'Why do you insist on wasting time like this?' Voldemort strolled forward in the shadows, slowly approaching Gerald, who was on his knees, head hung, and arms chained tightly to the dirty brick wall behind him, 'Surely simply obeying your master is so much easier than all this.'

The Dark Lord crouched in front of the other man, taking his chin hand, pointed nails digging into pale flesh, accompanied now with the odd presence of whitened facial hair despite his young appearance. Forcing the prisoner to face him, an intense emotion could be seen in the demon's blue eyes, but it wasn't one of hatred or anger nor was it of depression...not even apathy.

Somehow, those glossy spheres conveyed an overwhelming feeling of betrayal...like a lover who'd been scorned and yet was still obsessed with the one who wronged him, or a mother who couldn't accept that the child she had raised, caring for without condition, was cruel and evil.

'I know you too well, old friend,' Voldemort's emotionless gaze remained on a seemingly broken-hearted Gerald. After a moment without word from either, he rose once more to his feet and withdrew his wand. With a quick twirl of his wrist, he summoned a bubble of water around his victim's head.

'Harry, I have a confession to make.'

The auror shot upward in bed with the sound of Gerald's voice echoing in his skull, a chill running through his body as if he'd literally been in the damp dungeon himself. Chest heaving, he reached over and switched on the light from his bedside table so he could see the bedroom clearly.

There were no uninvited visitors in the dark, only the sound of his scattered breaths and his wife softly snoring beside him. Leaning over her slumbering body, Harry left a kiss on her cheek before slipping out of bed and finding his robe.

It was still far too early for him to ready for the office, but he knew he'd be unable to return to sleep. So first cup of morning coffee it was. Strolling to the kitchen, the wizard tried desperately to shove away the vision of Gerald being tortured.

After further attempts to reach the man had proved futile, the aurors had focused instead on viewing the memory he had shared with Astoria. No wonder she'd been in such a hurry to leave after retrieving it; even with how quickly memories played back, it was quite long.

It could also be the owner's reason for asking her to return later, though after seeing it firsthand, the aurors figured that he may have simply wanted support. Mihai certainly offered this to the demon, even if it was for his own interest and not out of true concern.

Nonetheless, the memories had been stuck in Harry's mind since and the day had ended with a detailed dream depicting one scene in particular. It was as though his mind couldn't resist repeating the singular instance out of several where Voldemort had encased his so-called friend in water until the man ran out of air and began choking.

When Gerald fell unconscious onto the floor, he still went without being released from the spell for a good few minutes more. The water finally dispersed into a puddle around his head, Voldemort staring discontentedly down on him. If it weren't for knowing his current condition, Harry would have even thought he'd died because for too long afterward, the Dark Lord did absolutely nothing.

Even now, the auror wondered if the dark wizard had been contemplating allowing Gerald to die. For whatever reason, he didn't, but took his time in aiding the man by removing the water from his lungs, forcing air in, and being sure his heartbeat became steady again. Gerald, however, didn't awaken until what was presumably the next day when his tormentor returned, this time to burn him repeatedly.

What troubled Harry more than what Gerald endured, was what the dream version of him had been continuing to inform him. 'I have a confession...' Why the hell was he having these dreams? The recollection of the torture was explainable, but the rest?

At any rate, he was beginning to consider actually speaking to the demon about it. Logically, he knew he shouldn't for two reasons: one being that if Gerald was oblivious, it would do no good except perhaps let the man know he was getting under his skin; the other was that if he was aware, then certainly there was a reason for approaching him in this manner that he would find out soon enough.

Or then again...if that reason was just to bother the investigator, he'd be letting him onto the fact it was working. Unfortunately, by the time he had dressed for the day, said goodbye to Ginny, and left for the Ministry, the auror hadn't decided a damn thing.

"Rough night?" Ron greeted in the hallway at work.

Harry, glancing upward at his partner, knew there was no point in denying the evidence of the restless hours the redhead could already see. Besides, he seemed tired as well, "Bad dreams."

"About Gerald?"

The auror hesitated, "Yeah. Just because of yesterday, I suppose."

"I don't think that's it, mate," Ron accused, "I mean sure, it's bad, but you're kind of used to that at this point, yeah? and you know as harsh as it may sound, it was sort of his own doing."

Harry didn't say anything as they stepped through the threshold of their office, carefully closing the door behind him while ignoring the comment toward Gerald's guilt in getting into the situation in the first place.

"Last time you were spooked like that and it was because of dreams, you saw something," the other auror pointed, "Something real."

Throwing his cloak around the back of his chair, Harry sighed, "I don't know. I had a dream the other night, before we saw that memory... I told Ginny and she thinks it's probably stress."

"Yeah, well I doubt she'd write it off if she knew it was persisting," Ron scoffed, "Did you tell her about last night?"

Harry slouched his shoulders in defeat, "Not yet."

The redhead lifted two hands in a 'well, that's why' gesture.

Another sigh from the lead auror as he took his seat, "It's not like before. Gerald's actually talking to me in the dream; it looks like a dream, not a vision through someone else's eyes."

"What does he say?"

"Excuse me," the door was suddenly opened to the familiar sight of the postman and his unruly buggy, "There was a package dropped off for you."

It was a strange occurrence, meaning they had never once been sent a package at the Ministry in their careers. With puzzled glances at each other, the pair rose from their spots and went to where the third wizard stood. While Ron took the mail, about the size of a shoe box, Harry addressed the messenger.

"It was dropped off, you say?"

"Yes, some shady fellow," the postman seemed equally intrigued, "Wouldn't leave a name; just said it was of the utmost importance that you get it immediately. I wasn't sure what it could be, but I came by early in case it was really that urgent."

Ron had taken the initial brown wrapping from the package at that time, "Wasn't from a young emo-looking guy, was it?"

"Ah...a what?" the man cocked his head to the side.

"Did he have white hair, dark eyeliner-" Harry started as his partner removed the lid from the box.

"Oh no no," the postman assured, "He looked normal enough, dark hair, dark eyes, but no makeup. It was just the behaviour I thought was odd. He was fairly young though."

The redhead's gaze lifted from the package he held and he placed wide eyes on Harry while offering the box to him. Taking it, the lead auror understood who had likely delivered it, as well as why they were insistent upon it getting to them. Inside, were several plastic bags full of blood, as if collected from a hospital. There were no labels, yet it was clear this was what had been promised them from Lacrima.

Harry nodded solemnly, returning the box to his partner, who awkwardly replaced its lid, "Thank you," he turned to the man still standing at their door, "It is important."

It was clear the postman wanted to be let in on the contents of the package he'd delivered, but the auror merely shooed him politely out the door with a smile, saying they needed to see to business directly before giving another thanks and shutting the entryway.

"Looks like we haven't been entirely written off," Ron re-opened the package once they were alone again.

"Well, Mihai is under obligation of the vow. Is there a note in there?" Harry asked in the same moment that his partner had apparently found a slip of paper.

"Pace complete contents in a slowly decreasing dose over the course of four-five months," Ron read, "I heard word of the realtor... I do apologize for Gerald's absence. He moved to evade more reporters as we remain uncertain as to how Ms. Greengrass found his address in the first place and he has said his peace at this point in time. I hope your matter wasn't too pressing. Rest assured our meetings will take place as scheduled. Mihai."

"Nothing on where he has moved to?" the lead auror wondered.

His partner flipped the paper, then shook his head.

"Alright, let's go," Harry sighed, lifting himself and strolling toward the door.

With box under arm, Ron followed and the two made their way to the Minister's office before initiating the experiment with Alan. Shackelbolt had been thoroughly annoyed when hearing of the difficulty finding Gerald, but he finally relented, reminding himself and the other men that there was nothing criminal in the act of leaving the home.

However, they all would have preferred to be able to easily present the demon to MACUSA's representatives. Informing the Americans that they were unaware of his whereabouts would surely only further speak negatively of their capability in handling the case. Regardless, this was where they were at.

The situation was already sticky as it was. The Ministry hadn't alerted them to anything that was not public knowledge now, but that didn't mean MACUSA didn't know more. Their president had only stated that their timing was simply that a conclusion on their end had only just been met regarding said public details though.

Shackelbolt remained skeptical, however, that perhaps there was a mole...one with more information than simply the existence of vampires and the allegations against Gerald. If MACUSA became aware of the demon's true nature, it could warrant the entire magical world much grief. Simply knowing of his wandlessness had been enough for them to forbid him knowledge of magic and a place such as America, where death could be a penalty...

"If that should be the President's desired outcome, we would be met with the decision to protect Gerald or allow him to be killed," the Minister had hummed during the discussion the day prior, "No matter if his crimes justify retribution when they are proven, relenting to such a sentence could cause the same strife amongst non-human magical creatures that we've been trying to prevent by pussy-footing around this whole ordeal.

"Yet on the other hand, we'd be placed in a dicey situation with MACUSA for denying this cooperation. In the same instance, if they find out we haven't been entirely truthful, it could cause distrust and unrest as well. They could even very well out us to our own citizens and inspire panic concerning how this dark wizard is not, in fact, a wizard," he had sighed before instructing the aurors to present the Americans to Gerald first, and see what came of the encounter.

Having Gerald be the one to steer either the Ministry's or MACUSA's hand could very well alleviate the tension by concreting the actions of either government. Given the demon's reaction to possibly being forcefully sent back to his home country might create a scenario that took the decision to share his nature or not to share it completely out of the Minstry's hands.

As it stood, these representatives had not yet made it to London and the time for The Devil's Children to perform was nearing. So while Harry and Ron visited the hospital to start Alan's treatment, it began to seem that this initial meeting between the governments and their target of debate would indeed take place at the rock concert.