Dangerous Games
Disclaimer: I in no way own Harry Potter, unless we are in my dreams, in which case I would be a Billionaire with total control over the world and... anyway getting back here's the story.
Chapter 1 ~ The Corpse.
Refuse and litter lay piled on the sides. The alley way stank with the odour of death and decay, the semi darkness continued to inhabit every corner of the street to which it led. Knockturn alley, a squalid mess of old uninhabited shops, and shady businesses, the premier hotspot for all magical criminals in London. An unspoken truce reigned between Auror and Criminal, a safe haven in exchange for an anonymous tip off about various high collar dark activity.
In the centre of the alley lay a man, seemingly asleep, on his face a scene of pure terror, the frozen face the dull eyes, the frothing mouth, the only signs that the man was dead.
Around it the rats had gathered first their red eyes blazing, a signal to the hoards of scum that inhabited Knockturn alley. On their hind legs they stood, a silent vigil, protecting their prize. Their primitive intelligence knew that the prize would be lost yet they stood in hope in a hopeless world.
* * *
Four officially dressed people approached a gathered crowd. The general din of the situation was unlike the quite foreboding and rather eerie nature of the alley. The crowd was a mix of the worst of society. The dregs and the refuse of the magical population. Mixed in the general din, the Auror's heard hags arguing over the ownership of fingers and various other body parts.
"Aurors!" Screamed an ugly hag frothing at the mouth.
The Auror's smiled at the crowd, smiles promising pain and suffering, the crowd began hissing and screaming, vulgarities spewed from every mouth, claims of ownership rang out, angry taunts broke their banks. There was no love lost between the the dark vermin that inhabited the alley the dark street and the upholder's of the law. A long and bitter hatred had seperated the two groups for centuries.
Yet it was the the rats that wandered through the refuse of the street that disgusted these Aurors, the crowd parted at their approach, the rats hissed and spat at them. The rats were protecting their prize, something they would struggle with the humans, their equals in this squalid scum strewn street..
A black haired Auror raised a stick, from it came a series of explosions, both light and sound. The rats and the crowds flew like headless horses in every direction, fleeing from the men who were clearly dangerous. Even the roosting owls, dotted here and there waiting for their masters flew away with ruffled feathers, such was the threat of the emerald eyed man.
"Harry that wasn't necessary, there could have been witnesses in that crowd," admonished Justin his face tinged green at the sight of the body dotted with bite marks, the arms and legs punctured with tiny holes, the body looked drained of blood. Rigour Mortis had set in, already the stench of rotting flesh had filled the air. The smell overwhelmed the Auror's for a few minutes.
A red haired Auror was the first to recover, "Lets begin."
"Standard Procedures," said Harry, conjuring a thick yellow rope and allowing it to curl like a snake around the area housing the body. It acted as a barrier sealing the magic inside from dispersing. The rope was rough and dangerous, standard operations of the Auror corps.
They began circling the area around the body, looking for clues and unusual signs. They began uttering spells as they went.
"Revealio," they said, interspersed with cries of "Prior Incantum," looking for magical residue. They combed with such precision that a surgeon's scalpel would be hard pressed to match. Moving in an organised grid pattern they searched first the shop fronts, then moved towards the street. In groups of two they approached from either end, frightening the odd passer-by with stares and threats of arrest.
"Harry, something serious was happening here," said the red haired man. He pointed to a formerly dark and dusty corner, which started blazing brilliantly at his uttered curse. Flashes of blue, bursts of brown, dashes of red, patches of yellow, every colour under the sun burnt brightly in the wand's path.
"Fuck!" Harry exclaimed. He then proceeded to remove his glasses before staring at the sight again and casting, "Sonorus."
"TEAM FALL IN!" his voice boomed in the oppressive silence. "INTENSE MAGICAL ACTIVITY IN QUADRANT B. QUITEUS"
"Why do you need to use those muggle terms Harry?" Asked the fourth member of the group, Tracey Davies. Her question faded into silence as she witnessed the bright flashes of light that had entranced Percy. She cringed as she saw flashes of the sickly green that sped through her like ghostly beams.
"Murder then," decided Justin his face clenched in a false sense of calm.
"Seems like it. What have you got from the body Tracey?" asked Harry.
"Nothing, the bite marks are from the rats, and other than the standard ownership curses placed on body parts there's nothing else." She smirked grimly.
"Cause of death is the Avada then?" Harry questioned.
"That seems most likely, otherwise its a broken unbreakable vow," said Tracey. Her wand was tucked behind her ear, as she watched the headache inducing display, "Why haven't we picked up on this? The concentration of magic should of set off our detectors."
"Can't be Fidelus or repulsion charms," Justin thought aloud. His face shook in irritation, another mystery for the lab teams to solve he thought.
"Why not?" asked Percy to the three Aurors. He was ignored by the other three, who were in different stages of thought. No reason was offered, silence met his question with disdain and he huffed in anger.
"Take the body, lets go see if we can identify it and don't remove anything from it" said Harry who was pondering Tracey's question.
It had bugged him no end, there was no simple solution, nothing since the fall of Voldemort had been so intense. This case was another murder among a hundred. The crime wave had no claimant, no new wannabe dark lord. Who would be blamed, the minister would have to take responsibility for this Harry told himself, after all it was he who was curtailing the powers of the Aurors.
They returned to the body, all their faces plastered with grim determination. They felt the magic slowly seeping out from the containment and dispersing into the air. Not since the fall of Voldemort, had such magic been thrown around so casually. 'Who?' was the question on everyone's lips.
* * *
A stone table lay at the centre of a a sterile white room. On top of the table perched a body, covered with a white sheet. White coated man and women wandered around, from upheld wands, multi coloured lights flashed. In the corner sat Harry disinterestedly his head bowed, how had the man died?
"Sir." A white coat approached Harry, taking a nervous glance at his colleagues then back at Harry at Harry's nod he continued, "We've found his wand."
"Any identification?" Harry asked in reply his face set in grim determination.
"Take a look." The man held up two wands, without waiting, he uttered, "Priori Incantum."
From the wand sprang a ghostly flash a green, a harbinger of doom. It lanced around the room, damaging nothing yet the wrongness could be felt, the powers it had once seen could be felt, it was the signature curse of a long dead Dark Lord.
"Avada Kedavra," whispered Harry, his mind reeling that curse had faded out of use, it couldn't be only the few remaining dark wizards and the ministry knew the curse, how was it being used he thought to himself.
"Sir its unusual, there's no spectre of the victim," said the white coat, his face pale, the implications of the curse not lost on him.
Harry frowned, it couldn't be, not another rising Dark Lord he thought to himself, he needed support to finish, with that thought Harry brushed passed the White Coat as he ran through his boss's door, a new hunt was soon to be afoot.
"Potter! Have you read Weasley's report?" Boomed a rather large man glancing at Harry. His face matching a multitude of colours.
Seated on his large oak desk he held in his hands a folder, that had clearly seen better days or more accurately better seconds in its life. Around the man were a multitude of folders, a sense of neatness avoided him, and Harry could not but be slightly intimidated by the man in front of him.
"No sir. The body we found on a side street of Knockturn alley, had a wand, with an unusually cast U1," said Harry quickly. He was worried, the murder had shaken in his confidence and he wished to take responsibility for the investigation.
"The Avada?" the boss's face paled, "No, the small time thugs report all heavy dark activity, explain the situation Potter."
"Sir. We were attracted to an unusually large gathering of undesirables. They fled at our approach at in their stead left this body. The cause of death was determined to be by the U1, however others may be a possibility. The body was returned to base, after a search of the crime scene, a memory re creation will be presented to the archives for storage. The death is unusual, a wand was discovered on the body, the last curse was the Avada unusually though there was no spectre."
"What!" Screamed the boss, his hand swiping personal mementos of his desk, "How could something like this happen?" His temper flashed wildly, not on his watch he hoped, please don't be a dark lord he prayed. The ministry had collapsed last time, would it happen again? Had anything changes since the last time? He asked himself, he could do nothing but hope.
"Sir, Roger its unusual I'll grant you that if we had taken in the small timers we could have stopped the from getting this big," said Harry with placating gestures at his boss.
"You know as well as I do, the public don't want no war minister Diggory won't let us take them on, he's convinced that the rival crime gangs will check each other," Roger replied, his face an ashen grey he had run this department since Shaklebolt had pursued a career in politics and now on his watch was society again going to decline into bedlam, he had to stop it.
"Sir, permission for undercover work?" asked Harry returning to formal protocol his face set in stone, hoping it passed for a neutral expression waiting for a reply.
"No, Percy Weasley's report says that the Auror department is elitist and acts in a way that is not keeping with the minister's policies of curtailing Auror power. I can't do anything until the minister calls a meeting."
"The report said what?" Harry asked thrown into a loop.
"It said Harry that Aurors are inept and act in a superior manner that encourages criminal sympathies. It goes on to say that we are unkind and unhelpful. Do you want hear more Harry?" He didn't wait as he continued his tirade, "It says that we should instead of concentrating on first time offenders, we should concentrate on educating children and begin outreach programs with the general community at large."
"The small time criminals are our major problem they exist to cause us trouble, How could we let them take control of their own territories, we need to fight back sir."
"I know but we have to wait for ministerial approval," the boss replied mockingly. There was no love lost between the minister and the head of the Auror head department.
"Off the books sir?" Harry asked again, he couldn't wouldn't let all his hard work be destroyed by corrupt and inept politicians. He had paid for it with the blood of his parents, his own death to end tyranny and now to return to it, No.
"Harry I can't do it," seeing the mutinous look that had appeared on Harry's face Roger hastely amended his speech, "My hands are tied, Harry if you proceed I will be forced to begin an investigation into your conduct and if it needs be, you will be sacked."
"That is your choice, Sir." Harry replied his anger being expressed clearly, and with a stiff nod to his superior, Harry left the building.
* * *
"Fire Whiskey," said Harry ordering a shot from a hunched back old man. Harry turned around at looked at the establishment. The Leaky Cauldron had seen better days, he remembered his first visit here with Hagrid, a time so far away when he was a wide eyed child an innocent child yet already marked by an evil untameable but to his own hand. He smiled at the nostalgia, and yet he grimaced, a constipated look to be sure, but there was no one to see.
The Leaky Cauldron had been abandoned, with the creation of new entrances across London into Diagon Alley, it had fallen into disrepair. The tables and windows were cracked. The chairs stood on three legs, dust formed a thick carpet, yet old Tom kept working day in day out, Harry came here often, to think, it was his home away from home.
"Here Harry," said Tom sliding a shot glass filled with smoking liquid inside.
Harry grunted in reply, "Thanks."
He watched tom wipe futilely at the table with a dirty rag, he had no customers yet he still worked he worked at his humble bar day and night, never changing his pattern, whether governments fell or rose, empires ground to dust, he would continue working until the end of time.
"Tom how's business?" Harry asked to make conversation.
"Same as a'ways, ne'er a custome' in sight."
"You need to move Tom, have you thought about buying the Hogshead, now that Aberforth has passed on." Harry asked inquiringly, Tom had been one of the few constants in his topsy turvy life and he cared for the old man.
"Harry," said Tom slowly, "I've been a lookin and I can't afford it, but I heard that there's an openin' at an establishment in Knockturn alley, Now don't give me tha' face, go have a loo' yourself, its the Bright Boar."
Harry sighed at Tom's words he had hoped the man would ask for some money, it wasn't an issue to him but the last thing Tom had was his pride and he could sympathise, "I'll take a look today Tom."
He tapped the third brick from the left on the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, stopping only to stare at the street that opened in front of him. The rumble tumble buildings stood haphazardly as hundreds of people went about their business, Harry walked down the cobbled street, which still bore signs of spell damage from a war torn past.
To his left and right, the industrious wizarding industry was at work building the traditional landmarks, Olivander's flourished again as the young again started school, yet the Auror clad in black, kept walking. He didn't smile at the passers-by, nor did he stop to greet his friends and acquaintances of which there were many. He walked past the Apothecary, the only remaining original structure of the war, a symbol to the masses the dominance of its contribution to the world of magic.
Yet it was at the cross roads that Harry stopped and looked, he had avoided remembering the fights that broke out across the street, yet as he stared at the dilapidated sign, he couldn't help but remember the spell fire that struck the sign, a curse from his own wand, driving the dregs of society back to their hidey holes in the nooks and crannies of Knockturn alley.
"Out of sight, Out of mind." He whispered disdainfully to himself, as he stepped into the street known for its high rate of shady dealings and more infamously as the territory of the Toroids.
* * *
With his hood covering his face, Harry disappeared into the throngs of Knockturn, he moved with well practised ease, hours of practise showed, with each confident step, his cloak's clasp shone with the brilliance that only wealth could show. No one dared approach him as he moved, not the two bit whores of Knockturn, nor the shady pedlars peddling their questionable ware. The well worn sneer decorated his lower face as he moved through the crowd until he came upon another dingy building with grime coated windows, and grease covered walls.
With a cursory glance around him, he took a step into the disgusting building, The Bright Boar. The pub dreary inside as it was outside. Here and there in the shadows sat hooded men, in groups of two, discussing business, the evils of society Harry thought. Why he asked himself couldn't the Auror's shut down this place, the breeding ground of scum and the ills of society, at least Tom was on his side.
"You in the doorway, ordering anything?" Grunted the barkeep, his sweaty hands constantly drying themselves on his greasy apron.
"Fire Whiskey." Paused Harry before continuing, "if you have it."
Harry's eyes never left the face of the bar keep. An old man, his head had not a single strand of hair, his face over grown with white grey stubble, nothing out of the ordinary. Harry sighed and waited as
the man opened his mouth.
"None of that here, if you want it go down to some of the exclusive pubs." The old man grunted, his responses seemed to be limited.
"What do you have?" Asked Harry patiently, his hand twitching toward his holstered wand.
"Moonshine and Hags. What will it be?" the old man countered, his face breaking out in a toothless grin before it faded at the sight of Harry's furious stare.
"Moonshine," Harry answered, his face still masked by the fury of the perversions of this old bar keep.
The old man nodded, as he allowed a watery liquid to flow into a dirty cup, and passed it to Harry. To Harry's surprise the man directed him to a seat behind two conversing men. Deep in their conversations they did not hear Harry approach.
"I say the Auror's are going to be in a right tizzy," said the first hooded man.
"The ministry won't do anything its on toroid territory," the second replied taking a long draught of his drink.
Harry could not but help listen in on the conversation, and with a short incantation he began listening in. As he sat in his dark corner, he knew he had found a lead, he only needed to wait and listen.
"You sure 'bout that, Potter's on the case and you know how he is." The first man continued loudly, he had been inebriated by the rather strong moonshine.
"Potter?" asked the second man, "Don't worry 'bout him, he ain't got no evidence, I don't think he even knows what's goin' on besides the ministry ain't investigatin."
Harry smiled briefly, his investigation was going to take a surprising turn. He waited to hear more of the hushed conversation.
"That's good then, so when's the next competition going to be held?" asked the first man, his nerves seemed calmed by the second man's words or by the moonshine, it would be forever unknown which.
"In a while, the ministry need ta clear out first, you got the por'key?" asked the seond man, he too was extremely drunk.
"Yeh," slurred the first man as his head dropped on to the table and began snoring.
"Son of a bitch!" The second man shouted as tried to rouse the extremely drunk first man before allowing the man to sleep, "fine then sleep. Barkeep where are your whores?"
"Second room to the left," came the reply and to Harry's disgust the second man, dressed in ripped black robes walked toward the said room. He was missing an arm, his lower face heavily scared, Harry was repulsed by the man's affliction and by his actions.
Harry watched the man enter the room, and as the door closed, Harry muttered, "Muffilato." The anti-eavesdropping curse would keep all eavesdroppers out of his future conversation.
"Eneverate," Harry whispered his wand hidden by his cloak. The man in front of him woke slowly and disoriented. Harry had been counting on this fact.
"Where am I?" asked the man, his hood had fallen off, and his brown teeth and bold head could be seen clearly in the stale light.
"We're late where's the portkey?" Harry asked faking urgency.
"What por'key?" returned the man, his speech slurred from his drunkeness.
"To the competition my good man, hand it over, I'll get us there, your in no fit state to portkey alone." Harry said quickly it was basic Auror training, strike quickly, keep your enemies stumped.
Without much ado, the man opened his pocket and pulled out an embossed card on it five words, "An Invitation to the Competition."
Harry smiled ferally, his plans were progressing nicely, this piece of luck he thought to himself was the only thing needed so as to find the murderer or so he thought. He looked at the man who was beginning to realise who he had handed the portkey too.
The man's face was comical, going from shades of green to red, then to purple, anger was clearly evident, unfortunately for him not a peep left his mouth as a red bolt of light slammed into his stomach, he lay on the ground stunned. Standard Auror practice, silent stunners were effective against all types of criminals, then again Harry reflected only silent curses would of brought down legimancy trained Death Eaters.
"Obliviate," whispered Harry and watched without remorse as the man forgot the last five minutes of his life. With that done, Harry tossed a single gold galleon to the Barkeep and stepped into the half light that was Knockturn alley.
* * *
"Harry, How are you, the kids , Ginny?" asked Neville, his boyish face lit up with a smile.
"I'm fine Nev, How are you?" Harry asked to get the pleasantries out of the way, his eyes wondering around at the plants that surrounded them in the greenhouse. Greenhouse 3 to be specific he thought to himself with a wry smile, the place where the most dangerous plants were kept. He grimaced slightly at the sight of growing mandrakes and shuddered watching the Devils Snare curling around Neville's leg.
"Not too bad Harry, Not too bad, the mandrakes seem to like dragon blood and Threstral dung fertiliser, they're awfully loud as they come out." Neville's face broke into a smile at the glazed look that had taken over Harry's face, "Sorry Harry, you know I love my plants."
"Nev, if you talked to Hannah as much as you did to your plants, she would take you back." Jested Harry, even his bad mood could be broken by Neville's cheeriness.
"True Harry, and now what brings you to Hogwarts?" asked Neville, who was still tending to his Venomous Tentacula, which was wrestling with an overly frisky in Harry's opinion Devil's Snare.
"Listen I've got to go undercover for a few days, can you cover for me for a few days?" Harry asked quietly with a nervous glance over his shoulder. Satisfied there as no one around he turned back, "No one expect me and the Roger know about this mission, the cover story will be that I'm investigating for you claims about a magical plant that grows in the highlands of Scotland as a special favour to you."
"What about Ginny and the kids Harry? Ginny would have gone ballistic if Molly Weasley's anything to go by." Neville queried his voice had sunk to a whisper.
"I've told Ginny the truth, the kids will have to believe the rumours for now," said Harry quietly matching Neville for seriousness.
"When do you leave?" asked Neville caving in to Harry's demand, he knew that he owed Harry a few favours, and regardless he thought to himself he would do it for Harry his good friend.
"Today," replied Harry, "I'll see you in a few days."
As Harry walked out of the Green house Neville tracked him until he reached Hogwart's gates, "Take care of yourself Harry. We need a hero in this world."
Standing outside the gates of Hogwarts castle, Harry took one last glance at it. The tall spires still stood in all their splendour, the gothic designs, the gargoyles that stood upon ledges still sat proudly facing the winds of time without a single backward step. Harry smiled at his first real home, and as he watched an Owl flit over the horizon, he turned his back toward the castle and activated the portkey.
A/N:
This hasn't been betaed or edited a first draft if you will. Its going to be a short story (not a one shot) that will focus on the period between Harry becoming an Auror and the epilogue.
Please Review.