Prologue

'I want you to listen very carefully. I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them simply and completely truthfully even if you believe that this department already knows the answers to the questions posed to you. This is not a test but it is an assessment. Are you ready to begin?'

'Yes.'

He pressed the red circle on the Muggle tape-recorder. She looked at the passive Sneakoscope between them.

'Please state your full name for the record.'

'Emilia Mercer Vance.'

How old are you?'

'Twenty-four.'

'Gender?'

'Female.'

'Sexuality?'

'Heterosexual.'

'Blood status?'

'Pure.'

'Ethnicity?'

'British—Romanian roots.'

'Which house did you school with?'

'Gryffindor.'

'Are you related to the witch known as Emmeline Vance?'

'Yes.'

The Sneakoscope twitched.

'Tell the whole truth.'

'Only through marriage, we share no blood.'

'Exactly how are you related?'

'She was my uncle's first wife.'

'I see, my condolences. Have you ever appeared before the Wizengamot?'

'Yes.'

'Please elaborate.'

'One charge of assault. But I was acquitted.'

'For what reason?'

'I was under the influence of the Imperius Curse.'

'You're a member of the Auror Office—which division?'

'415th, Hit-Wizards.'

He nodded as he reached for a piece of expensive-looking parchment. It was folded once, the visible side showed a purple Ministry 'M' next to a red warning symbol.

'Have you, or any of your immediate family, been associated with, or worked in support of, this wizard?' He passed her the piece of thick, yellow paper and Vance unfolded it. A watermark of archetypal druid, monographic runes and circular, intersecting symbols protected the writing from Taboo. On the centre of the page 'Lord Voldemort' was printed in tight script. She flinched slightly.

'No.' Vance levelled her eyes at the man across from her. He was very calm.

'What about the wizard known as Albus Dumbledore—outside of Hogwarts School, that is?'

'No.'

'Harry Potter?'

'No.'

'Gellert Grindelwald?'

'Yes.'

'Elaborate.'

'My grandfather was a lieutenant in his militia. Would've headed the junta too. Captured in the Voroneț Monastery—been on the run since Minsk.'

'Can you name and locate your grandfather?'

'Erik-Tobias Vance. Azkaban.'

He changed the tape's side, nodding again.

'Transferred?'

'Starred up from Nuremberg, yeah. Citizenship problems—next of kin's legally British. Makes it easier when he croaks.'

He looked oddly sympathetic. Like they were discussing an unsuccessful business venture. The questioning began again.

'You're a Near-Human—what variety?'

'Metamorphmagus.'

'At this time is your voice or appearance modulated or augmented in any way that deviates from your original person?'

'No.'

'Have you received any training or aid in the development of your skills as a Metamorphmagus? If so, was this instruction under the witch known as Nymphadora Tonks?'

'Yes.'

'Have you, Nymphadora Tonks and Emmeline Vance ever communicated as a group or become affiliated with the same group?'

'No.'

'Is your family congenitally predisposed to producing Metamorphmagi?'

'Yes.'

'Any others hereditary abnormalities?'

'What do you mean by that?'

'Does your family have a history of any conditions that qualify them as Near-Humans under the Shapeshifter Classification Act of 1899?'

'Some lycanthropy in my ancestors—Romani, you know? it's a recessive gene. It's all in my medical records.'

'Miss Vance, please remember that these questions are unrelated to my knowledge of you personally or professionally.' He continued after a breath. 'Any immediate family members afflicted with dominant gene lycanthropy?

'None alive.'

'Could you expand upon that, please?'

'I had a twin brother. He suffered from werewolfism.'

'Were you, or your brother, ever affiliated with either the werewolf known as Fenrir Greyback or the wizard known as Kallus Khârn?'

'No, my brother died when we were three.'

'My apologies.' He paused, clearing his throat. The next question was to be another non-sequitur, she could predict the awkward segue. 'Did you work with MACUSA and the Chat-Sec in 1994 to assassinate the terrorist Savitri Raskolnikov in Shanghai?'

'No.'

The Sneakoscope span furiously.

'That's not what you're dossier communicates, Emilia. I'll ask you again, did you assassinate Savitri Raskolnikov in 1994 under orders of the American Government and Department of Mysteries?'

'I'm not presently disposed to discuss that operation.'

'Were you involved in the assassinations of suspected Death Eaters Sabian and Rosamund Bliss on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's orders?'

'No such operation exists, respectfully, sir.'

'Nha Trang—1995. Let me refresh your memory, agent.'

'That's classified.'

'Were these missions sanctioned by the Cornelius Fudge Administration? It doesn't mention on your report.'

She shook her head.

'Miss Vance this is an audio recording, please answer verbally.'

'These operations do not exist—nor was any clearance given for them.'

'What about Eldritch Thorne, Talien Grove and Annabelle Close in Chiba Prefecture? Last year again—worked a lot in Asia, haven't you, Vance?'

'Classified.' She smoothed her blonde hair. 'This questioning is unprofessional, sir.'

'Were you involved in the defence against the Death Eater ambush—Shetland Isles in August?'

'That's confidential.'

'What about the recent incident in Ireland? Were you involved in the defence of the Ministry convoy there?'

'I'm not permitted or inclined to talk about those operations if hypothetically my work involved these assignments and incidences.'

He smiled wanly, pressing the black square on the machine. He stood abruptly, extending his hand. After a moment, she shook it.

'Thank you, Miss Vance. I believe you will make a wonderful addition to the Undercover Auror Office—we'll commence our process to accept your application and schedule you're transfer immediately.'