Chapter Three

Doubt

1

Harry carefully stepped into the Kimber residence and tried to pay great attention to his surroundings. The first person to talk to him was Mak, who was also on the scene.

"Morning, Harry," he greeted soberly.

"Is it morning yet?" replied Harry. "I've barely slept enough to know. Can I offer you any peanut butter?" He held the jar toward his fellow Auror who shook his head.

"No, thank you."

"Pickles then?"

"Erm, no."

"Suit yourself." He gestured to the living room, "What do you have so far?"

Mak was miraculously alert and eager to share information, judging by how quickly he answered: "Well, there was no forced entry, magical or otherwise – that's the biggest concern at the moment, since it would mean the culprit was allowed in somehow. Whether he was let in by negligence or invitation, we can't tell, nor can we tell how long he was actually in the house."

"Are you sure it's a man," Harry asked.

"Pretty sure, because the foot prints match a male shoe." Mak lead him over to the living room. "But that's just my assumption – It could be a woman wearing a man's shoe."

There were other people, some from the Department of Investigation, taking photographs in the living room. The first thing Harry's eyes went to was the blood stain on the carpet. It wasn't large, but it was blood nonetheless. The next thing he noticed was that only one piece of furniture, a table beside the couch, was overturned. Other than those two things, and the clusters of Ministry workers, the room was completely in order.

"Whose blood is this," he inquired.

"The babysitter's," said Mak. "A young woman named Norma Rothgill."

"Was she struck?"

"She said that she wasn't. The blood was from her nose. We suspect that she hit it when she fell."

"If she wasn't struck, why did she fall?"

"She told us that she had just put the little girl to bed and walked back in here when she heard a sudden noise and felt a terrible pain in her head. The next thing she knew, she was waking up on the floor. Medi-wizards are looking into what caused the pain, so we'll know soon."

Harry peered around the room again, but didn't find what he was looking for. "Where's the print you mentioned?"

"Back in the hall," Mak instructed. Harry turned with him and they went to the base of the staircase. Mak pointed to a stair about half way up, marked by a hovering evidence symbol (a spell Investigations often used).

When they got closer, Harry bent very close to the mud print and examined it. He briefly scanned the rest of the stairs from where he stood and found the print was the only one. "This is it?"

"It's the only useful one. The few other clues we have are incomplete prints and some splatters of mud." He gestured to flecks of dried mud along the carpet a few steps up – they looked as though they had flown off of the intruder's shoes at a high speed. Harry followed a short trail of the smatters, and found that they continued going up the stairway for several more steps.

"Where are the incomplete prints?" Harry inquired, looking around.

"That is the other thing that worried me a bit," Mak told him, his tone darkening. "The prints are quite far apart. Inhumanly so, if you ask me. I don't think most animals could jump as far."

Harry's frown deepened. A number of semi-human beings came to his mind, but when Mak walked up the second half of the stairs and stopped three feet from the landing, the possibilities narrowed. Harry followed him up and examined the incomplete footprint – only the toe of the shoe was visible.

"There are others leading to the girl's bedroom," Mak said. "All of them are incomplete, like this one, and each one is very, very far apart."

"So it was someone who could leap very far at considerable speed, judging by the mud splatters," Harry concluded. "Where did he go after he got hold of Liberty?"

Mak pointed to the railing on the landing that looked over the foyer below. There was another evidence marker, like the print on the steps, and it hovered over a smear of caked mud on the varnished wood of the rail.

"The cheeky tosser leapt off there to the first floor and went straight out of the front door."

"Cheeky indeed…"

"There is a total of eight strides as far as Investigation can tell. That's eight steps to the fifty-something it would take a normal human doing the same at a full run."

"He's definitely not human then," Harry agreed. "You said there was no forced entry?"

"That's right."

"… Sounds like a vampire."

2

Logan walked out of Yates's office and found that Lenore was not alone in the waiting room.

Betrys had returned. Her hair – as perfect as he'd always remembered it – hung around her face as she leaned forward in her seat. A blue vial of some sort of calming potion was in her hand, already half drained. She looked up when he entered.

"Logan…" she breathed, obviously exhausted and just as distraught as he was.

"I need to discuss something with Miss Yates," Lenore said, excusing herself and closing the door to Yates's office behind her to give them more privacy.

Logan pulled Lenore's desk chair over to his ex-wife and sat down next to her. As soon as he did, she started gushing barely coherent sentences and more tears.

"So sorry… I'm just so… so… ashamed. How could I let this happen? If I hadn't taken the job, I would've been there. She would still-"

"Betrys, shut up."

She stared at him, startled. "Logan…"

"It's not your fault, alright?" he told her in a kinder tone. "There was no possible way you could have foreseen something like this. You can't blame yourself. We just… we just need to get her back now, and that's what we should be focusing on."

She studied him closely for a moment, trying to read him like she used to. 'Sorry, sweetheart,' he thought to himself, 'I'm not as transparent anymore. I'm not the same man you left.'

Indeed, he wasn't. Before, when he and Betrys were still together, Logan had been outgoing and open. If they had been in this situation four years ago, he would have wrapped his arms around her, would've done everything possible to make her feel better. However, apart from the fact that he liked her much less now, hugging her would be out of the question. They were strangers, and Logan no longer gave strangers the benefit of the doubt.

Everything had changed with the werewolf bite – the scar of which still stood out grotesquely on his left shoulder despite being four years old. Before that bloody bite he had a real life and confidence while he had lived it. Back then he certainly would not have let that cow, Yates, speak to him the way she did. But being rejected and stepped on by your loved ones and most of society tended to have a sedating effect on your vigor for life.

"God, it's been a long time, hasn't it?" Betrys said finally, more sadness filling her eyes.

"Yes," he replied simply.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, trying not to sob again. "I want to do something, but I don't think I'd be any use to the Ministry…"

He had to look away from her or he would break down as well. At that moment he too was desperately trying to come up with a way to help the Ministry find Liberty. He couldn't loose it now, not yet. He needed to get away from Betrys.

He stood suddenly and she looked up at him in surprise. "I have to call someone," he told her, and he walked out of the room, leaving her alone and sniffling.

It was time to make some plans. If he didn't get to work immediately, there would be room for doubts to fill his mind and he'd be of no more help than Betrys was at the moment.

3

Harry had to bang several times on the door of Agape's small rented house. Finally, he heard shuffling inside and the sound of the peep-hole sliding open to check who he was. When a series of locks were turned, slid, and released, the door opened and a disheveled Agape appeared, squinting against the morning sun.

"Oh no," she groaned, "Am I working today? I thought it was my day off."

"Huh! Enjoy those while you get them," Harry told her. "Sorry to wake you so early, but I needed to talk to you about a little problem."

"Whatever it is, can you talk to me inside? The sun's killing my eyes," she muttered, still bleary from sleep.

"Of course – sorry."

She stepped back into the shade of her living room and Harry followed her inside. Under normal circumstances there would be a lot of light coming in from the windows in this east-facing room, not thick blinds that made the space small and cave-like. However, six months ago, Agape had gotten into some trouble with the Neo Death Eaters and ended up becoming their lab rat. The experimental potions and magic they used on her were intended to make a person's eyes see perfectly in all surroundings and all variations of light. With each of these various spells, if the test subject lived, the magic was worth perfecting, if it worked like it was supposed to without any horrendous side effects, it would be used to increase the number of members in a group the Optimates called the Militis Optime – their improved soldiers, for lack of a better description.

Well, the spell used on Agape, obviously did not kill her, but neither did it work the way it should have. She could now see perfectly in the dark – and through smoke as they found out when there was a small fire in the coffee lounge at Headquarters – but direct sunlight and all bright lights caused her eyes great pain. She had to wear dark sunglasses whenever she left the house, no matter how overcast the skies were. Now she was even covering all of her windows, blocking the only charm her shabby little cottage had: her view of the hills and trees from the east windows.

Agape closed the door behind her and seemed much more comfortable now that the sun had been banished from view. She turned to face Harry and his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, her familiar features came into focus: her mane of elbow-length black hair, her tall, sturdy frame, and her pretty (currently sleepy) face.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" she inquired as she made her way to her couch and he sat down in an arm chair.

He handed her a folder, much like Tonks had done to him earlier that morning. She took it and flipped it open, able to read everything it said without a problem in the darkness.

"I can't go see them today," Harry said, referring to the people featured in the file she was flipping through.

"The Blood Traitors? How come?" she asked.

The Blood Traitors were a group of vigilante Neo Death Eater fighters. All of their lives had been turned upside down by the Optimates and they had taken it upon themselves to "do the things the Ministry couldn't" – at least that's how they put it. Months ago, Harry was given a case to stop their dangerous and bothersome antics and find out more about them. It turned out hardly any of them were over thirty and half of them were on the run from either the Optimates or the Ministry. However, after they helped save his wife and Agape from certain death, he realized they were worth more than he'd first given them credit for. As a fellow vigilante in the Order of the Phoenix, he let them continue fighting evil under his supervision.

"I can't see them because…" Harry paused for a moment, wondering if this was the best decision. "Because Tonks gave me a new case early this morning," he said finally. "It's going to be hard to keep an eye on the Blood Traitors while I'm distracted, so I wondered if you could help me by checking up on them later today."

She stared blankly at him for a few moments as if she was unsure of something, so he added with a grin: "They're expecting me, which means they'll be pleasantly surprised to see you instead."

"Are you sure?" said Agape suddenly.

"Well, I assumed they liked you a great deal – but I suppose they'd like anyone more than me."

She hurriedly waved off his comment. "No, I'd love to go see them for you, but… Are you giving me this file – as in handing the BT over to me?"

He raised his eyebrows at her and nodded, wondering why she even needed to ask.

"But I'm not even out of training yet!" she exclaimed.

Harry was confused. Why was she acting this way?

"I thought you'd like to get a head start. They're not that hard to handle when nothing's happening in the underground – and I figured you felt a bit more confident after that arrest yesterday."

She bit her lower lip and frowned at her lap before she finally decided to ask what she was thinking and looked him in the eye. "Do you think I'm ready, Harry?"

"To watch the Blood Traitors? Look, if they start acting up, I'll be there in a heart bea- "

"Not that. I mean, do you think I'm ready to be an Auror?"

He hesitated, honestly taken aback by her question. Of course she wasn't ready! But it wasn't that she wasn't capable – only that she wasn't prepared enough yet.

"Agape," he said in a tone was firm and serious. "You need much more training before you can become an Auror – you know that. Even though you did very well yesterday with the Optimates, I don't expect you to be ready to take the entire underground on tomorrow. No one in your class could do that, but one day you'll get there, and then it's up to you to decide whether or not you're ready."

Agape nodded, but her confidence did not seem to improve much.

"Are you okay?"

"What is your new case on?" she asked quickly, cutting him off.

The Auror sighed and leaned back in the arm chair, looking into the file Tonks had given him as he answered. "I'm investigating missing children."

There was a heavy silence that lasted several seconds.

"That sounds really tough, Harry," Agape acknowledged finally.

"I've handled tough before. I just hope I can make even a small difference in finding theses kids. It was Crocker's file last," he explained when she gave him a strange look.

"I see. That tosser probably kidnapped them himself and handed them to the Neos," she muttered viciously. Everyone at Headquarters despised Crocker with a deep passion. "Can I see the file," she asked.

Harry handed it to her and she looked at the faces in the photographs on top of the profiles. She shuffled through them several times and picked some up to look closer at the young faces. When she held up one that was torn in half her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "Jules! Harry, look at this picture!"

He leaned forward as she held it out. Even in the dark light, he cold tell she was right. Julissa Culver, the leader of the Blood Traitors, was staring back at him moodily, the only one visible in what used to be a group photo. She looked much younger, maybe fifteen or so, and she was wearing black clothes and dreadlocks with kohl smeared around her cold, piercing eyes.

Harry suddenly felt another surge of contempt for Icarus Crocker. "Maybe she wouldn't be in the mess she's in now if someone had cared enough to find her," he seethed. "Her file will be complicated to update, what with her being 'dead' and all."

He pointed to another photo of a little girl that she held in her other hand.

"She's the newest addition," he told her. "I just came from the scene of her kidnapping. She's a five-year-old named Liberty Kimber. I think a vampire took her… which reminds me." Digging beneath the peanut butter jar that was still in his pocket, he pulled out a letter he'd written before coming and held it out to her. "This is for Jules when you see her today. Maybe the Blood Traitors can make themselves useful by looking into any vampires that might do business with the Optimates."

4

Meanwhile, in a basement far away from Harry and Agape, the Blood Traitors had begun to gather. Alton and their telephone operator, Celeste Haywood, had managed to contact nearly everyone, with the exception of Logan, who was still at the Ministry, and two very important people.

"AUGH!" bellowed twenty-one-year-old Celeste as she tore an earpiece from her left ear and tossed it onto her desktop. She whirled in her swivel chair to face Alton Drake, who was pacing in a circle behind her with a mobile phone to his own ear.

"I thought you made it clear to them that they have to actually turn their mobiles on for them to work," she snapped at him. "I realize, being one of the only non-magic people here, that my knowledge of normal technology is a little greater – but is it really that difficult?"

Muggle-born Alton stopped pacing to shake his head in shared frustration. "Well, notice that the only ones we can't get on the line are Pure-bloods."

"But they're also our two leaders, Alton! They need to be here!" Celeste cried. "Liberty is in trouble right now, and they're nowhere to be found!"

"Call Roman again," he commanded as he redialed Jules's number.

Celeste shoved the earpiece back into place and clicked a few keys on her keyboard. Both of them were quiet for a moment as they waited for someone to answer the rings.

Without warning, Celeste cried, "Roman! It's about bloody time, you wanker! Where've you been?"

Still having no luck with Jules, Alton flipped his mobile shut and strained to hear Roman's reply, but all he could get out of the noise was that their friend was not happy.

"Don't get those Italian knickers in a wad!" Celeste shouted indignantly. "We have an emergency… Logan's daughter has been kidnapped by the Neos. We need you here no- "

A gasp of deep insult escaped her lips and her face jerked in Alton's direction. "He hung up on me!" she squawked.

"Well? Is he coming?" Alton demanded.

"I have no idea – he just hung up."

Alton's mobile rang to the tune of Werewolves of London, and he answered it immediately:

"Logan? What did they tell you?"

"Just some basic information," Logan said in a tired, downtrodden voice. "Yates mainly wanted to question me. You know, since I'm a werewolf I must be evil, thus a prime suspect."

"Of course," Alton said sarcastically, "that's a given."

"I'm on my way to the basement now," Logan continued. "I want to make a plan as soon as possible."

"Ah, yeah. About making a- "

"I'll be there in a few minutes." Then Logan hung up.

"-plan…" With a dramatic gasp of his own aimed at Celeste, Alton cried: "He hung up on me!"

Celeste was not amused. However, his joke gave away how nervous he actually was. With Jules and Roman missing in action, Alton – the third in command – was in charge.

(There it is, friends and neighbores! May it bring you one step closer to action, explosions, and probable gore!)