This story owes a debt to Headless Huntsman for the idea, initiated on the Professor Muggle forum.

Chapter 1: She Walked Into My Office

October 2035

It had been a quiet few weeks, too quiet. Nothing much except the usual tailing of a few errant husbands; tracking them down and providing their nervous wives proof of infidelity wasn't fun but it paid the bills. Actually I didn't have to worry about the bills. When Miranda and I officially retired from the Invisibles we had a nice pile of Galleons in Gringott's, enough to never have to work another day, but what was the use in that? Anton, our son, started at Hogwarts a month or so ago and was sorted into Ravenclaw, leaving us at loose ends. Mostly Miranda, since she'd retired early to raise him, but after he had turned seven I realized that I was missing too much of his growing up and told Rolf Scamander that I'd had enough. He'd tried to sway me into staying, promising less field work, but the Invisibles aren't like the Aurors, and you can't sit behind a desk all day and push parchment.

Our little office in Knockturn Alley was easy enough to obtain; cheap rent, an out-of-the-way location and enough privacy to shield even the most reluctant client. It hadn't taken long to change things around, Miranda had a small desk up front and was the 'receptionist' and my office is in the back, nothing much except a desk, a battered old file cabinet and some threadbare chairs for the clients. I didn't want them to stay and chat, just give me the facts, hand over the retainer Galleons and get out of the way. Miranda had to convince me to put up a sign so I acquiesced but insisted that it was small. Yes, the Boot Investigations sign hangs over the door but if you aren't actively looking for it most likely you'd miss it. I like it that way. Keeps the curious out.

I'd just finished filing the paperwork on the last case when Miranda walked into my office without knocking, as usual.

"We've got a client, Terry, and she looks familiar but I can't place her. Want me to have her wait for a bit?"

Always trying to make us seem busier than we were, that's my wife. "No. Show her in."

"Straighten your tie first, love." She winked at me and walked out the door.

I cast a quick mirror charm on the wall and took a look at my reflection. Not bad for sixty, still had my hair. Suits still fit, which was good. Never did like going to Muggle tailors, but after all those years working in Muggle Ops for the Ministry it just doesn't feel right to not wear a suit. I straightened my tie and dismissed the mirror charm right before she knocked on the door.

"Come in."

The moment she walked in I knew why Miranda couldn't place her, as it had been years since I'd seen her. Faith Corner, Michael Corner's wife. First time I met her was when she and Michael were dating, at Cho's wedding to the Muggle Mike Greene. She and Corner moved in different circles than we did, and when you used to work for the Invisibles losing touch with friends was just part of the job.

I stood up and nodded to her. "Faith Corner. Been a while. Have a seat."

As she sat down I looked her over; still blonde, fit, and somewhat snooty. Never could understand what Michael saw in her. Of course, after she adjusted her robe it wasn't hard to figure out. If they were fake it was a really good job, and if they were real they were spectacular at her age. Not too many women her age looked like that. The Robe was a new one from Madam Malkin's or someplace similar, expensive, and her rings and other jewelry looked like they cost a pretty Sickle. Hair perfect, a hint of lipstick and her shoulders were hunched forward. She held her purse in her lap, hands clasped on the top of the handles like a bird on a wire. Nervous.

"Thank you for seeing me, Terry. I didn't know who else to turn to." She took out a handkerchief edged in lace from her bag and dabbed her eyes. "I'm so worried."

"Tell me what's going on and I'll see what I can do."

"It all started with that bloody book. You know Michael teaches at Dumbledore University, Advanced Memory Modification theory and such, he's an expert of sorts, so that's why they brought him the book. After he started examining it things started to happen, odd things."

"What book?"

"Some book they recently found, a WLF book. It's got a horrible memory curse on it, the Ministry curse-breakers couldn't figure it out, so they brought it to Michael. That's when the threats started."

"Go on."

"The first was a letter that said to leave it alone. After that it got worse, the next one listed all the things I'd done that day, things nobody could know about. It was the raven, though…" She dabbed at her eyes again. "Terry, when Andrew woke up this morning there was a dead raven on his doorstep. Someone gouged its eyes out! I haven't even told Michael about it yet, Andrew owled me and I came over here."

I sat back in my chair and looked at her; seemed like she was really upset, but there was something more going on. "Your son's an Auror. Did he follow up on the raven with the Aurors?"

She nodded. "Yes, and they're looking into it, but…" Faith looked around for a moment, taking in the shabbiness and shadows of the office. "Are you sure we can't be overheard?"

"Yeah."

After closing and opening her eyes she leaned forward, her hands on the desk. "Terry, Michael told me that you and your wife used to be Invisibles. You know the Aurors have their rules. I'm worried, worried that someone is trying to kill Michael! Will you please help us? I can pay…"

I shook my head. "Of course I'll help. No charge. It's Michael we're talking about. Does he know you're here?"

"No, and I want it to stay that way. He's got enough to worry about."

"Ok. Here's what we're going to do. I need all the letters and other threatening things you've been sent."

"Oh, I can't. I burned them. Didn't want Michael to find them." She shivered. "I think the Aurors have the dead raven."

Great, any potential leads were gone, vanished like smoke. "I'll need a list of all people involved. Send me an owl later today. I have some ideas on where to begin."

Faith stood up rapidly and I couldn't help but watch certain parts of her anatomy react against gravity. Corner was a lucky bastard. She shook my hand, thanked me over and over, and left the office.

-ooo-

It was the usual crowd in the Centaur's Arse, one of the worst pubs in England but one of the best places in Knockturn Alley to find out information. For a price, of course. Plus nobody wanted to say where they'd been after they'd been in the pub. Telling someone you've been in the Centaur's Arse usually makes conversation a bit awkward. I sat and nursed my half-flat Bat Bladder Ale because eventually someone would come in that would help. If you waited long enough, they always did. Even at midday the pub was as dark as most of the patrons' hearts, cold and damp too, but in order to get the information on the darker side I do what I have to. The argument with Miranda before I left the office kept circling my thoughts, and I couldn't dismiss a lot of what she'd said. Yes, we could have used the Galleons but I couldn't take them since it was Corner. Yes, it was all pretty vague, and she was absolutely right that everything was suspicious. Merlin, that's why we're in our line of work, though, suspicion. Without it there'd be no reason to even have the office and I'd be doing who knows what.

When he came through the door I looked over to Mugump, the bartender, and unobtrusively itched my ear. Bartenders are damn good sources, and it had taken me enough Galleons to make sure that Mugump always steered me straight. Lindsay Herral was the man he said would be my best bet, and I was hoping he was right. Mugump nodded at me and shortly thereafter the man came over to my table in the back with his free drink.

"You aren't no Muggle, are you, mate?" He sat down across from me and raised the glass of firewhiskey. "But I'll take a free drink all the same."

Herral looked to be about seventy years old, calloused hands that indicated manual labor of some sort, obviously not much of a wizard. Shabby clothes except for a very nice waistcoat under his threadbare robe. "No. Just like the clothes. I need some information, and if I like what I hear there are more free drinks in your future." I watched him scan the room without moving his head. "Don't worry; they know not to say a word. They know better."

"Not telling you me name." He threw down the firewhiskey in a gulp. "And imma gonna need a lot more of these."

"Sure." I already knew his name and in ten minutes and an owl I'd know more than Herral's mum if I wanted to, so agreeing to his little demand was easy. I looked over at Mugump and raised my hand, and after I moved my index finger he got the idea. One unopened bottle of Old Ogden's later I leaned forward towards the man. "I'm looking for information on a book."

"Try the library, mate." He twisted the cork off the top of the whiskey bottle with his teeth and poured a very tall drink. "Do I look like the book type?"

"For this kind of book, yes." I laid out what I knew, skipped the specific details and told him that I was in the market for a rare book, one that was supposedly cursed. That in and of itself was no big deal, but when I leaned forward and mentioned the WLF his face turned ghostly pale. Before he could respond I pulled out a small bag of Galleons and sat it on the table in front of him. "Just between us. A business deal. More where that came from. My contact details are in the bag. Enjoy your firewhiskey."

-ooo-

The rain started falling almost the minute I sat foot out of the pub and I wished I had that trench coat that Professor Muggle gave me when I started Boot Investigations. Said it was part of the image. As it was I kept the black falcon statue on my desk, even though it reminded me of the tiringly long conversation I had with Hank about private investigators and old Muggle movies. Didn't have the heart to tell him I'd see that movie over and over when I worked for Muggle Ops in London. He's a nice guy, bit overenthusiastic some times, but a good bloke. Helped him and his oldest daughter out of a jam a while back, bad business with a druggy American wizard. I thought about going to see him, since he's got the personal experience dealing with that WLF lot and he knows a fair kip about books, but the thought of going to Hogwarts didn't feel right. Only one other place. I walked back to the office, picked up my coat and headed back out into the rain. Even though I could Apparate from anywhere I didn't like doing it in Knockturn Alley. Too many variables.

Dumbledore University spread all over the side of the hill like a mess of bad weeds, popping up higher in some spots than others. To the wizarding folk it was a gleaming sign of progress; to me it looked just like any other Muggle university, buildings all over the place, big administration building, sidewalks everywhere, the whole kit. Supposedly there are classes that Aurors take as part of their specialization training. Robards would have blown a gasket if that would have happened on his watch; he liked keeping Auror things secret. Potter was exactly as The Prophet said, a new kind of Head Auror. At least the rain was keeping the student population down, much easier to make my way in without being noticed. The Muggle suit was something of a trademark, not too many wore them but every now and then you'd see them out and about, but I wasn't too worried. I had a plausible explanation.

The administration building was almost an extension of her, all form and functionality combined, not a lot of excess. It didn't take long to find her office, and the witch outside didn't keep me waiting long. I walked in and sat down without being invited, something that caused her to raise an eyebrow. Always one about the niceties and proper form, even now.

"It is good to see you, Terry. What can I do for you today?"

Hermione Weasley sat behind her desk wearing the dark blue robe with embroidered half-moon symbols that was the standard attire of the instructors at Dumbledore University. Her hair was pulled back, more grey than brown these days, but we were all speeding towards the eventual end. Some of us just showed it more than others.

"Good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley. I'm on a case. Wondered if you'd have the time to answer some questions."

She waved me off. "Terry, we've known each other too long to stand on formality. Hermione, please. Now what kind of case? Is this something that the Aurors are working on? You know I can't…"

"I know. Friends with Harry and married to Ron, kind of hard to forget. Can't tell you who my client is, confidentiality and all that, but if you'll agree to keep this between us I'll tell you what I can." She pursed her lips and hesitated, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. "I'm sure your husband will hear only what he needs to, correct?"

"I don't keep secrets from Ron." She clasped her hands and sat them on top of a piece of parchment on her desk. "So keep that in mind."

"Duly noted." I pulled a little notebook from the inside pocket of my jacket. "It's about a book. Corner's involved. You know the one."

"Oh." She blinked rapidly. "How did you find out about that?"

"I have my sources. Michael's a good friend of mine, you remember back at Hogwarts. Apparently someone's been making threats, trying to scare him off the book. It's cursed, right?"

Hermione's mouth fell open, and when she finally remembered she could talk she wasn't very happy. "Only the Aurors and very select staff know about that book. I've half a mind to tell Ronald…"

"Then tell him. Like I said, I'm working on a case. Might end up helping out the Aurors. What can you tell me about the book?"

"Nothing." She straightened up suddenly and began tapping on the desk. "I don't know anything, and honestly, Terry, you can't expect me to tell you even if I did. I know you used to be an Auror among other things, so you should know how this will work out. Harry has his best people on it."

I nodded. "I'm sure he does."

As the anger faded I noticed it was replaced by fear. She was always easy to read, even back at Hogwarts. Easy to read when she was excited about lessons, books, or worse, Weasley. Once I'd seen that face I knew my chances with her were done and the fact that she married Ron was a foregone conclusion. Still a pretty face, even after all these years. A pretty face covered with fear; she hadn't known about the threats, obviously.

"Terry, you said something about threats to Michael?"

"Yes. Can't say anything more, protecting my source. Just keep an eye out. Send me an owl if anything funny happens." I closed my notebook and stood up. "Nice little place you've got here. Doesn't surprise me that you'd be running a university. You would have been a great fit in Ravenclaw."

The fear vanished from her face. "Oh, yes, well, thank you. We're growing more and more each day. We have classes for everybody, even you. I have the course offerings…"

I waved her off. "Thanks, Hermione, but I've got work to do. Tell Ron hello."

I left her office and walked out of the administration building with a smile on my face. After I took a look at my watch I figured that I'd get a visit from Ron Weasley in the next two hours, give or take. My visit had been successful. She'd tell Ron that I not only knew about the book but that I knew about the threats, something that she didn't know but the Aurors knew. That little scrap of information would be enough to have the Aurors 'round the office in no time.

After I made it back to the office I filled in Miranda on what had happened. She went over the transcript from the meeting with Faith Corner; we'd installed a charm on my office that worked like a Quick Quotes Quill, anytime a client gave me information a quill recorded the information on a parchment in the other room. Even though my wife is still a damn good looking woman who wears clothing a bit too revealing and young for her she kept going on about Faith Corner. She didn't like her, said it was a gut feeling. I filed that away and told Miranda she was just jealous, but I knew better than to not listen to my wife. Whenever she had a gut feeling about people it was usually right, and I knew that in order to get the lay of the land I needed to do some research, starting with Faith Corner.

-ooo-

I was reading The Prophet when my office door flew open. Ron Weasley, mad as a wet hippogriff, stood in front of my desk.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Boot?"

I folded the paper and sat it on the desk. "Good to see you, Ron. Tea?"

"Hang the fucking tea, Terry. How did you know about the threats to Corner?"

"Sit down and I'll tell you what I can."

Reluctantly Ron sat down in one of the chairs, shaking the water from his robe onto my floor. I ignored that and took out my little notebook. "Client came in today and engaged me to do some research on the book. Apparently it's a bad book, cursed, and since Corner's the expert du jour on memory theory they took it to him. I went to see your wife to find out if she knew anything more, but she didn't tell me a thing. That's about it."

"Bollocks. You know about the threats. Who hired you, Boot?"

I shook my head. "Can't do that. I can work with the Aurors, though. Why're you here, anyway? You're the Assistant Minister of Magic, not an Auror anymore. Shouldn't I be talking to Harry right now?" Ron scowled at me and it was all I could do to keep from laughing.

"Bloody damn Invisibles. Think you're better than the rest…"

"Former Invisible, Ron. Former. And tell Harry the offer stands; I'll work with the Aurors. Up to a point."

"Damn right you will."

After Ron left without saying another word I was laughing when Miranda came into my office. Things were about to get interesting.