Sorry it's taken me so long to post this. I actually had four chapters uploaded, but I couldn't post them because FF was on the fritz. Anyway, thank you all for your reviews! I was worried that no one but my friends would read this, and I'm glad that others have! I hope you enjoy it. The chapters start to make more sense after this... The prologue was just an action-packed intro. Now they'll be told in regular story format.

M'Lady, to answer your question... you'll just have to keep reading! haha ;)

...And just in case... Not my characters, just my plot :)


Chapter 1

You're hurting way down inside
Afraid to leave your pain behind

Harry Potter blinked his brilliant green eyes through the rain. He had the hood of his black, soaking wet cloak over his head as he ran onto the front porch of the shabby, aged shack. Most of the windows had been broken, and what remained of the shutters was a dark, muddy grey. The roof had caved in on one side of the house. A small smile formed on Harry's lips when he noticed the figure of one Nymphadora Tonks standing in the doorway. The smile faded once it was clear that Tonks, as she preferred to be called, appeared very serious.

"So?" asked Harry, removing his hood from his head. He had been working with Tonks for several years, and had known her personally for a decade. She was rarely seen without a smirk of sorts on her face. Today the metamorphmagus had flowing auburn hair–a rarity for her. She gazed at him through electric blue eyes. Letting out a sigh, Tonks stepped aside, allowing Harry through the door.

"It's not pretty," she said. Harry gave her a wary look and walked into the house. He froze in his steps when he saw the disfigured body on the ground. The skull had been completely shattered, leaving the face entirely unrecognizable. However, this wasn't what made Harry stop in his tracks. It was what he saw when he noticed that the man had his sleeves rolled up. The marking on his right arm caused Harry's heart to pang with a hatred he hadn't felt in years.

"The Dark Mark," he said softly. Tonks nodded.

"I thought I'd check before you got here," she said gravely. Harry sighed and knelt beside the bloodied mass. He'd have to rely on other clues if there was any chance of revealing the identity of this man.

No. Not a man. A Death Eater.

Harry narrowed his eyes and glanced up at the man's hand that remained frozen above his head. He had been grasping a wand, but now his hand limply curved around it. Harry sighed, taking his own wand from his cloak pocket and placed the tip of it against the wand of the man. "Prior Incantato," he said. A puff of green smoke rose from between the wands in the shape of a spiral. The spiral continued to rise and twist, before exploding into the air like a firework. Harry shuddered and quickly uttered, "Deletrius." The smoke disintegrated before him, and he placed his wand back in his pocket. Harry remained silent for a moment, then looked up at Tonks who continued to stand in the doorway.

"Imperius," she muttered, and snorted softly with distaste. Harry stood up slowly and walked over to his partner.

"I thought they were gone," he said quietly. She raised her eyebrows at him and offered a reassuring smile.

"It's not like Voldemort's still around, you know," she replied. Since Voldemort had been defeated, it was often people spoke of him by name. Nobody feared him any longer.

"But it's been eight years. After eight years, this one was still running loose. How many more have we skipped over? Voldemort doesn't need to be around for these people to practice dark magic, and clearly," he nodded toward the body on the ground, "this one has." Tonks said nothing, and Harry sighed. "Any idea of who he is?" Tonks shook her head.

"Off the top of my head, I don't know which Death Eaters haven't been accounted for." Harry nodded and looked down at his feet. "I've already done a search of the house. There's no record of who lives here."

"Temporary, then. A temporary home. He was on the move," said Harry bitterly.

"We can't jump to conclusions," Tonks said. Harry knew she was right, but the mere idea of a Death Eater living around civilians enraged him. It was his job as an Auror to rid the world of those who practice dark magic, and he failed. He let one slip by him, and not just anyone–a Death Eater. It had been more than five years since he had heard anything about a Death Eater on the loose. Most had died in the war, and the remainders were thrust into Azkaban . . . or so he thought.

"I'll work on it," he said plainly.

"Harry, go home," ordered Tonks sympathetically. The concern was evident in her voice. "You've been working too hard lately, I know you just want to rest. Don't worry about any of this. I'll take care of it." She was right in the sense that Harry did just want to rest. He had spent the last few weeks away taking care of a messy situation in Russia. And before that was a thirteen-year-old who had stumbled upon an old book on Dark Arts and decided to play around with the spells he learned . . .

"No," said Harry. He would have paid a thousand Galleons to be back in his own bed, but it could wait. He was dealing with a Death Eater who had already performed an Unforgivable Curse. The least he could do was stick around and try to work on the case. He had already let someone down by failing to stop this man sooner. Harry cleared his throat and continued, "No, I'll stay. It's fine. I'll just stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a few nights. It's just as good as home."

To Harry's surprise, Tonks laughed. It was strange to hear laughter during a scene like this, but Harry couldn't help but smile as well. "Harry, you're a terrible liar. Fine, but please tell me if you want me to pick up the case. Don't overwork yourself." Harry promised that he wouldn't, but he knew he was lying again. He always overworked himself. It was his punishment. He had let too many fall to the hands of dark magic, and he wouldn't rest until he knew exactly what happened to this man–and what this man had done to deserve it.

"Have him sent to St. Mungo's,"Harry instructed Tonks. "I'll go back to the office and pull up some files." In truth, Harry wasn't in much of a rush to know anything about the dead man. Still, it was his job to get to the bottom of the situation. Although he was probably rightfully dead, it was still a murder. It was just another thing to keep Harry awake at night, wondering when it would all finally stop.

-

The Leaky Cauldron seemed to be the only place that never changed, in Harry's opinion. Since the first time he had been there, at age eleven, to now, at the age of 25, it was exactly the same. The bartender had always been Tom, the customers had been regulars for years, the rickety tables still creaked when you leaned on them, and the butterbeer was always delicious. Harry had come to the Leaky Cauldron only to rent a room for a few nights, but he must have spent hours talking to the customers, many of whom he already knew, before he could finally have some time for himself.

It had been three days since the night at the Death Eater's shack. Harry sat at a table on a Friday afternoon in the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. In front of him were several pieces of parchment, one of which he was studying very carefully. This was a list of all Death Eaters, and underlined were those remaining that were not confirmed to be dead or in Azkaban. Only five names were underlined, but to Harry, this was five too many. He racked his brain as he quickly skimmed the other documents, trying to find any clue as to which Death Eater he was looking for.

Avery, Patrick. Avery was not a possibility. It was assumed that the remaining Death Eaters had killed themselves after the war, knowing that it was either that or end up in Azkaban sooner or later–Avery took the former route. Avery had murdered Seamus Finnigan very early into the war, and later murdered Percy Weasley. Percy revealed himself as truly being on the side of the Order when Avery attempted to kill Mr. Weasley. Percy took the blow for his father, and before anyone could retaliate, Avery had apparated and was not heard from again until it was discovered he had committed suicide.

Dolohov, Antonin. Perhaps. Dolohov had escaped, and worked for Voldemort in every aspect but the battlefield. He was discovered as a spy and immediately thrust into Azkaban, only to escape after only a few months. Nobody ever heard mention of him after that, and it was assumed that he was dead.

Malfoy, Lucius. Malfoy had escaped Azkaban and plotted alongside Voldemort for the majority of the war. Once it was revealed that someone close to Malfoy was delivering their secrets to the Order, Voldemort immediately murdered him. Harry never discovered who it was that had ratted them out, but his first two guesses were Severus Snape or Igor Karkaroff. Either way, Dumbledore refused to reveal his sources.

Pettigrew, Peter. Harry read over the name several times, his eyes burning with anger. Peter Pettigrew had been dead since the war. Harry had killed Pettigrew himself. This was the man who had betrayed his parents, and it was his fault that they were dead. Sixteen years later, Wormtail also killed Remus Lupin with his fist of silver. Only silver can kill a werewolf, Harry had always heard, and it proved true. With his own eyes, Harry watched Pettigrew pierce Lupin's heart with his gleaming fist. Before Harry could call out as any means of distraction, Lupin crumbled onto the ground in a dying heap. Harry whirled as fast as he could toward Pettigrew, and before he could stop himself, he had said it. The Killing Curse flew from his own wand and hit Wormtail straight between the eyes. He didn't give it a second thought, running to Lupin's side. Voldemort's followers had murdered not only his parents, but his godfather and now Lupin, the only other man Harry ever truly trusted with his life. Even Dumbledore, as much as Harry respected him, was not the same. Lupin smiled at Harry for a short moment. "I'll watch over you, alongside James, Lily, and Sirius," were the last words he spoke before his heart stopped beating. Harry blamed himself for not killing Pettigrew when he had the chance during third year.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the scraping of a neighboring chair on the wooden floor of the Leaky Cauldron. He involuntarily hovered more closely over his papers as he shuffled them together and turned them upside down. He hadn't the chance to look up before he heard a familiar voice.

"Everywhere else is full," said a drawling voice. Harry blinked a few times before glancing at the figure across from him. His eyebrows raised and a small smirk played on his lips. The eyes of the person sitting opposite of him were wide with shock. Harry wasn't quite sure what to say. This was the last person he expected to see. He let out a small chuckle and then spoke the only thing he could think.

"Malfoy?"


Please R/R! That's what keeps me writing, ya know ;)