Harry Potter 1. Prologue

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**Summary:** Quidditch, the greatest game ever played in both the magical and non-magical world. The paragon of Wizarding sport and one of the most dangerous activities to play in the world had a dark underside. The men and women who had their own way of supporting their favorite team. Hooligans they were named, the seedy under-class of the Quidditch world and a plague on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Within these "firms" were people who lead lives of legends, and as the newest team to join the league, the Banchory Bangers rises to prominence, so too does the firm's members. However, hard as they are and fast as they rise, there will be a long fall if things go wrong and in the underworld, where everyone wants to get out, there is no end to the troubles.

_**Teaser**_

The roar of the crowd washed over him as he stared up into the clouds, looking for two elusive figures. There were flashes of darker colors throughout the area as he waited with impatience for the two most important positions to make their move. The crowd yelled as his team scored yet another goal. They were slowly coming back but he knew they needed the Snitch to clench the game. His breath hitched as he watched the two he was searching for come barreling out of the clouds, they were almost flat to their brooms and vertical to the ground. He smiled as his eyes darted ahead of them, looking for the glint of gold.

There. He saw it, not more than 20 feet above the centerline of the pitch. He smiled with giddy anticipation. Either there'd be a spectacular catch or a spectacular crash. He watched in slow motion as the opposing Seeker smashed into the ground and his team's Seeker made an amazing catch not 10 feet before slamming into a wall. He cheered with the rest of them as his team clinched the win and moved into the spot to battle for a chance at the Cup. His blood was rushing and he felt alive.

As he cheered and grabbed his friend who was sitting next to him, they jumped for joy. He was all smiles as he filed out of his seat and left the stadium. Quidditch was the greatest sport in the history of ever and he loved every single match he went to. As the pair left the stadium discussing the tactics and plays they'd seen today, they let their feet unconsciously take them to a nearby pub that catered to all types, both normal and not-so-normal. Their hands waved excitedly in the air as their conversation became more flamboyant.

"Oi!"

They heard someone shout behind them. The pair tensed. Slowly they turned, hands drifting to sticks of wood stuck into their waist bands, before them stood a group of about eight or nine people. All in the opposing teams colors. Shit, this was not good.

"Think it's funny do ya? Think we're gonna let youse arseholes go on 'bout this match. Feckin' 'ighway robbery is wot it was," The leader called out. His accent was thick, but the pair could tell they were definitely Pride supporters. Banchory and Pride were the fiercest of rivals, and many of their matches had issues with the police, that didn't stop the supporters from trying to murder each other at every chance they got.

"That wasn't what I was saying at all, was it Col," one of the pair said to the other. The one named Col simply nodded his head mutely.

"You feckin' liar. I know a twat when I see one and yore it. Get 'em," the leader yelled. The pair took off in the opposite direction. They ran through a tunnel and dived right, hoping to lose them and double back through a side alley. Their luck didn't hold as Col of them ran straight into the open arms of a man dressed in Prides gear.

Blood flowed as the man landed a solid punch to Col's nose as his partner was kicked in the back of the knee, causing them to land on their side with a dull thump. Two of the Pride supporters began to drive their booted toes into the stomach and back of his partner as Col's assailant kept up the assault.

All of a sudden Col felt his assailant being roughly grabbed and thrown away, without his attacker supporting him, he fell to the ground.

"BAN-CHO-RY, BAN-CHO-RY," rang through the area as a mass of dark purple clothed people, supporters of the recently revived Banchory Bangers, flooded the area. Col looked up into the eyes of his savior and smiled at them.

"Are you alright Col," the black haired man asked, bending down to give Col a hand up.

"Yeah Harry, thanks for the save," he replied to the man he had known for a long time.

"Don't thank me Col, thank the firm," Harry said with a wide grin as he helped Col's partner up. They were in bad condition, clutching their stomach and standing on one leg. The ankle of the other was a dark purple and black, signifying a break.

"Who's this?"

"Harry Potter, meet Astoria Greengrass."


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: So here goes, this is the start of a new story. It'll probably be short in length but hopefully it'll be big in content. Enjoy and see my profile for all appropriate disclaimers.

"We're the most watched country in the world."

He couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself - seems like Old Shacklebolt had been right. He ducked his head down and drew the hood of his jacket closer, slipping past yet another poorly concealed DMLE wizard. They were everywhere. Some were openly watching entrances like hawks; others were 'stealthily' mingling with and mimicking the rambunctious crowd. All of them had the intent of catching people like him. He smirked as he slipped past a particularly bored-looking witch, another officer; though her face made him think of her being a relation to the Goyle or Crabbe families, she did have a nice rear and rack going for her. A few of his associates followed right behind him like ducklings following their mother. One of the uniformed guard's gaze swiveled back to his group and a few had to cut off to find a different entrance. It didn't matter in the long run; inside, they'd meet up at their usual spot.

His hands were in the pockets of the windbreaker that sported his team's logo proudly. The Banchory Bangers may have only just been restarted, but between his connections and the Wizarding World's desire, it was now a fully fledged franchise of the Quidditch League. It helped that he knew every single player, as most had gone to school with him. The hood hid his grin at the roar of the crowd. His blood began to pump harder and burn its way through his veins. He grimaced a little as memories washed over him. He had wanted to be on the broom, not in the stands, but the League had deemed it unsafe for a 'national treasure' to compete in such a dangerous sport. Fucking Voldemort. He had scoffed at the idea and then went and got completely soused. That had been the night he found about the 'other' side of the Quidditch League.

Ollie Wood had introduced him to it. The underground. The Firms. He had shown him the ropes, helped him understand just what it was to be a part of a firm. To become a family member and to fight and bleed for the colors. He still had the tattoo from his time in the Puddlemere firm, a permanent mark done the Muggle way to remind him where he came from. He hadn't left so much as he'd been encouraged to go and start something new. There wasn't anything left for him in the Puddlemere firm and he'd decided to move on.

When he'd heard of the newly re-created Banchory Bangers being brought back to even out the League numbers, he'd jumped on it, recruiting members for both the team and the firm. Soon, he'd had a full roster and a great team to cheer on. His firm was pretty filled out too, many members flocking simply because of his name. There were a few good ones though in the lot.

He looked up as he headed up the stairs into the stands. The rows were separated, allowing for team supporters to alternate. There were eight blocks, four for each team. He stepped lively and found his usual spot open, and the people behind him quickly ensconced themselves around him. He sat back and prepared to watch what would be a great match. The fun would come later.

Auror Captain Neville Longbottom was sitting at his desk doing paperwork. He hated paperwork, if he'd known there would be so much he'd have denied the Captaincy, even if it meant giving up his wickedly awesome sabre. Maybe if he stabbed the paperwork, it'd go away. Neville sighed as he continued writing.

His attention was diverted by the crackling of a Wizarding Wireless, left on by his secretary - great girl, but she was often quite scatterbrained about things. Currently, it was blaring out the beginnings of an excited commentator's narrative of the Quidditch Match that was happening between Banchory and Pride of Portree. It sounded like it was turning out to be a good game. He smiled slightly as he heard familiar names being rattled off; old school mates and friends were playing. He closed his eyes, letting the game take shape in his head; dark blue shapes flashing amongst lighter blue blurs as goals were attempted and deflected. A flash of lightning interrupted the pleasant scene; a pair of emerald eyes burned over the scene and he jumped in realisation.

"Shit shit shit," he muttered to himself as he fumbled around his desk for his Auror communication stone. He popped the piece into his ear and hit the speaking button. It had finally stopped glowing green as he hurriedly spoke aloud.

"Come in Auror Team 9. Repeat, Auror Team 9 do you read me, over." He awaited tensely for a response.

"Captain, this is Team Leader, how can I help you?"

"Mike, I need to know, urgently, if you've seen Harry Potter enter the match, at all? Have any of your men reported seeing them enter either?"

"No sir, we haven't seen him. One of the men would have reported it in as soon as he was seen, you know that sir,"

Neville sighed in relief as he heard the men all sound off that they hadn't seen the man who was considered by many to be a national treasure. He knew that Harry hated his status and he could sympathize with him, but orders were orders.

"What about Michael Corner? Did anyone register Corner entering the match," Neville asked warily.

"Uh hold on sir." The line went silent for a moment. "Yes, sir - Bradley's got him coming in the southeast side, and he's sitting in a Pride's box. You want us to pull him out sir?"

"No, that's alright Mike; just keep your eye on him would you? I'm going to come on out and check the match." Neville said as he turned off the speaking stone and slumped in his chair. He had a very bad feeling about this. Harry was known to never miss a game, regardless of whether the Aurors made an appearance or not. He shook his head, stood up, and grabbed his scarlet Auror cloak, throwing it on over the dragon hide vest and pants that made up the Auror's standard uniform. He fumbled and then strapped the sabre to his hip, and then slipped his wand into its wrist holster as he strode to the lifts. He punched the call button with more force than was necessary but his gut feeling was getting stronger as time went on and his desire for haste grew.

If Potter and Corner were at the match then rest assured all Hell would soon be breaking loose. He wasn't going to let that happen on his watch, regardless of their shared history.

The crowd was starting to get a bit rowdy as the match hit its third hour. The Firewhiskey and Hog's Ale were flowing amongst the adults, The Bangers were up by eighty and it looked like one more Wronski Feint would knock the Pride's Seeker out of the match for good. Their back up was utter rubbish so they had stuck to the plan of being very careful with their Seeker; one Beater had been assigned to solely protect the Seeker. The Bangers' fans were calling for his blood and the Bangers were doing their best to plant a Bludger in his skull.

He stood on his seat, cheering on the Chasers as his team kicked the shit out of Portree. It was unusual as they had only played twice before, but this was the game where that all turned around, he was sure of it. They just had to destroy the other Seeker and then the Snitch was all theirs

He yelled in triumph as a particularly nasty Bludger hit was directed towards the Pride Seeker, it connected in a sideswiping maneuver that knocked the Seeker clean off his broom, the player plummeted to the ground, over two hundred feet in the blink of an eye. If not for the mass cushioning charm over the field, the Seeker would have surely died. Harry wished he had.

"Come on you ugly bastards. Who wants a piece o' this you fuckin' cunts?" Harry looked towards the front of the stands where a lone Pride supporter, an ugly son of a bitch with a wart on his nose, stood boldly insulting the Bangers fans. Harry smirked the loud fan was dragged off to the jeers and boos of the Banchory supporters. His little group hurled insults back but made no move to attack the man. They knew their leader had something planned and they'd keep the peace. But only long enough to see what was in store.

Play resumed after the Seeker was carted off the field and the Pride brought out their reserve Seeker. The Bangers were cheering and singing pub songs as they rallied their team on. Harry tapped Michael on the shoulder and nodded. The pair slunk behind the stands and made their way to a concession exit.

They quickly made their way through the underbelly of the stadium. Passing different sections and magically upheld scaffolding until Michael looked out and saw that they were on the opposite side of where they had originally sat. Harry pulled off his jacket and pulled out his Phoenix wand. He began to gently swish his wand back and forth and, as he did so, jets of light began to flow out and sink into the bottom of the stands. He finished the spell with a quick jab and then a violent horizontal flick and the bottom of the stands glowed a sickly yellow.

"Come on, let's go. We don't want to miss the show," Harry murmured as he threw his jacket back on. The pair sprinted back to their original seats as they game picked up pace. He heard shouts and insults which he took as a good sign. They made it back just in time to see the Bangers score yet another goal, pulling them ahead by one hundred points, but that didn't matter as the Banchory Seeker had plowed the Pride's seeker into the stands and snatched the Snitch. The dark purple of the Bangers surged to their feet as the team celebrated high above the pitch. A mass of flying purple had swamped the Seeker who held the Snitch over his head.

A loud explosion rattled the stadium. Black smoke began to billow within the stands, to be specific, a section of Pride supporters. None of them seemed hurt but the mass panic that erupted was more than dangerous enough. The section of supporters who had sat where the spell was laid was coughing up a fit and more than half of them had splinters lodged firmly in their arses. Harry's little prank had worked splendidly and he and his little group filed out, laughing their heads off at the plight of the Pride supporters.

They were slow in making their way out, but as they crept forward, the group slowly became quieter and threw their hoods back up as they finally made their way through the entrance. The group split into pairs and trios and broke off from the larger crowd and made their way to a nearby pub. Home games were always much safer.

Harry smiled widely as he met up with a promising young man and grabbed him around the shoulders, "Hey Col, everything alright?" He yelled above the songs and chants. Colin merely nodded exuberantly as he kept singing. Harry's thoughts flashed back to the match where he had met Colin Creevey again and had saved him and his then girlfriend Astoria Greengrass from a group of supporters from the very team that he had just hexed so badly.

"Alright then, let's go lads. There's a pub with our name on it just waiting for us to come home," he called out and the groups that heard him cheered and moved slightly quicker. As the group surged for the pub and the delicious liquid gold that was held within.

"Hey! You cunts! Where the fuck you think you're goin'?"

Harry turned and a cold look came over his face. His eyes became chips of green crystal as he stared down the person who had called them out. A man stood in jacket of light blue with the crossed wands and stars of Pride of Portree. He was on the stocky side and his hair was shockingly blonde. A group of Pride supporters stood behind him. They easily outnumbered Harry's group as the two pseudo-armies stared each other down.

"Freddie, I think you might be a little lost. You're a bit more north than usually are, aren'tcha mate," Harry shot back, "this here is the lovely town of Banchory and you mate, you just fuckin' stepped in it you did." As he shouted the last part the two groups charged each other.

The melee that ensued was hectic, violent and extremely Muggle. Harry threw a punch at a random Pride-man and the supporter fell back clutching his jaw as Harry grinned viciously. He followed up with a kick to the leg and another fist to the temple. The man went down for the night. Harry quickly spun and lashed out at another Pride-man, kicking him in the shin. The man howled in pain before another Banger smashed him in the throat, effectively silencing him. Harry spun another time and was face to face with a woman.

This stumped him. He didn't hit women. That was his only real rule. Women were sacred, and to have them in the firm had been a controversial event, he hadn't stopped it from happening but it hadn't exactly been a good thing, especially for him. His fist was cocked back but he was frozen, his moment of stillness allowed for a woman in Bangers colors to leap into the fray, scratching and howling as she attempted to blind the woman of Portree. Harry's face blossomed into a smile as the cat fight that ensued led to loss of clothing. He tore his eyes from the spectacle when he felt the presence of another opponent.

Neville led his task force to the sounds of violence. That was not good. He knew that he should've been at the game. His boss was going to have his badge, wand and then his head for his inability to police a simple Quidditch post-match party. He had stepped in the shit but deep.

"Mike, split up and take one end of the tunnel area each. Spread out and when everyone's in place, mass stunners. Got it?"

"Yes sir," came the clipped reply as the task force split up and twenty maroon clad Aurors went one way while an equal number went the other way. Neville grimaced as his men slowly surrounded the brawl that was laid out in front of him. Just before they were all in place, one of the fighters spotted an Auror and yelled out.

"Coppers! Beat it!"

The brawl split up, a few fighters kept going but for the most part the brawlers either ran, Apparated, or Portkeyed away. There were just a few left, mostly those knocked out or in too much pain to Apparate. Neville sighed and moved in as his men attempted to stun a few of the runners.

A pair of emerald green eyes watched from the shadows as only a few of the Bangers were thrown into a group, magically lassoed together and then Portkeyed away to the DMLE. He chuckled as he noticed that the difference in the amount of Bangers tied up compared to the number of Pride-men tied up was huge. He'd get his men back within a day or two. If not, he'd have a word with Neville. The man couldn't stand up to him. He wandered off to the pub, no doubt there'd be a few Aurors there to question his men.

"Right then Potter, what do you want so early in the morning," Eddie the front desk Wizard of the Ministry of Magic called out as Harry handed over his wand.

"Not much Eddie, there's just some injustice of a gaping magnitude goin' on that I'm fixin' to set right," Harry said with a smile as his wand was weighed and handed back to him. Eddie just shook his head, but there was a smile blooming on his face. He knew what Harry did, he knew who Harry was, and if he knew Harry the way he thought he did, the day was about to get extremely exciting for the Aurors.

Harry trudged his way through the Ministry, grabbed a lift with a man that had two huge frogs under his arms and pressed the number for the DMLE. He shoved his hands in his pockets, started whistling a Bangers tune as the lift descended. The man next to him became increasingly nervous as Harry swayed back and forth to the tune. The lift dinged and jerked abruptly as the doors opened up to reveal a hectic DMLE. Harry smiled at his lift partner and gave him a thumbs up before turning to the department he had stepped out into.

"ALRIGHT MY GOOD MEN! WHERE IN THE SEVEN RINGS OF BLEEDIN' 'ELL ARE MY FRIENDS!"

All movement stopped as the department as a whole stared at Harry as if he had grown a second head. Neville pinched the bride of his nose as he sighed heavily. Harry smirked as his gaze slid around the room. He knew exactly what he was doing.

As his raptor glare swept over the department, Neville stood and motioned to a side room. Harry leered like a jackal for a moment as he stepped towards the motioned-to-room. Neville shivered, he knew he was in for it.

Neville let Harry settle himself in before sitting down. Harry slouched in his chair slightly as his oversized workman's coat covered his frame, hiding whatever might be within. Harry, for his part, stared at Neville as the lawman took the seat across from him.

"Alright there Neville? Fightin' the good fight an' all that eh?" It was more of a statement than a question as Harry shifted slightly while speaking.

"Harry, I'm going to get right to the point. I can't let them go. They caused a major public disturbance. The Obliviators are having a field day and the Minister wants my ass in for an explanation which I don't have. What would you have me do Harry?" Harry steepled his fingers and stared at Neville. His eyes had lost their merriment and became chips of jade as his demeanor changed. This was not the Quidditch hooligan that had entered. This was the man who had destroyed the vilest scum to walk the earth for four years.

"Neville, here's what's going to happen," the slang and harsh street accent were dropped, "you are going to release my men, you are also going to release the men from the other team. You are going to explain to Kingsley that this was a scrap that was fueled by too many pints and not enough common sense. You are going to do this, and you're not going to make a fuss because if you do and when Kingsley does, because no doubt he will. You will refer him to me. Do you understand me Neville Longbottom?" Neville had to push his seat back an inch and take a breath. The room was stifling and he could almost feel the power emanating from the normally carefree man.

"O-ok Harry," Neville's voice cracked. He took a moment and steeled his resolve. He wouldn't let this man run all over. Not in first year, not now.

"However, there will be repercussions and Kingsley will have an issue, you know that." Neville sternly admonished the man.

"Leave 'im to me my old man," Harry said, his mischievous side back in play.

"How are the chaps Harry?" Neville said as the stifling aura receded quickly in the face of the return of Harry the hooligan.

"they're alright, aren't they. We miss you somfin' fierce though Nev. When you ever comin' back to the pub eh?" Neville smiled for a moment before his countenance became serious again.

"Harry, I can't go back to that. It almost cost me my position as an Auror, let alone my position now as Auror Captain. I can't even be seen with you guys. You know that," Neville said with a pensive look on his face. Harry simply smirked.

"I know that Nev, just testin' ya. Just lettin' you know that you're always welcome back to the fold," Harry shot back.

"I know Harry. And thanks for the vote of confidence but I can't. Not now, maybe not ever," a silence hung thick in the air. Neville looked downcast for a moment before he glanced at Harry again with a roguish grin.

"Let's go see a man about a pack of dogs, eh?" Neville stood and motioned to the door. Harry nodded with a similar smile but it didn't meet his eyes. The pain of one of his one no longer amongst him cut deep. He'd never let it show.

"Alright Nev, let's go see about that kennel then."


End file.

Harry Potter, Crime, Humor