Uitwaaien: To go for a walk in windy weather to clear one's head.

"So you called me in, all the way from Berlin, at the end of my shift, to hex me?" Ieva leaned back on the closed door of Viktor's office, arms crossed over her chest, right leg crossed over left, and looking positively annoyed.

"Well, you are already under the charm..." said Viktor, trying not to sound too cheeky. He was awarded a glare that would have made most new recruits shit their pants.

"I will let you get away with it since it is for the investigation. Speaking of which, why are you even still investigating this? Are you officially assigned to this case now?"

"I don't know, actually, it just happened. I am mostly curious." Ieva nodded empathetically, as a crime scene investigator she probably knew the feeling.

"Do you have a practice range in this hell-hole?" Sofia Headquarters was quite a bit older and not as polished as the one in Berlin. Still, Viktor was a little offended as he led the way to the practice hall with the evidence box under his arm.

"I'll go in first and put this thing on." Ieva looked one hundred percent not pleased with the prospect. "Wait here for a couple of minutes before you come in. Let's hope hiding it from your sight will be enough." Viktor had been sceptical about this before as Hermione suggested he open the box with the eyes closed, but he could not hold back any longer. When he finally entered, he saw that Ieva had moved to the far end of the hall. Thinking of the bundle didn't feel any different from before. For now.

"I will start with a few mild hexes, is that OK?" He shouted to Ieva, who was some twenty metres away. He started with a leg-locking hex. Ieva took a few steps around to show that it hadn't worked. He gradually increased the intensity of the hexes, sending a stunner, a knock-out jinx and a full-body bind. Nothing worked. He didn't want to try any more curses that would cause an injury.

"May I try something a little different?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Something I learned from my English friends." Ieva shrugged indifferently. Viktor cast a Levicorpus, again, with no effect.

An omnipotent protection charm?

"Viktor"

"Yes?"

"I didn't come here so that you can tickle me with beginners' jinxes. We should find out how effective this thing is."

"I already tried a whole range of spells. What do you have in mind?"

"Try the bone pulverizer."

"What? No! It is not safe."

"Do. It." Viktor capitulated. He cast a bone pulverizing curse, aiming at her left arm, which would be rather unproblematic to regrow if things went horribly wrong. The spell hit the witch on the left forearm, with no effect. He was in total awe. This explained why his stunner in Leuwaarden had not worked.

"Now the entrail-expelling curse."

"I don't know how to cast it."

"You are a shitty liar." Viktor, in fact, was an amazing liar, if he may say so himself. This particular bluff had indeed been too obvious, though.

"I won't do it."

"Fine, then cast Imperius."

"I won't. Do you want me to lose my badge?"

"I told you, we need to know what we are up against. Better find out now than when you are in a fight with one of them. Just do it, if it works, you can cancel it afterwards."

Viktor caved. "I will cast now." Ieva nodded. Viktor cast the spell. "Jump," he commanded.

"Fuck you."

This is insane, thought Viktor. Absolutely, insane.

"Now summon some water and try to splash me."

"What?"

"We should see if this thing is spell-proof or just curse-proof."

This was a very good point. Viktor summoned a large quantity of water and shoved it at the witch. The water crushed against an invisible barrier and spilt on the floor.

"Try a neutral charm."

Viktor went through a few spells in his head. She was not wounded, so healing spells would not work. He drew three consecutive circles in the air with his wand and sliced them horizontally. The witch melted into the background.

"So, Disillusionment works." Ieva cancelled the spell. "Whatever this thing is, it protects against curses, but does not make the wearer spell-proof as such." They walked towards each other, meeting in the middle of the hall.

"Punch me."

Viktor did, enough to inflict a bit of pain, but not nearly with full force. His punch was reciprocated with a roundhouse kick to his solar plexus that made him lose his footing.

"The punch did hurt." Ieva offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. "If you ever fight against someone who is wearing one of these, you will have to punch a bit harder. Do you have a firearms licence?" Viktor nodded. He had acquired the licence several years ago already and practised regularly, but was yet to use one on someone. The prospect of doing so did not fill him with joy.

"Get out while I take this thing off, I'll meet you outside."

Just as Viktor closed the door, Viktor heard a sharp wail. He rushed back inside and caught a short glimpse of one corner of the leather bundle just before Ieva dropped it into the box. Before he could panic about being under the influence of the charm, he ran to his colleague. She was on her knees on the floor, shaking.

"What happened?"

"The damn thing burnt me." She undid the first few buttons of her uniform to expose her neck, which was red and full of blisters. Her palms were similarly burnt. Viktor cursed himself. When the Headmaster told him that the magic of the Tomar was highly personalized, he had thought that the worst that could happen would be that it simply would not work. He had never meant for his colleague to get hurt like this. He cursed himself again for his stupidity and recklessness. As he helped Ieva to her feet, he opened his mouth to apologize.

"Spare me," she raised her hand. "If you think you talked me into doing something that I didn't want to, your opinion on your persuasion skills needs toning down a little. If you think that I agreed to this without knowing it could be dangerous, you are an idiot. Let's go to the infirmary. Did you see the thing?" Viktor heard the unasked question. He thought about the bundle, the things he learned, and what it all meant. He could still think, but it made him a little uneasy. "It was a brown thing, I only saw one corner for a second. I am fine." Viktor walked her to the infirmary.

"So, what do you think?"

"I think…" Viktor was glad to have his initial theory confirmed, but on the cautious side of sure. "The man who got blasted in the warehouse is responsible for the attack, or at least he was there. This thing protects them from whatever magic they are using to render witches and wizards non-magical."

Ieva nodded to confirm. "It is a very powerful protective spell. Maybe it is also the reason why you were so emotional when you saw his arm, if it was still under the influence of the charm. It probably only works for that person, though, it didn't like me in the end." Viktor didn't comment. He waited outside as Ieva was treated, staring at the evidence box, brooding. Was this the only one of its kind? Was there a whole terrorist group out there, immune to curses? Now, that was a particularly depressing prospect.

"Viktor!"

Viktor raised his head. Ieva's neck and hands were covered in soft white gauze. "It will take some time to heal, I need to keep it covered for now. I will report this as a work accident. Luckily, I did bother to file overtime today. Now, I need to get home before my kids go to bed." Viktor felt horrible. "Does it hurt?"

"You are such a softie. Walk me to the Floos?"

They walked in silence, lost in thoughts. Before they parted, Ieva advised Viktor, compassionately, "If you stay on this case, from now on, you need to carry a gun at all times. Have one issued first thing tomorrow. Call me if you ever need anything again." Viktor watched as she vanished into the flames.

When Viktor decided to become an ITF officer, he knew that he would have to deal with a lot of paperwork. Still, nothing could have quite prepared him for the actual volume of it. It was not very exciting, it took a lot of time, and made Viktor question his career choices to a degree that being tortured or in an explosion could not even aspire to reach. As he sat at his desk the next day filing travel reimbursement forms to get back money he didn't even care for (his salary was donated to various charities without him even seeing it), someone knocked on his door.

"Hey Vitya, did you see the latest news?" His supervisor Jaron Ilan was at the door with a rolled-up newspaper in his hand.

"Which one do you mean?" He had not read the news in the morning.

"Look." The Daily Prophet landed on his desk in front of him.

"Minister of Magic Declares a State of Emergency After the Terror Attack!

Following the latest terror attacks in Cardiff, Minister Shacklebolt's cabinet declared a State of Emergency in all wizarding Britain effective today. The statement by the Ministry of Magic declared the following measures will be imposed:"

Viktor scanned the bullet points. Curfew after nine p.m., obligation to carry and present a form of identification at all times, forbidden for more than three people to meet, full body scan when entering public buildings, shops selling non-essential items closed… it all sounded quite dystopic. Following the rather short article, there was a statement by Minister Shacklebolt praising solidarity and vigilance, urging all citizens to adhere to the newly imposed rules for the safety of all "or there will be severe repercussions." The statement also contained thirteen mentions of the word "terrorism" in one form or the other.

"Why now?"

"Politics, bureaucracy, things take time. Maybe they were waiting for you to catch the bad guy, and when you didn't, they had no more choice." Jaron winked teasingly. Viktor ignored him the best that he could and read on. "...effective until further notice."

"You know how it is, more rules, more enforcement. With these new rules, they will need to have all the Aurors doing extra shifts to keep people in order. I don't think they can get out of this mess without help. You are still assigned to this case, right? Or are you done with it?"

"You should know, you are the one who assigned me in the first place."

"Hey, I thought you would like to help your British friends! The alternative for you would have been chasing doxy dust traffickers in Siberia with Misha. I don't think he'll be back before autumn."

"I would have gone." Viktor had often teamed up with Misha in the past, they worked together well.

"Yeah, yeah, but I couldn't separate you from your love all summer, could I? You barely see each other as it is! Besides, you have been gone the whole time in the past months, you should not forget where your home is. It is very important. It is also good to change partners from time to time, you learn new things from everyone you work with. Speaking of which, we need to find you a partner next time you are in the field, now that you seem to be doing more than just chasing a guy across middle Europe. When Auror Potter told me that he would assign you a partner, I didn't know it would be a scoundrel."

"He is good, though. Anyone else and we would have lost the suspect completely. Have you ever known anyone who can Apparate to locations that he's never seen before, and through country border anti-Apparation wards? We should recruit him for the ITF."

"You are free to try if you ever see him again. I know the type, though, I don't think he would consent to being restricted by legislations and paperwork and shit."

"You're probably right." Viktor attempted to return the paper.

"Keep it, I've read it already. That is not good news, Vitya. I am telling you, something bad will come out of this. Minister Shacklebolt was a fine Auror and a good minister. He made something out of the broken pieces of wizarding Britain after the war. They are stumbling on their feet, though. There are, what, ten thousand witches and wizards in Britain?"

"Something like that, yes. Probably less."

"How many lost their magic after the attack?"

"Near eighty, I don't have the exact number."

"They can't afford to lose any more, and the Minister will do everything in his power to ensure that this does not happen, especially at the brink of the elections. Maybe you need to think about who will benefit from Shacklebolt's downfall as minister." Viktor didn't reply. He had unearthed the mystery of the magic bundle, partially at least, but he had also been completely absorbed by it. Now that he was officially on the case, it was high time to take a step back and consider the bigger picture. Getting stuck in minutiae was dangerous.

"I suggest you take this weekend off, and I mean off off, not catch up with paperwork off. Clear your head. The British will be safe enough tucked into their beds at nine with a glass of milk. And, don't forget your spell target practice next week, you already skipped the last one."

"It is not like I have been idle…"

"Either you do it or I will put you to desk duty." He left with another wink. Viktor did not find it in him to be annoyed. Jaron was a good supervisor, moreover, he was right. After finishing his reimbursement forms, field duty report and firearms request letter while listening to Ben Johnston's string quartets, (how non-wizards did not realize that this man was a wizard was beyond him. Even publishing and recording of his music was already a breach to the Statue of Secrecy. Luckily, when it came to music, the boundaries between magic and not-magic were blurred.) he took the rest of the Friday off.

If you asked one hundred people in any country in the wizarding world what Viktor's favourite pastime is, one hundred of them would say that it is flying. They would be right to a certain degree. Viktor did indeed love flying. When in the air, he would let his thoughts stream of their own accord, and more often than not he would have an interesting idea or two when he landed that he would not have come to otherwise (Hermione called them shower thoughts, but he rarely stayed in the shower longer than five minutes, so he wouldn't know). Ever since his younger days, when he had so much to say but speaking was a mundane chore, he would go for a long, cleansing flight where thoughts would just express themselves through the rustling of the wind, without him having to say a word. Then he had his Hermione, who listened to the thoughts that he put to writing just as attentively as the wind. Even then, for every minute he spent with others, he needed some minutes in the air, by himself.

If Viktor stayed in the air too long, however, he got lost. Not lost like a man dropped in the middle of a desert, but lost like a torch lit in midday. His limbs felt like thistledown, the hard, smooth surface of the broom under his hands became fluid, the wind blew right through him. As his fame soared, and he was more and more in the spotlight, he found the desire to just dissolve into the sky and never return increasingly irresistible. There had been times when he had gone on a solo flight, returned after five, six hours with no recollection of where he had been or what he had seen. One time, he had found himself at an inhuman altitude where he should never have been, panting and light-headed from the lack of oxygen. He had been freezing, and absolutely terrified. He should have died, but by Perun's merciful winds, he didn't. Just like a man who exchanged water with land was sooner or later bound to drown, if he continued to fly, he was bound to fall.

When he quit professional Quidditch at the still tender age of 26, there had been a massive uproar. He had still been the best Seeker in the world, the captain of the Bulgarian national team, a top-athlete with at least a couple of more years of flight in him. He had never given a statement about the reasons behind his decision. Some people had assumed that he was no longer in his former shape and had wanted to quit while still at the peak of his career, others had assumed that he had wanted to give another Seeker the chance to participate in the national team after almost ten years. Most had agreed that he had earned enough money and could not be bothered to live the disciplined life of a professional Quidditch player any more. These assumptions had all been true to some degree, and he had been contemplating to quit for at least a year already for a combination of these reasons. When after the incident he started having regular nightmares about being suspended in the clear blue sky, not knowing which way was up and which way was down, not being able to breathe or move, his decision to quit had come rather swiftly. For months, he had been too scared to fly by himself. He had gradually picked it up, first only at very low altitudes and above land where he could fix his eyes on objects, then above the sea but only along the shoreline, and finally after a year he was able to fly wherever he wanted. He allowed himself half an hour, checked the altitude meter on his watch frequently (Hermione, the wonderful witch that she is, had charmed his watch to show all kinds of useful stuff), and when his half hour was up, he descended. The time limit kept him calm and grounded. He had sometimes considered trying to increase his flight time, but kept telling himself that he did not really need it, half an hour was perfectly adequate for a solo flight. At least, it was a rather harmless form of self-deception, just as telling himself that his weak knees and sick stomach had nothing to do with him starting to descend after thirty-three minutes and forty-two seconds on his Saturday morning flight rather than thirty minutes sharp. It was much more likely his blood sugar, he hadn't had breakfast yet. Sure, he was just hungry.

It was a fair morning, still quite fresh but warm enough to enjoy breakfast outside. Viktor tucked into his strawberry-topped buckwheat porridge on his porch, listening to the wind-chimes and looking over wizarding newspapers in languages that he could read. Every one of them, unsurprisingly, mentioned the State of Emergency in one way or the other. He skimmed through the conspiracy theories and was reading the analysis of his favourite columnist in "Spegel På Väggen Där" when he heard his fireplace roar.

"Hello Viktor."

"Добро утро, мила." Even in the Floo, Viktor could see Hermione blush. He knew that she was aroused by him speaking Bulgarian, and maybe he liked to tease her just a little, too.

"Are you still having breakfast? I didn't mean to interrupt, but you wake up so early, normally."

"I was up early but went for a run first, and then flying. It is a beautiful morning."

"Huh, I wish I could say the same, here is just rainy and windy… again. How was the flight? Did you get any new ideas?"

"I have been thinking about Kingsley's State of Emergency."

"Oh, yes, that… I mean, I can understand his motives, but people are complaining, a lot. They have businesses to run, parents are looking for ways to occupy their children during the holidays… not everybody can afford holidays abroad. For those that live in muggle neighbourhoods there is no problem, but for those who don't, the holidays will be very long. Severus is buried beneath parent letters asking to keep their kids in the school during the holidays."

"And, what will he do?"

"Nothing. We don't have the staff or a plan to keep that many adolescents occupied over summer. Also, the break is necessary for cleaning, repairs, lesson plans… you know, maintenance. And I mean, I love my students, of course, but I don't have to see them every day for the whole year. With the State of Emergency, they will be hopefully be safe, if maybe a little bored. They will at least appreciate school more when the new term starts. So, what have you been thinking?"

"I have been thinking that this State of Emergency will probably play into the terrorists' hands. As you said, people will be bored, some will be out of business. It won't be sustainable for Minister Shacklebolt's government to support them financially long term. I am guessing that we will hear from the terrorists shortly, and Minister Shacklebolt will be even harder pressed to negotiate their terms."

"You may be right… poor Kingsley, I mean, it is not like he hasn't been trying."

"He has, yes." Viktor had not yet told her about the protection charm, or that the man who died in the explosion was possibly their suspect. She already had enough on her plate. "When are you coming?"

"The Graduation is next Thursday, and Friday is the End-of-the-Term Feast. I thought I'd visit my parents for a few days after that, and then catch a Portkey to Varna the week after. Is that OK?"

"Of course, sweetheart. I won't be able to take days off yet, though. Won't you be bored?"

"No, never, I have so much to do! I can also help..."

Before Hermione finished her sentence, Harry's head appeared in the Floo. Viktor knew in that instance that whatever this was about, it wasn't good.

"Hi Viktor, oh, hi 'Mione, sorry to interrupt, this is urgent, I am afraid."

"Hello Harry, sure, I have a staff meeting, anyway. Goodbye, Viktor."

Before Viktor could say goodbye, Hermione disappeared, and Viktor was left alone with Harry's ruffled head. He looked awful.

"Hey, sorry again for interrupting," Harry was panting slightly, as if we had been running. "We have a lead on the explosion victim. I just got a call from Berlin. Apparently, they have a DNA match. But you won't like it." Viktor didn't care if it was his second cousin, he had to know.

"Who is it?"

"Well, that's the thing. We still don't know. The DNA didn't match any record in the databases, except the muggle database for unidentified DNA samples found on crime scenes. According to their results, the DNA of the explosion guy matches that of the skin sample that was found under Peggy Warrington's fingernails six months ago."

Viktor closed his eyes and tried to recall. He did not know every local crime that happened everywhere, but this incident had made it to most European wizarding newspapers. Peggy Warrington, young mother, brutally murdered, her body clumsily disposed in a non-wizarding area. It had been ruled that she had been murdered in the non-wizarding world. A witch or wizard being killed or violated in the non-wizarding world was a challenge for the MLE. Those who were born to non-wizarding parents were registered as normal citizens and could seek justice via the non-wizarding police. Those who weren't, couldn't do so easily. MLE did not operate in the non-wizarding world, and even if the culprits would be caught, they could hardly be brought in front of a magical court or locked up in a magical prison without breaching the Statue of Secrecy. One of the reasons why pureblood witches and wizards had stayed away from the non-wizarding world for generations was undoubtedly the fear of falling victim to a crime that would never be punished. When Viktor thought about Peggy Warrington's family, who had yet to find closure, he could hardly hold this fear against them.

"Can I have a look at her case file?"

"I'll have it sent to your office. We don't have much, though. We let the muggle police do most of the analysis before we... eehmm... retrieved the results. There was no sign of a magical killing. There is an autopsy report and crime scene analysis. Lots of photos. I am already warning you, though, they are not nice." Given the nature of the crime, Viktor suspected as much. He had not been on a murder investigation yet, this was a new challenge. "I will have a look. How are you doing?"

"Mate, that is a very bad question. I now know why Snape was such a git on his patrols, and he was after children, not grown witches and wizards. Grown witches and wizards who can Apparate and Dissilusion themselves. It's not even been twenty-four hours, and people are already sick of seeing Aurors everywhere. And guess what, the Aurors are sick of it, too! It is not like we have an extra stash of working time tucked away somewhere, we are already so understaffed. We haven't even finished going through witness statements after the attacks! Now I don't know who will do it, we hardly get to do anything but patrol and dish out fines. I give it a week, tops, before everybody hates us, shit goes sideways, and this whole thing bites Kings in the arse." Viktor fully agreed.

"You can send me the witness statements too, I am on this case now. If you agree, of course."

"You are? I could kiss you. Godric on his horse, this is the best news I've had since… ever. I'll send you everything. Oh, Merlin. I don't know who I can spare for you as a partner. I'll look into it."

"We should be able to find one within the ITF."

"That might not work. Since Britain never signed the Pact, we are required to invest resources if we request ITF support. The only resource I can give you at the moment is a partner. I don't know why Wizengamot won't sign the damn thing." Viktor kind of knew, but he kept his opinion to himself.

"All right."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! Don't worry, I will find you an amazing partner. The best."

Every time someone told Viktor not to worry, he worried. He was good with people, and could work with most, but after Harry's "don't worry", a sudden feeling that he was going to be very, very unlucky took him over.

"Now, I'd stick around and profess my undying love to you, but I need to go. Are you on call this weekend?"

"No, I am off. I will visit my parents."

"Lucky bastard. Say hi to them. Ta-ta."

Viktor smiled as the Floo connection broke, and then laughed to himself as he imagined Harry kneeling before him and making love confessions. For a moment, he felt a little bad that he had a weekend off while others were toiling away, but then shook the intrusive thought off. He hadn't had a full weekend off in months. If he was going to last in law enforcement, which he desperately wanted to, he needed balance. There was no point to burning out and quitting early. He washed his bowl and looked outside, the sky was still clear blue with just the right amount of fluffy white clouds to make it interesting. Deciding that it was too beautiful a day to be wasted by Apparating, he pulled his cycling jersey and shorts on, and travelled the fifty-three kilometres to his family's mansion on his racing bike.

Spegel På Väggen Där: "Mirror on the wall". A play on the magic mirror from Snow White, and the German news magazine "Der Spiegel", The Mirror.

Добро утро, мила: Good morning dear