Chapter 1: Prologue
Harry wet his lips, tasting sweat that beaded upon his upper lip as his heart thumped against the cage of his ribs. Beneath his firmly planted feet, the carpet was a sickly yellow colour and Harry could see the dark wooden floorboards beneath where the fabric had worn from numerous footsteps walking across the very same spot over and over and over again. With his back pressed firmly against the hallway wall, he spared a glance to his partner.
Ora Kryss stood in the same position as Harry, only her back was pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the apartment door, painted a dark brown with an indent of 302 just above a grimy peephole. Ora was a squat woman, the top of her head barely reaching his chin when they stood facing each other but what she lacked in height she certainly made up for in muscle. Stocky and thick, she had cropped and shaved her smoky grey hair close to her scalp which made her slanted almond shaped eyes appear far larger upon her face than they really were. Unlike the rest of her body, Ora's face was delicate. She had a small button nose, round cheeks and a pointed chin. Harry would have described her face as being kind once but now, with her brows furrowed deeply and her lips pinched together thinly, he could only describe her as formidable.
Harry watched as Ora lifted her wand, murmuring beneath her breath and with a careful gesture of her wand the air felt as if it popped around them. In a breath a webbing of pale blue light appeared crisscrossing in front of the door to the apartment in a seemingly unintelligible pattern. Harry recognized only a handful of the motifs splayed before him, some he had come across before while others he had only seen scrawled messily within notebooks. Harry raised his wand while Ora did the same and together, they worked at untangling the protections before them.
It was intricate, tedious and dangerous spellwork, knowing that one mistake may result in a magical explosion that could kill everyone on the floor at worst or destroy what evidence lay behind the door at best. With every knot unwound, Harry felt his patience tremble. Sweat began to drip from his forehead and into his eyes, his concentration narrowing into a single focus as he worked. Ora, beside him, stuck her tongue out between her teeth. Harry had worked beside Ora for six years and yet he was still only scratching the surface of Ora's extensive experience and knowledge. Her wand movements were quick yet crisp and smooth, honed from the years she had spent as an Auror and Harry tried not to feel envious as he watched the ribbons of the wards fall away with every flick of her wrist.
He reached the end of his knowledge on which protection spells and enchantments had been placed upon the door and was forced to lower his wand and let Ora work on her own. He watched the movements, listened intently to the words that slipped past her lips as she murmured incantations under her breath, no doubt for his benefit, until finally, the last of the pale light that emanated from the wards faded.
Ora's dark gaze met his for only a moment before she slammed the flat side of her fist against the door without stepping in front of it, once, twice and three times, so hard that the door seemed to buckle on it's hinges and rattle fiercely beneath the pressure.
"MLE, open up!" Both Harry and Ora braced themselves for a response, Harry with both hands clenched around the familiar grip of his wand and Ora, pulling her own hand back from the door to do the same. Harry strained his senses to listen to anything beyond the door, a voice or movement of the occupant within but it was difficult to make out anything over the sound of the rain that pelted the roof of the apartment building or the shrill whistle of the wind belting against the window panes of the only window in the hall.
He saw Ora nod out of the corner of his eye and he pushed off the wall, stepping in front of the door he lifted his knee and slammed his foot into the spot just above the door handle. The door slammed open with a crack, Ora threw out her arm to keep it from swinging back into Harry's face from the sheer force of knocking it open and Harry stepped inside, wand raised at the ready.
He swept forward, moving into the front entrance of the apartment, shouldering his way into the first room on the right, searching for movement, for a sign of life – his gaze swept across what appeared to be a washing room though there was a blank space where the washing machine should have been, it was dank and the smell of damp wood invaded his senses but there was no sign of the apartment's occupant and he stepped back out into the hall. Ora had moved past him to the second room, this time on the left and she shook her head as she entered the hall again. They moved forward, out of the hallway and into a living room space that conjoined with the kitchen but nothing about the room looked like anyone had really lived in it.
There was no furniture. No couch, no coffee table, no sign that the room was used for sitting or eating or relaxing after a long day's work at all. Instead, the carpet had been lifted, nails still lining the edges of the room where it had once been pinned down and revealed the same dark wooden floorboards that had been out in the hall. In the centre of the room was a symbol of some kind drawn in red ink, around the symbol were burned candles, the wax having melted and dried in puddles with the wick burned right down to the floorboards. The kitchen however was cluttered. Cauldrons, empty, half-full and filled jars of various ingredients, some dry, others preserved in liquids and gels and there were books, handwritten journals that looked centuries old splayed out beside ingredients and still no sign of life.
Ora jerked her head to the other end of the apartment and Harry followed her towards what he could only suspect to be the bedroom. Ora checked once more for protection wards and found none and once again Harry was responsible for opening the door, he shouldered his way into the bedroom, one hand on the door handle and the other holding his wand up and near his own body. He quickly scanned the room, checking behind the door while Ora checked the closet but still, no sign of the apartment's occupant. Harry cursed, lowering his wand but not sheathing it just yet.
"Anything?"
"Nothing."
He cursed again and Ora sent a withering glare in his direction that made him raise his empty hand, palm up in silent apology. Only then, did he inspect the room with a clear vision.
Like the windows in the living room and kitchen, the windows in the bedroom had been covered. Painted black with heavy drapes that hung haphazardly over the glass planes. The wallpaper had been scraped off, much in the same way that the carpet had been pulled up off the floorboards, revealing the planks beneath. Pinned to the walls were pages and pages of what Harry could only assume to be the research of a creature obsessed. Some of the pages were handwritten, others were copies of other writings, slips from books, underlined or circled with scrawls of personal notes added here and there. There were images pinned to the walls as well, symbols and patterns not unlike the tangle of protection wards that had been on the front entrance but far more sophisticated. There was a roll up bed shoved against the far corner, a lamp set beside it along with a pile of clothing at it's foot but there were no other personal items, nothing save for the sheets of paper pinned to the walls and Harry felt a heavy stone of dread drop into his stomach.
"What is all this?" Harry asked in a low whisper, brows furrowed as he inspected one of the pages. It was all in Latin, he realized, save for the handwritten notes that he could only assume belonged to their suspect. "'The answer lies in the blood'" Harry read aloud, throwing a skeptical glance to the Senior Auror.
Ora shook her head in response, she had sheathed her wand back into her belt and had raised her hands out from her sides slightly in a way that Harry recognized. Her palms were up, fingers spread and twitching every now and again as her brows furrowed deeper and deeper, "Do you feel that?" Harry glanced around the room, trying to feel what Ora felt but couldn't be sure what it was he was searching for as he done so. The air felt thick, thicker than how it had been back outside of the apartment, thick and sticky somehow.
"The air?"
"Yes. Close your eyes."
Harry was used to Ora's orders but that didn't stop the unsettled feeling in his gut from spreading out into his chest, nevertheless he obeyed. Closing his eyes, he felt the darkness somehow close in on him and he hissed a breath out through his clenched teeth. The air wasn't only thick, nor sticky, it was choked.
"Magic." Harry said, for there was little else that it could have been. Someone had spent a lot of time inside of the apartment performing spells, incantations and rituals, enough time that the magic had begun to build up, congeal and expand all at once. The residue of it all felt suffocating but there was more, he could feel it under his skin, in the dread he felt inside of his stomach and his chest. Dark Magic. There was no other magic that felt like it, like rot forming inside of his mouth, like poison seeping into his veins and his stomach churned. Harry gagged and, in that moment, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
"Harry!" Harry's eyes snapped open, he jerked around abruptly, raising his wand as he met the wild eyes of a stranger. He parted his lips to shout a warning or a spell or perhaps both, but Ora's voice cracked like a whip.
"No, don't! No magic!"
The stranger crashed into him with so much force, Harry felt the air leave his lungs.
No magic, of course. With the residue of Dark magic around them there was no telling what might happen if they added to it and the suspect knew it. Harry caught sight of a flash of teeth pulled into a shaking smile and faster than Harry could react a big meaty fist hit him in the face. He heard the crack of bone before he felt it, eyes watering almost instantly as he felt fingers curl into his hair to the root and with one massive shove his assailant slammed his head into the wall so hard his vision went black.
He was on the floor when his vision swam back into focus, ears ringing as he tried to blink the world back into focus. He saw a blur of movement – one small in stature and the other a looming black shadow and he hissed as he gritted his teeth and tried to move. His entire body felt weighed down, as if his bones had been replaced with lead. He twitched, tried to push himself upright only to fall back to the floor in an untidy mess of limbs and robes. He saw Ora, quick and nimble as she stepped around a wide left hook, watching as she stepped into their assailant's guard to deliver an uppercut directly to his chin with such force the looming shape hit the wall. Harry reached out to wrap an arm around his leg and Ora rammed a full body kick to the man's sternum. He stumbled over Harry's form but did not fall, lifting a booted foot Harry watched the heel descend and only had time to close his eyes before it crashed into his temple.
He heard rather than saw Ora then. A furious cry that split through the air. He heard the heavy footfalls of a large man in survival mode, tripping and stumbling and backed into a corner. Harry lifted his head and felt as if his skull had been replaced with a cinder block, he tried to crawl across the floor while he watched the blur of shapes in front of him. Ora was not a weak fighter; she had taught him almost everything that he knew about throwing a punch 'with purpose' she had always said. Never waste valuable energy, be precise and tactical, speed as important as strength and Ora had both. She hit like a freight train and moved like the wind and in a fair fight, hell, even in an unfair fight, Ora could hold her own, but their attacker was huge. Not only that, he didn't seem to feel anything.
Harry missed when it happened, but the man got a hold of Ora's throat and lifted her feet off the floor. She punched at the inside of his arm, unable to reach his face or his body she kicked and threw devastating knees that Harry knew could fracture if not break ribs and bones but seemed to only bounce off of the man as if they didn't even sting. Harry winced when their attacker pulled his fist back and hit her, he heard the crunch of bone and he swore, words a slightly slurred hiss as he tried once again to push himself upright.
His vision swam again, inky black and blurry. The man was dragging Ora by her neck out of the room. Harry blinked rapidly and spotted his wand on the floor, he heard Ora snap something furious, but she was getting further and further away. Harry snatched up his wand, the familiar weight of it a comfort within his clenched fist as he willed himself to stand. He had to use the wall to support himself, his head lolling to one side as pins jabbed at his palm. He ignored it and took several steps forward, knees almost giving out from under him, but he pressed onward.
Aurors rarely retired. Their work was always precarious, to search for the darker things that lurked in the shadows, to uproot magic users so far gone that their own madness could not even save them from their own spells. Most killed themselves in their rituals, unable to contain the magic that they wove within and around themselves but those that didn't, those that they found in time rarely came with them willingly. Even after the Battle of Hogwarts when Shacklebolt had relaxed the recruitment for new cadets, their numbers had dwindled over the years. It was dangerous work and their prey were dangerous people, but Ora had lived long enough to see the end of her service. Retirement only a week away. Ron and his own Senior Auror, Marek, had agreed to help him plan the celebration party. The invitations had been sent, the gifts bought, the prank arranged to get Ora where she needed to be, and Harry would be damned if he let an overgrown mad man take that day away from them.
The wizard had dragged Ora into the symbol etched into the floor of the living space and it was only as Harry stumbled back into the room that he wondered if the red ink wasn't ink at all. He caught the glint of something in the dull light of the room and croaked a warning as he threw himself forward. Ora's gaze snapped towards him, her mouth open in her own cry of shock or perhaps rage, Harry didn't know and at that moment, he didn't care. He shoved himself into her with all of his strength and watched as she was torn from the grasp of their enemy and thrown almost across the room.
Harry rounded on the wizard then, raising his arm to catch the downward thrust of his armed hand and it was only then that Harry was able to take in the man's face.
His eyes were dark, a pitiless black in the dim light and were so wide that there was a thick ring of the whites of his eyes all around them. Pale and weathered skin, rough from exposure to the elements and worn with age. His skin sagged in heavy dark circles under his eyes and his hair was graying around his temples, but it was his smile that sent a cold shiver down his spine. It was so wide on his lips that it looked painful, skin pulled taunt around his face, yellow teeth bared so much even his gums were visible, stained a grey black and there was a low wheezing sound coming from his mouth. Harry realized with a feeling of unease that the wizard was trying to laugh.
Harry felt his knees buckle under the pressure of the other man's strength and weight, emerald gaze darting towards the wickedly shaped blade within his clenched fist. The blade was dark and seemed to shimmer and pulse before his eyes, he turned his face away as the needle-sharp point dug into his forehead. It burned. Harry tried to jerk away but only succeeded in causing the knife to puncture through his brow, ripping down his cheek and slicing open his face as if it were cutting butter. Harry thrust his wand up under the wizard's chin then, heart pounding against his chest as he bared his teeth in the mad man's face.
"Drop it. Drop it, now!" He ordered, voice scratching against his throat as he done so. He watched the man's fingers curl ever tighter around the grip of the knife in his hand. It was slick with blood, his blood, Harry thought absently, and he could feel the thickness of it running down his face, sealing his right eye closed and dripping down his chin.
Harry lifted himself to his fullest height, leaning back before throwing himself forward and slamming his head into the mad mans face. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth; teeth stained red with it, but the only sound that escaped him was that same wheezing laugh. He tipped his chin back defiantly, baring the rest of his throat to Harry's wand and that residual suffocating touch of magic in the air taunted him as he struggled to keep him from stabbing him in the neck or shoulder or chest. His arm trembled beneath the weight of it, the wizard breathed out against his face and the smell of rot almost made Harry gag again.
"Harry!" Ora's voice was strained and soggy and he found her face out of the corner of his eye – half of her face was covered in blood, she looked dazed and unsettled and older than she had ever looked before. Her shirt was ripped, and Harry could see the mound of scar tissue that began at her collar and he knew that it stretched over her shoulder and covered her back. Ora had been his partner for six years, she had been his mentor, his confidant and his friend for almost as long. She had helped him when he had seen enemies in every corner, when he had woken from a doze at his desk screaming. She had been there with him when he had made his first arrest and there again when he had faced his first real duel as an Auror. She was a hero, having fought in the first war against Voldemort and the second, to have survived both and come out even stronger. Something in her face shifted and changed, confusion and then horror as Harry dropped his arm.
He turned just enough so that the knife plunged into his shoulder, the force of it so strong that it buried into his body right to the hilt. Harry cried out, he heard Ora shout his name, felt the way that the air shifted as she lunged forward, Harry raised his wand and with a flick of his wrist sent a burst of powerful winds towards her. The spell lifted her off her feet and threw her down the length of the apartment corridor and back out into the hall – at the same time, the sudden burst of magic seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Harry choked and the wizards smile dropped. All at once there was a burst of blinding blue light that engulfed the entire room and Harry felt his feet leave the floor.
Harry could not help but think of how he had died once before and that the second time could not be as bad as the first. In the blinding light of too much magic bundled into a single, insecure space, Harry thought of Ginny and ached. Ached for the years he had wasted and for the years that he would not get to spend with her now, but he also thought of his lost ones. The lives of his friends and family who had not been able to see the end to the war, nor see how far he had come from Hogwarts and who he would be able to tell the rest of his story to.
In that moment, Harry felt regret for many things. For leaving Ginny and his friends, for joining his parents, Remus and Sirius too soon, but he could not find it within himself to regret stopping a deranged mad man from killing his friend.
Someone screamed. A harrowing, ear splitting, torturous scream and then the world warped black.