I dunno where this idea came from – maybe it's a corruption of a different idea I have or something, honestly don't know.

Read, Review, let me know what works and doesn't.

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XX Alchemist's Quarter, Prague; Czech Republic XX

Prague was a beautiful city. Full of culture and beauty and since the collapse of the USSR that beauty had only seemed to grow and flourish as it caught up with the 'Western World'… At least on the muggle side of things.

On the wizarding side, things had been growing worse and worse ever since the Iron Curtain fell. Like Britain, and the rest of the world, the countries of Eastern Europe all had pureblood families. And like the rest of the world many of these families tended to look down on muggles and muggleborns… unlike most other countries, where apathy or glaring loopholes in laws often allowed these purebloods to show how much they looked down on the muggles, the pureblood families behind the Iron Curtain could do nothing for fear of retaliation.

You see the former Eastern Bloc nations could, through their link with Moscow, call upon the Petersburg Accord of 1914 – a deal where Tsar Nicolas II gained the cooperation of the War-Mages of Omsk. The witches and wizards, part scholar/part soldier, from the Ashen Tower of Omsk dedicated themselves to mastering combat magic. Unbound by notions of blood superiority, motivated solely by the belief that potential should be nurtured, the war-mages had bartered their support and protection of Russia for the promise of forced cultural changes to Russia's wizarding society. Even when the war ended, and the tsar they had signed the accord with was killed, the war-mages had awaited the cultural reforms.

And when Joseph Stalin found himself staring out at the armies of Grindelwald and the crazed Dark Lord's muggle puppets he'd known exactly where to find magic users to defend Russia, and what to grant them in exchange for their support. Dumbledore may have been the man who defeated Grindelwald himself, but it was the war-mages under Malinovsky who broke the man.

With the Tower of Omsk backing him, the pureblood families of Eastern Europe could do little to stop Stalin as he ensured that each new communist state had complete control over all magical governing bodies. This meant a considerable level of protection for muggles and plenty of opportunities for muggleborns while the USSR was around but, once the union dissolved, the newly formed muggle governments found themselves unable to keep the old pureblood families from retaking control over the magical communities and severing all but the most basic of contact with them.

Since the fall of the Soviet Union, Eastern Europe had seen a steady growth in anti-muggle attitude as bigots lashed out after finally being freed from those oppressive laws making them treat muggles like something that had a right to exist. Add in the influx of British witches and wizards, all either former snatchers or Death Eaters fleeing Ministry justice following Voldemort's defeat, and things just continued to get worse.

In fact had it not been for the Malleus Maleficarum, independent magic users who offered their services to the governments most often in exchange for monetary compensation. The Hammers, as they more often than not were called, operated alone or in very small groups. They employed tactics similar to the kind used by supremacist groups like the Knights of Walpurgis, extreme savagery with little regard for the lives of purebloods, against those very same supremacists and their families. This often earned the Hammers the hatred and fear of the Darker Families while the Albus Dumbledores of the world opposed them for 'fighting fire with fire' methods.

But despite the hostility from all sides of the magical world the Hammers did what they did, each motivated by his or her own goal. Everyone with their own purpose for raising their wands wizards in defence of muggles.

Some did it because it was the right thing to do, because if they didn't stand up for the weak than who would? Others did it for the money the muggle governments would often be more than happy to pay for the peace of mind a dead bigot brought. A few did it for no reason other than their own sadism, truly being little better than the bigots they killed… And for a few the reason was simply penance.

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Jiri, at nineteen, was the assistant postmaster in Prague. He hadn't been a terribly good student, having managed to get by on his above average potions skills and passible Charms work. He'd never been considered particularly clever or smart, having wasted much of his time reading magazines about Quidditch instead of studying. Hence why he was sitting behind the desk in Prague's post-station, dividing his time between listening to the Wizards' Wireless, reading the sports section of the Slovakian Seer – it had better reports on the Bulgarian League, and occasionally sorting letters or parcels for people without owls.

Hell the most interesting thing to happen all month to Jiri was the strange muggle dressed English man who'd started coming in every other day about two weeks ago – and even then the man had only been interesting for how he was dressed. A plain muggle suit (trousers, jacket and shirt) worn under a big, heavy canvas coat and matching wide brimmed hat almost made him look like one of those 'cattlemen' from those movies Jiri's muggleborn girlfriend loved to watch.

Of course the novelty of the man wore off the third time he came in and did the exact same thing – Exchange some muggle koruna for galleons, always exactly one hundred, and have them portkeyed to Britain's central post station in London – every single time.

"Nasty business that." Jiri commented as he read the headline on the paper the English man set on the counter. "Heard he was tortured, with dark magic… What did he do to deserve that?"

"Abducted and tortured muggles alongside his friends." The English man answered matter of factly, in very good if somewhat accented Czech, as he set out bundle after bundle of korunas. "Ministry covered it up, memory modifying the survivors and disappearing the bodies… Been doing it for months."

"W-What?" Jiri gasped, choking on his chilled pumpkin juice.

"Been in the papers, muggles reporting disappearances and magics commenting on the string of 'muggle baiting'. The English man told him as he set out the last bundle. "Right, that should enough for a hundred galleons."

Taking the bundles and setting them on a set of enchanted scales, to double-check they came to one hundred galleons, Jiri worked quickly in an effort to get the suddenly very unnerving man out of the post station. As he counted out the galleons, and the English man wrote the address he wanted the owl in England to deliver the galleons to, the door opened and Jiri couldn't suppress his groan.

Tomik Teply was one of the local pureblood fanatics. He and his little gang liked to get together, get drunk and then engage in a little muggle baiting – creating illusions to startle or shock some poor muggle out at night or cast the Muggle Repelling Charm on the entrance to a muggle apartment building to make life difficult for the occupants. For the most part Jiri had just ignored their antics, and been thankfully ignored by them, up until about a month ago. Then Teply had learned Jiri was dating a muggleborn and started to get nasty.

Nothing violent but there were comments. Jokes and jibes about her, crude innuendo and several 'talks' on the dangers of dating a muggleborn. Needless to say, with the English man here dressed in his funny muggle clothes, Teply and his gang were the last people Jiri wanted walking into the post station.

Picking up his pace, preparing the portkey and collecting the change – the English man always paid the one galleon, five sickles charge with two galleons - before they were asked for. Anything to get the mostly likely muggleborn out of here and away from Teply before trouble started.

"Hey Jiri, my package come in yet?" Teply asked as he slapped his hands down on the counter, his gang spreading out but causing no major trouble… for the moment.

"No, and I can't make it go any faster." Jiri replied curtly, hoping if he answered all the crap Teply normally said quick enough the man would leave before starting anything. "And I don't know what's delaying it. Write Spudmore and ask what's taking so long."

"You know, you really need to work on your customer service." Teply growled before turning to the English man. "I mean it's just rude, right?"

The English man glanced at Teply, then down to the back of Teply's right hand. There was a large, ugly tattoo of a skull superimposed over three curved spikes – the skin around it still red and raw from its application.

"Hey friend, I asked you a question." Teply snapped, reaching up and lightly rapping his knuckles on the English man's arm.

"He doesn't speak Czech." Jiri said quickly as he took the English man's two galleons and gave back the change.

"Oh, a tourist eh?" Teply laughed, a cruel smirk on his face. "Tu parle français? … oder vielleicht Deutsch? … English?"

"I understand all three, and more." The English man replied in Czech as he removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "Where did you get that Mark, by the way?"

"W-What?" The question throw Teply a bit.

"The Mark on your arm, who gave it to you?" The English man demanded to know, a wand silently slipping into his hand from his sleeve. "I recognise it, just don't know whose Mark it is."

Now Jiri didn't know anything about the tattoo, seeing as how he paid little attention to the news, and so he failed to recognise it as the suspected symbol of an up and coming Dark Lord. As such he failed to come to the same conclusion as Teply did.

"Hamm-!" That was as far as Teply got before a wordless stunner slammed into his chest and he crumbled like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Hide." That was all the English man said as he turned, conjuring a slab of stone as cover, to fight Teply's gang.

Jiri didn't need telling twice, diving down and scurrying on all fours for the post station's back room. Slamming the door behind him Jiri hid for a moment as the sounds of battle raged outside. Taking several deep breaths to build up the courage Jiri peeked out through the small window set into the door.

The first thing Jiri noticed was that someone had sealed the doors with some kind of curse, a mass of ethereal webbing had formed over the post station's only exit. Next Jiri noticed that the stone slab was gone, though the cluster of smashed wall panels and bits of rock embedded in the wall showed where it went. The third thing he saw was that one of Teply's gang was missing – although if he'd escaped or been downed by the English man wasn't clear.

Speaking of the English man, he was holding his own. Using his wand to counter or deflect hexes and curses while he cast spells, wandlessly and wordlessly with his off hand, he seemed to be holding so own against the trio of angry magic users.

"Flagelluinfernos " screeched the one witch, Jiri wasn't sure but he thought her name was Marketa, as she brought her wand down in a slashing motion. A 'hell whip', a derivative of the fiendfire spell, sprang from her wand forcing the English man to abandon his position.

The look on the English man's face was one of pure rage and hatred as he looked from the spell to the caster.

"Gaanail!" The English man snarled levelling his wand at the witch.

What looked like a Bubble-Head Charm appeared around Marketa's head just before the witch dropped her wand, killing the Hell Whip, and clawed at her throat silently gasping. Advancing on the two remaining wizards the English man left dropped his defensive style, casting both from his wand and hand he began pushing both back with his ferocity.

Forced back one of the wizards got a little too close to the seal on the door and was sent flying ass over head by a pulse of magical energy. Enraged by seeing his friends beaten the last of Teply's gang let out a scream of fury and fired off a Killing Curse at the English man.

Jiri ducked away from the door as the sickly green light of the spell impacted against it. Two more times the Killing Curse was cast before the English man countered with a spell Jiri didn't know.

"Sectumsempra!"

A gargled scream, a thud and then silence. Paralysed with fear Jiri just hid there in the back room praying it was over. When the English man opened the door, an unconscious body thrown over a shoulder, Jiri let out a very girlish shriek of terror.

"Here, should go somewhat towards fixing this place up." The English man said as he tossed a money pouch at Jiri's feet. "… You should probably contact the Aurors or something."

With that he turned, seeming to deliberately crack his cargo's head of the doorframe, and left.

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Think I've worked out what this came from, Draco's planned fate in Legacy. I'd intended for a shamed and disillusioned Draco to leave the UK at some point and become a monster hunter – as training towards an attempt to kill Harry – only to come face to face to the kinds of horrors muggles face from the magical world (Dark Witches/Wizards and attacks from monster) and ends up becoming what Lockhart pretended to be.

The English man, and the Hammers in general, are something of an expansion on this idea. The Hammers are modelled on the Hunters from Supernatural. The English man is a former Death Eater, one who'd risen high enough to receive the Dark mark, who now tracks down and kills Dark Witches/Wizards as a way to repent for what he'd done during the Second War. His suit is a shout out to Constantine's look in the early Hellblazer comics [before the trenchcoat brigade look was finalised] while the canvas duster and hat are lifted straight from the cover of Storm Front [the first book of the Dresden Files].

Wrote this because I haven't written anything in the HP universe for a while and wanted to try and get back into the swing of it. Hopefully I'll be updating this collection more often in the future.

Original Spells;

Flagelluinfernos - Derived from the Fiendfyre curse, creates a whip of cursed flames from the tip of the casting wand. While not as powerful as Firendfyre it is much easier to control.

Gaanail - Old, obscure Irish curse that creates a airless bubble around the target's head. Can only be ended by its verbal cunter-curse. May or may not be linked to the Bubble-Head Charm.

I'm dyslexic, so please point out any mistakes in spelling or grammar [I spell things the way they do in England and Ireland, so some things may look off to Americans]. Please leave your opinion via review or send them via PM, I'd like to know what you think. Well, I think that's everything I've gotta say so, hope you enjoyed the chapter.

This is Highvalour saying bye and thanks for reading.