Disclaimer: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related.

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed.

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Chapter XXIII: The Fight in the Three Broomsticks

The month of November passed for the students of Hogwarts rapidly. After returning from the conference (It had gone decently well, with the delegates promising to share any intelligence in the months ahead, as well as to inform their respective governments that 'Yes, sir, Minister Fudge really has lost it and gone over the deep end over there.'), Harry had made it back in time for his date with Ginny. Settling back into the comfortable routine of schoolwork, managing security (which included watching Quidditch close to the announcers of Lee Jordan and Lee's protégée Dean Thomas), and training, Harry was content, and felt hopeful for the future. Professor Snape, while still the usual acid iceberg, at least wasn't going out of his way to humiliate Harry, and since Neville was paired with Katrina, a Potions class was almost civilized as. Not that it would have mattered for Harry usually found himself thinking of Ginny when the going went to shit…

Remembrance Day (Nov. 11) had been a different day then usual. Alex and Billy Fish had been dressed in their No.2s again, only this time wore black armbands. Mourning bands was what Alex had called them. At sundown, Alex and Billy together with two ghosts, one with a bugle, the other a set of Highland bagpipes. In front of the doors to the school, as the sun was setting, the bugler had sounded Reveille, and then Retreat. Alex and Fish had stood to attention, and faced south. The piper ghost had done his part, playing Bonne Dundee and then Amazing Grace.

Later, Harry and Neville (two who had been with Alex in Wales over the summer) had had a couple of drinks in the History of Magic classroom with Fish and Alex. Alex had shown them two petitions he was sending in to the Ministry: one for a new medal awarded to wizards for valor against dark magic, the other for a day to be set aside like Nov. 11, a wizard Remembrance Day. So far both petitions had been turned down. Alex had been quite cynical of the answer, "No matter how much these fools like Fudge place the value on magic, and the purity of blood, in the end we are of the same species as muggles. We are no better or worse then they are; they have had wars, we have had wars. Sadly, the goddamn Ministry doesn't which to remember that salient fact." Harry and Neville had kept quiet.

Death Eater activity was quiet to say the least. Snape reported that Voldemort was still testing and punishing the members of his inner circle. If he was planning anything, it certainly wasn't with his Death Eaters, not even Wormtail, who was being punished with the rest of them. Harry, out of the little respect he had gained for the man, refrained from asking just what sort of punishment Voldemort was inflicting on him and the others.

Hagrid had, to Harry unsurprised mind, brought back another creature from his mission to the giants. Rather, he brought back with him his half-brother, a full-blood giant who was an adolescent at around sixteen feet and god knew how many stone in weight. Going by the name of Grawp, Harry, when he had been briefed of the situation by Bladvak on the newest 'security measure' in the Forbidden Forest, had to wonder: was the whole purpose of forest merely a dumping ground for Hagrid's menagerie of deadly beasts? Though Harry had to marvel at how Grawp walked through the Urals of Russia, and then swam the North Sea from Norway in order to make it to his present home in Scotland.

November 25 had been a special day in that it was the first time Thanksgiving, an American holiday, was celebrated at Hogwarts. Doc Detibedeux had arranged a supper of turkey, stuffing, biscuits, yams, mashed potatoes, and Southern Pecan pie for much of the Gryffindor class, and a few guests from Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones (the Hufflepuff Female Prefect), Hannah Abbot, and Tony Goldstein were a few of them, and they apologized for the conduct of their classmates, and for themselves as news of Karkaroff's death under 'unknown circumstances' had just reached the news. It was perhaps fortunate that the previous night Harry had had a great time with Ginny, for otherwise he probably would have laughed in their faces, and asked if they really needed evidence of Karkaroff being disemboweled and otherwise suffering a most painful death before they believed him.

But, in the generous mood that he was in, he had waved off their apologies and told them to dig in.

The first week of December saw the first snowfall that year for Hogwarts. Ginny and Harry wound up having to modify their routine a bit, meeting late into the night in a series of abandoned classrooms throughout the school. Ginny had been a bit miffed that Fred and George had given him the Marauder's Map, but beyond that they had great fun evading the patrols of goblins, Filch, and Mrs. Norris. "This cloak is worth its weight in gold, Harry!" She had breathed to him as they stood embracing each other, pressed up against a wall as Filch and Norris came searching for them one time as they were making their way back to the Gryffindor common room, hidden only by the Invisibility Cloak Harry's father had left for him. While Harry could have bluffed his way past the man using his badge and authority, he stuck with the cloak, as he wanted no one to know of him and Ginny. The fact Ms. Thomas could give a half-decent description of him and Ginny (even though he always covered his scar with a bandage of some sort) worried him, as Harry wasn't stupid and knew that sooner or later the bit of him and Ginny would leak. Yet it was still, it was his responsibility to Ginny to ensure that that didn't happen as long as possible, and so kept with his precautions…

            *          *          *

Despite spending as much time as they could together with their respective dates, the friendships they had didn't grow distant. Indeed, the night of the Fourth of December found Harry, Ron, Hermione, Doc, Neville, Luna, and Katrina seated around a table in the Three Broomsticks, which was packed with Hogwarts students and people from the village. Ginny, regrettably, had detention with Mr. Filch and her brothers for helping Fred and George with an experiment involving a new type of Fanged Frisbee, though she had promised to try and make it sometime that night. The week had been an especially brutal one with vast series of homework that had only been alleviated as Christmas break started in couple more weeks, and even better, another ball was to take place. It was scheduled to take place on the night of the 24th of December, Christmas Eve, with the Hogwarts Express having a special trip to King's Cross Station so that some people could have part of Christmas and the New Year's with their families.

This, together with the usual gossip of Quidditch, was the highpoint of their conversation.

Ron, hand on Hermione's, asked Harry, "So who you bringing to the Ball, Harry?" Sipping a bottle of Butterbeer from the neck, Harry shook his head, "No one, I got the duty that night and every night." Doc, who was eating a cocktail cherry, smiled, "Going to catch Colin and Patil again?" Everyone laughed at that, though Harry rather felt sorry for the man as the news of him having the clap had spread like wildfire, with the twins bequeathing him with the nickname of the Drip. It also didn't help any when it came out that the probable cause of Colin catching the clap had been when he cheated on Ginny over the summer time with a girl in his hometown in Kent. Harry was half tempted to let it be known that Patil had been the last girl that he knew of Creevey had fucked as he was of the opinion 'it takes two to fuck'. Still, he kept his mouth shut, as he couldn't really care what happened to the man and had better uses for his valuable time and effort.

Feeling a pressure in his bladder, Harry said, "Listen, I'm going to go take a piss. Be right back." Getting up, he headed past the bar towards the boys washrooms. Passing a booth, he saw Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, and Malfoy's woman Cho. They were smirking as Slytherin had managed to smash Hufflepuff earlier in the day at Quidditch, and Malfoy, no doubt thinking Harry still smitten with Cho, placed a hand on one of Cho's thighs. Harry smiled, and gave a friendly nod to Cho, who seemed to have no expression on her face as Malfoy worked his hand upwards. Harry entered the washroom, closed the door, and went to one of the urinals without a backwards glance. Cho was so far behind him that she might as well have been on Mars.

Unzipping his trousers, he started urinating, and saw out of his peripherals a thin, sandy-haired man who looked like he was in his thirties, dressed in gray robes with a blue cloak and enter towards one of the stalls. Harry finished his business and was zipping up his trousers when he noticed that the man checked the stalls for people, but wasn't actually using them. Since the walls were high enough to see if people were in them, there was no reason for him to be doing that. Piqued, Harry zipped up and as he did so, he saw the reflection of the man, wand drawn, pointing towards him, heading towards him.

Harry played with his zipper, and when he felt the man was close enough, he turned slowly. The man pointed his wand at him, grinned, and said, "So this is the boy who lived? The Dark Lord…" That was as far as he got for Harry slapped the hand holding the wand away. Since the man obviously didn't expect him to be of much trouble, the wand flew away. It was all instinct and training as threw a punch at the man's throat, hitting the Adam's apple. The man went down choking, but still fighting as he tried to reach up and punch Harry's balls. Harry stepped out of the way and the man missed, hit the side of the stall, and fell face-first into the urinal. Quickly, Harry grabbed the man by his hair, and methodically proceeded to smash it twice into the urinal.

The man groaned and seemed to be out of it, but Harry knew this wasn't the time for the Marquis of Queensbury rules. Pulling out the baton he carried, he extended it and proceeded to cosh the man twice on the side of his head, and then rained a series of blows against the man's knees, elbows, and kidneys to ensure he remained docile. The man slumped to the ground unconscious, but nonetheless still breathing. Breathing's good, Harry thought as he flipped the man over, and saw that he wore a thin leather belt on his robes. Quickly, he loosened it, pulled it off, and took the time to go through the man's pockets. Empty, sterile, except for a small blue handkerchief that looked as if it were made of the same material as the cloak. Obviously, the man or his employers' didn't want their intentions known in case just what was happening happened. The man moved a bit, which Harry took the chance to kick him about five times in the groin. Movement stopped, followed by a strange mewling whimper from the man. Harry decided the noise a slight improvement over the movement.

Without any further thought, Harry stuffed the handkerchief down his prisoner's throat. Alex had explained to him that putting it down the throat served the useful function of killing sound, and having the calming effect on a person; the effect being the prisoner worried more about choking and wouldn't think much of yelling or other drama. That done, he gripped the man's half cloak, wrapped it around the man's head tightly, tied a knot using the ends of it, following which he tied the man's hands and arms together using the belt. Not wanting to be undone, he dragged the man into the stall, sat him down, and proceeded to take the man's shoelaces and tie his feet together. It was only after all of that did Harry cast a full-body lock on the man. Harry felt that had he more time, he would do a full-cavity search (amazing what a man can do with paper clips, handcuff keys, or single-bladed razors; it was just as amazing where those mentioned items could be hidden), but his instincts told him to check on his friends.

Alex Evans Maxim #1: Paranoia is good, it keeps you alive.

Picking up the man's wand, he stuffed it into a pocket and proceeded to the door. Drawing it open slightly, he looked around. Malfoy and the goon squad was still in their seats, the usual patrons at the bar… Five people Harry didn't know, dressed in identical white cloaks and wearing Russian style fur hats, were seated, staggered, around the table of his friends. Harry saw that his friends didn't look too happy, and that Neville had the same look on his face that he had had when he was fighting in Wales.

After what had happened recently, he decided to play it safe. As part of his standard gear, he went around with a pair of Weasley's Extendable Ears, the stethoscope like magical microphones, and using them he listened in to the conversation going on down at the table with his friends. It wasn't good. One of the Russians (Harry was thinking of them via the hats) was a short, dapper man who had on a genial smile. He was talking to Katrina, who was staring at him defiantly.

"As I said, Ms. Snape, your father wants your presence. Now."

"And as I told you, if my father," she said this with the utmost disdain, " were to want my presence, he would personally have told me, or come to get me himself. Not send a complete stranger such as yourself."

Dapper man continued smiling, "Do you think I'm lying, young lady?"

"Absolutely."

Dap laughed outright, and nodded to the others of his goon squad. They moved in closer, and Harry knew he had to do something. He couldn't go in Van Damn Style: too many civilians. That left…

Alex Evans Maxim #2: Life is chance, and bluffing is life.

Stuffing the Ears back into a pocket, he strode confidently from the bathroom back into the main room. "Oi, Ron, another round of butterbeer?" Ron, looking quite angry, nodded stiffly towards him, the Russians stopping temporarily. Harry was playing the genial fool as he paid for eight beers and brought them to the table. As he did so, he surreptitiously examined the room, trying to see if the there was anyone who was related to the four around his friends. The room was too crowded to tell, and Harry devoutly hoped there was no drama; drama in a place like this ensured things got real messy, real fast.

Setting the tray on the table, he took a seat between Ron and Doc. Ron looked furious, Hermione had seemed nervous and angry, while Neville seemed torn between holding his temper, and ripping the throat out of the genial man. Katrina didn't seem nervous, but Harry saw the way her left ring finger was rapidly tapping the tabletop. Only Doc and Luna seemed unperturbed, and Harry found that more worrying then reassuring.

Nonetheless, his face was smiling, unfrightened as he sat, popped open a butterbeer, and drank it from the neck. Dap looked over at Harry, a brief glimmer of surprise in his eyes before it became the usual joviality. Harry asked Hermione, "So, who are these gentlemen?"

Dap answered, "Strange that you should ask that question. My name is Edwardovich Igachev." He gave a small bow and continued, "These gentlemen, who shall go unnamed, are associates of mine. You are Mr. Harry Potter, yes?"

Harry nodded, and the Russian continued, Harry noticing the man's English was capable enough that he spoke without a Slavic accent. "We are here because…"

"Professor Snape asked you to, Mr. Igachev?"

Dap raised an eyebrow, "Perceptive hearing for a man in the bathroom, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled, "Oh yes, quite the bathroom. I even received a message in there. It was from…"

"From this?"

The Russian slowly raised the sleeve on his left arm, and revealed the faded red tattoo (it was really a brand) of the Death Eater insignia. Everyone at the table went still, except for Doc and Harry. Harry was about to answer when Katrina, white-faced, muttered something. Dap laughed as he lowered his sleeve (Harry had noticed the skull had what appeared to be a double-headed eagle on it), and said to her, "Silly girl, do you know what a great man your father is? It twas a pity he took leave of his senses after he met that Gypsy whore that was your mother when he was our lord's emissary to Lithuania." Katrina looked angry, but Dap merely smiled condescendingly as he continued, "Oh, I can't blame him. After all, if you are wounded and you see a pretty face taking the time to heal you, you are bound to grow weak. He was fortunate our master showed him the error of his ways, and after your mother was dealt with, why, I've never seen a man crawl on his knees and show such gratitude to our lord!" The four laughed. Neville seemed ready to jump and rose out of his chair menacingly but was pushed back in by one of Igachev's goons.

Igachev sipped from a small brandy glass near him. "Now, now, let us be civilized. Even though two of my peers here are immune to any weapons you may have because of their rather unique…condition, you could call it, let us be mannered and put our wands on the table shall we." Harry sighed, and gently took out his wand, and the one from the man in the bathroom as well. Ron sputtered, "Har-"

"Shut it, Ron and do what he says. Same for the rest of you." 

They looked betrayed but did as he ordered them to. Harry asked as the last wands were placed on the table, "So, are these blood-suckers your regular companions? Have to carry around a blood bank to keep them alive?" Igachev continued to smile and asked, "So, tell me, how did you know that these fine gentlemen are vampires?"

"Easy to tell if their skin is waxy, and they have twin puncture marks on the wrists, and their necks."

The Russian clapped, and began a long lasvicous diatribe towards Snape's daughter about the death of her mother. Apparently, when Voldemort heard that Snape was involved with a woman, he together with two men named Rosier and Wilkes, and gone to Lithuania, kidnapped Katrina's mother, and as Snape watched, raped and killed her. Or, in the case of Rosier, a bit of necrophilia took place as Rosier had killed her, and then ravished her. Katrina looked…words couldn't describe her fury and anguish as the Russian described every second of the defilement and death of her mother. Neville seemed to be the same way, and it appeared that drama would soon happen: there was no way things could be talked out of.

 It was for that reason that as the vampires were enjoying the Russian's story, Harry slowly slid his Browning (ever since the ball, he had made it a habit to go around fully armed, twenty-four seven) from his holster. Hiding it beneath the table, he pulled the slide back slowly to chamber a round. When it couldn't go back any further, he gently rode it forward, and hoped he had done it right. It was then he felt something on his left thigh. Using his left hand, he felt it and discovered it to be in the shape of a semi-automatic pistol! Either a Browning, or a Colt judging by the feel.

Looking towards his left, he saw that it was Doc Detibedeux, who casually said, "Seconds, please?" and rapped his sidearm against the side of Harry's leg five times. Five seconds before he made the first move. Harry started counting in his mind as he gently flicked the safety down on his Browning, hoping the noise of the bar would cover the ominous click of a safety going off.

One one thousand, two one thousand…

Igachev asked, his story finished with the promise that he would take Katrina to meet the Dark Lord under similar circumstances as soon as he finished his brandy, "What seconds?"

Four one thousand…

Doc gave a lazy grin, "These of course." With that, he fired at an upward angle, through the table, three rounds each to the two goons between Neville and Katrina, and between Ron and Herimione. In a flurry of wood chips, they went through the table. Harry saw the face of one man explode; he was dead if he was wizard or vampire, as the head, in all it's forms, was together with a wooden stake in the heart, garlic, and silver, quite deadly to a vampire. Another went down with a bleeding wound in his shoulder.

The vampire between Doc and Harry snarled and made a mercurial-like move to Doc's pistol, but Harry was fast enough, more importantly close enough, to raise his pistol, aim, and fire a round into the head of the vampire. Blood and grayish brain matter ballooned out over Doc, Luna and other guests, but since it was a hollow-point, the round stayed in the head. The vampire fell to the ground, Harry able to see the fangs in the red mess that had been the head.

It was then, after about two seconds into the shootout, that the room went to hell. People started overturning tables, screaming, all hell breaking loose. Windows were smashed and people were going through them; out the door anything to get out. The Russian was wily to say the least: he kicked the table over and dropped backwards, wands flying everywhere. Everyone was soon in a mad scramble on the ground for their wands; good thing too as Igachev's friends started firing Stunning and Disarming spells left and right, forcing everyone to take cover behind whatever they could find. Neville and Harry, with their wand-less magic lessons, used accio and soon had them in their wands in hand. It wasn't to be of as Igachev's friends were laying down a firestorm of magic and crossbow bolts (vampires were unable to use wands, and stuck with medieval weaponry, primarily blade and crossbow).

The latter fired a few potshots, but the people shooting was good as no bystanders had been hit yet. No Killing Curses thank God, Harry though as he ducked behind an overturned table.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Madame Rosemerta firing a stunner towards one of the men firing into the crowd. It had been a minor miracle that no one had been hit (except for a couple of paintings, but that couldn't be helped). Harry saw a red stunner spell and three crossbow bolts hit Rosemerat and nail her to her liquor rack. Harry hoped she was alive, as he was a bit partial to her mulled mead…

Seeing how the place was full of panicky kids that were all ready starting to trample each other to exit, Harry made a snap call. "Nev, Ron, fire stunning spells on my command. Hermione, get those kids out of here, we'll cover you." Harry held his wand over his head, pointed it towards a wall, and yelled "Destructus!" A hole the size of a bookcase blew out of the wall. "Cover fire!" With that, he rose from behind cover, and started firing off stunning spells, as he didn't want to kill any innocents with the killing curse. Hermione, seeing the hole, together with Luna began chivvying as many people as they could out of it as they could.

"KATRINA!" Harry looked to his three o'clock, and saw Neville roughly shoulder Katrina (who had been manhandling a young third-year Ravenclaw from out of his hiding place under a table so he could escape) aside as a red stunning blast hit him in the chest and blew him across the room. Harry saw Katrina run over to Neville, and drag him behind a booth that had been ripped out of the wall, and take cover behind it.

Pushing Neville aside in his thoughts, Harry lay down on the floor, and tried counting the number of people still in the tavern. There was the wounded vampire, at least two more of bloodsuckers, the Russian, the prisoner in the bathroom, and one more Death Eater firing off those goddamn stunning spells. Six to what? Three? As Doc had once said, "Fighting odds!"

Checking his pistol, Harry knew he had fired off only one round, giving him twelve more. It was then Harry heard that distinctive, booming sound of the shotguns carried by the men of Bladvak's regiment. Harry heard a scream, then the clicking noise of crossbows, and more ominously, shouts of "Avada Kedavra!" Quickly, he glanced over the top of the table, and what he saw shocked. Ten goblins, wearing the red jackets of Bladvak's regiment, had charged in and opened fire. They had peppered the vampires with gunfire, but none of the vampires had taken headshots. All of them were still alive, and angry. 

Instead, shrugging off the blows, they had returned fire, and together with the Russian and another younger, looking Death Eater, were cutting into the Goblin patrol. Harry counted eight dead ones, and the other two looked as though they weren't far from it. Harry heard a low moan come from a goblin lying closet to him. Grabbing the shotgun that was tied to his arm by shoelace (it was old Army trick that the Goblins adopted from Alex), Harry dragged the goblin in behind cover and looked down.

It wasn't pretty, as the goblin had taken a bolt through the throat badly enough that his blood was flowing out like a fountain. Harry swore as the eyes glazed over, and pushed goblin away. The poor bastard was beyond his help now, and if he didn't get his shit sorted out, then he and his mates were going to join him quick-like.

More goblins were pouring in, and just as quickly getting killed. Harry noticed the vampires and Death Eaters were busy with the goblins; their backs were to him, Ron, and Doc.

Alex's Maxim #3: Never turn your back on an enemy unless he is dead.

"Doc, Ron, cover fire on three. ONE! TWO! Three…STUPEFY!" Harry yelled, firing it towards the younger Death Eater. Another one hit him at the same time, and the Death Eater flew backwards. Harry wondered if Doc had got hit, but that motion disappeared in an instant as he heard a strange, yipping yell burst from where Doc had been lying down.

Harry looked over, and saw one of the most stupid, and ballsiest, things he had ever seen. Beauregard Jackson Detibedeux, bits of glass and debris on his clothes, his hazel eyes in a fury, his face grinning, had got up and calmly, as though he were on parade, slowly walking forward. Broken butterbeer bottles crunched beneath his feet. In his left hand was a Colt .45, in his right, his wand; his left was over his right, giving it a stable shooting platform. With cool precision, he fired three rounds into the head of one vampire, then remaining four into the other while he used levitation spells to throw objects towards the dark wizards, protecting him from their spells. He dropped the pistol, and started firing off Stunning spells towards the remaining people.

Doc's gambit paid off, as two vampires went down, the other scurrying behind a table. The Russian, though, was made of sterner stuff (the younger Death Eater was still out of it) for he pointed his wand at Doc and fired off  "Pyreggina". The spell hit the ground in front of Doc, and a flurry of wood and dust came from the floor. Harry saw the older man grab the younger Death Eater and make a beeline for the door. "Firegga" Shouting the first curse he could think of, he shot it towards the stumbling pair. It hit the younger one, and the man went up like a candle. Screaming, he tried beating at the flames, but without a wand, he was soon shrieking as his skin cooked and melted, giving the air the odor of cooking pork. What Igachev did next surprised Harry greatly: instead of helping the younger man, he merely pointed his wand, and spoke, "Avada Kedavra!" The young stopped screaming, and fell to the ground roasting.

Harry pointed his wand at him, but the man took that moment to Apparate out of the building with a pop. Looking around, Harry saw the Three Broomsticks were a mess, and that it looked like Neville was still alive as Katrina was wrapping an Ace bandage around his chest. "The fuck's getting away!" Harry whirled and saw the last vampire stumbling towards one of the side doors. That didn't surprise him; what did was that the yell came from Doc. Covered in splinters, bleeding from a dozen little cuts, the sandy-haired kid from Korea and the Louisiana bayous was propped against a fallen table, his right foot on his lap as he stuffed a handkerchief into the stump where his foot had been attached.

Harry could see Doc's face paling as the blood flowed from his stump, but Doc yelled at him, "Fuck me! Get that sumbitch, Harry!" Doc's drawl was slurred, but Harry knew he was right and took off after the vampire.

Going at a hard run, he chased the vampire through the door and into an alley next to the Three Broomsticks.  The vampire was must have been aching, for when he threw a trashcan at Harry, he missed by more then a few feet. Harry stopped and watched as he scaled a wooden fence. "Pyreggina" The fence exploded, and the vampire fell to the ground. Harry knew that the rounds in his pistol wouldn't kill him, but they would serve the useful purpose of slowing down the vampire.

Just as importantly: The pain from having twelve 9mm hollow-points slam into his body would keep from causing any more drama. Which was why Harry carefully aimed, and fired until the magazine was empty his pistol into the vampire. Harry felt the weapon in his hands and watched as the bullets slammed the vampire down and kept him there.

After the clip was expended, Harry walked over to the vampire. The man was a mess with blood oozing from multiple gunshot wounds. It looked as though he was going to die, but Harry knew better, as all the gunshots did was hurt it. Harry hoped it stayed hurt, for he was wondering just how the hell he was going to capture it.

This was answered for him as he heard the voice of Uncle Alex behind him, "Easy, Harry, friendlies coming through." Harry slowly turned, and saw his uncle standing there, his bowler on his head, wand drawn with a squad of Goblins. Sighing, he lowered his sidearm and leaned against one of the walls in the alley. Alex, after examining his nephew with his eye, nodded and turned to the Sergeant in charge of the goblins, and spoke rapid Goblin. The goblins moved forward and secured the vampire prisoner with rope, chain and handcuffs.

Harry didn't pay much attention, though, as he was drained emotionally, mentally, physically, the whole lot with a quiver in his hands. The usual. Alex pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from his pocket, lit one, and handed it to Harry. Harry took a deep drag, and let the nicotine soak into him. Though he felt a cough, Harry held on to it long and deep before exhaling. He let it go once the shakes stopped, and looked to his uncle. "Sir, there's another prisoner in the men's lavatory." Alex nodded, and barked another order to the Goblin sergeant. The squad of goblins dragged the vampire away and into the building.

Harry looked to the sky, and saw the clouds were moving in. The cold had been biting, and Harry was sure it was going to snow some more soon. Alex brought his mind away from the weather: "Go inside, lad, we need a debriefing on what happened."

Alex looked at a pocket watch. "By my count, we have, at most, 24 hours before news of this hits the Ministry. When it does, all hell will break loose…"