Chapter 1: The second body
6 July 2005Dark clouds swirled in the sky and the fog from the Dementors was as thick as ever. The few beams of sunlight that could penetrate the gloom only managed to shed a fragment of light on the blackened, sparse trees and their reaching branches. They looked like petrified victims with outstretched arms and clawing fingers – their last battle for life lost. The stench from the rotting vegetation and flesh hung in the air like a thick poisonous cloud. Only the flies seemed to be thriving in the muddy barrenness.
Click, click, click - a camera was working furiously. But twenty-four year old Harry Potter didn't show any sign of noticing it. Even the annoying rhyme that had been placed on his desk a few days ago had been driven, at last, from his mind.
Potter this one you won't win.
You cannot beat this Slytherin.
Another number has come in.
You will pay for killing Him!
Harry stared at the corpse in front of him. He thought he had seen everything; that he would forever be desensitised to the horrors that the Dark Side were capable of; but this was by far the most repulsive thing he had ever laid eyes upon.
A slender, red-haired, young man, approximately in his early to mid twenties, was strung up like a Muggle scarecrow, wearing only a pair of briefs. The narrow cuts along the man's body, the source of all that brown,caked blood, showed that he had been tortured slowly. The twisted, knotted look of his muscles that were standing prominent all over his body, were testament to the fact that he had been under the Cruciatus curse for long periods too. Like the first victim, this one had been 'artistically' posed for maximum impact. His eyes were wide with terror and pain; his mouth twisted and strained, the corners threatening to tear; and his body was contorted into an unnatural position, the sinew straining, almost as if it wanted to break out from under the skin.
Harry raised his wand and released the body bind charm that was on the victim. The body slumped, as if relieved - finally satisfied to be dead.
"Do we know who he is?" Harry asked the Aurors behind him, without looking back.
"Ahh, yes... yes… he was, he was-," Harry could hear some parchment being shuffled, " he was William McMillan, a Muggle. He lived in-"
"Get him down from here," Harry interrupted, not wanting to know as it made the victim more human, his suffering more real. "He deserves more respect than this."
"Yes, Sir," the Auror said, leaping to attention.
Harry tore his eyes away from the body as he heard the slurping sounds of the two Aurors approaching. He turned and watched them battling through the knee-deep sludge they had been pushing through for the past four days. They had been hoping to find the victim before it was too late. A lot of help they were.
Harry scowled at the thirty-something year old Aurors he had been assigned. Graham Stuart and Ralph McGrath were slow and inexperienced, and they complained perpetually. Hermione had done a better job 'roughing it' when they were on the Horcrux hunt seven years ago. But the Ministry of Magic could not afford to be as picky as they once had been. They had lost too many Aurors in the war against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Even though Harry had destroyed Voldemort on his own, in a battle of epic proportions; Death Eaters and Dementors were still causing destruction and havoc on the already weakened Wizarding World. Any illusions Harry had had that the fall of Lord Voldemort would bring about a quick end to the war were gone. Dementors came out nightly, sucking the little happiness that remained out of the emotionally exhausted nation. The Death Eaters were taking full advantage of the situation. Leaderless, they were working either in small groups or individually, making them unpredictable and uncontrollable. The Ministry'sleadership was failing in holding things together, and all its magical law enforcement divisions were not managing to keep up either. It wasn't even their fault for once. They were outnumbered and drained. New recruits were few and far between. Becoming an Auror or a member of the Magical Law Enforcement was almost suicidal these days; their numbers were diminishing as their death rate climbed almost daily. No one wanted the job. Which was why Harry was saddled with these two.
He watched impatiently as the two Aurors had a quick battle of pestle, parchment, severing charm to see who would get the unpleasant job of removing the body from its stake. Stuart lost. He stepped up to the deceased male with a revolted look on his face and clasped it underarm as McGrath readied his wand to utter the charm that would release the victim's arms.
Harry opened his mouth to remind them to perform some rudimentary safety checks, but he was too late.
The Aurors were in such an obvious hurry to be finished with the disgusting job at hand, they acted without thinking. As McGrath uttered the incantation and the body was released into Stuart's waiting grip, Harry felt a wall of magic surge through the air.
"MOVE!" he bellowed starting to sprint to the Auror's side, but Stuart was frozen to the spot, seemingly terrified.
Harry saw, as if in slow motion, something starting to move where the body had been only seconds ago. With lightning reflexes and speed, he dived into Stuart and shouldered him out the way. Before Harry's feet could even hit the ground, something crashed into his side and an intense pain swelled just above his left hipbone. The power behind the blow was so extreme it changed the direction he was flying through the air. Harry was shunted backwards with a force he would have thought only possible from the Hogwarts Express. He crashed back down into the sludge, flat on his back, metres away from where he had been. A wall of mud flew into the air and came crashing down around him like rancid, glutinous rain.
Harry gasped, automatically clutching at his side. He could feel warmth spreading down his leg and through his fingers. He was bleeding, and from what he could tell at that precise moment, he was bleeding badly.
Harry pushed himself up with one hand and spat a mud clot from his mouth. The putrid taste and smell of death lingered, and Harry restrained himself from retching.
"Are you all right, Potter, Sir?" McGrath yelled, racing up to Harry, holding out his hand to help Harry up.
"Check that thing for poisons – all poisons. NOW!" Harry ordered, ignoring McGrath's outstretched hand; knowing that every second counted if his worst suspicions were true.
"Yes Sir," McGrath turned and hurried over to the offending booby trap.
Harry slowly steeled himself and got to his feet. He was shaking all over and had broken out into a cold sweat. Still clutching his side, he stumbled over to where Stuart was lying on the ground.
"Are you all right?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even. He didn't trust himself to lean forward and check.
"Yes," spluttered Stuart. The Auror opened his eyes and let out a high-pitched squeal. He was lying prone on the decaying corpse. It was the fastest Harry had ever seen the man move.
"Check him for more traps, and if there are none, get him ready to transport," Harry ordered. He refused to show them sympathy. Being soft on them would only get them killed faster. He winced as he turned away from Stuart and his task.
"Anything?" he asked McGrath, who had his wand out and his potions kit open.
"No Sir. It looks like it is clean – well apart from all the blood, that is… Are you sure you are all right, Sir?"
Harry chose to ignore his question and twisted the offending object free from its hold with his free hand. It was shaped like a sword and made of a metal, but it was blunt. Obviously it was the force behind the weapon that was intended to kill, and not quite the weapon itself.
"Can we Apparate out of here now?" McGrath asked, indicating with a nod of his head that Stuart was finished.
"No," said Harry. "We will have to leave the way we came in."
"But –"
"The magic that was triggered when the body was moved was not just to send this thing," he lifted the sword-like object in his hand slightly, "into an Auror. It put up Anti-Apparition wards."
"But … but how do you know for sure?"
Harry glared at McGrath. "Because of the amount of magic that was given off, the fact that it spread far enough to create a shield, because I can still feel it in the air, and because this thing was more likely to seriously injure someone than kill them, and walking back is going to be a right pain. If you still don't believe me, you are more than welcome to test it. I'll warn you though, I am in no shape to get your splinched parts back to the Ministry."
McGrath was a tall man, but he seemed to shrink under Harry's gaze. He mumbled something, but didn't argue further.
Harry was pleased to note that at least the Auror didn't have the stupidity to mention making a Portkey. After the very public dressing-down Dawlish, the new head of the Auror Division, had given him, in which Harry's wand, career and neck were threatened, Harry just didn't dare. His reluctance wasn't out of concern for himself though, but for Kingsley Shacklebolt. The older Auror had stood by Harry and Harry didn't want to see Kingsley's abilities and judgement questioned again.
Harry forced those thoughts out his head. They had to get out of here, preferably before nightfall. He handed the sword-like object to McGrath. "You can store this with the rest of the evidence when we get back to head-quarters."
"You ready there?" Harry called to Stuart, noting that the Auror had had the sense to transfigure something into a sheet to cover the victim with. "Freezing charm on the body? Let's get out of here then."
Harry didn't wait for them to respond. He simply turned his back on them and began walking back the way they had come. The sooner they got beyond the wards, the sooner he could go home and hopefully get some overdue sleep. He repositioned his hand on his side. His fingers were starting to feel sticky. He could feel the warmth from his blood already soaking the leg of his trousers. Its heat was a noticeable contrast from the cold slime and mud he was covered with. At least the muck hid the fact that he was bleeding. He didn't want the other Aurors to know how seriously he had been hurt. The last thing he wanted was their concern, or worse, more stories about what the 'Famous Harry Potter' was willing to sacrifice to get a job done. Discreetly, Harry pulled out two vials from his belt. One was a blood-replenishing potion, the other a mild healing potion. With horror, he noticed that the vial with the blood-replenishing potion had cracked. Only a few drops remained. He swallowed the healing potion quickly, screwing up his face. He hated the taste of it. It reminded him of Dudley's dirty socks and Uncle Vernon's early-morning breath. Not a pleasant combination in the least. Looking ruefully at the few drops of the blood-replenishing potion, he swallowed that too. That potion tasted like what he could only imagine very old, overused Muggle coins could taste like – not that he had ever really had the opportunity to handle much Muggle money. He only hoped that the potions would help a bit. He knew they had a fair walk ahead of them, and he was already starting to feel light-headed from both blood loss and pain. Harry knew it would take a while for the potions to start to take effect, so he did what he had been doing far too often these days; he clenched his jaw and pretended that nothing was wrong.
As night began to fall, Harry became very concerned. The Anti-Apparition wards had spread much further than he thought they would. Not only that, but the storm that had been threatening all afternoon had finally struck. The icy rain was stinging his skin and the wind was chilling him to the bone. It was going to be another long, miserable night. Harry shivered involuntarily. He looked around, sensing that Dementors were nearby. Out of habit, he grasped the Ministry-Approved, Auror-Issue Anti-Dementor pendant that was around his neck, making sure it hadn't fallen off earlier in the day. Since the second war had begun, the horrific scenes he had witnessed made Dementors even more taxing on him than in his youth. At least the pendant stopped him from reliving his worst experiences, even if they didn't stop the chill or make the Dementors less dangerous. Harry cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. He couldn't see anything. He decided it was possibly the chill from the miserable evening. He dropped his head and watched his legs drag though the mud. No amount of magic could warm the cold, wet sludge they were walking through. Sleep would be, yet again, impossible.
Harry stumbled and fell, as his legs seemed to give out temporarily under his diminished weight. It was the fourth time this had happened on their return journey. At least the other Aurors hadn't witnessed any of this. For the first time since they had set out on this hideous task, they were walking ahead of him.
Harry picked himself up, wincing as more waves of pain shot through his already aching body, and forced himself to carry on walking.
The healing potion had helped a bit, but the size of his injury was a bit out of its league. He also knew that he was wearing whatever good the few drops of the replenishing potion had done. His hand clutching at his side had remained wet with blood for the past few hours.
He looked at the Aurors ahead. They had stopped walking and had turned to wait for him. Harry forced himself to walk faster.
"Are you all right, Sir? You are looking very pale." McGrath questioned.
"I'm fine," Harry lied.
McGrath nodded, although he didn't look convinced. "Do you think we should set up camp here, and call it a night?"
Harry paused before answering. He really wanted to sleep, but the Anti-Apparition shields should not extend much further – surely? "Let's go for another hour," he said, wiping muck off his watch and checking the time. "If we haven't past the shields by then, we'll call it a night."
The other Aurors nodded, and they continued walking, Harry falling behind again.
Forty-three minutes later, Harry was glad he had decided to go for another hour. He felt the magic in the air disappear as he walked through the Anti-Apparition barrier.
"OK, we have passed the shields. We can Apparate now." Harry called ahead to Stuart and McGrath.
The two Aurors turned to look at him, and visibly sighed with relief.
"That's the best news I've heard all day," Stuart stated, rubbing his arms briskly. "No, make that all week."
Harry nodded. "See you at headquarters," He watched as the Aurors Disapparated before disappearing with a crack himself.
"Good Lord, Potter!" Kingsley Shacklebolt exclaimed, looking up from the parchment he was writing on, as Harry Apparated into Auror headquarters. "You look dreadful! Where have you been?"
"Looking for the latest victim." Harry responded, without any emotion.
"Did you find him? Did you get to him in time?" Kingsley asked urgently, a flicker of hope shining in his eyes.
Harry shook his head and Kingsley's face fell. "We found him, but by the looks of it, I think he had been dead for at least three days before we got there. That bog was terrible to hunt through. It slowed us down too much."
Shacklebolt hissed in frustration and shook his head. "I wish we knew who was behind this."
Harry frowned, opened his mouth and then closed it quickly.
"You know who it is?" Kingsley asked, not missing Harry's reaction.
"No," said Harry, wiping all expressions from his face. He was sure he knew who it was, but a corny limerick from his Hogwarts days was not considered damning evidence in any world. But Harry was certain; Draco Malfoy was definitely involved.
Kingsley still looked suspicious, but didn't push the matter further. "Well, whoever he is, he is one twisted … individual."
"I know," Harry replied. "You should have seen what he did to this one."
Kingsley just shook his head. "I will be doing that as soon as the rest of your team arrive back here. Where are they?"
"Dropping the body off. They are terrified of it."
Kingsley grunted and stood up. "I wish I could give you a better squad to work with…"
"I know," Harry replied. He watched as Kingsley limped closer to him.
A desk job wasn't doing Kingsley much good. He was starting to fill out in a rather unflattering way. But Kingsley, like so many of the Aurors, had been injured in the battle against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. At least he was still able to work in the department, even though it was more on an administrative level. His knowledge was irreplaceable.
Kingsley put a protective hand on Harry's shoulder. "Are you sure you are all right, Harry? You look dreadful." The concern was obvious in Kingsley's voice.
"Thanks Kingsley," Harry replied, forcing a smile. "I'll be fine. All I want to do is have a long bath and sleep."
"I understand," Kingsley replied, removing his hand. He paused before continuing. "Wish I was out there with you. I really miss it."
"I don't think you would be saying that if you had spent the last few days with us," Harry answered. "Wading through foul-smelling sludge, not sleeping… it wasn't much fun."
"Yeah, but at least I would be doing something useful. Better than sitting at this bloody desk every god-damned day."
Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
He and Kingsley had come to know each other really well. Their friendship had begun on a basis of mutual respect for one another, and over time, had developed. Kingsley was one of the few people who really knew what had happened during the last days of the war against Voldemort, and even if Kingsley didn't know it, it was his advice that had helped Harry gather the pieces of his life back together. Kingsley knew what war was about; he understood loss – loss of friends and loss of innocence.
"Look, Harry, if I can find another experienced Auror to work with you, I will. I think your chances of finding this bastard will be better that way."
"Thanks Kingsley."
Their conversation was interrupted with the arrival of Stuart and McGrath. Kingsley moved away from Harry and limped back to his desk.
Harry turned to face his two charges. He watched as Stuart was subconsciously wiping his hands on his clothes, as if trying to get rid of death. Harry found the action rather annoying.
"Have you dropped the victim off?" he asked, knowing the answer already.
"Yes," Stuart answered. "The Medi-Auror said he would only be able to look at it tomorrow. Apparently there is a lot of work for him at the moment."
"Same at the AI. Conleth says he is overloaded," McGrath put in. "Maybe tomorrow morning, but most likely the afternoon."
"Well then," Harry said turning to Kingsley, "if it is all right with you, Sir, we will continue with this tomorrow then. There is nothing else we can do at the moment, and I think we all could do with the sleep."
Kingsley nodded. "You are right, Potter." He looked at the two Aurors. "Make it a late morning. You guys look like you could do with the rest. You're dismissed until then."
Stuart and McGrath nodded their thanks and Disapparated away.
"Wish they would move that fast on assignment," Harry muttered.
Kingsley chuckled softly. "Nothing like motivation to get one moving." More seriously, he added. "Harry, you are starting to resemble an Inferius. Go home and sleep. As you said, there is nothing you can do now."
Harry nodded. "Thanks Kingsley. I'll see you tomorrow then."
Kingsley nodded, and with a pop, Harry was gone.
A/N: Thanks to my brilliant betas, Browneydweasley and Ladytonks. They are helpful, motivating and keep me (and my writing) in line.