Assassins and Aurors

by MuggleBeene

James S. Potter has just completed advanced Auror training, and upon returning back to Britain has been handed a case where Blaise Zabini has been murdered by someone using Muggle means that is aware of magic. What seems like a standard case will take him further into the past and will affect his future, professionally and personally. Not part of the Professor Muggle series.

1. Assignments

Assassins and Aurors

Chapter 1: Assignments

2026

The building was nondescript, as all the buildings on the base seemed to be, cut from the same utilitarian stamp with none of the ornamentation or grandeur that he had known before the program. After a year he knew he should be used to it, but it still struck him as boring and slightly oppressive. Slightly oppressive; that was the base in a nutshell. He shouldered his pack, took off his hat and stuck the sweaty thing in a pocket on the side of his uniform trousers and scanned the signs for his departure gate. Everything retained the flavour of a standard international portkey station, but instead of different types of people, families, children, lone travellers wearing all sorts of clothing it everyone walking about was wearing the same uniform, only with slight deviations. He headed forward, spotting a sign that corresponded with his departure orders and glanced at his watch. 1500. Still an hour to go.

Even though the place was filled with cooling charms it was still hot; the Arizona sun was relentless. Compound the heat with the fact that he was tired, bone tired. He'd had to undergo the final meeting with the program advisor before being officially released and that meeting was at 0500. From there it was a trip to the quartermaster's office, the check-in of all his equipment barring his uniform and other personal effects. The idea of a quick lunch at the barracks ended quickly when some of his fellow program members spotted him, which led to a trip across the base to the small, pitifiul excuse for a pub. Over one last cheeseburger and chips, not to mention the watery ice-cold stuff they called beer, they teased him mercilessly. About his famous surname getting him out of the more unpleasant assignments they were going to, about his 'indescretion' that had landed him in trouble, about arriving and ordering spotted dick and warm beer upon arriving home, all sorts of things. He took it well; after all, he'd been in Gryffindor and had heard much, much worse. But then the combination of beer and fatigue began to set in so he told them he needed to get to the portkey station. It was another hour after his attempted exit that he finally made it out, the sun blinding him slightly, as always.

He made his way through the throngs at the station, used the loo and then decided to find his gate. There was no other person at his departure gate; only a dented petrol can sat in the middle of the floor. Feeling fatigue seeping into his bones, especially his arms, he studied a map on the far wall and walked what seemed like the entire length of the station to the coffee kiosk. Normally he drank hot coffee, but the heat combined with the beer still lurching in his stomach made his decision. One very large iced coffee with whipped cream later he headed back to the gate, happy to see the attendant at the little desk, writing on a piece of parchment.

The man looked up. "London portkey?"

He nodded and handed over his departure papers, ID and British passport.

The man looked at the papers, up at him, and then took a stamper out and quickly thrust it down on the papers, the passport and handed it back to him along with his ID. "Potter, James. You're the only one for the portkey today, Potter. Don't do Arizona to London very often. Not very many Brits come over, you know."

He nodded. He'd heard it from the first day he'd stepped foot on the base. "So I understand."

The man nodded. "I bet. I'd let you take it early, but, you know. Regulations."

"Not a problem." He held up the iced coffee. "Gives me time to finish this."

"Thought you Brits drank tea?"

He shrugged. "Developed a taste for it. Not everyone in Britain drinks tea, you know. Some like coffee."

"Huh." Man made a face. "Learn something new every day."

That signaled the end of the conversation, so he went over to the benches and sat down, stowing his papers and other items in his chest pocket underneath the patch that read POTTER. He'd complained about the robes at Hogwarts but now, after spending a year in fatigues and other uniforms, he was looking forward to wearing a robe. After all, you could wear whatever you liked underneath unless it was something formal. Merlin knows his Uncle George wore the most mental things under his Wheezes robe. One time he'd worn flowered Bermuda shorts and a black and red striped shirt.

George. That made him think of his family. He hadn't seen them in a long time, and hadn't been able to contact them. Part of the program, no communication with anyone outside of the program as it could potentially compromise everything. It was a rule, and they were sticklers for rules, particularly when they trained with the Muggle units. It would have been nice to have a welcoming committee of sorts, at least his parents, but that would have to wait.

"Potter, it's time."

James stood up, shouldered his pack and walked over to the petrol can. Unfortunately it had to stay on the ground, regulations of course, and he leaned down and put a hand on the top of the can. After a moment it began to pulse with a bright blue light, he felt the tug and left Arizona.

After the austerity of the base the London portkey station was an assault on the senses. Mostly the noise. It was noisy as hell, people talking, a father rounding up his children and forcing them to run, their mum behind, chiding them along. He took out his wand from the sheath built into the sleeve of his olive green fatigues, tapped his watch and saw the hands spin until they adjusted to the new time. 2100.

As he made his way out of the gate and went to the arrivals desk it was a repeat of the conversation with the gate agent in Arizona, albeit with a more comforting accent. Yes, not too many people came in from Arizona, yes, he'd been with the military over there, here's my ID, papers, thanks for the stamp, yes, I'll move along as I know there's another portkey due soon. He assured the witch at the desk he'd pass on her regards to his father, knowing that he would do no such thing as his dad would have no idea who she was.

He thought about Flooing over to the flat he shared with his brother but thought against it; he had no idea if his brother was home or not, as it was a Saturday night, and with the restrictions on their Floo someone had to be there to open it. Unrestricted Floo access was something that his father had vehemently argued against, and there were times that the old man knew what he was talking about. Thankfully there was a park not too far from his flat that had a very out-of-the-way location that he'd used before, so once he'd exited the portkey station he turned and Apparated away.

It seemed so odd to see his building after so long away; London was full of sound and movement, dark and, as always, threatening rain. He walked out of the park and made his way into the building, happy that the security phrase to enter hadn't changed. He didn't look forward to spending the first night back at his parents. After the day he'd had the idea of enduring the multitude of questions from his mum, especially, was the last thing he needed. The stairwell was dark, lit only faintly by the candles that never seemed bright enough. Finally, though, he stood in front of his door. Thankfully the key, once inserted into the lock, glowed an approving green, so he turned the key and then the doorknob, glad to be home after all the time away.

From the moment he stepped in and let his pack fall from his shoulder he knew that something had happened, as Albus was always a bit of a slob. The place was extremely tidy. Granny Weasley-approved level of tidy. The lights were low, but he did hear a bit of music coming from down the hall; Albus must be up reading. He headed down the hall, opened the door to Al's room and stopped short.

It wasn't Al. On the bed, on her stomach, was a blonde woman wearing a pair of white knickers that didn't cover much of her arse and a skimpy pink vest. She was facing away from him, tapping her toe slightly to the music as she reached over and turned a page on a book. For a moment he thought about backing out of the room without saying anything but instead he cleared his throat.

"Al, did you get the curry or the chicken haleem?" She asked without turning her head from the book.

James raised an eyebrow. A slight French accent? His geeky little brother had pulled a French bird? "Sorry, I don't have either."

Her head snapped up and she turned over, a wand in her hand. "Who are...oh!" She sat up, completely blasé about her lack of clothing. "You must be James. Al said you'd be back soon. He went out for takeaway, he'll be back shortly." She smiled at him. "I'm Chloe Laurent."

"Nice to meet you, Chloe." He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, not to mention say, next. "Um, I'll just drop my things off in my room."

"Oooh." Her voice fell. "I am sorry, but your room...we made some changes while you were gone. It can be fixed, but perhaps not tonight."

"Great. Ok. Great." Without another word, and pointedly looking away from the cleavage on display he turned and went across the hall to his door. After opening the door it was quite apparent that he wouldn't be sleeping in there, as a large desk dominated the room, surrounded by several file cabinets, a shelf full of Muggle things and a smaller desk covered with folders of parchment. Before he could wonder exactly what was going on with his room he heard the door and his brother's voice telling Chloe what he'd purchased from the takeaway.

Not feeling very charitable towards his brother, James walked out of his room and met Al in the hallway. "I'd rather have fish an' chips."

"James!" Al set the bags down on the floor and went over to him. "When'd you get in?"

"Just now." James scowled at him. "So my room's some sort of office and I met Chloe."

"Oh, yeah. Chloe. Tell you later." Al smirked at his brother and raised his head in the direction of his bedroom. "Hi love, James is here."

James turned to see Chloe, still not fussed about her attire, in the doorway. "Yes, I met him moments ago. Come now, I'm hungry."

It was later that evening, on a magically expanded sofa, that James laid there and listened to the distant noises of the city. After so long in barracks, with only snoring as a background, it was comforting. He'd have to do something about the flat, though. Al and Chloe had assured him that his things were safely stored and shrunken, that it wouldn't take but a few wand waves to change it all back, but it was readily apparent that it really wasn't his flat anymore. It was Al and Chloe's flat. He'd have to find another place soon, honestly. After being gone so long and looking forward to coming home it was disappointing that home, well, wasn't. It wasn't what he'd left, instead it was like every trace of him was removed except for a few pictures. He'd ask his dad to help him look for a new place soon, maybe even his mum. Merlin knows his mum would love the project, but he didn't think he could handle all the baggage that went along with having her help. His dad would be much easier. He'd ask them in the morning, when he went to see them.

His watch buzzed slightly. 1 in the morning. He was tired but sleep was not coming easily; he turned over on his side, pulling the thin, summer duvet over his shoulder. He'd get a day and then he'd have to report in to the Auror department. His father had told him a long time ago, when he'd expressed interest in the Aurors, that it was a demanding job. He laughed, but it was without mirth. Sometimes he hated it when his father was right.

-ooo-

"POTTER!"

He sat down the cup of takeaway coffee and looked over to the Auror next to him, some bloke named Mercer, who simply shrugged. After pulling the red Auror robe with the pale blue chevron on the sleeve off of the peg he half shuffled towards the Head Auror's office. He looked over his reflection in between the letters on the nameplate of GAWAIN ROBARDS – HEAD AUROR to make sure his hair was ok and then knocked on the door and entered. Unfortunately for him one of the sleeves was turned inside-out, which meant that he opened the door and stood in front of his boss' office with his robe only partially on.

"Potter." The man behind the desk shook his head in something close to disgust. "You've been off in America for the last year so I'll cut you some slack. Answer me this, do I have on my official robe?"

He looked at Head Auror Robards and shook his head. "No, sir."

"Right. Does anyone out there..." he motioned outside his office without taking his focus from the mostly idiot in front of him. "...have on their official robe?"

"No, sir."

"When your father was an Auror, and you visited him here at this very office, did he wear his official robe?"

"No, sir."

"Then what in the hell makes you think you needed your robe on to come into my office? Is this another one of those yank things? Is it, Potter?"

James kept the emotion off of his face, hopefully. "Yes, sir. It is, sir."

"Sir, sir, sir, at least that program taught you something. Take off that bloody robe and sit down."

James pulled off his robe, sat down in the chair in front of the desk and folded his Auror robe quickly, placing the robe in the chair next to him. He then sat ramrod straight, almost at attention, as Robards looked through a folder.

After flipping a few parchment pages Robards looked up and rolled his eyes. "Merlin, kid, you're not...relax. Christ, you've been back, what, two days?"

"Yes ,sir...sorry." James exhaled and slumped slightly, sitting in the chair and moved his focus to Robards instead of simply straight ahead. "Been more like one and a half. Probably more like one and a quarter."

Robards watched him for a minute. "Right. Seen your parents and all, then? All caught up?"

"Not really..." James kind of shrugged. "Just Mum and Dad and my youngest sister. Haven't seen my oldest sister and I haven't seen all the Weasleys..."

"That'd take all week or more." He paused and loosened his tie a bit, absentmindedly picked up his wand and flicked it to open the office windows somewhat, letting in a slight breeze. "Ahhh...much better. Ok, I didn't want to do this but, to be honest, you're the best qualified even if you haven't been here for a while. I'm also glad your dad retired so I don't have your mum in here yelling at me when she finds out." He paused for a moment. "She'll probably yell at me anyway, won't she?"

"I'm not sure, sir, it depends..." James paused mid-sentence as he saw the look he was getting from his boss. "She probably will unless Dad stops her."

Robards looked out the window, as if deep in thought with his brows furrowed. "Hmm...haven't had Ginny yell at me in ages, all right, don't tell her until I'm gone for the day. Or not at all. I like not at all. Don't tell her a thing. Let ol' Harry take that." He turned back to James. "Why don't you pretend I'm as thick as Lupin and remind me what you did all last year?"

That made James smile as Teddy Lupin was the smartest person he knew; hell, even Aunt Hermione said he was 'annoyingly brilliant.' It also meant that Robards probably wasn't as irritated as he seemed. The smile faded rather quickly, though.

"What you did last year besides the colonel's daughter." Robards began looking through the folder again, this time whilst sitting back with his legs crossed as if it was a lazy Sunday afternoon.

James swallowed hard. "Monica was in the report?"

That question made Robards lean the folder down and look at him, this time somewhat seriously. "No, Potter, they didn't put her in the official report, and you better thank your lucky stars they didn't. Your CO did send it to me for your file, though. What the fuck were you thinking, colonel's daughter, you two starkers and in the swimming pool at three in the bloody morning? And tell me the truth."

"We thought they wouldn't be home until a couple of days later."

Robards tossed the folder on the desk and leaned forward. "Are you an Auror or not, boy? No perimeter warnings, no monitoring charms, not a bloody thing. Sloppy as hell." He reached forward and slid out a photo, adjusted his reading glasses and shook his head. "Don't blame you though, fit thing, isn't she? Don't answer, shouldn't have said that." He put the photo back in the folder. "So, tell me, Potter, even though I can read it all in the folder, tell me what you learned at camp last year."

After a quick, deep breath he launched into it. "Muggle military and police training, emphasis on close quarters combat, firearms, urban infiltration and extraction. That was the first six months, then six months with the American Magical Enforcement Bureau regarding practical applications of magic for undercover assets in Muggle intelligence operations."

"So you learned how to punch people, shoot people and do wizarding spy stuff. Right?"

He thought for a moment, and then nodded affirmatively. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"Good." Robards reached over and pulled out something flat and metal, approximately half the size of a chocolate frog card. He reached into his desk, pulled out a box and put it on his desk with a thump. After placing the flat metal thing in the box he flicked his wand, closing the window shades and lowering the lights until they were almost completely off. Then, that completed, he tapped the box. Light shot out of the box, all around the the sides, and then came together, focusing on the far wall.

James looked back at his boss. "Is this..."

"Yes, its one of Lupin's things, he'll tell you all about the 'theory and application' later if you need a cure for insomnia. Pay attention and tell me afterwards what you saw."

The flickering images on the wall suddenly sharpened into crystal-clear focus, albeit in black-and-white. It was a shot of a long hallway, the focus from above, with only a solitary figure in all black coming down the hallway. The figure had something covering its face, and as it passed by the location of the camera the images changed to show the figure stand outside a door. After examining the door a small item was placed on the door and the figure ducked. The door blew open inwardly, a cloud of smoke obscuring everything momentarily. A man walked out through the smoke, waving it away...siphoning it away with his wand. As the man walked forward, waving his wand, James realised that he'd never seen the man before in his life. And then, as the man turned around, the first figure in black walked into frame, a Muggle pistol pointed at the man. It appeared they were talking but then the man cast a spell. The figure disappeared, then re-appeared behind the man, placed the barrel of the pistol against the man's head and pulled the trigger. After the man fell forward the dark figure waited a moment, took a step forward and several flashes came from the pistol, making the man's body move slightly on the floor. Then, the figure looked towards the camera, walked forward and then stopped. After retrieving the man's wand the figure emphatically snapped it in direct view of the camera.

That was it. The recording ceased, and after Robards had returned the lights to their appropriate illumination and opened the windows. He looked over to James. "Lupin's lot intercepted that through their normal channels. Tell me what you think, first, then I'll brief you."

James sat back for a moment, drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and then started to speak, stopped, and then started again. "The woman..."

"Woman?" Robards raised an eyebrow. "How in the..."

"It's...it's a woman, ok? She moves like a Muggle, one of their more advanced agents, but she knew about the wand and it looked like she disapparated. I think we can probably count on one hand how many Aurors know how to use Muggle firearms, but it's most likely someone who was raised as a Muggle until their first year of magical schooling, with the handgun and all that, but that would mean they weren't raised in Britain. The man wasn't expecting anything magical, but reacted with his wand. The wand snap was a message." He looked over to his boss. "Where was this? Who was...shot?"

"Blaise Zabini." Robards sat back in his chair. "Ring a bell?"

"Not really. Should it?"

"Slytherin. Your father's year, but not a Death Eater, stayed on the sidelines. Ran an antique import business near Weybridge, mostly Muggle things but the occasional magical item, nothing dark. Divorced, no children. Ex-wife's got an air-tight alibi as she's an assistant coach with Harpies and they played Montrose for four hours that night, even did the afters interview with the wireless lot and, specifically, your mum since the manager got tossed bitching about blatching. Nothing was taken, no activity on any of the accounts, Muggle or at Gringotts. Muggle lot started working it up on their end and then once Zabini's name hit the wire we stepped in and sent over to Lupin, that's when he found that footage." He paused, scratched his head for a bit and then shrugged. "Go see Lupin after we're done, maybe he's got more, dunno. I want you to work this, use that Muggle training we paid for and see what you can find out on that side." He closed the folder and slid it across the desk.

James stood up, picked up the folder, started out of the office but stopped at the door and looked back to his boss. "What are the Muggles calling this now, a breaking and entering?"

"Something like that. Go see Lupin."

James nodded and headed out the door, his pulse quick; this was what he'd been trained for, but it still left him with a nervous pit in his stomach. He walked through the Auror desks, waved off Mercer and got an 'I understand' head bob in return, then made his way out to the lifts. After pressing and waiting for the doors to open he thought about taking a look at the folder but realised that it could be possibly read by someone else on the lift or in the hallway and instead just tapped his foot impatiently. It was also at this time, right before the lift doors opened, that he realised he left his Auror robe in Robards' office.

With a muttering of 'crap' under his breath he entered the lift, thankful nobody else was in the car, and pushed the button. As the car sped down, rapidly to the left and then lurched forward before heading further down James was glad that it was fairly early in the morning, as he was only full of two cups of tea. Any breakfast would have probably been coming out unpleasantly. Thankfully the lift slowed and then stopped, doors opening and then stopping half-way open.

"Shit." James wedged himself between the doors, pushing with his back against one door and trying to extend his arms fully. "TEDDY! FIX YOUR DAMN LIFT DOORS!" James heard an unmistakable chuckle and sure enough, Teddy came around the corner. He kept pushing and waiting for his 'brother' to fix the doors, but instead he just stood there and polished his damn glasses on his lab coat. "For fuck's sake, Ted, do something."

With a shake of his head Teddy gave him a resigned smile. "Jay, when was the last time you were in the lab? Password, remember?" He took a look at his watch. "You've got about twenty seconds before the bottom drops out."

"Shit, I don't remember. Help me here, come on!"

"Fine. Besides, we change it every three weeks." Teddy walked over to the lift, placed his hand on the door and said 'Newton.' As soon as the word was out of his mouth the doors retreated fully and it seemed as if the lift car tilted forward, depositing James and his folder onto the floor. He stood over James, hands on his knees. "So, how was America?"

"It was great. Can I get up, now?"

"I don't know, James, can you?"

James closed his eyes. "Goddamnit. Sometimes you can be the most annoying bloke in the world." After getting to his feet and dusting himself off he took a look at his 'older brother'; Teddy looked as he always did, which wasn't hard with the whole metamorphagus thing, but he'd let his hair grow out and for once it wasn't blue, it was more of a dark brown. "What's the matter, Vicky doesn't like blue anymore?"

"Uh, what? Why...oh. Right." Ted gave him a cautious smile. "How long have you been back? Two days?"

"Almost, enough to come back, drop my stuff at the flat and go see Mum and Dad. That's about it. Why?"

Ted looked around the lab, glad that it was empty. "Come on, have a seat. Want some tea?"

"Coffee?"

"You were in America, weren't you?" Ted sat on a stool next to one of the high tables, James taking his place opposite of him. He took out his wand, flicked it in the air and a parchment menu materialised. He took his finger and tapped it in the little box next to where it said 'tea/honey/white – M' and then turned the menu towards James. "Hopefully what you want is on there. New program here. House elves love it because they don't like coming down here."

"Why not?" James looked over the menu, almost pressed an option and then hesitated, finally selecting something with several taps and spun the menu towards Teddy. "What's wrong with the lab?"

"Too much Muggle stuff, not to mention...good Godric, James. Extra-large with white chocolate syrup, two extra espresso shots and whipped cream? Why not just order a diabetes pie?"

"No caffeine. Don't knock it 'til you try it, you take a Pepper Up potion right before and by the time you finish that thing you can pull an overnight stakeout, no problem."

"All right, then." Ted tapped the bottom box on the menu, causing it to chime softly, rollup into a very small ball and disappear. "So you haven't really caught up on things, then, just Mum and Dad type stuff." He looked down for a moment and then grew a beard and began to stroke it.

"That's always been annoying. You know I can't grow one, comes in all patchy." James rolled his eyes. "So back to the topic, why the brown? And why did you try and change the subject off of Vicky?" He watched Ted take a deep breath and adjust his glasses and knew something was off. "Let me guess, she chucked you."

"Annoyingly, you are correct." Ted sat back slightly. "Not long after you left. Said that I work too much, and to be honest we were just moving apart. I went to one of those things of hers and, well, it was dreadful. I think flobberworms are smarter than some of those people."

James winced. "Sorry, Ted. So is she still here or over there?"

"She's back in France, working for that fashion house, company thing. Whatever it is."

An uncontrollable laugh shot out of James for a brief second. "I know you really don't care because you can't be arsed to learn what it is precisely. You're all about precise."

Ted acted slightly offended. "Nothing wrong about being precise. I mean, it's good to be exacting in one's work. Just like you were when vanishing the knickers off that Colonel's daughter. Very precise." He stared at James and then winked and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh fucking hell..." James put his hand on his face. "You..."

"May have made a series of trades with a bloke I know over there in the AMEBs to obtain the master footage and photographs before it got sent upstream and deleted the more, um, well...let's just say that I helped you out, shall we? You owe..."

"Fine, Ted. I owe you, thanks."

"Not me, no. You're not that lucky. You owe Lily."

"Lily? Shit. How?" James paused. "She didn't see..."

Teddy shook his head. "No, she didn't, but she guessed. You're just lucky that American bloke is actually one of the few yanks that follow Quidditch instead of Quodpot. Signed copy of the latest Harpies calendar along with one of Lily's jerseys. Apparently she told her teammates it was for a children's charity."

"Fuck." James put his head in his hands and let out an exasperated sigh, glanced around in irritation and smiled. Ted may be an Auror, but he was painfully obvious about some things. It was with a large smile on his face that he stared at Teddy. It was so fun to wind him up. "So who are you seeing now? What's her name?"

"Er...what makes you say that?" Ted looked at him oddly. "How?"

James sighed and straightened up. "There, on the counter, you've got a whole bunch of roses wrapped up from some florist under what I'm guessing is a statis spell, there's a happy birthday card on your desk and it must mean something to you because it's September and your birthday is in April and you're wearing cologne. It's not bad, really, but when did you start wearing cologne? You're seeing someone."

Thankfully for Teddy there was a chime and then a light flashed over by the wall. He waved his wand, levitating his cup of tea and James' monster-sized coffee thing over to the table. As James took a drink, wiping whipped cream off of his nose, Ted sighed. "I hate it when you and Dad do that. You two are exactly alike."

"Except for the scar, glasses, Quidditch skills, hair colour, living parents, siblings..." He shook his head. "If you're stalling this much it has to be bad. If..." James stopped. "Lily?"

"Little Miss Stinky Feet? Are you mental?" Ted shook his head. "Give me some credit." He paused. "You know her, though."

"Really?" James smirked. "This is gonna be fun. Let's see, you always stared at Esmerelda Johnson, hard not to since she never wore a bra...but she'd never have you. Hmmm, who would..."

Ted sighed. "I knew this would happen. Fine." After a long pause he rolled his eyes. "For your information Esmerelda, while rather fit...Merlin. Fine, it's Rosie."

"Rosie?" James squinted in concentration. "I don't remember anyone at Hogwarts..."

"Rose Weasley."

James sat there as if stunned for a second. "Rosie. Wait, our Rosie? Rosie Weasley. Annoying Rose. Rose. Really?"

"She's not that bad, James. How long has it been since you spent any time with her? Besides family events? When was the last time you saw her?"

"Ummm...when we went to stay with Ron and Hermione when Mum had Laurel."

"And our little sister's eight now, so it's been eight years. Think about how annoying you were back then."

"Ok, ok, fine, people change. You and Rose. Does she still have that weird 'my parents are British but I grew up in America' accent? Wow. What'd Ron an' Hermione say?"

"They're fine with it, really. And lay off her accent." Ted took another sip of tea. "It's not like we see each other that often, with her at Hogwarts. From what I hear the students actually like her class."

James rolled his eyes. "As much as I'd love to talk about History of Magic class and shit Robards sent me down to talk about the..."

"Ah, the Zabini case." Ted paused for a moment, reached over, and then took a sip of James' coffee. "Not bad, horribly sweet, though."

"Ted, what the...I could be ill."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Brother tax."

"You're still an arsehole. Zabini?"

Ted nodded. "Ok, let me give you my theory..."

-ooo-

Nobody on the street paid her any attention. She was just one of the many walking around, and like most of them her age she had on the ubiquitous white headphones, a commonly held symbol of 'don't bother me.' She passed by one of the wide-windowed restaurants on the way to the Metro station and caught a glimpse of her reflection. As she wasn't on a job it was her normal appearance, but her dark hair was getting a bit long. Definitely needed a trim. Something to take care of when she got home.

After descending through the dim light into the stultifyingly dead air of the Metro she swiped her card and walked through the metal detector, confident that her usual charms would keep the weapons hidden. Stupid Muggles; their thought of security was laughable at best. She took a seat on the Red Line train and scanned the other occupants of the car with a professional ease; no threats. A second glance made her reassess that opinion, as one man in a suit a few rows over was not a civilian. Possibly FBI or CIA or something else; the way he held himself was different, alert. Even as he tried to feign indifference by reading the Washington Post. She pulled the leather jacket around her tighter, using it as armor in more than one way. Mimicking the other passengers she brought out her phone, turned up the volume slightly and felt the steady throb of the beat align slightly with her pulse. It was a technique she'd used many, many times, and even though the spook a few seats over wouldn't figure anything out she didn't want to take any chances. She got off at the next stop, even though it meant walking at least ten more blocks to the next Metro station. He glanced at her slightly for a second when she got off but returned to his paper. Clueless.

It was getting late when she got to her apartment, happy to only have to chit-chat with the old Polish woman that lived downstairs for a few moments. After locking the door behind her she switched on the light, as it had become increasingly dark, and slid off her backpack. Sitting it in it's normal spot by the entryway table she pulled out what she needed, a small notebook and her wand.

Walking towards the bathroom she slid off the jacket and threw it on the sofa, starting to relax, and then her phone began to buzz. A quick glance made her sigh, as she didn't really want to talk to her right now, but if she didn't it would lead to more texts and probably at least one voice mail message as she'd ignored the previous four phone calls. Thankfully there hadn't been any messages, but it would only get worse. Sliding her finger across the phone she continued into the bathroom. "Hi Mom."

Wendy! I've been trying to reach you for hours. School?

"Yeah, had a project. What's up?"

Your father's orders came in. We're going to Germany in a month.

"That's not bad. I always liked Germany."

You may have liked Germany but I'd rather stay in Texas. She paused. We're having a small party, just family and friends, next Saturday. Can you come? We'll buy your plane ticket.

She stood in front of the mirror, wand in her hand as her mom's question hung unanswered in her headphones. Maybe she should cut it right above the shoulders, or maybe chin-length. Would make things easier. "I don't know, Mom. I've got to research and papers to grade."

Let me know as soon as you can, it only gets more expensive the more we wait. Even with your father's military discount it isn't cheap.

Chin-length. If she didn't like it she could always charm it longer, even if it didn't last that long. "I'll check the schedules tomorrow. That work?"

That's fine, honey. So, how's school? Meet anyone special?

"Mom." She rolled her eyes and started to cut her hair but realized if she messed it up she'd cut her headphones, so she put the wand on the sink. "School's fine. And no, I haven't met anyone. Stop asking. God. Just because you and Dad...it's not like that anymore."

Well, you know I worry about you, all alone there in that apartment. Maybe you should get a cat.

"I don't need a cat, I'm fine. Really, I am."

Are you eating enough?

"Jesus, I'm fine. I'm twenty-seven, not seven."

It's just...you're our only child and...I know adjunct staff don't make much money. If you need some, just let me know and I'll put some in your account. It won't be that much, but every little bit helps.

Realizing that her mom wouldn't give up, as always, she acquiesced. "Well, I could use a bit more. Buy some more groceries."

Good. I'll put some in your account tomorrow. Ok, I have to go, your father will be home soon. Let me know about the ticket as soon as you can. Love you.

"Thanks. Love you too, Mom."

She turned off the phone, took out her headphones and stared at herself in the mirror. Dark hair that looked absolutely nothing like her Mom and Dad. Nothing like screaming 'hey I was adopted' from the highest rafters when you had jet-black hair and both of your parents had blonde hair. No freckles, thank God. Button nose, deep grey eyes. She pulled at her tank-top. Not a bad rack, nothing to write home about, but thankfully not so much that the creeps stared at her. A little bit of a tan from the last weekend. Picking up her wand from the sink she stood straight, extended her arm and swiftly cut her hair in a descending sweep from the back of her head towards the front, leaving her with swaths of hair that angled towards her collarbone. It wasn't something from one of the fashion magazines, but it would do. After a quick vanishing spell to remove the cut hair she turned off the light and headed to her kitchen. All her mom's talk about food made her realize she was hungry.

As the lights snapped on she laughed; it was funny, really. Mom thinking that she needs more money. It would make her happy, so she let the illusion ride. Looking around her apartment she shook her head; there was no way she would ever have been able to afford a place like hers on an adjuct teaching position. The Agency had formulated that cover for her, at her request, as she knew that her parents would accept that easily. She'd been a very good student, but to swing a place like hers she would need to be tenured at minimum. And that just didn't happen anymore.

Pulling things out of the fridge she began to prepare a simple pasta dish, and while the water started towards boiling she retrieved her notebook, flipped on the tv and sat down at the table. While the news played on in the background she licked her finger, pressed it against the spine of the notebook and after the green glow faded she flipped it open.

The names stared back at her, her own handwriting almost like a foreign tongue. Running a finger over the names she said them aloud, as she always did when focusing.

"Daphne Greengrass. Jonathan Borgin. Gregory Goyle. Pansy Parkinson. Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy."

Pulling an ink pen out of the back pocket of her jeans she clicked it several times and then drew a line through Blaise Zabini's name.

-ooo-

James woke suddenly, as one tends to do when they've been doused with water. "What the fuck?" He sat up in bed, wiped his face angrily, and stared at the two idiots in front of him. "I oughta hex the shit out of you guys. Who did it?"

Albus pointed at Teddy. Teddy Pointed at Albus. Both of them wore idential, shit-eating grins.

"Bunch of fucking comedians." James reached over to the nightstand, took out his wand and began the drying spell. "What was so bloody important that you had to do that?"

"You've been asleep for hours." Albus leaned on the doorway, arms casually crossed. "We're supposed to be out at the Burrow in an hour."

"Shit." James looked at his watch. "Fine. Fine. Give me a minute." He watched as they left and fell back onto the sofa, his head hitting the damp pillow. Sometimes he hated those arseholes. And so what if he'd been crashed out? You learned quickly in training to sleep when you could. His father would probably get that, as he had been an Auror. Well, Ted was an Auror, technically, but Al was a bloody Ministry worker, doing the whole regular hours shit. It was probably Al who hit him with the water. Little fucker.

He pulled his legs over the side of the sofa, rummaged around in his rucksack and pulled out some clothes and headed into the loo. It was at times like this he was glad he stayed with Al, as if he was going to have to do the big Granny Weasley production he was going to need a drink before he left. Al usually had a few pints in the fridge. Well, if Ted hadn't drank it all. As he stepped into the shower he wondered if would need to start hunting for a flat of his own. Staying with Al was ok, even if his girlfriend was a clean freak. Of course his parents asked if he wanted to move back into his old room, but he was an Auror with his own paycheck and Gringotts account and would be damned if he would go back to having his mum acting like he was fresh off the Hogwarts Express for summer all over again. As he poured out a very tiny amount of shampoo he laughed, as of course Chloe had some expensive salon stuff for her hair. His hair was cropped very short, military-style, so he didn't need Chloe's posh stuff but it did the job.

He towelled off, did a quick shave with the razor and wondered if the enchantment was wearing off because he had to hit the spot on his chin twice. It would figure that was one of the only areas his beard came in thick.

The two idiots were drinking lager when he came out after dressing. "Any left?"

"Couple." Ted motioned towards the icebox. "Why? Not looking forward to all the questions?"

James answered with his head in the icebox. "What do you think?"

"I think you should probably drink two." Al sat with his legs crossed as James came in and sat next to him on the sofa. "Luna will be there."

"Fuck me." James took a very long drink, paused only briefly, then drank again heavily. "She's not family, so..."

"You know Gran." Ted shrugged. "Her definition of 'family' is rather expansive."

Al shuddered. "I can't wait. She asks the worst questions. Remember my first year at Hogwarts? It was the first Quidditch match and she asked me if asked the Sorting Hat to put me in Hufflepuff forge my own identity instead of following tradition and going in Gryffindor. Right in front of Melinda Speargrove."

Teddy started laughing. "And, if I remember this correctly, she then asked if you still slept with Mister Fuzzy. It was brilliant."

"Piss off." Al gave him two fingers. "Maybe she'll ask you about Rose and talk about how you guys will make ugly babies."

Ted cleared his throat and straightened up, feigning an air of superiority. "I will have you know that unlike some of us, Rose and I are not living together. I think I'll need to discuss your living arrangements with Granny Weasley."

"Oh fuck, no." Al shook his head. "I hear it every time we go there. Thankfully Chloe's gone to see her parents."

Ted snorted. "Like that will stop Gran."

"Brilliant." James got up, headed into the kitchen and got the second beer.

Eventually they left the flat, the three of them together, just like old times, and when they Apparated outside the ward line James couldn't help but shake his head. It was odd to be back at the Burrow. He'd thought about the place a lot when he was over in America, as no place seemed so...well, welcoming. Sure, he'd spent time with some of the others in the program, one weekend at a friend's parents' house in North Carolina, but it was still different. Now he saw the Burrow with different eyes. It was all lit up with Chinese lanterns strung about the 'garden' outside of the house, tables set up, and a large table was laden with food. As the three brothers headed towards the crowd he slowed his steps, taking it all in. His parents were talking with Ron and Hermione, his uncles and their families were all there, as well as the unmistakable blonde hair and outlandish clothing of Luna Scamander. He scanned further, seeing Lily sitting at a table talking to his cousin Hugo and some woman with red dreadlocks of all things. Someone must have cast quite the compulsion charm to make her think that was a good look, all that mass of clumped hair piled on her head...and that was when he realised it was Rosie Weasley. That made him smile, as it had to drive his Aunt Hermione nuts.

He'd almost made it to the crowd, had waved at his Granddad but then was almost tackled around his midsection by a blur.

"JAY!"

He hugged her tightly and smiled at her expansively-freckled face. "Hey there Laurel. How's my favourite sister?"

"Oh Merlin." She looked up at him, her dark-brown hair falling around her shoulders. "I'm so glad you're here. Lily is being a git. She won't let me borrow her broom. I can borrow yours, right?"

"Sure, squirt." He saw her expression and shook his head. "I don't have it with me right now. It's at the flat. Later."

"Bollocks. It's always later."

He put a hand over her mouth. "Don't let Mum hear you say that or you won't be on a broom until Hogwarts. Plus she'll blame me for the language."

"Fine." She let go of him and looked around. "Maybe I'll nick one from the shed..."

"That'll be worse." He jerked his head towards the party. "Come on, I'm sure they'll break out the brooms and I'll let you fly after they start." He looked quickly to make sure they couldn't be heard and leaned down. "So what do you think of Al's Cleo?"

"Ugh." Laurel scrunched up her nose. "She's too nice. I don't trust her." She looked at him very seriously. "You're an Auror. You should check her out."

He shook his head. "No can do. I'd get in trouble. Big trouble."

She shrugged. "I'm going to go ask Mum if I can have hair like Rosie's. She'll flip and then I'll ask her about the broom."

As she walked away James shook his head. If there was ever going to be a Potter sorted into Slytherin it would be Laurel. After a deep breath he realised he could no longer avoid being the center of attention; after all, this was his 'Welcome Home' party. It had been a year or so, there was no avoiding it. Maybe he could stay away from Luna for a while. Even if he didn't it would keep his mind off the case Robards had given him, which, if he was honest, was bothering him.

Unfortunately for James it was obvious to certain people that he was preoccupied. One former Auror who knew him very well. Thankfully it had been after he'd done the rounds, received all the hugs, answered the questions as best he could, ate too much and ended up sitting at a table with his father.

"Right. What's the problem?" Harry looked over to his son and took off his glasses. "It can't be your performance, I heard they were pleased."

"Shit." James let his head fall back for a moment. "Of course they sent you reports. Can't let me do anything on my own without..."

"James." Harry's voice was cutting. "Please. Robards stopped in my office the other day, about a case he's given you. Said I needed to help run interference with your mum. Said he gave it to you because you were the best qualified to help. That's it. Nothing else." He paused. "There isn't anything else I should know, is there? From when you were in America?"

After wincing slightly James shook his head. "No, I think that...it's fine, Dad. Really. Sorry."

"I know it's a sensitive topic, son. I wouldn't want anyone following up on me when I...well, it happened when I did the Auror bit because, you know. And I know some of the details. I do still have Auror clearance."

"Plus the whole Wizangamot thing." James looked around and realised that most of the party had moved on, leaving them somewhat isolated. He took out his wand and cast a quick, localised privacy spell. "So what do you know about Blaise Zabini? I've read the file, but it doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't." Harry put on his glasses and shook his head. "Zabini was never a Death Eater. One of the few Slytherins to truly stay neutral. Makes sense, for a Slytherin, keeping options open. No idea why anyone would want him dead, and the methods..."

As always his dad cut to the quick of things. "Combination of Muggle and magical." James nodded. "I'm going over to the scene tomorrow, see if I can pick up anything."

"Good idea." Harry elbowed him and nodded. "Here comes your Mum, so if she asks..."

"I'm asking your advice on finding a flat of my own."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Good for you. You know we said we'd help you find a place, but I think she's still holding out hope..."

"Yeah, but come on, Dad. I'm twenty-two. Can't live with you guys or with Ted. And I'm not living with Al and Chloe. That's still weird."

Harry laughed. "Yes, I understand about your flat, I do. Your mum was a bit concerned until she saw how Chloe keeps the place. I had to break up enough fights between you and Ted as it was, I hate to think what it would be like now. Hopefully you've grown up a bit."

James sat there, letting it all sink in. He was much more mature than before, and he'd been given that assignment. As the sounds of the party swirled around him, and he saw Ted sling an arm around Rosie's waist, the idea of a flat of his own didn't sound so bad after all. With the case, though, Merlin knew how often he'd actually be there.

A/N: Yes, another multi-chapter WIP. This one has been rolling around in my head for quite some time, and even though there are other WIPs to address it pushed to the front. As you can probably tell this story pays no attention whatsoever to the epilogue. I'm trying some different writing techniques, mostly for story generation, but hopefully it'll still be enjoyable. In the future we'll find out more about Wendy, and her hit list. There will be a few twists, though, so it's not going to be a straightforward Auror case story.

I'm going to try to post somewhat regularly on this story, but what schedule that actually meets will remain to be seen. I will return to Lady Black, Lord Potter and Professor Muggle and the Secret Author soon, though.

Oh, and since I never do this, I figured I'd take the opportunity to the standard 'this is JK Rowling's world, just playing with the characters, etc' disclaimer. If there are any proceeds made on this story please direct them to the Endangered Hippogriff fund.

As always, thanks for reading and review if you wish.