Disclaimer: Check first chapter for full disclaimer and other warnings.

Chapter 9 – Rescue Missions

Percival Weasley had argued with his father to join his current job. And, thorough and stubborn as he generally was, he wanted to do it well. Even if he now knew why his father hadn't been speaking of the department in good terms. The laws of the Ministry of Magic concerning the plethora of known and unknown magical creatures were more than one could digest in one go. And Percy's job was, for the most part, to strengthen these law's text, that is, to research which obscure article served as base to a given law, and so forth. Once this was done for one law, you had a text ten times as big. And there were so many of them...

Nearby...

Kingsley Shacklebolt wasn't as happy as he was before. He had been satisfied that the team of Aurors destroyed the two vampires, but utterly wounded about the deaths of Melinda and John. Especially about Melinda, as she seemed to have suffered the most. The state of Tonks was only slightly better, as she was still unconscious in St Mungo. And he was annoyed that Auror Stuart was missing.

Crossing a new young employee in the department corridors, and wanting to know everyone around him, he stopped him in his usual way, quite rudely. Unfortunately, the young man had had his head in the clouds generated by his work, and his arms were full of papers. Percy fell down, throwing law texts everywhere. Taking pity of the young redhead, Kingsley muttered an apology, and started to help him get the papers back. When this was done, the young man looked up to him, and winced. Everyone knew the Cleansing team and its director's ways. Still, the man wasn't yelling, just looking at him speculatively.

"You are a Weasley." This wasn't a question.

"Yes sir, Percival Weasley, 6th year in Hogwarts, here on a summer job, sir."

Kingsley reflected some more, hiding a smirk, before adding "I may have a job for you, if you are interested."

"Anything, sir!" Percy bubbled happily, before remembering his current job and armload, and blushing.

Kingsley chuckled merrily. "It's okay, son. We all know the tedious nature of these laws. You should ask your father about them." At that, Percy's head shot up, but Kingsley wasn't paying attention. "Still, if you prefer to stay where you are..."

"No sir, I'm interested. What do you want me for?"

"Hmm... I'm rather busy today. Meet me tomorrow at 8am in my office."

"Yes, sir!"

Northern London funfair...

Gabriel's hair was growing. It had only been a month since he woke up in the dump, and his hair had grown a full inch from its burnt previous appearance. It was now in spikes all over the place. He just hoped that his hair would get long enough to hide his face someday. What was even more bizarre than his exceptional quick hair growth, was the fact that, when he was concentrating on them really hard, he could feel them growing. Of course, he hadn't told this to anyone. Already singled out by his appearance, he didn't want people to throw him back to the streets because he was a freak.

A freak.

How he hated this word! He didn't know why, but he positively hated it.

Anyway, his job agreement with the woman was holding. He maintained the tracks, oiled the different parts, activated some of the non-automatic monsters, and participated himself.

He had almost got an accident once, when, while removing a fallen puppet monster from the tracks, a ride cart had nearly hit him. He still didn't know who had been the most frightened between him and the cart's occupants. Reflecting about that, he had admitted that his look wasn't very pleasant, especially in the ride's lights, and had decided that he could enhance the ride by playing a monster himself. After a brief discussion with the woman, he had tried, successfully, with and without accessories, and enjoyed himself immensely. His favourite display was without any accessory, using his normal clothes. Truth be told, his clothes were already appropriate for a vampire, and he began to like the gothic style. The kids, and sometimes adults, he frightened were doing the ride a good publicity, and there were more people than before. The randomness of his manifestations even made some people go through the ride several times in a row. All in all, the woman and he were making good money and he started to store a little bit of it.

On the rare times when he wasn't working in the ride, he was either selling tickets or trying to find the red-haired girl again, quest in which he hadn't got any success yet. He was working on the ride for most of the day, and she wasn't at her father's stall or in the park before or afterwards. He finished by deciding she had been a dream, but stayed where he was anyway, because he was enjoying himself.

When out of the ride, he always made sure to hide his face with his hair, and to dress with a hooded cape, thus keeping the surprise for the prospective horror show riders, and not attracting undue attention. When he was selling tickets, he had much free time, and started to draw. What were only indistinct figures at the beginning started to take form into a large castle, with animals around it. More specifically, snakes and birds. After a few days, the woman interrupted him, by appearing behind him and complimenting the drawing. However, when she started to ask about the bird's specie, he was unable to answer. Not one to reveal weaknesses like amnesia to anyone, he just shrugged it away. But this little part of his past was tugging at him. Castles, snakes, birds... the girl. Deep down, he knew there was a link, but he couldn't figure it out.

There were many bird species living in town, but none compared to the one he is drawing. He even saw an owl once, in broad daylight, another strange occurrence, but when he signalled that to the woman, she didn't see it. Still, the owl was around the fair for most of that day. That evening, walking from the show to the mobile home with the woman, he felt something hitting the top of his head. It was a scrap of peach-coloured paper, appearing to have been scribbled onto, but so damp from the weather that only a few words were legible, and bits of paper seemed moulded away.

...one...

...you?...

...ny

Looking around to see if anyone was nearby to throw him debris, he was surprised to find no one. He forgot about the incident, and, talking with the woman, totally missed the white owl hooting in the sky.

The following day was beginning badly. First of all, he got a nightmare. A big one, where there was so much pain that he couldn't remember it. Then, the rain. Well, sometimes, you don't call it mere rain, but rather a downpour. So much water coming from the sky that the ride couldn't function properly and, even as properly covered as it was, would need a whole clean-up before running again. So much water also that there were no clients in the park at all. So much water finally that the electricity provided by the city was failing. No job, no heating, no light, nothing. It was that bad.

Still, it left time for a little chat with his employer and landlady. But he avoided most of the questions, not even knowing the answers himself. Misunderstanding him, and thinking that he just had some private secrets, as she herself did, she decided not to press the issue anymore. At least, not today. So, he continued to draw 'things' from his incomplete memory. The woman had bought him a sketchpad at one point, and he had made a good use of its pages. Among the variations of castles, snakes, and birds, he had also tried to draw the girl's face, but had failed miserably each time, too wrapped up in emotions to think correctly. Now he was more into drawing medieval weapons, especially swords. Why? He doesn't know. Like his other drawings, it came naturally to his mind. When the sky finally stopped trying to drown the world, they came out, and went directly to the show.

On their way, they found themselves among a small crowd of other stall keepers going to inspect their businesses, and, to Gabriel's shock, the girl and her father were there. After two weeks, her hair was still fiery and so beautiful that his breath caught and he had to stop walking. This didn't go unnoticed by the woman who, looking back and forth between the two teenagers, smiled widely.

"So, Gabe, got hooked already?"

When he didn't answer, she muttered "obviously" and, by repeatedly tugging at his sleeve, finally woke him, and they went to their show. There was a little damage, but enough so that they had to clean the whole structure and couldn't run the ride that day. Oh well. The improved income thanks to Gabriel's presence had made sure that they wouldn't go bankrupt for at least a week of inaction. Still, it was annoying.

When they were finished, it was late afternoon. The woman asked him, with a twinkle in her eyes, if it bothered him that she invited some friends for dinner. Not catching the twinkle, he accepted and she left the counter, letting him close it.

Gabriel headed back to their mobile home, and was startled to hear chatter coming from it. 'Obviously, she already invited her friends,' he reflected. He entered the place, and found his landlady opposite the doorway, and a black-haired guy in front of her. The woman indicated the seat next to her, and, as he sat, he was shocked to find the face of the girl's father looking at him approvingly, apparently not deterred by his scarred appearance.

"So, Grace here told me you improved the train ride? Good, good. I'm not in shows myself, more like the guns, yes. I'm Michael, by the way."

A mumbled "Nice to meet you" by Gabriel was met by a twin laugh from the two adults there, just when the door opens and a clear feminine voice called "Dad, you put a note to find you at Grace's, what's the matter?"

Ashamed, and blushing, Gabriel looked up at his landlady, and when she answered with a raised eyebrow, he knew she was playing the matchmaker. Even if it felt good to be with the girl, he was very insecure about his appearance. In his job, it was an asset, but with girls...

Still, she didn't seem impressed by the scars. She eyed him curiously first, taking him in, then naturally smiles, and held her hand. "Good evening. I'm Joan. And you are?"

At the girl's natural vitality, he was quite lost, and couldn't remember his name. He panicked and it was Grace that answers, with laughter in her voice. "Gabriel is quiet, but not mute, generally."

Turning around, he shot his landlady a dark look, before sighing, collecting himself, and turning back again towards the girl. "I'm Gabriel. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you."

The ice being broken, they sat, and an agreeable discussion ensued. Even if he couldn't remove his only working eye from her, she seemed not to mind, and even blushed sometimes. That was the best evening he could remember, and he couldn't miss the pang of loneliness when the guests went home that night.

Later...

The night was still, and Gabriel asked himself why he was awake. Sure, he was still excited about yesterday, and had had trouble finding his sleep. He now knew where the girl and her father lived, and she didn't seem disgusted by his scars. They had even invited him and Grace for another dinner that week. So he was feeling good. But the feeling that woke him was as if, in this entire situation, something, or someone, was missing. Not being able to pinpoint what it was, was utterly frustrating. Going back to sleep, he decided that, even if he was missing something, he should enjoy the situation.

The next morning was better than the previous one, and the shining sun promised a beautiful day, thus successful concerning the ride.

Near midday, Gabriel had been doing the monster for some time, and was quite tired. At one point, he had got a fleeting remembrance of his past when a cart passed by, and, just before he scared the boy and his mom there, he had heard them speaking in shushed tone.

"Mom! It's not even scary!"

"You wanted to go there, sonny."

"Yes but these muggles are so..."

And that had been when he booed to them, effectively scaring them. After this one, he reflected about the fact that the term the boy used at one point had been known to him before, but he couldn't remember it.

Then, a group of six older teens, around the age of eighteen, took the ride. Now, when people went to a horror train ride, it was either to enjoy a good scare, or to prove to themselves or others that they weren't scared easily. These teens were of the latter sort, and they were answering every monster's shouts with insults of their own and laughter. When Gabriel went to them, though, they jumped out of their skin and squealed in fright. These youth's group wasn't finished as a second and third carts followed, and he got them also.

Satisfied with himself, but a little tired from his morning's activities, he did this for a few carts, before going out of the ride, signalling to Grace that he was going home. Unknown to him, the group of teens from earlier hadn't been happy of being scared like little girls and were plotting against him, while smoking some unholy things. As they had to wait for a long time, they were a little stoned when he got out.

As Gabriel left, they followed, and, when he took a hidden shortcut between noisy stalls, they ran and threw him on the floor. Having two of them sitting on him was quite painful, and they added to his discomfort by laughing and gloating. Then, one of them, obviously the leader, approached him. His skull-decorated cloth scarf started to remind something to Gabriel, but he hadn't time to ponder this, as the leader addressed him, shouting in his ear over the surrounding blare.

"So, scar-face, happy to scare people? We are going to give it back to you." and he threw his foot on Gabriel's side, to his gang's shouts of "Show him, Johnny!" Soon, encouraged by the blaring music around them and the relative isolation of the alleyway, all six of them were landing kicks and punches on him. After a dispirited attempt to defend himself, only succeeding in angering them further, he collapsed under the assault and blacked out.

Godric's Hollow's cemetery...

Heart-wracking sobs.

Angry shouts.

Casual conversation.

All this could be heard around the Potter's grave, but there was only one person present. Ginny Weasley was visiting the place, alone. After several nights having nightmares about him, she wanted to open up, at least to his grave. The previous nightmare had been crystal clear but, strangely, not related to the imagined house fire as usual. She had been in a noisy place where people seemed to enjoy themselves, and she had seen Harry being beaten by ruffians. She couldn't see his face, but she sensed it was him, and she had sprung awake in cold sweat, again. She was still denying Harry's death, still having feelings towards him, but the logic and mindset of the people around her was soaking her. That's why, between regular, if one-sided, chats with a tombstone, she also wept on it, and shouted at the outside world.

A hoot coming from the sky diverted her attention, and she looked up just in time to catch the white ball of feathers that she adopted some time ago.

Ginny got to the damp owl happily, searching for a missive. Finding none, she inspected Hedwig's talons and was distressed to find bits of damp peach-coloured paper, recognizing her own stationery colour. She stumbled in defeat. Harry had not been found, and Hedwig lost her message in the rain, trying to find him.

St Virginia's hospital, room C17...

He stirred in his bed, slowly awakening.

"Hey you," a soft voice near his ear breathed.

He opened his eye, but the light was so intense that he had to close it immediately. After hearing a scuffle of curtains closing, he tried to open them again. In the darkened room, he noticed the petite frame of his red-headed friend Joan.

Rasping, he answered "Hey yourself."

She giggled, but her concerned eyes didn't leave him, and she looked worried.

"What is it?" he asked, too weak to even raise his head to look at himself. Trying to move his limbs though, he discovered that he couldn't, and panicked.

"Shh..." she said, "you'll heal quickly, the doctors are good, around here."

"I remember... a group of people... and they attacked me..."

"Yes, we saw them running out of the shortcut, guiltily I'd say, and dad pursued them, but they were too quick. I went in the alleyway to check if they broke something, and I found they broke... you."

Surprised to hear tears in her voice, he looked up, and reached to brush her tears away. His arm was awkward, due to the plaster cast. She whimpered at the touch, and he was surprised of her reaction. He was also discovering his cast and wondered what those white tubes were doing around various parts of his body. Looking intently at his cast, he discovered that his three friends had signed on it, wishing him a quick recovery. He also remembered recent dreams, where he concentrated on techniques learnt from a book. A very important book. Still out of reach of his conscious mind, though.

While he was looking at his arm, though, the door opened, and a grave voice intoned, "Miss Freyr, I already told you not to stay too long. He's not scheduled to wake for at least a m..." the doctor who had been talking, was stopped in his tracks as, opening the curtains, he noticed Gabriel staring alternatively at him and his cast.

"Impossible," he muttered "he shouldn't be able to move his arm."

Smiling, as a part of him was proud to exceed the doctor's expectations, Gabriel wiggled his finger tentatively. The astonished doctor was debating with himself about something, before taking hold of the bed. He removed the brakes and pushed Gabriel's bed out of the room, with a last glance to Joan Freyr, telling her to wait, and that they wouldn't be long.

They went at the end of the aisle, where the radiography machines were, and Gabriel got scanned through all his wounds. The results astounded the doctor even more. Looking at Gabriel inquiringly, he asked "You don't have a twin do you? You didn't just switched places with a wounded boy that, by a miracle, would look exactly like you?"

"What do you mean, doctor? I remember being attacked, and waking in that room, that's all."

"Hmm..." the doctor didn't lose his stunned expression for a while, before shaking himself awake.

"You are fine. All your casts can be removed, except the one on your left leg, where you are still a little fragile. We had to break the bones again, because it was already badly bent. I gather you were limping before?" At Gabriel's nod, he smiled. "Well, after your recovery, you won't anymore. You healed surprisingly quickly, though, young man. You had several other fractures in your legs, ribs, and arms. I'd advise you to be careful with your leg for a week. If your healing is that quick," he continued, encompassing Gabriel's body in a wave of his arm, "we will remove it then. Now, don't move, as we remove these. Have you had casts before?"

At Gabriel's head shaking 'no', he explained the concepts behind the cast saw, which couldn't cut bones, and merely grazed the skin, while cutting in a cast efficiently. Gabriel understood, and he was a little less apprehensive and jumpy when cast after cast was removed from his body. As he was still a little feeble, having been inactive for the best part of a week, the doctor advised him to stay at the Hospital for a few hours.

Gabriel was smiling, when another dumbfounded nurse pushed his bed back in his room, where he found an anxiously waiting Joan. Happy to see him in such a good health, she squealed, and jumped in his arms, crying with relief.

Back at the Ministry...

Percy was happier than the previous day. At one point in the evening, he had asked his father about Shacklebolt's comment, and a blushing Arthur told him that he had started working for the Ministry in that particular department, and it had taken him three years to extricate himself from the laws and paperwork and ask for a better position. That had ended their mutual wariness on the subject, and they had spent a good part of the evening talking about laws on beings and beasts.

He got transferred directly with Shacklebolt's secretaries' office, and was assigned the job of sorting the most recent files. He quickly dispatched the one about the werewolf nest, from the month before, and got stuck with the next in the stack. The vampire case was still open, because Stuart Lengley was still missing. If nobody was to investigate, the file would stay open for a year, and take unnecessary space in the already confined office. True to the style of the office, which he appropriated quite quickly, he went to his superior.

"Sir?" Percy was still a little apprehensive of disturbing Kingsley's activities like that. Kingsley, though, didn't mind the slightest. At least now.

"Yes, Weasley?"

"I was sorting the vampire case, sir, and I was thinking that an investigation about Lengley's whereabouts could help close the file. We don't know, perhaps he's dead like the others."

"That would be a pity." Kingsley Shacklebolt looked sad for a second, before continuing. "You're right, though, but we don't have enough resources to explore that avenue right now. Almost every Auror is on duty."

The man was eyeing him appraisingly, and Percy gathered his courage to ask the next question. "I... I could help with that, sir."

His superior's surprise at hearing the question was only revealed by the raise of his right eyebrow, but, thinking about it, he could send the young man to question Nymphadora Tonks, who just woke from her injuries.

That's how Percy got in St Mungo the very same day, to pry information from the newly awakened but still lying Auror. The afternoon was turning into a grey evening, and, after some difficulties understanding the problem at hand, he returned to his office to report.

"What do you mean, three?" Shacklebolt wasn't a man to display bubbling feelings, but the young redhead still felt the underlying anger.

"That's what she said, sir. They were three of them, and they remarked it even before the final confrontation, due to the vampire's... sleeping arrangements. Unfortunately, the Comtact was broken and they couldn't ask for reinforcements. She also said that one of them was an elder, and the pictures of the place taken by the rescue team confirmed the coffins' display."

"An elder? The elder? Sweet Merlin!"

The chief of the Cleansing team of the Creatures department was still not displaying his anger, but his tone of voice was hard as steel when he tapped on his Comtact with his wand, barking a name.

"Weinard! My office! Now!"

A second after, a wizard in his twenties was apparating in the room, his clothes in disarray and his eyes halfway closed. It was unknown to Percy how someone could apparate in this state without splinching himself. Idly reflecting on this while Shacklebolt's anger was rising, he decided that it was certainly due to practise.

"Justin Weinard! How many coffins were there in the vampire's hideout?"

Seeing his boss' anger under the surface, the other man was waking, fast. "I... I don't remember, sir. There were debris all around, and we had a deceased and especially two critically wounded Aurors to take care of. I don't recall anything about coffins. I mean... I remember one, because it was on a remote dais, untouched by the fight, but that's all."

"A dais?"

"Yes sir, if I recall correctly, it was surrounded by artwork and rich carpets, like what we learnt about elder vamp..." The man's eyes widened suddenly, the enormity of his responsibility crashing upon him.

"So, you noticed an elder vampire bedding, and just found useless to inform us? We have two deceased Aurors, one still in St Mungo, and a fourth has disappeared. I want to know the elder's whereabouts, and I want to know it fast!"

Shacklebolt tried to rein his anger. Sighing deeply, he showed Percy to Justin and intoned, in a dark tone, "Justin, you'll work with Percy Weasley here. He's here for a summer job, but his insight in this case has proven useful. He'll be in charge, and you are to protect him during your travels outside."

"Outside, sir?" Both young men stood aghast.

"Yes. You are to investigate the place, and find where he could have fled. Thank you, Percy, you have proven yourself valuable, and this won't be ignored in your career, should you want to join us after Hogwarts." Percy bristled with pleasure.

Turning towards the other young man, Kingsley Shacklebolt intoned gravely. "Justin, yours is hanging, here. Help Percy to your best and I may revise my opinion. You are both dismissed."

Two young men stumbled out of Shacklebolt's office, stunned, before deciding on a meeting place and time the next day.

The following morning, they arrived together at the shoddy building where three Aurors met their fate, and from which a fourth had disappeared. Using a few history-revealing spells taught by the Auror Academy to any future investigation squad, Justin told Percy how the battle took place and what the results were. Percy was writing all this in his large journal, for future reporting. Justin added that he and his colleagues were pressed when, called as a rescue team, they had to take care of the fallen before starting to reflect. Shivering, they both explored the beautifully decorated dais with the open coffin on it.

Open?

In broad daylight?

They looked towards each other as the same thought crossed their mind. Percy then wrote furiously while Justin walked around the mahogany coffin draped in purple silk. Justin also remarked the coffin's size, inappropriate for a grown man. Exploring the coffin's interior, and ripping its silken hangings apart, they also uncovered a stack of supposedly false identity papers, usable in several countries. Looking through the stack, they noticed that, contrarily to usual stacks of fake IDs found around thugs and ruffians, these don't have the same picture. Different names, different pictures, different ages though always between 13 and 18.

Percy put the evidence in a special pocket of the jacket he got from Shacklebolt. Not being an Auror, he didn't have the proper equipment to investigate a case like this. The jacket had many pockets, all covered by a conservation charm, making them the ideal place to store evidence. They then went outside, in search of witness of either the vampire or the Auror.

After several houses, Percy looked defeated. Justin knew this kind of neighbourhood from the missions he went through, but the area was just too trashy, physically and in the few inhabitants' mind, for Percy's mental health.

They decided to finish by walking around the area a last time, not bothering to enter houses anymore. And, beside the last strip of road, they noticed a pile of rubble and waste, where an object caught the sun's light and reflected it towards them. Holding their handkerchief to their noses to quell the stench, they went to check and, after digging for a second or two, they found a sword. All thoughts of leaving the area fled them immediately as they recognize an Auror's sword, personalized to Stuart Lengley. With the evidence in Justin's trembling hands, they searched the debris, but didn't find anything else. Disturbed as to why the Auror would get rid of his sword in such a place, they started to leave the area, when Percy's attention was drawn to a plastic bag lying on the floor. Contrarily to most of the stuff around them, the bag was quite clean, without dust and mud, and the like. Sensing his partner's hesitation, Justin turned over and also noticed the bag. Then he paled. There, written in black on the crisp white material, was one muggle word that every Auror knows. Forensic.

Some time afterwards, and a scourging charm from Justin on them both, two disgruntled young men entered the nearest forensics office. The wizards' culture rarely kept the dead in the open, preferring to bury them as quickly as possible. The reason behind this was that each body still contained a part of the magical power held by the deceased person. And that magic could be used by necromancers, either to fuel spells, and to create powerful undead servants. When buried, the body decomposition would happen faster, and the power still left in the body would dissipate harmlessly in the earth. Some wizards and witches, whose main job was directed towards Nature, even thought that the magic power was initially given by the Nature and had to go back there. For them, besides being evil, necromancy was an antithesis of everything alive.

All these thoughts found their way in the young men's heads as they progressed through the corridors. They had showed a charmed badge to the receptionist and asked their way, and were now entering a room, covered in tiles. A whole wall of the room consisted of drawers, and Percy shuddered to think of their content. Working on one table, a man in green overalls was humming an unknown tune. And on the table was lying the very prone, and very naked, body of Stuart Lengley.

Shocked at the display, they gasped, and the man turned around, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Who are you?"

It took a moment for them to recover, not being used to see dead people on display, especially naked and in such a violent light. Before coming here, though, they had made up a story.

"Percival Lengley, it's my... my dad, over here."

The other man's eyes inspected him with distrust clearly showing. But the deceased's identification paper, though with a weird aspect, mentioned that his name was Stuart Lengley, and he had no way of disproving the young redhead's affirmation. Some information was missing, though, and he thought that he could fill the record by extracting data from this visibly shaken teen. His sadistic side was coming out, and these two shaken specimen of humankind would be perfect for his verbal prodding.

"So, as he's your dad, you must know his name, hmm?"

"Stuart Lengley, sir."

"How old is he?"

"Forty-five."

"What's his blood group?"

The question took both wizards by surprise. Both had been raised by wizards, and for any wound, they had potion. The notion of blood group was totally unknown to them. While Percy was dumbfounded and visibly racking his brain for a valid answer, the professional side of Justin took over, though, and he casually answered.

"We don't know. It has been a while, and we never talked about this."

"And who are you, pray tell?"

"Percy's cousin. His dad worked as a freelance reporter and photograph, and the thrill of adventure didn't cope well with a stable family, so he left them five years ago."

That seemed to placate the older man, and, after a few other questions, with both guests answering, still sticking to the cover story, the worker let them take the corpse. Having a last look at his face before covering him up, they were startled to find no pain, nor anguish on the dead man's face, but rather a smug expression of triumph, as if, while dying, he succeeded in achieving something of importance.

Something wasn't clicking in the worker's mind, though, and he decided to ask the question while they were leaving to fill in some paperwork. The visitors looking relieved, he thought that they wouldn't guard their answers like they seemed to do before.

"Is it normal, for a reporter, to be stabbed in the heart?"

The silence that ensued was deafening. Percy's face was displaying too many emotions, and Justin looked like a mouse cornered by a hungry cat, looking left and right. The doctor stood back, satisfied to have had them, and was ready to call for the receptionist, when Justin took a wood stick from his pocket, and, directing towards the doctor, spoke, "Obliviate."

Some hours afterwards, the wizards pushed the levitating corpse of the deceased Auror into the Casualties division of the Ministry, with his personal belongings, consisting only of clothes. At one point in the muggles' forensics' office, they had taken them back. Among the clothes, though, was a sword, which they didn't put away with the body.

Their next stop was Kingsley Shacklebolt's office, for their report. It was going to be difficult, as they only had meagre hints, besides the obvious new corpse in the building. They only had the fact that the coffin had visibly not been used in days, the stack of fake IDs, and the sword they uncovered with Stuart's clothes.

It was a work of art, yet looked deadly at the same time. As blood-crusted as Stuart's sword, and of the same length. But there was something foreboding about the sword's decorations: all of it was death-oriented. The only thing they could infer from the sword was that Stuart had been fighting the vampire, and has been killed after inflicting a few wounds by himself.

Just before quitting the forensics office, they had asked a few questions under a spell, and found out that no other body was found around the dump, and no stack of clothes with ashes inside either. As it was, their only conclusion was that, either the vampire was hiding somewhere else, or he was dead, reduced to ashes by the sun, and somebody took the clothes. In this entire affair, everybody had totally disregarded the pile of grey and half-burnt rags that were thrown haphazardly in a shadowed part of the dump. After all, what wouldn't you expect to find in such a place?

Kingsley Shacklebolt was less angry about the whole affair now, perhaps because he had taken the time to calm himself, but mostly because of the guilty feeling that he shouldn't have sent young Percy almost on his own, in the muggle world, where he didn't have any experience. Still, they both managed to find clues and get Stuart's body back.

"So, to sum up our clues," he took the report and another sheet of paper, enumerating "we have a bloodied Auror sword, another sword, presumably the vampire's, an emptied coffin, no more noticeable vampire activity in the area," he also had directed the investigation towards information-gathering front, "a stack a picture IDs for different teenagers, and..." his eyebrows shot up, and he looks at them "a smug expression on Stuart's dead face?"

Looking between them, the two young men shifted uncomfortably, before Percy answered, "Yes, sir. Justin informed me about the usual faces people were having in death, enabling investigators to know what curse was used, and we found his face surprising. As if he had succeeded in doing something worth more than his life."

The silence was awkward, but Kingsley was thoughtful. This bizarre clue could indicate that the dead Auror's last action had been to kill the vampire, but they had no proof, apart from its apparent desertion. After a while, he took the clues and evidences, put them in a box, and, after labelling it 'Urgent, Shacklebolt', banished it to the Department of Mysteries. There were people there who were able to mix random clues and extract facts. He then looked up at the two young men, who, self-consciously, stood up at the ready.

"Okay, gentlemen. You did everything I asked. Justin, you can get back to your unit. Percy, I'll write this in your file. You can go back to your desk; I think there are some files waiting."

Both young men nodded, smiling, and, after exiting their superior's office, shook hands before separating.

To be continued in next chapter: Books and Politics...

He lives, but none is able
To get him, unreachable,
Perhaps the hunt will do it?
To find out, guys, review it.