Albus Dumbledore awoke with a start. He had no idea why he had woken but at his age, such occurrences were not uncommon. He knew from past experience that he would not be able to fall asleep again for some time so he decided to get up and get in some work. He put on his dressing gown and shuffled slowly towards his study where he turned tired rheumy eyes towards his the papers on his desk. He flicked idly through them. There was a report from the head elf in the kitchens. They were running short of flour again. He would have to have Fawkes take him on another shopping trip.
Truly, things would have been far more difficult without his faithful familiar. Tom had people watching the castle constantly and leaving the castle through the usual methods of apparation and portkeys was much too dangerous. They had disconnected the castle from the floo network years ago and the wards on the castle itself meant that anyone wishing to apparate out would first have to leave the castle grounds. A phoenix on the other hand could take him anywhere in the world almost instantly which made things like replenishing their supplies mush easier.
He leaned back and stared at his Boy-Who-Lived wall. The Boy-Who-Lived wall was simply that, a wall on which he had pinned every single scrap of information he had managed to gather about the Boy-Who-Lived. Even after all these years, it was rather sparse. His eyes roamed over the various pieces of parchment stuck to the wall, hoping for a spark of inspiration that would lead him to the Boy-Who-Lived.
He pulled down a report from Poppy Pomfrey. The discovery of an unaccounted for dose of Skelegrow Potion had been a promising lead. There was a record that it had been dispensed but there was no record of which student it had been given to. That coupled with other unattributed records of treatments in the Hogwarts Medical Wing had lead him to the conclusion that the Boy-Who-Lived suffered from unusually brittle bones and was extremely accident prone as well. He had put the word out for a patient matching that criteria in every Magical Hospital he could contact but no patient had ever matched those criteria.
He sighed heavily. If only Harry had not hidden himself so well. If only...He blinked slowly, he was suddenly startling awake and alert. Harry...Harry Potter. Oh dear god! Finally, after all these years...
He raced towards his desk and started pulling out his drawers frantically. Where was it? Where was that that tracker? If he could suddenly remember who Harry Potter was then surely that tracker he had created all those years ago would be working again. He pulled out the drawer completely and dumped its contents upon his desk. Various knick-knacks and papers made an unseemly pile. He pawed frantically through the mess before he finally pulled out a small device that looked like a small compass. He flipped open the lid and sighed in relief. It was working. His tracker was working. He had to get to the boy immediately.
He called to Fawkes and flamed out of his office. Thirty seconds later, he flamed right back in to put on some proper robes, his cheeks red with embarrassment. Thank Merlin no one had seen him.
....
Harry Potter awoke with a terrible hangover. Yesterday had been Luna's 24th Birthday and he had drunk far more than he should have at the party. He blinked and shut his eyes tight. The morning light coming through his bedroom window was far too bright. Now, where was that hangover potion? Dobby always made sure there was one on his bedside table when he knew that Harry had been drinking. He put his hand out; his eyes still screwed tightly against the light, and found the tiny vial of potion by groping blindly. He quickly drank it and sank back into bed as he waited for the potion to work.
Damn, he thought, last night had really been one for the books. He turned over on his side and contemplated the tousled blonde head of his girlfriend and wondered whether he should risk waking her up yet with a good snuggle. Probably not the best idea, he thought, she did have a tendency to be terribly cranky if he woke her up too early and they hadn't gotten to bed until the early hours of the morning. What was the time, he wondered. Did he need to get up yet? He was usually an early riser as he normally needed to check on how the stock market was doing but lately he had been cutting back on that. Just as well, he thought, the time difference between LA and New York meant that he usually had to get up way too early for his liking.
Making money on the stock market was far too easy for a wizard. A quick scrying ritual and you could predict how any stock would do with a fair amount of accuracy.
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