The Auror Files

by asianwriter

Jumping ahead 30 years since the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, this story follows the story of Auror Thomas Bellamy as he looks into the case of a crazed cult trying to bring back the Dark Lord. - (This story is going to be written in short chapter format a la the Da Vinci Code.)

Chapter One - The Assignment

The nightmares, or rather, the memories.

It's been nine months since the incident in Prague and I still get the nightmares a couple of times a week. For magic being around as long as mankind one would think that they would have invented a potion for my night terrors. They say its because I've been touched by a very powerful curse. That's not true - it's more of me being in the presence of a powerful curse.

Ever since the downfall of Tom Marvolo Riddle (File 23b, case Lord Voldemort) by Chief Auror Potter thirty years ago, the most powerful and cunning wizards and witches worked on a spell to "forever block" the killing curse, Avada Kedavra (Unforgivable Curse, File 001). This block was integrated into every wand, cane, umbrella and whatever object a magic user uses to cast spells which are currently being held in possession or sold in shoppes. How'd they manage this? My paygrade isn't high enough to know how they managed that feat.

Which, brings us to Prague. Nine months ago my partner Auror Kadner and I were assigned to assist the Prague Auror Division with a strange couple of cases regarding the deaths of multiple witches and wizards.

*knock*knock*knock*

The clock reads 4:30 a.m.

Who the bloody fuck is waking me up this early. I swear on Dumbledore's ghost that if this isn't important I'll throw a damn fit. I don't care if I'm a 25 year old man, I will throw a fit like a child who can't get candy in Honeydukes. I peer through the eyehole and find out its Auror Lestrade (don't get too excited, he's not as great as the one in those muggle novels). I open the door.

"Have you seen the paper?" says Lestrade as he chucks the Daily prophet at me.

I look at him dumbfoundedly. "No tradeykins I've been happily asleep til you politely decided to bang at my door at this lovely hour."

He looks at me sternly, as if he's trying to read my mind, "still having those nightmares aye? I can see the bags in your eyes are as present as ever."

"Yeah," I sigh back, "I'm still getting them. Anyway, what are you on about? Why'd you come here so early to hand deliver me the paper?"

"Open it."

I open up the folded Daily Prophet and look in horror at the headline.

BOMBING IN GRINGOTTS. DOZENS DEAD. PLENTY MORE INJURED.

"Well, Thomas, you asked why I came here this early, there's your answer," Lestrade says, "I've come here to give you your new assignment."