Packesel: The person who's stuck carrying everyone else's baggage. Literally, a burden-carrying donkey.

"What are your plans for today?" Viktor finished his kefir and looked at his watch. He would normally arrive at work earlier than the official start of his shift, but he found no reason to do so when he could instead have breakfast with his girlfriend.

"I thought I would work on the weird distraction-compulsion-spell on the bundle." Hermione took a sip of tea and a big bite of her French toast. "I may go to the beach later, and to the shops. Do you need anything?"

"You can have a look in the fridge. I have been gone a lot, I don't have that much fresh food. I'll call you during the lunch break." He dropped a kiss onto her curls before heading to work. "I will try to be home early."

"It's OK, I'll keep busy. Have a nice day."

"You too, sweet witch."

Viktor was in his office at eight o'clock sharp. At twenty-three minutes past eight, he ran out of small things that he could do in his office before he reached for the cardboard box with the British Ministry of Magic seal. First folder, witness statements after the attack. It was rather thick, but he already had some information, so hopefully he could get through these quite quickly. Next folder, crime scene investigation and some vials of witness memories. He had already seen some of these, so he put them to the side as well. At the bottom of the pile was the last folder, the unsolved murder case of Peggy Warrington. Viktor looked at his watch. Monday morning, not even nine o'clock. He squared himself and opened the folder.

Margaret Warrington, née Davis, thirty-two years old. Married to Cassius Warrington, mother of Leonhard Warrington, now thirteen months old. She had left home on the tenth of December 2007 to go Christmas shopping with her son. Her husband's statement indicated that she preferred to shop in muggle London, although he didn't approve, as they had better prices and choice, and it helped her stay connected to her beloved grandmother, who had been a muggle. Cassius Warrington had left home early in the morning to go to work and was not sure what time his wife had left, but she hadn't been home when he had called her during his lunch break. When she had not returned by the time he got back from work at half past five, he had been worried and called their family and friends. He had notified the Aurors at around eight p.m. that his wife and son were missing. Little Leonhard had been found in a park and delivered to a non-wizarding police station the next morning without a scratch on him. His mother, however… The body was found a few metres away from the baby, tossed behind the bushes without an obvious attempt to cover or hide it. Time of death, somewhere between ten p.m. and midnight, no drag-marks on the scene but footprints, size 44 (shit, it was him, thought Viktor). Cause of death...those sick fucks. The cause of death had been reported as exsanguination from a cut to the renal artery. No sign of rape, no sign of being restrained (well, magical restraints would hardly leave marks) or other signs of struggle except for the foreign skin under her nails. The non-wizarding police had not been able to identify her or the baby, but the Auror-police liaison officer had found them. The baby and the body had been retrieved by Harry himself and a small team of Aurors, all records deleted, memories of the witnesses and investigators obliviated. Viktor had been part of such a mission before, and knew that it was a ton of very tedious work. Harry's report stated that he had suggested stalling the mission to retrieve the body and letting the muggle police investigation continue, but his suggestion had been firmly declined by Cassius Warrington, who had not wanted his wife to remain in the muggle world. The body was brought to St. Mungo's, and the autopsy had revealed no magical killing. The victim had been seen leaving for muggle London through Diagon Alley at around ten a.m. Harry had managed to acquire CCTV footage from a few shops that her husband knew she frequented, however, she had not been spotted. The case had been classified as being committed by muggles, left behind a bitter widow who hated muggles, and a baby bereft of his mother.

Viktor found the whole investigation disappointing. By the looks of it, the only thing any wizard had to do to conceal their crimes was to commit them in the non-wizarding world and be a little smart. He started a to-do list. He would need to interview the family again in the light of the new evidence, and do some background checks on the husband who had been so adamant to terminate the non-wizarding investigation and have his wife cremated. Since the suspect had fled to Berlin, it was not impossible that the terrorist group was operating internationally. He decided to acquire all murder and missing person files across Europe in the past six months, and hoped with all his being that Harry would choose someone at least a little competent as his partner. He wrote a detailed case file request to be sent to ITF Headquarters across Europe and moved on to the witness statements when his phone rang. It was time to pick up his gun.

"Officer Krumov, welcome to the armoury. Excuse my attire, I have been doing some regular maintenance."

"No problem." Viktor shook the grease stained hand of the Armoury Master Zdravko Kovač and took the offered seat. The basement office was flooded with a warm, cosy light despite the lack of windows, and was free of anything firearm-related. Viktor had only met the man a few times, and only during after-work drinks or Christmas parties. Unlike his supervisor Jaron, he spoke fluent Bulgarian (well, Bulgarian probably was slightly easier to learn for a Croat than for an Israeli). He was dressed in a linen shirt with sleeves folded up to the elbows, exposing quite impressive forearms clad with braces, and a leather apron. A pair of funny-looking goggles was strapped over his brow.

"Let's see what we have here… A-ha. I'll be right back." He disappeared through one of the three doors at the back of the office, leaving Viktor alone and rather nervous. He had never carried firearms before, and somehow thought they would only cause trouble. Which was ridiculous really, why would firearms be any worse than a wand?

"Here is your service weapon, Officer Krumov," the Armoury Master returned with a box and a belt, "it is a standard issue SIG Sauer P320. Before I can hand it over, I need to see your ITF identification and firearms licence." Viktor produced both documents, which were scrutinized, copied and attached to a form. "You will need to read and sign these forms, please." Viktor read and signed the documents on firearms safety, procedure on crime scene clean-up after firearms use, and the target practice routines. Another ton of bureaucracy, he thought, though at least this time they do seem to make sense. A non-wizarding police ID that would change appearance depending on which country he was in was also included, should he be asked to provide it when operating in the non-wizarding world.

"I have chosen this weapon based on the case description on your request form, I believe it will be adequate. It has a silencing charm which will need to be renewed every six months, but this is a part of the standard maintenance procedure and will be done by me. In general, in case you face problems, I urge you to bring the weapon over to me as soon as possible and not to try to address them yourself."

"I understand." Not that Viktor was very keen on tinkering with firearms, and the tone of the Armoury Master's voice left no room for discussion.

"Now, please put your hands on the weapon one after the other, first the palm, and then each fingertip." Viktor did as told, and every time he changed the position of his hand, the Armoury Master cast an imprint spell.

"The weapon is now fully issued to you. If anyone else touches it, it will automatically be Vanished back to the Armoury. Please note that if this happens, you will be banned from wielding firearms, and will not be issued another weapon for six months." Fair enough, thought Viktor.

"Anything else I can help you with? If you need more ammunition, just send me a missive. I do hope that you will not need to use it frequently. "

"Thank you." Viktor fastened the belt around his waist, and placed the gun into the holster. It felt...odd. The moment he stepped outside, he transfigured the belt into one that he could strap around his shoulders and chest, hiding the gun below his jacket. Was it any better this way? It still felt cold, heavy, and clumsy. He checked his watch, it was just after eleven. Since he was already in the basement, he decided to check in for spell target practice and have done with it.

He presented his wand at the practice range entrance, started the moving target practice drill and stepped into the empty hall, standing behind the red line that appeared in front of him. He skipped the warm-up with static targets and went straight to moving target practice. The first drill was with body-bind spells, most effective when targeted at the lower abdomen. Viktor hit the holograms moving in all directions with increasing speeds, first one after the other, and then in groups. After the round, he was presented with a score of 89%. The next spell was disorientation, to the upper half of the body. Easy. As the targets started to move, Viktor's mind wandered to the murder case. Was there a chance that Cassius Warrington knew the suspect? What could be their motivation? Even if someone wanted to kill the young mother, why kidnap the child as well? He had not been harmed in any way. Maybe she had been threatened? Tortured? He finished the drill with a 93% score. Next, stunners. This was Viktor's speciality. Most effective when aimed at the chest, hitting the head could cause severe concussions, or even death. Would anyone really kidnap a child to threaten the mother? Viktor's heart constricted. He normally did a good job distancing himself from his work, but for a split second, as he imagined that it could have been his love, his child, he saw red. He fired a stunner to the hologram moving towards him, hitting it square between the two brows.

Fuck.

The drill terminated and he was given a penalty. He started again with ten static targets before he was allowed to proceed to the moving targets. With utmost concentration and precision, he scored 98%, which was a weak consolation considering that had the target been a real human, he would certainly have killed him. Well, this was precisely why he practised, right? Self-loathing was useless and a waste of time. And so was admonishing oneself because of wasting time by self-loathing…

He quickly finished the rest of the drill and left the room. You are a law enforcement officer, he reminded himself. You have killed people before, and surely you will kill again. Maybe, one day, even if you are careful, you will kill someone by accident. You almost got killed yourself, more than once. You can quit today and live in prosperity without working a single day of your life, but you don't, because this is your fucking choice. Get a fucking grip, do your job, and stop being a whiny twerp.

Much better. He took a deep breath and headed back to his office, to lock his gun away and call his girlfriend. Hermione's phone rang four times before she answered, Viktor guessed that she was outside.

"Hello Viktor! I am beside the seaside, can you hear?" Viktor heard the faint sound of the waves through the phone, laughing to himself as he imagined Hermione holding her phone out toward the sea.

"I can hear, yes. How is your day so far?"

"Good! I didn't do much. I had to set wards around Levvy's perch. Pebbles was using it as a scratch post, and he was not amused. I had a bath and unpacked some of my things. How is the investigation going?"

"I don't know," Viktor tried not to sound too deflated. "I am investigating Peggy Warrington's murder in connection with the Cardiff attack."

"Peggy Warrington? Cassius Warrington's wife?"

"Yes, she was. Do you know him?"

"Yes. No. I mean, not personally, he was a few years ahead of me in Hogwarts. Slytherin. He was a part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, now a lawyer, if I remember correctly. He writes articles for a traditionalist news magazine… The Bulwark, I think? I wouldn't call them blatant propaganda, but they do have a very anti-muggle tone to them. I don't normally read stuff like that, but I've featured in his articles one or two times. Corrupting the youth and stuff, you know."

Viktor was not happy about what he heard. At all. "How long has this been going on? Why haven't you told me?"

"I don't know, maybe since the beginning of the year? It didn't bother me very much, I just assumed that this was his way of getting closure for what happened to his wife. Perhaps it is easier to get over your grief if you can blame someone."

Viktor made a note to acquire Warrington's articles. He was a little undecided whether he should warn Hermione or not. She was not inside the protective wards of Hogwarts any more. His home was safe, but what about anywhere else?

"What are your plans for the rest of the day, sweetheart? Have you been shopping?"

"No, not yet. Any special dinner wishes?"

"I will love whatever you make. Just keep your phone with you at all times, OK?"

"You are talking like Harry."

"Harry is a good friend. Seriously, though."

"Yeah, yeah, constant vigilance! Huf, the seawater is cold. Gotta go, see you later this evening?"

They hung up after kisses blown over the phone. Viktor's gaze alternated between the Warrington case file and Cardiff victim statements, his fingers tapping a ⅞ rhythm on the desk. He needed a very big sticky board.

"Hey Vitya, lunchtime! Hop hop." Jaron leaned into the doorway, his jacket slung over one shoulder.

"I don't have time today..."

"Of course you do, come on! Oh and, catch!" Viktor caught the white object tossed at him in the air. It was a tube of effervescent magnesium tablets.

"What's this?"

"What does it look like? Magnesium, is good for your muscles. Good for your aim, too. Better take one before the next target practice." With another saucy wink, his boss left the office. Grunting, Viktor grabbed his jacket, wondering if the entire department had already been informed about his lapse by his chatty boss.

Having finally installed a large sticky board which took over most of his office, Viktor started assembling the bits and pieces of information that he had. Peggy Warrington, thirty-two. Kidnapped with her on 10.12.07, found dead a day later. Child unharmed. Body retrieved on 17.12.2007. Viktor attached the gruesome photos of the body next to the information he wrote. Why was the child kidnapped? Why was it returned unharmed? Was there a reason behind the murder method? He wrote down all the questions below the photos. He drew an arrow on the board and wrote "Cassius Warrington, thirty-two, husband. Lawyer, works at Gringotts. Has been writing for a traditionalist news magazine -The Bulwark- since the death of his wife. Blood supremacist? Identitarian?" Viktor had been on an undercover mission to an Identitarian camp to investigate possible radicalization, but this was already a year and a half ago. He needed to check the latest intelligence. He also wrote down that Warrington had requested that the body of his wife be recovered and the non-wizarding investigation stopped as soon as possible. Was this the behaviour of a husband who wanted his wife's killer caught?

Terror attack in a shopping street in wizarding Cardiff. Victims uniformly report blurred vision and flashes of light which lasted for a few seconds. The suspect was seen Disapparating from the scene in the memories collected from the victims, at which point the victims had already lost the ability to perform magic. Suspect seen crossing the border to the continent on 07.06.08, Saturday. Viktor had started to chase him the next day. He wrote down the Apparition stops, encounter in Leuwaarden, and the explosion in Berlin. Evidence recovered: Body parts, pieces of clothing, bundle that protects against harmful magic. He drew an arrow to Peggy Warrington, suspect's DNA found under her fingernails, and possibly footprints next to her body. Another arrow connected the Cardiff attack to the bundle. Old magic, newly made. Protects wearer against harmful spells. Personal. It had undoubtedly rendered the suspect immune to whatever spell he had used during the attack. Protected by a charm that prevents others from thinking about it. Mentioned in a book by the Durmstrang Headmaster, Charms Master and Lucius Malfoy, Professor of History in Hogwarts. Headmaster Inan had given him some background on similar objects, but hadn't told him about the book. Was that just negligence? He drew another arrow from Lucius Malfoy to Draco Malfoy. Owns a Potions company, working on a cure. Minister of Magic candidate. Lucius Malfoy had said that he was very close to finding a cure. How could one find a cure when no one even knew what had happened to the victims? Maybe Lucius Malfoy had been misinformed? "Do background checks on Draco Malfoy's company, ask for an appointment," he wrote down below Draco's name. The kid had made life hell for Harry and Hermione during their school years, but Viktor had not heard much about him since the war. He stepped back to take a look at his work. Something was missing. Motive. A motive that would tie a group of wizards who removed another, random group's ability to perform magic to the kidnap and murder of a mother.

He wrote one last name, not connected to anything. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic. Systematically eliminated Voldemort's supporters, introduced a series of reforms to bring non-wizarding technology into the wizarding world, following the example of many other contemporary wizarding societies. Recent polls indicate declining support. Declared State of Emergency two weeks after the attack. Rival to Draco Malfoy.

Viktor rubbed his neck and closed his eyes for a moment. The whole process had taken time, but it was time well-spent. His head was much clearer, and although there were still many unknowns in the equation, he felt a lot more in control of the situation than before. He reached to call the department secretary and ask about the case files. When no one picked up, he glimpsed at the clock on the wall in panic, relaxing slightly when he saw that it was only six. Still, he did not lose any more time before he gathered his things and walked to the Floos with a skip in his step. It wouldn't do to be late for dinner.