A/N: Remember that this is rated 'M' for a reason, mainly for Harry's avid descriptions of Dumbledore having sex with a phoenix.
Some months later
Late October: Harry's Apartment
“Come on,” Harry protested, breathing heavily and wiping sweat away from his brow. He looked dishevelled and tired but kept his wand up as he circled the Meciel's illusionary figure. “A ten minute break, that's all I'm asking.”
“Your enemies will not give you a chance to rest,” Meciel said warningly. She was clad in robes of the purest white and, unlike Harry, looked as beautiful and unrumpled as ever.
She raised her wand again and Harry threw himself to the side as a stream of azure vapour shot for him. The illusionary attack was so real that felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and an icy wind bit at his face.
Both he and Meciel were currently standing in his bare living room, surrounded by the magical circle that prevented Harry's spells from blowing something up that he probably needed. Dozens of candles flickered with a soft, dim glow from the walls, everlasting fire- or the closest that Harry could achieve- providing the only light. The pair of thick, velvety-red curtains permanently covered the windows and the stout wooden door at the only entrance prevented anybody from looking in and peeking at what he was doing.
“I know that,” Harry grumbled, back on his feet in an instant and circling Meciel warily. “But I don't think I'll be fighting my enemies for over two hours. I'll have either killed them, them me or be long gone.”
“I am not dead, nor are you long gone,” Meciel said, circling Harry slowly with an almost-predatory look in her eyes. “Yet still we fight.”
“Well, yeah,” Harry snapped in irritation His wand flicked through the air, dark fire pooling at the tip of his wand, but, moving as a blur, Meciel swished her wand and Harry's arm was painfully yanked to the left. Fire jutted out of his wand, striking at the large protective dome that covered the living room and disappearing in a soft haze of greenish-blue glow.
“But most of my enemies don't live in my head,” He continued, returning the favour and parrying Meciel as she tried to send a piercing streak of silver magic at him. Meciel manipulated the illusion so that his spell caused her to stumble to the side, but she quickly regained her composure. “In fact, none of my enemies live in my head.”
“I am trying to hurt you and I live in your head,” Meciel said and a wicked smile crossed her face, her silver eyes dancing with amusement. “Does that not make me your enemy?”
“That makes you a scorned lover,” Harry scoffed and flipped his wand into his left hand, dangling his right at Meciel's face. “Meciel, meet my right hand, a great source of relief during these troubled years of puberty. Now, I hope you two can play nice and be friends…”
A sudden blast of pain slammed into Harry and he toppled over with a grunt, clutching his stomach and desperately trying to breathe as his lungs constricted within his chest. His eyes bulged as he tried to raise his wand, but an invisible force pinned his entire body down to the floor. Meciel appeared in his vision, looming above him and looking utterly merciless as she stared down at him.
“Alright,” Harry gasped out, a pained expression on his face. “That comment might have been a little…”
“Yes, beloved?” Meciel asked pleasantly. “Also, just as a reminder, I suggest that you stop worrying about what quips to say and focus on what shields to produce. It might be a little less…painful.”
Harry just glared at her with defiant green eyes and she let out a little sigh. Suddenly Harry could breathe and move again. He let in an explosive inhale and gasped for a few seconds, allowing the blessed oxygen cool down his burning lungs.
“This would be a lot easier if you let me use, well, you,” Harry muttered tiredly as he stood up. He winced as he gingerly rubbed his chest and walked towards and through the giant flickering dome of protective magic. The integrity of the circle lost, the magical dome collapsed in a soft shower of sparks as Harry collapsed into the nearest chair, leaning back with a relieved sigh.
“Use me?” Meciel repeated and sighed, shaking her head. Her flowing black hair glittered as she glided forward with an exasperated expression on his face. “Must you refer to everything I say back to sex?”
“Hey, innocent of those charges this time, thankyou very much,” Harry said quickly. Meciel raised an eyebrow at Harry's earnest expression, looking sceptical. “I meant that when I'm in a fight, I can use Hellfire and your reflexes and stuff to help me. This was just plain, old me.”
“There may be a time, beloved, when I am no longer able to assist you. If so, I would want you to be able to function far greater than your enemies,” Meciel said. Harry frowned as a flicker of sadness crossed her face, her silvery eyes distant in her memories.
She absently ran a hand over Harry's hair and made the motion of smoothing it back. Harry felt tingles of pleasure from her touch and gave her a tired smile, affection lighting his eyes as he gave her a mental prod, shaking her out of her stupor.
“Are you…” he started.
He was interrupted as there was a loud knock on his door. He frowned, rolling his eyes and heaving an exasperated sigh.
“What does the moron want now?” He muttered under his breath as he climbed to his feet and walked towards the door. “I've already paid him for the month. If I have to bribe him again, I am going to shove a rake up his….fucking hell!”
Harry stared through the peephole with wide eyes as he took in the person on the other side. Clad in purple and silver robes and wearing both a wizard's hat and a benign smile stood Albus Dumbledore. His blue eyes twinkled as they stared directly at Harry's and one hand rose to stroke his long, white beard.
“Hello Harry,” He said cheerfully. “Why don't you open the door so we can have small talk?”
“Ah, why don't I shoot myself in the foot instead?” Harry retorted slowly, his mind whirling in thought as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.
“Because, my dear boy, that would cause you great pain and me great distress,” Dumbledore chuckled softly. “And neither of us wants that.”
“My dear boy?” Harry repeated slowly and paused. “Fucking hell, you're here to rape me, aren't you? Don't lie to me, Dumbledore! I've heard all the rumours about you! Go stuff your dick in that oversized thanksgiving dinner of yours and bugger off!”
“That last statement could be taken in so many different ways,” Meciel mused thoughtfully from behind him and Harry blinked, yanking his eye away from the peephole and turning to stare at her.
“Hey,” He muttered sourly. “The sex jokes are my thing, alright? Now what the hell are we going to do?”
“Calm down, beloved,” Meciel said soothingly and Harry felt her presence try to wash away his unease and panic. He shrugged it off and stared at her incredulously.
“Calm down?” He repeated and scoffed. “It's a bit hard to calm down when Albus Fucking Dumbledore is standing at my front door.”
“I do not believe his intentions are hostile, beloved,” Meciel said quietly. “For one, our wards would not have held him at bay had he chosen to attack us. No, he has come here for a different reason.”
“Like what?” Harry demanded.
“Why don't you ask?” Meciel retorted at Harry's challenging tone and Harry blinked.
He made a face and turned back to the door, staring at Dumbledore threw the peephole. The Headmaster looked completely relaxed as he waited for Harry patiently. He was absently humming a soft tune as he curiously examined the grimy hallway around him with twinkling eyes.
“Why are you here?” Harry called out loudly and Dumbledore blinked, staring back at the door with a pleasant smile on his face. “Don't you have a school to run and little boys to molest?”
“I have left Hogwarts into the capable hands of Professor McGonagall for a few hours,” Dumbledore said and smiled faintly. “I am confident that I will get the castle back in one piece when I return, even in these troubled times.”
“So, what do you want?” Harry asked warily, gripping his wand tightly and preparing himself to activate the wards.
Over the years, he had erected a great deal of wards around his little apartment. Many of them were to keep others from detecting just what went down in between these four walls, but others were deigned for protection and defence. Unlike the Hogwarts wards, these wards were designed to fry anybody who tried to break in and provided several other nasty surprises. All Harry had to do was activate them.
Of course, against a wizard of Dumbledore's calibre, the wards would probably last two minutes- if he was lucky.
“I merely want to talk, Harry,” Dumbledore said and paused. “I know that you have recently begun hiring your formidable skills out to certain parties. I may have a business proposition for you.”
“Whatever it is, I'm not interested,” Harry said flatly. “Now go away.”
“Not interested,” Dumbledore mused softly and reached into his sparkling purple robes. He pulled out a large, open sack of golden galleons and placed it in clear view of the key hole. “One thousand golden galleons, Harry.”
“What do I have to do?” Harry said slowly, eying the coins with something like greed on his face. “Because if you know that I've been hiring myself out then you know I've gotten paid recently. I'm set for about a year or so, Dumbledore, more even.”
“All that is required is that you open your door and give me five minutes of your time,” Dumbledore said. His light blue eyes rose and stared directly at the peephole, directly at Harry. “We have matters to discuss, Harry, matters that concern us all.”
“Let you in?” Harry said and gave a loud, barking snort. “Oh, I don't think so.”
“I thrice promise you that I shall do you know harm for the duration of this visit,” Dumbledore recited slowly and Harry paused, uncertainty wrestling its way onto his face.
“Can I trust that?” He asked Meciel, his eyes never leaving Dumbledore's form.
“Given his close nature with a Summer Faery, then yes,” Meciel's illusion answered softly. Harry didn't need to turn around to see it disappear from his senses and Meciel's presence washed over his mind, easing his concerns and strengthening him beyond his normal magical limits. 'But be wary, beloved. Be very wary.'
“Alright,” Harry said slowly and took a deep breath, steeling himself. He unlocked the door, automatically lifting a dozen different wards, and opened it to stare at Dumbledore with a cold gaze. “You have five minutes, Dumbledore.”
With a great deal of hesitation and doubt, Harry slowly opened the door, trusting in both Dumbledore's oath and Meciel's advice. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement as he cheerfully strode into the apartment, seemingly surveying everything with a mere glance. Harry's face looked as if it could have been carved from stone as he slammed his door shut.
“This is a very nice apartment, Harry,” Dumbledore said politely. “May I ask- do you rent this or are you the owner?”
“Technically, I'm renting out,” Harry said neutrally. “In reality, the landlord recently received a check that covered the cost of this place- I got it pretty cheap too, probably because there's no electricity here. But the law says that minors can't own their own apartments, which is bullshit, in my opinion. Still, a few bribes here and there and I've got what I want.”
“Ah, electricity, the lifeblood of the muggles,” Dumbledore murmured. He looked very out of place in Harry's living room, with his tall frame and brightly-coloured robes. “Is there a reason you forgo modern technology for the radiance of the simple candle?”
“Eh, you know how electricity responds to true-magic,” Harry said with a raised eyebrow. He scoffed. “Things would be blowing up by the shit-loads. I can't really afford to be replacing them all the time.”
“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “Our wand-magic produces a much, similar effect, although, it takes large quantities of magic before it is visible. Even then, our brand of magic tends to negate electricity as apposed to the rather…violent…reactions of true-magic. It is all to do with the source of the magic. True-magic is a product of this world, of life and love and, to some, of death and suffering. Wand-magic, however, is siphoned from another realm through the use of our wands. There are several key debates over the…”
“Right,” Harry interrupted loudly, staring at Dumbledore with a rather pointed expression on his face. “I'm sure you didn't come here to debate magical theory with me. Remember, five minutes…well, four minutes, and counting.”
“Very well,” Dumbledore said and motioned to one of the armchairs in the living room. “May I sit?”
“I'd prefer it if you did,” Harry said and flashed Dumbledore a chilling smile as he fingered his wand. “Although I doubt you would be dumb enough to pull anything in my own, heavily warded apartment.”
“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said as he eased himself into the chair. “I am most impressed, Harry. It was very difficult to find you, very difficult indeed.”
“How did you find me?” Harry demanded, his polite manner disappearing as he scowled at Dumbledore. “And did you tell anybody, because I like this place and it would be a pity if I had to kill some stupid bint of a wizard who wanted to snoop around.”
“You didn't think I would let you leave without some way of tracking you?” Dumbledore asked, his lips twitching as he stroked his beard, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Once I determined the exact nature of the entity protecting you from detection, it was a simple matter- for me, at least- utilising the right contacts to find you.”
“Right. Contacts,” Harry muttered in disgust, rolling his eyes. He half-heartedly gestured to the grubby kitchen. “I'd offer you a drink, but I'm a lazy, selfish, ungrateful bastard who would probably slip some kind of slow-working poison into the cup and watch you die.”
“Then it is good that I am not thirsty,” Dumbledore replied merrily.
Harry almost gagged at the other man's good mood but he restrained himself. His expression hardened as he held out his hand, his eyes icy cold. “About that sack of gold you said you would give to me…”
'It's good to know you have your priorities in order,' Meciel whispered into his ear.
'Oh, shut up,' Harry thought crossly. 'You weren't complaining when I bought the silk sheets.'
''Well, they are smooth on the skin,'' Meciel said and paused. 'Yes, beloved, I know- some clever little sex joke. Now, perhaps you should catch that bag…'
Harry blinked and refocussed his eyes to see that Dumbledore's twinkle had dimmed and he was reaching into his robes. He pulled out the small, bulging sack and threw it towards Harry. Harry caught it in a deft movement and, keeping a wary eye on Dumbledore, glanced inside.
“That's a lot of gold,” Harry muttered and felt Meciel pulse in agreement. He tested the weight of the sack while Dumbledore watched on.
“It's one-thousand gold galleons,” The wizened Headmaster said from where he sat. He clasped his hands together and, after a pause, continued. “I do find it disturbing that you are easily appeased by such…material…gains. It is not a good outlook to have in life.”
“Well, it's not like I can rob a bank or something,” Harry said defensively, throwing Dumbledore and irritated scowl. “I mean, I really can't. The American Auror's would be clued in if a guy using magic started stealing from muggles and I wouldn't be able to do it without magic.”
“Hence, your work with Ms Carpenter and her associates over the summer,” Dumbledore observed neutrally, staring at Harry with an expression too hard for the Denarian Knight to decipher.
“Closer to winter here,” Harry said absently and threw the bag of gold onto the kitchen bench. It made a loud clinking noise as Harry turned around and stared at Dumbledore with a pleased expression. “Yeah, the money was good. It went too soon, with the apartment, some decent food and the legions of prostitutes. The killing part was fun too.”
'Sex, sex, sex,' Meciel grumbled. 'People would be very surprised to learn that you have only had it once.'
'Tell anybody and die,' Harry threatened menacingly. He paused. 'Please?'
'Oh, beloved,' Meciel sighed in exasperation. 'You can be quite pathetic sometimes.'
'Pathetic as in, sad, despicable and intolerable pathetic or pathetic as in 'cute-shivering-puppy at the doorstep' pathetic?' Harry thought and almost grinned when he felt Meciel's amusement.
'I haven't decided yet,' Meciel said dryly.
Harry refocussed his attention, which had wavered for all but a split second, back on Dumbledore, who was watching him with a knowing expression on his face. Harry stared back challengingly but Dumbledore let the issue drop.
“Enjoy your gold then,” Dumbledore said and a flash of wicked amusement splashed across his pleasant expression as he stepped his fingers together. “After all, you have earned it.”
“What do you mean?” Harry said slowly, his smile dimming as he glanced at the bag of gold.
“They are your winnings for coming first place in the Tri-wizard Tournament,” Dumbledore responded honestly, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
“Hang on,” Harry said slowly, his gaze flying back to the sack of money as comprehension dawned on his face. “This was already mine?
“Yes,” Dumbledore answered cheerfully.
“Son of a bitch,” Harry muttered, anger and annoyance flaring in his mind. For a second, he felt the urge to strike out at the old mage but a combination of common sense and Meciel's blazing warmth, which almost immediately calmed him down, held his wand. Instead, through gritted teeth, he growled, “We have names for people like you.”
“Do you?” Dumbledore asked and smiled benignly, leaning back in the chair and looking extremely comfortable.
“Let me see if I can think of a few,” Harry said slowly, pausing and placing a mocking frown on his face. “Well, there's manipulative bastard, old coot, old man, senile prick, Dumbledork, Dumb-dore, Dumblefuck, Dumble-bore, Dumble-don't, Dumbles…basically anything that we can run off your name. My favourite would have to be 'Dirty, perverted, goat-fucker'.”
'I have an idea, beloved,' Meciel offered. 'Why don't you just spit on him instead? It would be much quicker and just as offensive.'
'You know what…' Harry thought speculatively and suppressed a smile when he heard Meciel's snort of laughter. He refocussed his attention back on Dumbledore in less than a second, catching him raising his eyebrows.
“I see you heard of the rather…disturbing rumours surrounding my brother,” He said evenly.
“You have a brother?” Harry asked in surprise. He shook his head as if to clear off the thought and glanced at his watch. “Okay, you have two minutes to get to the point.”
“Do you know of a Denarian called Vesper?” Dumbledore asked immediately, his eyes trained on Harry as he catalogued the boys every movement. In turn, Harry watched Dumbledore closely for any hint of the older man's plans and kept his wand ready.
“We've had dealings in the past,” Harry admitted slowly. “And when I say we, I mean Meciel.”
“Are you allies?” Dumbledore asked carefully.
“Was Mary a real virgin?” Harry retorted and scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think not. She was just as much as a skank as any other prostitute.”
'Oh, do tell that to one of the Knights,' Meciel said with wicked delight.
“Were I catholic, I would have some very serious things to say about that presumption,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Nonetheless, I am glad that you are not friends with this woman. I have recently learned that she has made an alliance with Lord Voldemort and the central most unifying factor holding them together is their mutual hatred and desire to kill you.”
“Yeah, tell me something I don't know,” Harry snorted and smiled smugly at Dumbledore's faint expression of surprise. “Yeah, I have contacts too, Dumbledore.”
“You don't seem so concerned,” Dumbledore noted.
“Me and Vesper would kill each other in a heartbeat, no matter whose allies we were,” Harry scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “And Voldemort, well, I kicked his arse when he was hyped up on Azzeh-crack. If they want me as an enemy, then let them bring it on.”
“I will admit that I know very little of this Vesper,” Dumbledore said, his voice soft, urgent. “But I warn you, do not underestimate Lord Voldemort. His power and cunning was is no less than it was last time and he brought about a period of fear and terror that has never left the heart of the Wizarding World.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Harry scoffed, but some part of him felt uneasy at Dumbledore's warning. He covered it up by raising an eyebrow and glancing at his watch. “Wow. You spent one minute telling me I already know.”
“Are you aware of the Ministry of Magic's current position on the return of Lord Voldemort?” Dumbledore asked, peering at Harry behind delicate half-moon glasses.
“Do I care?” Harry asked, with a shake of his head. “Am I…am I caring here?”
“They have not acknowledged his existence,” Dumbledore continued, ignoring Harry's mutter. “Instead of moving quickly and presenting a unified front in which to wage war, Minister Fudge has instead moved onto what can only be described as a smear campaign designed to discredit both you and me.”
“Me?” Harry asked in surprise. He made a scoffing noise and waved it away. “Fine. Let him. But who'll be laughing when Voldemort is standing over Fudge's bleeding, mutilated husk of a human body, listening to the Minister's pleas for mercy? I tell you who, me.”
“You don't care?” Dumbledore asked, sounding quite shocked. “Harry, the man killed your parents.”
“I'll admit, the short-term effects of that were pretty bad,” Harry admitted, but then shrugged his shoulders. “Long-term wise, I should thank him. If I had parents, no Dursleys, no Dursleys, no walking by that car park that day, no walking by that car park that day, no coin, no coin, no Meciel.”
'I'm touched,' Meciel said dryly, but Harry felt a flash of affection seep from her presence. 'You'd rather have me the power I can give you than your parents.'
'Well, you're pretty much my mother/sister/best friend anyway,' Harry responded. 'You've probably done a better job than they would have anyway.'
Meciel was quiet and Harry couldn't detect any of her emotions. Concern filled his mind and he tentatively reached out for her presence. Suddenly, her blazing power shot out and snatched his mind, dragging him into the centre of her heat and embracing him.
'You make it so very hard for me to stay exasperated at you,' Meciel said softly.
'Imagine the sex,' Harry said and grinned, both mentally and physically. 'Kinky, eh?'
'And some times, you make it so very easy,' Meciel finished, but she clutched Harry's consciousness to her presence and only let him go with some reluctance.
“So,” Harry said out loud, aware that he was grinning quite manically. “Let's cut to the chase.”
“Very well,” Dumbledore said and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his long, crooked nose. “I am the leader of a group called the Order of Phoenix. Your parents too once belonged to this group. Contrary to the Ministry of Magic, we recognise the return of Lord Voldemort and ready ourselves to combat both him and his servants. However, the Denarian Vesper has led us into a quandary. We do not know of her powers and abilities. We do not know if she is working alone or if she has other forces lying in wait.”
“You want me to tell you that?” Harry asked and made a loud, derisive noise. “I don't know. It's been a few decades since she and Meciel last met.”
“If you don't know, then I would like you to find out,” Dumbledore answered and paused, raising a hand a stilling Harry's next comment. “As you said, you have contacts and connections into worlds of magic I dare not delve. I am confident in your ability to discover what I need to know. For you work, I offer you another one-thousand gold galleons.”
Harry scoffed derisively but frowned and stared at Dumbledore in interest. The old man seemed quite sincere in his promise. Within his mind, Meciel chose this moment of silence to speak.
'I suggest that you take the deal, beloved,' she advised. 'After all, I was going to have you do as such regardless of Dumbledore's intentions. It is good to know your enemies, after all.'
“Five thousand,” Harry suddenly said and Dumbledore blinked.
“Ah, Harry,” He said, a benign smile appearing on his face. “My pockets are not that deep, I'm afraid. Two thousand.”
“Four thousand,” Harry shot back and smiled coldly. “They better dig a little deeper if you want this information.”
“Twenty-five hundred,” Dumbledore answered back calmly, steeping his fingers together and staring at Harry over his glasses. “And no higher.”
“Three thousand,” Harry said with a challenging shrug of his head. His eyes glittered as they surveyed Dumbledore, but the old man had chosen to stand his ground.
“Twenty-five hundred,” Dumbledore repeated and smiled politely at Harry's annoyed scowl. “Really, Harry, you are quite clearly robbing me.”
“Two-thousand five-hundred galleons,” Harry agreed carefully and added “But only if you convert that into muggle currency- American, of course."
“Agreed,” Dumbledore said and smiled. He rose from his seat and had a quick look at a pocket watch clasped to his one of his pockets. “And I do believe my time here is up. Send me an owl when you are ready to make the transaction and I will contact you. Should you have any immediate concerns, I can also be contacted through Ms Carpenter and her father.”
“Really?” Harry asked in surprise.
“Oh, yes,” Dumbledore answered, his eyes twinkling. He walked to the door and paused. “There are some at Hogwarts who miss you, Harry. Granted, there are some that do not but it is better to reflect on the positive things in life. Don't you agree?”
“You can go now,” Harry said sharply and Dumbledore smiled.
“Good day, Harry,” He said and then he was gone, his purple and silver robes disappearing out of Harry's doorway. Harry raised his wand and slammed the door shut and took a deep breath.
“So, fruit?” He questioned.
'Don't forget the yoghurt.'