Prologue Part 1

"I don't like being forced into hiring this guy, " whined the hooded figure at the table for four. One empty seat was there, the other three people were seated already.

"If we had an option, we would take it. But…" the tallest figure trailed off. He shared the same beliefs, but the resignation in his voice made it clear that this was not the first time they've argued.

"Quiet, he's approaching…." The third and final person stated. She had made it clear that this bickering would stop until the meeting was done.

The three represented the Department of Mysteries Trouble Shooting Squad. The department acted as a think tank of sorts, were the deeper mysteries of magic were explored and cataloged by Wizarding Britain. Most of the time, it required a scholar and expert weeks of research into whatever was going on, and then fixed, isolated, or explored further the underlying magics.

The Trouble Shooting Squad was not that group. Some events needed some magic muscle to fight, usually a dark wizard or witch with delusions (or not) of grandeur before they brought in the brains of the Department. Usually they would work alone, although it was a very liquid group without a clear structure or really rules in place. The only real directive they had was to find trouble, and shoot it.

The man heading to their table was average height, he didn't stand out because of that. His hair was a dark brown, peppered with grey around the temples. Crow's feet around the eyes showed perhaps a middle age, but with a wizard that could mean late 20s to early 60s. He had a beard that was was a richer brown then his hair, with some red tinge to it, again peppered with grey. He was exactly unremarkable, he didn't have a scar running across his face, tattoos on his neck or hands, or bulging musculture that made him look like he was a bodybuilder.

He pulled the last chair left for him, and sat down.

The only woman of the group spoke up, "I hope the journey wasn't problematic…"

"No, found the place just fine, thank you. I hear you need some help with…. Something. My contact couldn't give much more information than that." He didn't have a English accent, but at the highest levels of Trouble Shooters, that wasn't uncommon. Few survived the magics they encountered, and most who did weren't always the soundest of mind after. It wasn't uncommon to search for international help for the odder jobs.

The tallest wizard pulled his wand, and waved it like he was trying to hit a fly that was just in front of him as he cast a privacy charm. The air turned sour as the magic took effect.

"Yes…. we do. Each of us has gone after a Level Blue target, and we can't remember what happened. That's… troubling, but we can't continue pursuing it without knowing more." The woman explained. She looked bothered, as there was something that wasn't quite right with the situation, but she was trying to place it as she spoke.

"Any intel on what it is?" The fourth person asked.

The man who hadn't cast the privacy charm took charge of the conversation at this point. "We know it's a wizard. We suspect he was a member of the most recent dark lord's inner council, possibly Dolohiv. We found some evidence of some serious soul magic and demonic rituals in a drop house in Knockturn. I was the first who went after him, the other two didn't remember even that much. "

"So you suspect you encountered him, and he left you all alive?"

The tallest wizard snapped in, "This isn't political. We know our own political beliefs vary, but this target wasn't playing safe with his friends…."

"Good to know he's fair, I suppose."

The woman glared at the other two of her group. "Our political... obligations are not the point here."

"Why do you think he left you all alive then?"

She didn't really have an answer to that. "That remains to be seen. We were hoping once we captured him alive, we could…"

"Wait, you want him alive?"

"Yes." The woman looked like she was ready for some push back from the stranger of the group, but none came. Something that someone use to what they assumed would be the case changing halfway through a briefing. A professional.

The wizard who remembered the most spoke up after the little exchange. "One of his rituals we uncovered… it's really horrible magic at work. His drophouse might be under study now, but the only thing really clear is that he can have any number of them already set up."

"Doesn't he have to be there activate the ritual." The stranger stressed the word activate. The three other members shared a look between them.

"How many rituals have you encountered? Surely the Americas aren't that backwards… " The woman snapped. Something was just at the edge of her thoughts, looking to put together the information in front of her.

"I couldn't tell you. Never studied there." The stranger said with some mirth in his eyes and the hint of a smile playing.

The tallest wizard could see the trap coming, but really wasn't in the mood to play any games. "Our…. mutual friend ensured us we could hire you to do this job. Were we... "he struggled for the right nuance, " misled?"

The smile disappeared. "No, I can capture this wizard. I am here, after all."

The group of magic users noted the man's eyes and surety of voice. The woman heard it enough in her long life. Dumbledore had it in his when asked to do something impossible. Grindelwald, too, for the few jobs he did for the department while a younger man. So had Xenolophilus, she noted.

"Give me everything else you know about this one…."

There really wasn't much, in terms of concrete information. A few things here, a few there, nothing the magicals could use to track the individual they needed. He understood the need, he's had quite a few bag jobs, but not quite so many with this lack of information about the target.

The target. He thought about the phrase in his head. That's been 6 year old girls, 75 year old operatives, scholars, brutes, even kings, he's seen them all. His shrink would say that the dissociation technique kept the moral ambiguity of his line of work at bay. Not far enough to be able to sleep well, but enough that he was still able to do what he did, but at least he understood it had to be done by someone. And goddamn if his job wasn't fun at times.

The psych profile they gave him was common enough. Loner, funded, creative, questionable morals. He really didn't understand the magically portions on the same level the wand wavers did. Something about rituals and conduits. He wasn't really all that interested in the magic. The job was to curry favor with this Department of Mysteries, and the Department of Magic, and get an inside view for the Prime Minister. Apparently quite a few strings were pulled, favors called. The actual Prime Minister, not this "Minister of Magic", wanted answers, damnit! That last one made him smirk with some irony.

The man was in a hotel room now. Some middle of the road 3 star place. Nice room, lots of families, lots of business middle management types. No one asked him what he had thought about it.

Order. Chaos. Those with one side, striving for the other. The PM wanted information. Thought he had power. And he did. John didn't come cheap. He was rare, even among the Special Forces community. You could hire a mercenary for ten thousand for some random bag job. You could double that price and get some real bad ass with a gun, someone who could fight a war and look great on a TV shirt, throwing a one liner here and there and end up with a girl at the end of the job.

No, John was different. He was dangerous on a whole different level. He's seen entire different worlds in his life. The military was a whole different world then what people thought, but not weird. This magic community was another separate one. There was a world of people that lived on a floating island in China, and he meet people that were 6 inches tall in the Brazilian rainforest in their world, not to mention the entire space faring community. No, John was part of the "weird shit squad". The only other person John met that was also in his line of work called it the "X files of the X files". John called himself a "Null". Something the universe designed to be immune to weird shit, so when weird shit happened, he showed up.

And that power was invaluable. Except for, he thought coldly, the people who bought his unique skill set. This job was in the seven million range, depending on which currency you used. That provided him a support team. He was rich already, and could retire and live comfortably for the rest of his life. But he stopped caring about the money a long time ago. He retired for a few months after some real trouble he dealt with, but a fire burned inside of him. Once you walked on Orion and see C beams scatter across the stars, sitting at home and waiting for the end to come seemed…. underwhelming. He jumped into action at the first opportunity once someone offered him a direction.

A knocking came from the fourth floor window. Before the second knock, there was already a gun in John's hand as he prepared himself in a practiced stance. The crescent moon outside silhouetted a robed figure. Since he wasn't currently under attack, he visibly relaxed as he approached the window. Gun still trained at the figure, of course.

As he opened the portal way, he recognized the voice form earlier in the day. "May I enter?"

"Why are you here?"

"Curiosity." Honest. Useless answer, but honest.

"Get in."

"So you are a muggle," she stated as John closed the window and pulled the curtains close. He's heard the term before, but the sneer of superiority behind it even more often. He holstered the gun that was in his grip as he turned around.

"Why not use the door like a normal person? Do all wizards do things as reckless as possible?"

A slight pause. "I do not expect you to understand… Now since I know the truth, I need to have a talk with Tobias about what an appropriate reference is…"

John recognized this dance now. It's happened often enough with new clients. Someone thought him underqualified. This should at least be funny in hindsight, if not a pain in the ass now.

"Obliviate," she said with a small flick and parry. A misty green beam shot and hit John dead on center mass.

Even before the spell hit, "Memento-us" followed, with another green beam, this one flopping end over end as it slide into John. "You will tell no one of this, muggle, and forget the magical world..."

This was the easiest way, John thought as she trailed off. He had to fight the urge to dodge the colored lights as they headed towards him. Both the basic human urge to avoid quickly moving things heading your direction, and the higher thinking portions of his brain which told him to avoid these things. "Sorry, I thought you were done with the memory stuff," as he stepped closer to her.

"Oblivate." She hit at him again with the spell. This one he dodged with a step closer to her.

"No no. Stop that." He closed the distance to her again, which was perhaps a step away now. As he did, a red spell came and hit him between his eyes.

With an aggressive pull, he threw an elbow up deflecting her wand arm away. He extended his forearm to drag push her wand arm away from himself and freely expose her back and use the motion to pivot around her, throwing his other free arm around her neck as he threw his legs around her waist. The shift of center of balance caused her to lose the balance she had.

He wasn't quite prepared for her to jump into the backwards motion. It changed the gentle felling into an outright slam. The elbows she threw into his side weren't gentle, either, but he had locked his arm around her neck and now it was just sinking the choke as the blood running to her brain slowed and her eyes lost their focus.

He knew the elbows he had taken would bruise, but what else was new... John thought with dark humor

A/n: Prologue Part One

I had this idea mulling for a while, and wanted to throw this up while I had the muse. Please let me know what you think about the story so far. I have a outline of major events planned out, and something if I get good feedback with may explore further!