Nicole "Amaurea" Hobday

18 May 2005-13 June 2005

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter nor anything related to the novels. That all belongs to the wonderful JKR.
CLAIMER: I DO own the misc characters in this story.

((A/N: WOOO Alright. Its about time I got back into the HP writing groove. This story follows the events of the life of my Harry Potter RPG character, Auror Rowan Barrek. It takes place after the Harry Potter series. Nice comments and reviews, please. Im a baby, I know xx . Enjoy! I'll have more to say later. Its 1:20am where I live right now...))

An Auror Never Dies

Chapter one

.A Birthday.

Rowan's heart pounded against his chest as he ran, heavy breathing sending frosted plumes into the winter air. The forest was silent now. He had left the chilling cries and shouts behind him. But he knew better than to stop running. Adrenaline was surging through his body, and a sharp pain stabbed his chest as he continued to viciously breathe cold air in and out. He stopped for nothing. He trusted no voice that occasionally cried out. His right hand gripped his wand for all he was worth-which would be significantly less, were he to loose his instrument of magic.

He only slowed when he reached his endpoint- a tree with a massive, magnificent root system. The roots almost made walls, they were so tall and narrow. Rowan stopped running, pressing himself against the curving wall of bark that was formed where two mammoth roots spread out from the trunk of the tree. Hands pressed against it, his blue eyes scanned the dark forest. Silence.

Rowan Barrek was a dashingly handsome young man. A broad chest and set of shoulders gave him a sturdy build, and his muscles were nicely toned from vigorous activity. The Wizard had a fair complexion and even, smooth skin. Dark hair reached to his chin in the front, and was thicker in the back. In the front it tended to curve around to outline his visage in a dark halo. Presently, he ran his fingers through it, raking it back out of his face. He was dressed in dark colors, a long suede jacket insulating him against the chilling bite of winter. Boots were rooted to the ground, which was splotched with a fine layer of snow here and there.

He glanced quickly but cautiously about the forest. It was all dark, all quiet. Winter always seemed to muffle nature's tunes. Rowan strained to catch anything-a sound, a flash of light, the blur of a dark figure slinking about the tall trees-but there was nothing for many moments. Three minutes felt like three eternities, eternities that could be ended by a swift cry of "Avada Kedavera" and a flash of green light from a Death Eater's wand. But no such ambush occurred.

At last Rowan heard the sound he was so desperately seeking: a low-pitched, flighty little whistle. Rowan puckered his lips some and with a slight rolling of his tongue returned the call. A relieved-looking man stepped forth from the shadows, a bit off to Rowan's left.

"Rowan?" he called softly into the air.

"Shh," Rowan quickly hushed the fellow Wizard. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "It's me." The man quickly made his way over to Rowan, taking a careful step to drop a foot from the crest of a low tree root to the space Rowan had retreated to. It was Samuel Gray, one of Rowan's more trusted friends. The two young men had been in Wizarding school together, though they didn't talk much one another back then. They had graduated a few years back. Their simple "hi how are you" relationship had escalated to friendship between then and the present, however.

Because they had also been in Auror training together.

Rowan and Samuel were two of six from their graduating class who took up the profession. Training had been rigorous and brutal. Two of the six graduates from their school dropped out, seeking professions that were more easily obtainable in order to help with the War effort. All were now members of or affiliated with the Order of the Phoenix. Rowan and Samuel, along with a student from Beauxbatons, had graduated at the top of the class almost a year ago.

"Are they gone?" asked Rowan.

"I think so…" answered Samuel.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, are you?"

"No."

They were both silent, looking about them anxiously. It wasn't long this time before that same low whistle was heard. Samuel returned it, and they were joined by two more Aurors. Women, this time-Sarah Cummings and Emily Finch, who were friends of Rowan and Samuel. They scrambled over to the two young men, catching their breaths. Not a minute later the group was joined by another Auror, Jeremy Neilson.

The five Aurors made an injury check, and found that none were seriously hurt or mangled. Emily asked, "Are they still on us?"

Jeremy shook his dark head. "No. They've cleared out," he said confidently. "They couldn't take much more so they decided to count their losses."

Rowan exhaled with relief. The mission had been a success. The assignment had come from the Ministry: infiltrate and spy on a Death Eater meeting. Armed with an identification list of three known Death Eaters, the Auror group had spent the last week trying to obtain the information regarding the time and location of the meeting. All their painstaking spy work had finally revealed that the congregation was to gather at a Muggle pub in a small town. They had been following their target Death Eaters all day, trailing a block behind them down a street or casually walking past one of their houses to check on the activity. When the Death Eaters met at the pub the Auror group had already sporadically placed themselves about the place, drinking a bit and grabbing a bite to eat in the process. They listened carefully as they pretended to read a book or be interested in their meal. The Aurors had heard all they needed before one of the Death Eaters caught on.

The Death Eaters had attacked first. In plain view of the Muggles, no less. The Aurors had been caught slightly off-guard by this, but were not terribly surprised. The pub had suddenly exploded with activity, resulting in a five-on-six duel between the Aurors and Death Eaters. The Aurors had managed to kill two of the Death Eaters, and as they made their retreat out of the pub, the Death Eaters were on their heels. But as the fight went on the followers of Lord Voldemort had decided to flee and fight another day, and the Aurors rushed out of the views of the public Muggle eye. Now they were all standing at the agreed meeting spot.

Rowan stored his wand in a long pocket on the inside of his coat. Now it was time to report back to the Ministry. No further words passed between the young Aurors. They knew what to do. With a serious of sharp cracking noises, the five of them Apparated. Rowan felt a strange sort of jolt-something akin to the feeling of missing a step while going up a flight of stairs. In two blinks of an eye they were no longer standing in the middle of a freezing cold, partially snowy forest but rather at the staff entrance of the Ministry of Magic. The trek back to the Aurors' department was surreal after the night's battle. They switched gears from fighting for their lives to casual business. That was the Ministry. That's what Rowan hated about the Ministry. Here it was all business; it was all cold facts and statistics. That wasn't the way it was when they were out there fighting. When a Death Eater has you in a corner, hatred burning in their eyes as they point their wand at you, and the words "Avada Kedavera" are on the tip of their tongue…nothing was a statistic. Nothing was the way the reports seemed. It was murder. Kill or be killed. It was cold-blooded, ruthless savagery.

So Rowan left the report up to Jeremy. The Italian Auror scurried off to find one of their superiors, and Rowan sank into his chair in his cubical. Samuel leaned against the cubical wall, crossing his feet in front of him and his arms in front of his chest.

Samuel was around the same height as Rowan, maybe an inch taller. He was fair-skinned with light brown hair, which he kept cropped short. He had high cheekbones and a narrow nose, and large brown eyes- an average-looking guy. He was a half-blooded Wizard, unlike Rowan who was a pureblood; his mother was a witch and his father was a Muggle. When he found out the truth about his wife, he left her. Samuel had been born eight months later. The fact that he had never known a father didn't seem to ever bother him. He was usually one for jokes and bright smiles. Presently he gave a yawn that was surprisingly wide for a man with his average-sized frame.

"Wild night, eh?" he said tiredly.

Rowan nodded. "Yes…" he replied, a bit absent-mindedly. His blue eyes scanned the walls of his cubicle; they were covered with notes on the Dark Lord's activity and pictures of Death Eaters. He sighed, memory drifting back to the battle.

Rowan calmly sipped from a glass as he sat in the rather quiet pub. The smell of alcohol was heavy in the sleepily warm air. The pub was about half full and there was a thin haze of smoke lingering near the ceiling. Rowan hated the smell of smoke. No one he knew closely smoked, and so he was unaccustomed to it. It choked him, but after quite some time of sitting in the Muggle pub he was getting used to it.

Muggles and their damned, corrupting habits.

Rowan took another swig from his glass and set it down on the table. He glanced around. The young Auror had been sitting there for nearly an hour and there was still no sign of their Death Eater targets. The atmosphere of the pub was excruciatingly lazy and unproductive. In his later years, Rowan Barrek would be an immeasurably patient man. With experience in the War would come wisdom, and with his wisdom that patience. Right now, however, he was younger. He was fired up, he was eager to do his job. He was energetic. And at this moment, he was itching for a fight. He would much rather get it over with. Now, it was positively torturous glancing at the clock every minute or so, because a Death Eater could walk in at any moment.

Rowan's blue eyes spotted Samuel sitting at the bar next to a Muggle man in a crisp clean suit who was downing shots as though the Apocalypse was going to take place at dawn. Vaguely Rowan wondered what his story was. Everyone had a story. Everyone had a reason for doing what they did. Even Death Eaters. At his green stage in life, Rowan was not yet entirely sure what exactly a Death Eaters' reasons were for turning to the Dark Arts. He supposed greed. Voldemort was a high-class chef about to cook his masterpiece. They all just wanted a piece of the pie.

There was a distant jingle of the bells that hung at the doorframe. Rowan glanced over his shoulder and saw exactly what he wanted to see-A Death Eater. The Auror immediately recognized the man from photographs back at the Ministry. They were tacked all over his cubicle wall. This Death Eater was a tall, thin man with sharp features; he was all stark angles and pallid wash. Balding, the little hair he had on his head was thin and sickly grey, as was his goatee. He would have seemed almost frail, but his dark, beady eyes suggested otherwise. This was one of their prime targets: Rufus Alegor. Rowan watched as the Death Eater calmly took a seat at a reserved table. Then the Auror glanced about on the opposite wall of the pub until he caught Emily Finch's gaze. With a barely-noticeable nod, they both acknowledged their target to one another. Rowan calmly went back to his drink, acting casual. Adrenaline started flowing as another man-this time a plump, rosy-cheeked fellow-took a chair opposite Alegor. One by one they came. The Death Eaters, pretending to be friendly Muggles on a business meeting, sat at the two conjoined tables in the center of the room. Within fifteen minutes, there were four seasoned Voldemort loyalists together in the pub. The other Aurors caught on quickly-Samuel, Jeremy, and Samantha realized what Emily and Rowan could confirm: The Death Eater meeting was underway.

Their position in the pub made it difficult for the Aurors. The Death Eaters had placed themselves directly in the center. The Aurors were too spaced out, too far away to hear anything. The Death Eaters spoke to one another in hushed tones. Rowan and Jeremy made easy excuses to slowly pass their table by pretending to go to the restroom. Rowan took an opportunity to eavesdrop by pausing by their table and re-lacing his boot-taking his careful time. He listened all the while. It was mostly talk about increasing their numbers. They seemed frustrated, but Rowan did not dare tarry too long with his boot lest they become suspicious. Five minutes after he had returned to his seat Samuel made a move to pretend to exit the pub by going past the Death Eater's table, and intentionally bumped into a poor waiter and spilled beer down the man's front. This resulted in Samuel apologizing and helping the waiter clean up. Rowan watched tensely as his friend expertly eavesdropped, and the Death Eaters gave cautious looks towards the young Auror.

By this point-forty minutes into the Death Eater's meeting-Rowan's instincts were buzzing. He found himself frowning, his brow furrowed until his facial muscles ached. He had a bad feeling that things were about to break. They had to leave. The Death Eater's were beginning to sense the same thing Rowan was.

They were beginning to feel Auror eyes upon them.

Rowan calmly paid his waiter in Muggle money (so frustrating, foreign currencies…) and stood up. Clearing his throat, he turned to leave. Samantha did the same. And it was these coincided movements that alerted the Death Eaters.

It was then that one of those instances occurred where many things happened in a very short amount of time.

Markus Raleigh, one of their other known Death Eaters, rose sharply from his seat and cried out in a bellowing voice, "BREACH!"

The Muggles flinched and looked over at the speaker. Then five other people-the four Death Eaters at the table plus two more who had hidden themselves about the pub to be sentinels-snapped to their feet.

The Aurors did the same-seeking a quick and clean exit before something very, very bad happened.

And then Rufus Alegor drew his wand.

It was a startling and audacious move, to be sure. Rowan and his fellows were slightly stunned that a Wizard would call upon magic to battle in plain view of Muggles. But Rowan would later admit that he shouldn't have been too surprised at this ruthless course of action. The Aurors and Death Eaters all responded the same way, and confused Muggles gazed at the wands with looks of perplexity and nervousness. A dazzling array of silver sparks was emitted from Alegor's wand, and a flash was sent in Jeremy's direction. Jeremy ducked the attack and all five Aurors made dashes towards the exits. They each knew their primary task-avoiding battle-had failed. Now their main concern was to draw the battle away from Muggles and other innocent bystanders. As panicked chaos was erupting around them, Rowan fought his way through the crowd of people, dodging blasts of magic from the Death Eaters. He burst through the doorway and out into the frosted air outside, boots clapping onto the street. People fled from the pub. Rowan caught sight of Emily and Samuel spilling out from the other corner.

Then the pavement a foot to Rowan's left exploded into slab and rubble.

Whirling, Rowan caught sight of one of the Death Eaters emerging from the crowded doorway of the pub. Screams from the Muggles filled the air as she ran out towards Rowan, wand aimed. Her fiery hair wisped back from her face, revealing a seething look of hatred.

"Auror!" she snarled. Her wand seemed to agree with her disdain, for it emitted a striking flash of red light which shot towards Rowan like a bullet. The Auror barely managed to dodge the attack before retaliating.

"Impedimentia!" Rowan countered. The Death Eater was thrown back into the outside wall of the pub. Following another commanding cry, Rowan's wand sent a jet of red light towards the woman. She leaned over with just enough time so that the attack grazed her shoulder. Flesh and bone were seared by the magic, and when she rose a splash of blood was left to stain the brick wall. Out of the corners of his eyes Rowan could see that his friends had also engaged in battle. The night was lit up by brilliant flashes of magical light.

But his opponent was his concern at this moment-her and escaping to their meeting place. They exchanged curses, but despite Rowan's youth the woman obviously lacked talent for combat, even if she had plenty of deplorable spirit. One of Rowan's attacks caught her in the temple as she staggered to evade his previous one. With a strangled cry the Death Eater fell sprawled out against the curb and sidewalk.

Rowan didn't need a second glance to know she was dead.

The Auror made a break for it. The Muggles had managed to clear out and he could hear the sirens of Muggle authorities approaching fast. The Auror ran- past the corner, across the street, and down another before hitting forest. He ran to find their meeting spot-the tree. And he hoped that his friends had shared his lucky fortune.

In the end the Aurors had failed to gain any information they didn't already know. This was a mild disappointment, but they at least knew that Voldemort was nervous about his numbers. This notion in itself was comfort to those who resisted the Dark Lord. Rowan expected that the Ministry had already sent a team to work on erasing the Muggles' memories of the outbreak. And he knew that Jeremy was insisting that there was nothing they could have done to prevent such exposure of their world. He wasn't worried about being chastised by his superiors for battling in the view of non-magic folk.

Sure enough, Jeremy returned to tell them that all's well that ends well. Rowan nodded and stood up, running his fingers through his soft, dark hair. Jeremy and Samantha bid them all goodnight, and then left to go about their business. Rowan yawned as he stepped out of the office with Emily and Samuel. They were all exhausted and battle-weary. Rowan still had the mildly unpleasant aftertaste of Muggle beer in his mouth. He looked forward to a nice, simple, crisp glass of water when he got back to his apartment.

The trio tiredly departed from the Ministry building and Disapparated, relocating themselves to a side street of Diagon Alley. They talked casually until they reached the entrance of the Inn that Rowan was currently boarding at. He said goodnight to Emily and Samuel, who continued down the way to try and catch the Knight Bus to their own places of residence. Rowan bunched his shoulders up and crossed his arms against the cold, smiling as he watched them walk in the dim lamplight. Samuel and Emily talked for a moment, and their murmurs drifted towards Rowan.

The day had been three times too long for the Aurors. Miserable in research, waiting, and battle. Rowan's muscles and chest ached from running in the winter air, and he stifled another yawn. He just wanted to go to bed and be done with the day…Rowan was about to go inside for some much-needed sleep when Samuel turned to face him once more, continuing on his way by walking backwards as he spoke.

"Oy, Rowan!" he called loudly, voice echoing through the alley. Rowan looked back over at them. "I almost forgot! You're the big 2-0 today, right? Happy birthday!"

((A/N: End of chapter one. If you're still reading this I thank you and congradulate you! Gives you cookies More to come soon. And you'll get more info on the whole situation, I promise. Exposition is my bane...))