch was speaking to the butcher, and the wizard she was with was seemingly fixated on him.

Harry could not understand what was being said, but he heard the name Jules, the name of the man he was here in lieu of.

Shortly after, the witch and wizard left, the latter staring at Harry intently who flinched, eliciting an apologetic smile from the woman before she placed a coin in his tin.

She mumbled something incomprehensible to him before she dragged her partner away and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he internally thanked the butcher.

The man in particular would be keen to apprehend him.

Harry had gotten the better of him during the duelling portion of his assessments, and the Spaniard had not been pleased.

Taking Harry in would somewhat redeem the man, El Diablo, if he remembered correctly, in the eyes of the examiners.

Harry snorted.

The moniker the man had given himself was almost laughable. If anything, he was a petulant child rather than the devil.

Nonetheless, Harry had avoided capture, though it had been a closer call than he would have liked, even if it was the self-named devil hunting him.

"Only a few more hours," he whispered to himself.

Concealment and blending in were the final things he was being assessed on. Were he to be successful, he would be granted his Hit-Wizard licence, and he would then be able to work in the field.

Although Federov had advised him to find a team to join, Harry was reluctant to do so. He liked working alone and had grown accustomed to it over the past two years.

The idea of answering to someone else did not sit right with him. If anything, he felt that being a member of a team of Hit-Wizards would inhibit him more than it would be a benefit.

No, Harry had plans beyond following a group of witches and wizards across the globe to pursue wanted criminals. As much as he would dedicate himself to the job, he could not ignore everything else he was working for.

"Serpiente?" a loud voice called.

The Spaniard had returned.

He stalked down the length of the street with his wand in hand, followed by his partner who was seemingly trying to calm the man down.

He brushed her off irritably and continued his search.

"I know that you are here, Serpiente!"

His English was heavily accented, and the use of the language only served to draw attention to the man.

Those within the surrounding shops came outside to see what the commotion was about.

"I can smell you," the Spaniard continued, sniffing the air dramatically whilst his partner tried to quieten him. "SERPIENTE!"

The man had lost his composure, and if he believed that ranting and raving would force Harry to show himself, he was wrong.

In his frustration, the Spaniard kicked a nearby bin, and two muggle police officers approached him.

A heated exchange took place between the three, and in the ensuing melee, the Portuguese woman accompanying him shot up a stream of red sparks.

In a matter of seconds, several pops announced the arrival of more magical folk, and Harry looked on as the men and women in robes took control of the situation.

They began by stunning and removing the Spaniard before moving on to obliviating the muggle witnesses.

Everything happened so frantically that Harry didn't notice the arrival of Federov until he was standing only a dozen or so feet away, scanning the crowd.

"Come out, Serpent," he sighed. "You have passed your test."

Harry didn't move.

There were still three minutes left until his time was up, and he would see the task through to the end.

"Has anyone seen him?" Federov questioned the group of witches and wizards at last.

He received a mix of shrugs and shakes of the head before continuing his search.

"Serpent?"

Still, Harry didn't move.

Something felt wrong, and as his gaze swept across the street, he saw another woman approaching him with her wand drawn.

She was going to obliviate him, and with only a little over a minute remaining until he was done, he couldn't allow that.

Thinking quickly, he pointed the tip of his wand through a rip in his sleeve and took aim at a nearby muggle.

"Imperio."

Without any defence against such magic, the man complied.

He screamed, garnering the attention of the witch approaching Harry before he charged towards her.

In the time it took for her to react, Harry had vanished into a nearby alley and wrapped his cloak around himself, concealing him from view.

He was loath to do this, knowing that he would not always be able to rely on it when out in the field.

He needed to be able to blend in without suspicion, and the cloak could be as much a boon as it could a liability.

All it would take for him to be discovered was for someone to bump into him, and he would be found.

For now, however, and in other desperate times, the cloak would be his best tool.

Somewhere from the adjoining street, he heard a claxon sound, officially signalling the end of his assessment.

Cautiously, he removed his cloak and placed it back in the pocket of his coat as he cast a disillusionment charm over himself before entering the street once more.

The same group of witches and wizards were there, each of them scanning the area for any sign of him, even the Spaniard was there standing next to Federov.

"THE ASSESSMENT REALLY IS OVER NOW, SERPENT," the latter announced.

Harry nodded as he removed the charm, appearing in front of the gathering of those he had worked with over the past couple of months.

As he did so, they began to clap, and Federov even offered him a rare smile of approval.

"You followed your orders perfectly," the man declared, "and did not fall into the final trap as many before you have. Well done, you have passed."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

The weeks since he had arrived in Belgium had been amongst the most difficult he had endured.

Every day he had been tested for his suitability for the job, had been pushed to his limits both physically mentally, and with it now at an end, he could not be happier.

"Come along," Federov urged, offering Harry the end of a rope. "We will return to my office where I will complete your paperwork."

Accepting the portkey, Harry quickly found himself in a very familiar room, the very same he had completed the theoretical portion of his assessments under the watchful eye of the man now standing before him.

With a sigh, Federov took a seat behind his desk.

Removing a quill and dipping it in an inkpot, he looked at Harry speculatively before scratching away for a few moments, signing the document when he was finished and tapping it with his wand.

"If I am honest with you, Mr Evans, I was hoping to find something that I could fail you on. It is nothing personal," he added, "but quite the opposite. It is not often we have one so young make it this far into the process, but you have exceeded my expectations, and if this is what you truly want, then you have earned it."

Harry nodded.

It seemed as though everyone wanted to talk him out of becoming a Hit-Wizard.

Nonetheless, he took the piece of parchment from the desk.

"That licence gives you the right to pursue, apprehend, and if necessary, terminate any person that has been deemed a particular threat to a country that holds membership in the International Confederation of Wizards. For a full list of those on that list, and more details, you should attend the Department of Justice located in Geneva, but not before you take a minimum of one week leave to recuperate," Federov explained. "To claim any funds you are owed, all apprehended persons must be surrendered to the Department of Justice where they will be processed and prosecuted accordingly. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Then all that is left is for me to offer you my sincerest congratulations. If there is anything that I can do for you then please do seek me out. Any competent owl will find me."

Harry nodded.

"I will and thank you."

Federov chuckled and waved him off.

"Here," he said, offering the same piece of rope he had that had transported the two of them here. "This will take you to the apparation point in Diagon Alley. Enjoy some much needed rest but do have a will written. I hope it will not be necessary, but it is best to be prepared."

Harry would.

With all that he had been through and what life would bring in the coming years, he would need all the rest he could.

Accepting the rope, he felt himself pulled away from the room before arriving in the alley he had come to know so well, feeling pleased to be back in England, even if it was for only a short stay.

Not needing anything here, however, and after taking a moment to allow the effects of the long journey wear off, he apparated to the home he was renting in Godric's Hollow where he was greeted by a small pile of letters that had been received in his absence.

They could wait a few more hours.

For now, he needed to sleep, but he would send replies to Minerva, Charlus, and any other that had tried to contact him when he woke.

(Break)

Being seated at the staff table was an odd experience, and looking down, and upon students who had been her peers only a few months prior was even stranger. Although she was nervous, for Minerva, this was a dream come true.

She had spent her summer preparing for this and had for once had need of her mentor beyond developing her skill in transfiguration. Of course, they couldn't neglect that, but Dumbledore, or Albus as he now insisted he called her, added in advice on how to teach classes, how to set and work mark designed to push the students, and anything else he believed would help her be a competent instructor.

Minerva had taken it all in, and she now faced the prospect of putting all the work into practice. However before that could happen, there was the newest batch of first years to be sorted, and she looked on as they filed in, led by Albus.

Her gaze swept over them, searching for one boy, even if she did not know what he looked like.

None jumped out at her.

How could she look in the eyes of an eleven-year-old and identify them as a future murderer?

She couldn't, but she listened intently as Albus began reeling off the names until his was called.

"Tom Riddle."

Even the deputy headmaster shot the boy a look of concern as he confidently strolled up to the stool and took a seat.

Tentatively, the hat was placed upon his head.

"SLYTHERIN!" it announced without delay, and the little boy that, according to Harry, would one day become a monster, grinned as he joined the students clad in robes trimmed with green and silver.

However, instead of being warmly welcomed as he would have been in any other house, the Slytherins frowned at their newest housemate, some with suspicion, others questioningly, and the rest with utter disgust.

Riddle was not a pureblood name, and Tom would have a difficult time being accepted into the house of snakes for that reason alone.

Strangely, he ignored his housemates, and waited for the plates to be filled with food before helping himself, seemingly ignorant or uncaring that he was not being welcomed as he had undoubtedly seen others being so in other houses.

Minerva turned her attention to her own food, her mind wandering to thoughts of years gone by when she had been sitting amongst the students.

She missed them.

She missed Poppy and Augusta although she still saw them regularly. She missed Charlus, and she even missed Ogden and his inappropriate comments. But most of all, she missed Harry.

In only the two years she had known him, she had come to appreciate his company, his advice when she was flummoxed by a spell or anything else she had been working on, and more than anything else, she simply missed his presence.

She looked towards the enchanted ceiling, wishing she could have had just one more year of schooling with her friends.

She hadn't heard from Harry in a number of weeks.

He had explained that he would be unreachable for some time, but that did not stop the young woman from worrying about him.

Was he safe? Was he able to navigate the unfamiliar world without her helping him?

Minerva knew not, but in the hours she was not distracted by her work, she thought of him, and hoped beyond hope that nothing untoward had happened.

She shook her head of the morose thoughts and tucked into her meal, distracted by Albus a few moments later as he nudged her with his elbow.

She caught sight of his twinkling eyes as he nodded in the direction of the rafters above where a familiar owl was perched.

"Theseus!" she whispered.

The bird let off a loud barking noise before taking to the air and landing on her shoulder, his claws gripping her firmly.

Minerva didn't mind, and even took a moment to pet him as she relieved him of the missive he carried.

"Why don't you get some rest in the owlery?" she advised. "I'm sure he won't mind."

The journey between Godric's Hollow and Hogwarts was a rather long one, and the owl would need his rest before returning.

Theseus took flight once more, and exited the way he'd come in.

Minerva watched until he was gone, and then turned her attention to the letter she had been waiting for.

Tearing it open, she felt herself filled with relief at seeing Harry's familiar scrawl.

Dear Minerva,

I'm sorry that I have been out of touch for so long, but I am reachable now.

How was your summer?

Mine was not easy, but it is over now. As of yesterday, I am a licence holder.

I will not put in writing what it is for, as I need to keep a sense of anonymity moving forward.

It feels strange writing when usually I would probably be sat with you, and you would give me a look of disapproval.

I miss those.

I have written to Charlus, Ogden, and Poppy, so they may let you know that I am around, even if it is only for a week.

Anyway, I will not keep you from your work.

I will visit soon, just let me know when it is convenient to do so.

H.E

P.S: I know that I do not need to say it, but he must be watched. I cannot emphasise just how dangerous he is.

Be careful.

Knowing that Harry was safely in Britain warmed her. She hadn't realised just how much she had needed to receive this letter, and now that she had, she felt herself relax considerably.

Harry may have been missing her looks of disapproval, but she missed him, all of him.

For two years she had spent the best part of every day with him, and now, it felt as though he was gone.

Minerva remained at Hogwarts and Harry was out there where the world was becoming less kind, and it worried her.

It wasn't just that she missed her friend, but more than anything, she feared that she might not see him again.

With that in mind, she took a quill, some parchment, and ink from her bag and scratched a reply.

When the feast was over, she would send it to him immediately.

She wanted him to get it before he returned to the continent.

(Break)

"So, that was him?" Armando questioned.

Albus nodded.

"He is as unsettling as I remember him being," he murmured.

Armando hummed his agreement.

It may have been that he knew what the boy would become, but as he had watched him being sorted, the headmaster was filled with a sense of unease.

No. Harry may have brought Tom Riddle to his attention, but it was the boy himself that provoked such feelings.

"Do you think it wise we allow him to stay knowing what we do?"

Albus frowned questioningly.

"You think that we should rescind his place here? Would that not only serve to feed his already unpleasant tendencies?"

Armando deflated and shook his head.

"I do not know, Albus. For the first time since I took over as headmaster, I feel that I am out of my depth."

"I understand," Albus replied sincerely, "but may I offer my advice?"

Armando gestured for him to do so.

"We should have him remain where we can keep an eye on him. I admit, he gives me cause for concern, but it is best to keep him close to us than alienate him prematurely. Perhaps we can even get through to him and change his path."

"Perhaps," Armando agreed tentatively, though he wasn't convinced. "I will be watching him closely. Harry, with all he has seen and been through is most concerned about this boy who is undoubtedly the catalyst for all that befell him."

"Then let us hope that we can be the difference to prevent that happening again," Albus replied. "We must remember, Armando, that Tom Riddle, for now, is just like any other first year we welcome into the castle. Until he proves to be otherwise, we should treat him as such."

Once more, Armando wasn't convinced, but he nodded.

If Tom Riddle was as problematic as Harry professed him to be, then it mattered not what he or Albus did.

(Break)

"I must say, Mr Evans, that it is not often I have one so young in my office submitting a final will and testament," the wizarding solicitor Harry had chosen to complete the task sighed.

David Tomkins was a middle-aged man, balding and rotund, but he had not asked too many questions, and had assured Harry's privacy.

What more could the teen want for such a matter?

"I suppose I just don't want to take my chances that my wishes wouldn't be fulfilled," Harry replied.

Tomkins nodded.

"So, you wish to leave anything of monetary value to one Minerva McGonagall, including your business investments?"

"Yes."

"Your collection of books is to be left to Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel along with your trunk?"

"Correct," Harry confirmed.

"And finally, you wish for your invisibility cloak to be gifted to the Potter family, with the letter that you have just handed me?"

Harry nodded.

The letter would explain everything to his family.

It had taken Harry hours to compose it, and though he knew he would never be completely satisfied with it, it was the best he could do.

"It will only open for a Potter," he reminded the solicitor. "If anyone else were to try, the results would be most unpleasant."

He had placed a rather ingenious blood curse he had found in one of the Slytherin books on the document.

"Duly noted," Tomkins replied nervously, placing the envelope in the folder he had prepared. "If there is nothing else, then I believe that we are done here. Would you like the beneficiaries of the will to be notified?"

Harry shook his head as he stood.

"No. I am hoping that this will only ever be a precautionary measure, but it is best to be prepared for all eventualities."

"It is," Tomkins agreed. "In that case, this meeting will remain between only the two of us. Thank you, Mr Evans. Please do get in touch if there is anything else I can do for you."

Harry shook the offered hand and took his leave from the office.

Having a will written had not been something he had ever considered, though when he pondered the things he had faced, he probably should have.

He chuckled to himself.

He definitely should have, though he had not known about them until recently.

His thoughts shifted from such things as he walked the length of Diagon Alley.

It was raining today, and heavily to boot.

The alley was almost empty, but that didn't stop him enjoying being here, even if it was for only a few more moments.

He was heading to the continent today, Switzerland to begin with at least, and from there, wherever he felt like heading to pursue his first wanted criminal.

Checking that none were paying close attention to him, he changed his features, lengthening his hair, and shifted his cheek bones and nose so that they were more defined.

The transformation was enough that he would not be easily recognised by any that knew him.

With his work done, he entered the apparation area and tapped his licence with his wand.

After only a slight delay, he felt himself being whisked away from England, and found himself in a small entrance hall where a young woman was seated behind a single desk.

The walls were painted a light blue and there was a single door situated behind her, but nothing else.

Evidently, this was not a place for any visitors to spend much time in.

"Are you The Serpent?" the woman asked, her accent not one Harry had heard before.

He nodded and presented her with his licence.

"This is your first time here?"

"It is."

"Then follow me," she instructed. "I will show you all you need to know."

Harry did so and he was led into the adjoining, much larger room where each of the four walls were plastered with annotated photos.

"Are all of these people wanted?" he asked.

The woman nodded grimly.

There were hundreds of them.

"More of them are added than are captured," the woman explained. "It's been this way for some time. Anyway, I would recommend choosing from this wall," she said, gesturing to the one closest to them. "These people are still very dangerous but considered less so than the others. It would be a good place for you to start."

Row upon row of faces looked down at him, some grinning maniacally, some neutral, and others speculatively as if they were assessing just how much of a threat he would be to them.

Inexplicably, Harry found himself drawn to one.

"Clive Allman?" he enquired.

The woman nodded, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke from the cigarette she had lit.

"An American native. He is wanted for fraud, bank robbery, and questioning in relation to the murder of a Russian noble."

"Sounds like a nice bloke," Harry snorted.

"And has been impossible to capture," the woman huffed. "He is a muggleborn and uses that to his advantage. He stays in the muggle world and can smell witches and wizards a mile off. Before anyone can get close, he is gone."

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

"Last seen in Minsk?"

"Which only makes finding him trickier," the woman replied. "Russia is not the most welcoming of places at the moment. The political issues have extended to the magical population, and Stalin hates magic. He sees us as a threat to his regime even though we have assured him we do not interfere in muggle affairs. He's as suspicious as he is intolerant, and you will get no assistance from the locals who are fearful of reprisals."

"Surely if Allman was involved in the death of a noble, they would want to capture him?"

The woman giggled almost patronisingly.

"The Russians are prideful people, and they despise outsiders. It's not a good recipe for cooperation."

"Bloody hell," Harry grumbled, wishing a different target had caught his attention. "Is there anything else I should know?"

The woman nodded.

"Well, we have our suspicions that he did not act alone in the bank robbery. The goblins in Moscow are convinced that he had assistance from the inside. Six of their own went missing after the robbery, and although a lot of blood was found near the vault Allman broke into, they are convinced the goblins were killed not but were in on it. Why would Allman go to the trouble of getting rid of the bodies?"

"So, they may be with him?"

"I suspect so and they will not come quietly. They face a most brutal execution if they were to be returned to the goblins they wronged."

"Great," Harry declared sarcastically, already knowing he was too invested in the tale to simply walk away. "I suppose I'm going to Russia then."

There would be trouble, of that, he had no doubt, yet the thought of the chase and the risk involved appealed to him too much to turn down the opportunity.

Besides, 75 Galleons was a considerable sum, and would allow him to make a few profitable investments back in London.

(Break)

Roaming the halls of Hogwarts without his robes or either his prefect or head boy badge was a strange feeling for Charlus, who had not expected to return once his final year had been completed.

But here he was. Along with working closely with his father, he had accepted the offer of Dumbledore and Dippet to complete a mastery in transfiguration part time.

He was grateful for the break it offered.

As much as he loved and respected his father, running the family business was a much bigger task than he had expected. He had known that the Potters were wealthy, and that they had vested interests in many ventures, but Charlus had not been prepared for just how much work he would one day have to do.

Still, he was up for the challenge, though he hoped such a time would not come soon.

He shook his head of that thought.

William Potter was still a young and healthy man and that gave Charlus time to invest in the subject he was most passionate about.

The Potter parents had been thrilled when he had informed them of the offer and had all but insisted he dedicate time to it. As such he found himself once more at Hogwarts, heading towards the library.

There was a book he needed to consult for an assignment that Dumbledore had set him, and despite his efforts to secure a copy for himself, it appeared that the only place he would access it was the restricted section, a place of which he had been granted a permanent pass.

That alone made undertaking his mastery worthwhile.

The Hogwarts library was amongst the most revered in Britain and having it at his disposal would be quite the boon.

Handing the librarian his pass, she scrutinised it closely before returning it and offering him a begrudging nod.

Charlus was certain she was a mute.

In all his years here, he had never heard the woman speak. She was little more than a presence who would merely frown at those she deemed to be too noisy.

With a shake of his head, he entered the restricted section, excited to peruse the shelves here.

"The Joys of Liver," he mumbled, having removed a book from the shelf and read the title aloud.

Curiously, he opened the tome, only to close it a moment later with a grimace.

It turned out to be a work discussing the best way to hunt certain animals, what spells could be used to kill them, and how to cook the extracted liver.

"Well, I didn't like liver before, I won't be eating it now," he muttered.

"You do know that talking to yourself is a sign of insanity," a female voice broke in.

"Miss Black?" Charlus questioned, taken aback by the girl's sudden appearance.

Dorea offered him a look of amusement.

"I didn't take you for a wizarding cook," she commented, nodding towards the book he held.

Charlus shook his head before replacing it on the shelf.

"I'm not," he denied. "My curiosity got the better of me."

Dorea snorted.

"You should be grateful that you didn't pick up the one next to it. It goes into quite morbid detail on how to dismember and prepare muggle meat."

"Really?" Charlus asked, eying the book with disgust.

"No, but it wouldn't surprise me if that book existed somewhere," Dorea replied with a smirk.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Charlus questioned, changing the subject to one more palatable.

"I go to school here," Dorea pointed out. "I could ask the same of you. Didn't you graduate in July?"

"I did," Charlus confirmed, "but I'm here completing a transfiguration mastery."

Dorea nodded appreciatively.

"Then I suppose I will see you around here still," she returned with a smile. "Take care Potter."

With that, she was gone and Charlus shook his head.

"Bloody hell," he groaned.

All it had taken was a simple smile from the girl to evoke the feelings he'd managed to ignore within him.

If Harry could see him now, he would mock him, or try to convince him to speak to Dorea more often, something that was out of the question.

"Bloody hell," he repeated, thumping his head against the shelf.

After all this time, Dorea Black was still in his head, and despite his best efforts to not think of her, he had failed miserably.

(Break)

Russia was cold. Even the coldest days he had experienced in Scotland felt like a warm summer's day in comparison to the chill that permeated the streets of Minsk, and the very same mood was reflected in the people here.

For the best part of a week, Harry had spent his days milling from pub to pub, drinking coffee to keep a semblance of warmth within himself.

He had visited Moscow first where he purchased what was deemed to be suitable clothing for the climate, and yet, the cold seeped through the winter furs he wore.

Ever since, he had been here, his own mood becoming one of perpetual misery.

The Russians were as unaccommodating as he'd been warned.

Looks of suspicion followed him wherever he went, and he suspected that he'd only been granted entry to some of the establishments because he would spend money within them.

Still, he was not welcome here, and he doubted that many foreigners were. However, with a little luck, his time in the frozen hell would be short-lived.

His quarry was nearby.

For the past two days, Harry had felt a magical presence. At first, he had been uncertain if it was Allman, but the robbery of a muggle bank the previous day under very suspicious circumstances convinced him that the feeling of the other magical was the one he sought.

The bank itself had sustained no damage, nor had the vault, and the NKVD were out in force looking for the perpetrators.

Harry didn't know much about Russian Law Enforcement, but the locals were terrified of them, and cowered as the men who resembled soldiers more than they did police officers stormed buildings.

He quickly saw why the NKVD was so feared.

They did not merely ask questions but were liberal with the butts of their weapons and whips that some carried.

Russia truly was a dreary place.

Harry continued sipping his coffee as he felt the same magical presence he'd been feeling draw closer.

The pub he was in was the kind of place a man like Allman would frequent.

It was filthy here, more so than The Hog's Head, but that didn't lower its popularity.

It was tucked away from the main roads, and seemingly, even the NKVD did not come here.

In only the few hours Harry had been seated at the bar, he had witnessed the exchange of black-market items, gambling, and even women plying their own chosen trade.

The door opened, admitting a man that looked nothing like the photo that Harry had seen, but he knew it was Allman.

The habitual darting of the eyes was the giveaway he noticed, and he could just feel that this was the man he sought.

Seemingly satisfied, and shooting a final glance over his shoulder, he closed the door behind him and approached the bar.

"Vodka," he muttered, placing a single coin on top of the bar, clapping his hands together firmly to stave off the chill.

The barman eyed him with distaste, but the look went unnoticed by Allman who continued to gaze around the room.

"Thank you, tovarishch," he muttered as the glass was placed in front of him.

Harry continued to ignore him, placing his own coin on the bar.

"Spasibo," he murmured before taking his leave, aware that Allman was watching him as he did so.

When he was outside, he took a turn down the nearest alleyway and covered himself with his invisibility cloak.

Allman was as paranoid as they came, and any magic cast would not be missed by him. By wearing the cloak, he was hoping he could catch the man off guard.

To that end, he waited, the chill of the early evening working its way through the several layers he wore.

After a little over an hour when he thought he would have to leave from worry he would freeze to death, he caught sight of Allman and began to follow him.

The sky had darkened now, though the streetlamps had yet to be lit, which only made the task of tailing his target that much harder.

Much to Harry's relief however, he managed to close the distance between them, though he cursed as Allman stopped and turned suddenly, yelping as the two collided.

Spooked and wide-eyed, Allman disapparated, but Harry caught hold of his jacket before he could vanish, the last thing he saw being a group of NKVD officers sprinting towards them.

"HELP ME!" Allman shrieked as the two of them landed on a wooden floor with a dull thud.

Harry was disorientated by the sudden and unexpected transportation, and his cloak had evidently slipped to reveal his torso.

He cursed as something collided with his shoulder, and when his vision cleared, he looked to find a small pickaxe protruding from it.

Worse still was the half-dozen goblins advancing on him with a myriad of weapons drawn.

Allman had already scrambled behind his guard, and Harry quickly drew his wand as he dodged a swing from a rather crude sword courtesy of one of the little creatures.

"Shit," he gasped as another attempted to stab him through the guts.

He managed to avoid the blow and banished the goblin into his companions, allowing him enough time to compose himself.

Undeterred, the growling group descended on him once more, and knew he had to deal with them quickly. With a grimace, he transfigured a nearby sideboard into a large bear that he set upon them.

Immediately, the goblins banded together to fend off the new threat, and Harry turned his attention to the cowering Allman who was nursing a stump where his right arm should have been.

In his panic to escape, he had splinched himself and was reluctant to apparate again. Instead, he was relying on the goblins to protect him, and he watched as they tried to fight the bear, their weapons like toothpicks to the behemoth.

Seizing the fortunate advantage he had been granted, Harry took aim, and with no wand in sight to defend himself with, Allman was quickly bound in chains, and not a moment too soon.

With a guttural roar, the bear had fallen victim to the goblins who immediately continued their efforts to relieve Harry of his innards.

Not wanting to be injured further, he hissed loudly whilst brandishing his wand and the room began to fill with large snakes.

Although they tried their utmost and killed several of the serpents, the goblins were soon overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and it took only a little more effort on Harry's part to have them subdued, unarmed, and cursing him in their own tongue.

Ignoring his captives, he took a deep breath and braced himself before pulling the pickaxe that had been embedded in his arm free.

Collapsing to the ground when the deed had been done, he shook his head.

That would be sore for days.

He was distracted by a laugh from one of the goblins, and Harry looked at the creature to be met with a leer.

"You die," it said in broken English. "Venom of manticore."

Harry frowned.

Manticore was a fast-acting poison, and he should be feeling rather unwell by now from the effects. Disregarding the large wound in his shoulder, he felt fine.

It was then that the words the Hogwarts healer had spoken to him came to the forefront of his mind.

'You're likely immune to most venoms, but I would not be in a rush to test that theory…'

Harry laughed.

He hadn't been, but it seemed that the woman's prediction had been correct.

"And here I am still breathing," he hissed amusedly, standing to show the goblins that he was fine.

"Who are you?" the same creature demanded, struggling against the chains binding him.

Harry merely grinned, wincing slightly as his shoulder throbbed uncomfortably.

"I'm the Serpent," he answered simply.