He hated the rain. Some might have considered it odd, seeing as he'd spent his entire life on the British Isle, but that was all the more reason to hate it in his opinion. When one's occupation occurred exclusively at night, the near constant downpours in the early spring made his already miserable late-night shifts all the more wearisome.

He sighed, taking another slow drag from his dwindling cigarette, as he pulled his coat a little more snugly against himself and huddled closer to the wall of the alleyway. He checked his watch and bit back a groan, it was only a little after two in the morning and he still had half of the building left to clean.

His hands were beginning to ache from the cold, and pulled them out of his pocket and rubbed them together. For all the good it did. For early April, it still felt like the middle of January, and his breath congaed from the smoke of his cigarette in a ghostly bloom that drifted into the pale London night.

With one last tiresome sigh, he spat the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with the heel of his boot. In hindsight, he should have just opened a window. Now he'd have to take the next five minutes cleaning off the soles of his boots just to ensure he didn't trek mud all the way through the building.

Turning around, he was just about to pull open the door when he stooped. A loud 'CRACK,' had reverberated around the small alleyway. Almost like the sound of a starting pistol, or an engine backfiring. He considered it for a moment, before dismissing the noise. Even at this early of an hour in the middle of the week, it wasn't uncommon to hear the odd noise in the city.

However before he could fully open the door, he heard a new sound. A strange, muffled sound. Almost like whimpering. For the briefest of moments, he considered that maybe it was a strange hound, winging for scraps at the nearby cafe. But as the muffled whimper grew louder, he became certain that the noise belonged to no dog.

His hands trembled, and he reached down into his pocket and clutched at the small knife he carried with him at all times. It had been his grandfather's during the war, and he taken to carrying it with him ever since a rather unfortunate mugging some years previously. Part of him wanted to dismiss the noise out of hand, but his curiosity and concern got the better of him.

Turning on his heel, and he crept along the gravel alleyway, towards a fork in the alley that drifted into a dead-end where all of the neighboring restaurants had backdoors to their establishments. As he crept closer, he could have sworn that he could make out the sound of someone talking but the sound of the rain was making it impossible for him to make out what was being said.

Pressing himself tightly against the wall, he inched closer and peered down to length of the adjacent alley. It was too dark to make too much out, and he was forced to dab at his eyes to wipe away the excess rain. He could just make out through the darkness and the surrounding gale a pair of figures in the alley. One was standing, clad in dark clothing and hunched over against the rain. It might have been the lateness of the hour, or it could have been a trick of the moon and rain, but it almost looked as though the rain was bouncing harmlessly off of the standing figure entirely. The second figure was prostrated on the ground. Their features entirely obscured from sight. It appeared as though one was talking to the other. They spoke for a few moments, and then the standing figure reached into a pocket of their clothing and withdrew a long stick.

Confused, he craned his neck and tried to make out what it was the figure the holding in his hand. At first he thought it might have been a knife, but there was no glitter of steel, and he could have sworn that it was little more than a simple twig. The figure pointed the wand at the prostrated figure on the ground, and said something that he couldn't quite make out. There was a flash of brilliant green light, and he had to shield his eyes from the sudden gleam.

Blinking rapidly to clear the spots from his vision, he peered down the alley and couldn't quite stop the gasp of horror that escaped his lips. There, lying on the ground, her eyes wide in terror, was a young woman. Her mouth was bound by a gag, and she lay unmoving on the ground, as though dead. He fell to the ground in a clatter, and the figure turned sharply. He could just make out pale features and brilliant blue eyes as they cascaded down at him.

He tried to scramble to his feet to run away, but the figure pointed the stick at him this time and suddenly, impossibly, he found he could no longer move. It felt as though steel bars had wrapped themselves around him. He couldn't move, couldn't even tremble. Try as he might, not so much as even a finger was capable of moving.

The figure glided over to him, the stick still pointing directly at him. His heart hammered in his chest, as a cool cascade of icy-fear encapsulated his heart.

"Apologies for this," said the figure, a man, in a deep, dignified tone, "I don't usually make a habit of partaking in muggle-hunting…but you, my unfortunate friend, happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and for that, you have my sincerest apologies." He turned the stick on him, and he tried to cry out. Tried to beg, to plead, to say that he wouldn't say anything, would just return home. Would even leave the city if he had to. But it was of no use.

There was another brilliant flash of green light, and darkness consumed him.

BREAK

Harry awoke to the obnoxious beeping of the alarm clock on his nightstand. Groaning in dismay, he rolled onto his side and blearily swatted at the offending instrument with a free hand. Cracking open an eye, he saw through the haze of early-morning drowsiness that it was six o'clock on the nose.

With tremendous difficulty, given the comfort and warmth of the covers, he hauled himself free of the sheets. He hissed in displeasure as his bare feet pressed down on the cool wooden floor. Reaching out to his nightstand, he grabbed his wand and cast a warming charm over himself, sighing in pleasure as an ethereal warmth washed over him like a comforting blanket.

Rising to his feet, he set about in a slow shuffle of getting ready for his day. Grabbing his morning robe from where he'd tossed it over his desk chair the night before. Putting the kettle on the stove top, he made himself a hasty and simple breakfast, and was just pulling the kettle off the burner when there was a soft and insistent tapping on his apartment window.

He ignored it for a moment as he focused on pouring himself his cup of tea, when his mug was full and the warmth of the cup was nearly burning at his cooling fingertips, he shuffled over to the window and unlatched it. A pair of barn owls hopped through the window. The first had a large bundle tied around it's neck and a small sack tied to its leg. Dropping a few knuts into the small pouch he snagged the newspaper tied to the owl and turned his attention to the second.

He withheld a groan of annoyance as he recognized it as a Ministry owl. It never boded well when he was being contacted first thing in the morning. Taking the letter from the owl, both birds flapped their wings and, in a mess of feathers, disappeared from his apartment. Grumbling to himself in annoyance as he vanished the feathers and droppings left behind, Harry tossed the newspapers on a heap on his kitchen table and collapsed into a chair.

Ripping open the letter, he scanned the contents.

"Harry," began the note in a familiar scrawl, "Please come in as soon as you receive this. Possible homicide in Richmond. Susan."

Grumbling under his breath, he tossed the letter onto the table and continued to finish his tea and breakfast. When he was finished, he meandered back to his room and got dressed for the day. He had never been overly fond with the auror robes, and was rather grateful that Susan had changed things up and allowed them to where their everyday clothes, so long as they were professional enough.

The Ministry was still relatively empty by the time that Harry arrived. Not that he was one to complain, he preferred it when the building was empty. He ended to feel a little too anxious when he was trapped around too many people.

The lights in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were still on as Harry stepped off the elevator. He supposed that the only person up and at the office earlier than him these days was Susan, so he wasn't all too surprised to see the lights on in her office. He knocked on the door, and at the grunt to enter, he opened the door.

The older they got, the more Susan reminded Harry of her Aunt, Amelia Bones, the late Department Head. Even so many years later, the image of the brusk and yet distinguished older woman was etched into Harry's mind. The fear and apprehension that coursed through him as she peered down at him in the courtroom of the bowels of the Ministry. While Susan had steadily refused to begin wearing her Aunt's monocle, in spite of her rapidly deteriorating eyesight, she had begun to grow the frown-lines that had marred her Aunt's visage.

"Morning, Harry," said Susan wearily as she scribbled something down on a pad of parchment.

"Morning, Ma'am," said Harry. Susan glanced up from her work just long enough to shoot him a withering glare. She hated it that Harry used deferential titles with her, ever since Harry had passed on the promotion for Department Head himself and had all but ordered Kingsley to appoint Susan in his stead.

Grunting in annoyance, Susan turned her attention back to her work for a moment and Harry took the time in the intervening silence to sit himself down in the chair directly opposite her. He didn't say anything, choosing instead to let Susan continue her work. If the matter had been truly pressing, she wouldn't have bothered with basic pleasantries. With a huff of agitation, Susan placed down her fine quill, and began the process of folding her correspondence into a neat little paper airplane. With a gentle tap of her wand, the parchment shot through the air, and through the small mail slot in her door, heading off to its destination.

"Got a report from one of our people in the Muggle Law Enforcement offices," said Susan briskly, leafing through a stack of files on her desk before sliding one over to Harry. "Two bodies, found a few hours ago in an alley in Richmond."

"Magical or muggle?" Asked Harry, as his eyes flicked through the minuscule report,

"How the fuck should I know Harry?" Said Susan in exasperation, "I got the report less than an hour ago,"

"Then how do we know it's one of ours?"

"Because unless the muggles have recently made a habit of dropping dead for no explainable reason and no one has thought to tell me…" said Susan,

"Always the bleeding Killing Curse," Harry groused as he closed the folder and stood up,

"Obliviators?"

"Already on the scene and waiting for you," said Susan, turning her attention back to the stack of parchment on her desk.

Grunting in satisfaction, Harry took the nonverbal dismissal and left the office.

The evening rain had dissipated by the time Harry arrived on the scene, leaving only the steamy mist of a fresh spring morning. The alley had been cornered off by members of the Magical law Enforcement Squad, using muggle police tape and lines imbued with muggle repelling charms to keep the rest of society from trapping through the crime scene. There were a handful of members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad already on scene, and as Harry strode into the alley, they paved a wide berth, allowing Harry to approach the scene unimpeded.

His first impressions of the scene, were that they were most certainly dealing with someone magical. The air stank of the heavy odor of dark magics, and after such long exposure to the foul curse, Harry could all but sense the remnants of the killing curse lingering on every breath.

The first victim, a man in his early twenties, was laid like a plastic toy on the ground by the corner of an intersection of the alley. His eyes were wide and unseeing, frozen in the last look of horror that accompanied most in their final moments. His green uniform was still wet from the rain, and his hand was stuck tightly into his pocket.

Harry examined the body for a moment, hoping to see any sign of something that would indicate that he had not been killed by manners of magic. But his hopes were not to be. Even from a distance, the raw magic still flowed off the bodies in wave, like a permeating stench that refused to disappear. Magic had a rather unique way of lingering when used. It took a trained eye and mind to know what to look for, but after a while someone of Harry's experience and expertise was able to notice its effects without much difficulty.

Standing up, Harry turned his attention to the end of the alley and the second victim. The second victim was a young woman, maybe only around twenty or so. Her long raven hair was strewn across the floor of the alley, stained and frayed by the rain. Her mouth was bound and gagged, and her hands were bound behind her back with a length of rope. An odd decision given that she had been killed with magic. Though perhaps it had something to do with her state of undress. She had been clearly dressed for a night of intimacy, if the litany of lace undergarments were any indication. Like the first man, her eyes reflected her last moments. Wide and horrified. Forever cemented in a look of horror.

Sighing, Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and gave it a casual wave. A blanket materialized out of the ether, and covered the dead woman's modesty. It was the least he could do to respect what little dignity she should have been afforded.

The nature of the woman's undress and the way she was bound were intriguing. That implied a level of intimacy, familiarity between her and her killer. They had known each other, likely intimately and if not, then at least well enough that she was comfortable being undressed around him. He eyes darted back to the man lying at the other end of the alley. That poor sod on the other hand, that was likely the definition of wrong place at the wrong time. From the way the body had been positioned, and had fallen to the alley floor, Harry surmised that he had been hiding against the far wall. Did he perhaps know the assailant or the victim and had been trailing them? Or did he simply stumble onto something he shouldn't have and paid the consequences for it?

Lifting his gaze from the dead woman, Harry scanned the crowd of witches and wizards at the end of the alley. There was another young woman at the end of the alley, her eyes wide as she stared between the blanket that Harry and just summoned and Harry himself. Biting back a groan, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. Leave it to the MLES to forget to move the muggle witnesses from the scene first.

With a glare at the members of the squad around the woman, the assembled witches and wizards scrambled out of the way. It was a well known rule that an irate Harry Potter was not good for one's overall health and wellness.

Approaching the young woman, Harry took stock of the situation and began doing what he could to mitigate the damages. Placing a hand on the woman's shoulder, he subtly cast a warming charm layered in a minor cheering charm and washed the spells over the young woman. Her stiff shoulder subtly relaxed as her demeanor began just a touch calmer. With another deft wave of his wand, Harry summoned another blanket and draped it around the woman's shoulders.

"Good morning, ma'am," said Harry gently, "My name is Harry Potter, I'm a special form of police officer," he reached into his pocket and pulled out an enchanted badge and showed it to the woman, "I understand that you have questions, and that this entire situation must very strange and confusing for you." The woman nodded shakily at him, her entire body trembling, "I promise," assured Harry, "You'll get an explanation shortly, but first I must ask you some questions. Do you think you could answer those questions for me?"

The woman nodded once more, and pulled the blanket a little more securely around her shoulders.

"What's your name, ma'am?" Asked Harry,

"Morgan Leigh," said Morgan, her voice quavering,

"It's nice to meet you Morgan," said Harry gently, "Can you please tell me what happened this morning?"

"I-I was just coming in to open up for the day," said Morgan, "My manager h-has the flu so I have to come in early and open for her. T-that's when I found…when I found…" tears sparkled in the corner of her eyes and she had to take a moment to compose herself. Harry stayed silent and allowed Morgan the opportunity to dab at her eyes.

"Do you know what time you arrived here?" Asked Harry,

"A little before six," said Morgan, "The shop opens at seven a-and Mary likes me to be here an hour before opening to get the shop in order." Harry nodded and tucked the information away for later.

"When you arrived, they were already like this?" Asked Harry. Morgan nodded her head. "And what did you do when you saw them? It's not an accusation," amended Harry quickly at the alarmed expression on the woman's face, "I'm just trying to establish a timeline, just some boring procedure Morgan,"

Morgan nodded and shuddered, "I-I didn't know what was happening, I saw the w-woman first," she gulped and dabbed at her eyes again, "She just looked like she had fallen asleep. But when I went to check on her…her eyes…they just…" she shuddered again and wrapped her hands more securely into the blanket.

"Is that when you called for assistance?" Asked Harry, and Morgan nodded shakily. Knowing that Morgan wasn't going to be of any more assistance, Harry glanced over his shoulder and gestured at one of the purple-robed obliviators. Jack Sloper, an old quidditch friend from Harry's school days, walked over as he pulled his wand free.

"Morgan, everything is going to be all right," consoled Harry as Jack walked beside Morgan and pointed his wand at her temple.

"Obliviate," said Jack softly, and Morgan's eyes became glassy and unfocused. Jack grabbed the woman gently around the arm and handed her off to a pair of his assistants and stood at attention at Harry's side. Good man, Harry thought to himself. Harry and Jack had worked long enough together that Jack knew that Harry would likely want to keep him around for a bit longer.

Turning around, Harry addressed the group of gathered MLES members, "Who was the first responder?"

A young man, maybe only a year or two removed from school slowly raised his hand into the air.

"Name?" Harry asked,

"Alexander Kane, sir," said Kane shakily,

"Kane then," grunted Harry, "You identify the bodies then?"

"Just the male, sir," said Kane, pointing at the man at the other end of the alley, and Harry waited expectantly for the man to continue, and when he didn't Harry's stare turned cool,

"And?" prompted Harry,

"A-and…and we were waiting for you to arrive so that we could try and identify the woman, sir?" Said Kane uncertainly,

"And who is the man, dead in the alley, Kane," said Harry slowly, as though speaking to someone particularly dimwitted,

"He-he was just a muggle sir," said Kane, who was beginning to appear even more self-conscious and unsure of himself, "I didn't think-"

"Was he or was he not killed by magic?" Asked Harry expectantly,

"H-he was, sir,"

"Then does that or does that not make him our problem and our victim?"

"I-it does sir,"

"Then start over, and tell me who he is,"

"According to the wallet in his trousers," began Kane quickly, speaking very fast as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment, "His name is Frank McLean, twenty-seven. Works for the neighboring building as a janitor. That's-that's all we know right now, once we saw that he was a muggle…"

"You thought he wasn't our problem," said Harry bitterly, "Yes, I gathered that much." He turned his attention back to the body of the girl, "And I'm guessing that she didn't have any form of identification on her either."

"No sir," said Kane

"Get both of them bagged and tagged and sent to St. Mungos for examination. Tell the lead examiner to contact me directly when the examination is over." Harry turned away from Kane and addressed the other members of the MLES, "Get in contact with missing persons back at the Ministry, I want her photo plastered anywhere and everywhere. If someone calls looking for someone matching her description, I want to be notified immediately. Do the same with the Muggles."

"The muggles, sir?" Asked one of the other members of the squad, and Harry turned and looked dryly at the man in question, "Right, yes sir." The man corrected himself and then bustled off with the others, disappearing in loud 'CRACKS' around the alleyway.

"Christ we're scraping the bottom of the bloody barrel these days," sighed Harry as he rubbed in agitation at his forehead,

"Lay off 'em, Harry," said Jack with a chuckle, "They're the latest batch. Barely been out of training a month. Gotta give 'em some leeway. From what I hear, you were far from perfect your first year on the job,"

Harry refrained from mentioning that when he had been on his first year on the job, he'd had more live-fire experience than most of the remaining veterans. But that was beside the point and unhelpful. Instead, Harry began to examine the surrounding rooftops of the alley. With the number of businesses in the alley, he was all but certain that at least one of them would have had something in terms of a security or surveillance system in place.

Sure enough, over the threshold of a nearby backdoor, Harry spotted a security camera. The placement wasn't ideal, but perhaps he would get lucky and there would have been something he could use.

"C'mon Jack," said Harry as he bustled off to the doorway of the building. Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a large identification wallet as he hammered on the door to the establishment. They waited for a beat, before a large man with a small, squished face, dressed in a cheaply-made and ill-fitting suit opened the door.

"Can I help you?" asked the man, and Harry raised his identification for the man to inspect. The identification was little more than a simple charm that made it appear as though he were a member of the local law enforcement. He had taken the idea from a muggle television program, and the simple trick had done wonders for him over the years. Many of his compatriots had never understood Harry's willingness to use muggles and their resources, which was something Harry had never understood himself. He had never understood why he should hamstring himself by not utilizing every potential resource available to him.

"What can I do for you, officer?" Asked the man, as Harry lowered the identification and gestured up to the camera,

"I'm not sure if you noticed or not, sir, but there as a bit of a commotion out here last night. I was hoping you'd be willing to let us take a look at your cameras?"

The man hesitated for a second, before he nodded.

"Promise to be quick about it, please, we open in a few minutes and it wouldn't look good for officers to be poking around my establishment,"

"We'll be in and out before you know it," said Harry genially, following the large man through the doorway and into the interior of the building. The man led Harry and Jack into a small room at the back of his establishment, where there were a series of small monitors displaying the many camera feeds around the building.

The man sat down in the chair and pulled up a task bar on the computer. After seconds of searching, he pulled up the history of the feed of the backdoor camera from the night before.

"Can you please go back to around midnight, it you're at all able," asked Harry politely. The man grunted and rewound the footage to midnight, and began to slowly increase speed. Harry watched carefully for several moments as the minutes ticked by on the bottom of the camera feed. At a little after two in the morning, Harry saw what he had been looking for.

"Stop it please," said Harry, "Can you please rewind ten minutes and play it on normal speed?"

The man did as he was told, and rewound the footage, before allowing it to play back in real time. Harry waited, watching carefully. Then, at two-sixteen in the morning, the camera suddenly flickered as it was overwhelmed with static. The man jumped in startled surprise by the sudden static, and he whirled around to stare at Harry, but Harry paid the man no mind. He was too focused on watching the screen. After a few moments, as Harry suspected, the feed from the camera was restored and there were suddenly two figures in the alley. though it was difficult to see them clearly from the angle of the camera.

Harry had been hoping for just such an occasion. Magic for reasons that Harry had never truly been able to understand, had the rather unfortunate effect of causing disruptions to non-magical, electronic technology. Harry had been under the impression that the killer and his victim had been apparatted into the alleyway, and had been hoping that if nothing else, the distorted camera would give him a clear timeline of when the killing took place.

Fortunately, the amount of magic involved in apparition was not enough to cause a total and catastrophic failure to the camera. Unfortunately, the footage was too grainy, and the camera too in-opportunistically angled to make out much of anything substantial from the footage. Harry couldn't see more than the legs and part of the torso of the killer, but from the distance of the camera it was impossible to make anything of note out.

The feed continued to play for a minute, and then there was a brilliant flash of green light, and feed of the camera was once more overwhelmed with static. The feed had only just been starting to come back into focus, when there was another flash of green light, and the feed was distorted once again.

"The hell was that?" muttered the man at the desk, "Damnable thing! It cost a fortune to get the bleeding bastard installed and it shorts out the one time it would be useful!"

"It didn't short out," muttered Harry, as he took a step back and gestured vaguely at Jack.

"I'm sorry about that officers," apologized the man as he fiddled around with the controls for a moment, "I wish I could have been a bit more helpful,"

"On the contrary," said Harry, as Jack pointed his wand at the back of the man's head and the man's eyes became glassy and unfocused,

"You've been very helpful indeed."

AN: So…I've had this idea tickling around in my brain for a while and decided to finally get around to writing it. Might leave it as a one-shot for now, might make it a full ass story. But for fun, I decided to write it andW post it just to see what people think. As of now it's been unedited so I apologize for any horrendous mistakes. Please let me know what you think, and hope you have a beautiful day!

All my love, and stay safe,

LilDB