Disclaimer: See Part One.
Author's note: This part begins to show the problems Harry is having, which is where those direct paraphrases come in. The wording around the quotes is changed to reflect the nightmarish nature of the images as he's flashing back, but the sequence and the quotes remain intact.
A Matter of Magic, Part Two
# 4 Privett Drive...
Harry sat on his bed, Hedwig the owl out of her cage and sitting close to her wizard to offer what support she could. He tried not to cry, but sometimes, the tears just wouldn't leave him alone. To be sure, it wasn't the fault of his family. They were actually being semi-nice to him, ignoring him for the most part, rather than pestering him and forcing him to do all the chores in the house. Though they were adamant in their dislike of magic and magical people, even they understood that it had to have been horrific to witness...what he had witnessed. It wasn't exactly compassion, but they at least left him alone.
He tried to keep from thinking about it, but it just didn't work. No matter what he tried, he simply wasn't able to stop himself from flashing back to that horrible day.
He and Cedric in the Muggle graveyard, trying to figure out what had happened with the trophy. The feeling of being watched. The figure in the darkness, looking as though he were holding a baby, face hidden by his cloak. The pain in his scar, that warning he'd taken far too lightly in the past. A high, cold voice saying, "Kill the spare." A swishing noise, another voice. Avarda Kedavra! A blast of green light, and even more pain, intense enough to cause him to retch. The form of his classmate on the ground, spread-eagled, his gray eyes empty, staring into eternity. Dead.
He shook his head in an attempt to dispel the horrid memory. It had been two weeks since...since that day. He was still having nightmares. He wondered idly how long he'd have them for. Surely they wouldn't last forever, even if it sometimes seemed like they would. He wished he had someone to talk to, someone who could understand all that he was going through. His godfather would understand, but there was no way Sirius Black could come to him here, and letters weren't enough. The Dursleys certainly weren't doing the job. Honestly, he thought he could use a stranger, someone who knew what it was like to be haunted by a psychotic maniac, or to face danger and death.
A knock at the front door broke into his reverie. Who would be calling on a Wednesday? He opened the door of his room to listen as Uncle Vernon answered the front. "Yes, who is it?"
A feminine voice answered. "Ruth Canon, FBI, United States, and Jack Connell, MI5. We need to speak to Harry Potter, please, concerning one Sirius Black."
Vernon, of course, let the pair in, probably hoping that he'd tell her that they had caught the "dangerous criminal." Harry knew that couldn't be the case for two reasons; no Muggle authorities had a chance in hell of catching a wizard, whether he was violent or not, and Sirius was at Hogwarts just then, helping Dumbledore.
Harry went down the stairs, stopping on the last one to look at the visitors. The American was rather pretty, having a slim face, green eyes and reddish-brown hair, and was dressed in a dark business suit with dress slacks and sensible, dull black shoes. The British agent was tall and dark, with a rather dull look on his face. The woman saw him looking at them, and in a business-like manner, she said, "Are you Harry Potter?" He nodded. "Ruth Canon. I need to speak to you in private. Can we go up to your room?"
Something about the way her voice had sounded when she spoke to him made him want to trust her. He pointed back up the stairs and said, "Sure." Then he turned and re-climbed them, the American close behind him. Before she got out of hearing range of the Dursleys, she said, "This is to be a private conversation, Mr. Dursley. Young Mr. Potter is not in any trouble, I assure you, but confidentiality is vital in this situation. I don't want to hear you coming up these stairs." Then she turned and followed Harry to his room, leaving the British man down stairs to deal with the Dursleys.
All of Harry's things were fairly normal looking when things were put away. His school books were all safely hidden in his trunk, along with his robes and school supplies. The only thing out of the Muggle ordinary in his room that was visible was Hedwig, safely perching in her cage, and currently asleep. Ms. Canon looked at the bird. "Lovely. A post owl, right?" Harry's eyebrows flew into his hairline. How did she know about the owl post? Seeing his face, she said, "Don't worry. I'm not who I said I was, and the man down stairs is simply an illusion. He won't even set off the alarms they put on all the students' homes." She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a thin black wallet, handing it to Harry.
He opened the wallet. Inside was a badge and ID from the United States' Federal Bureau of Magical Affairs. She was an Auror. He looked up at her. "You said you wanted to talk to me about Sirius Black. Are you after him?"
She shook her head. "No. Headmaster Dumbledore sent me an owl about your problem, Harry. He probably called me for several reasons, not the least of which is that Hermione is my cousin and I'd automatically be more inclined to believe you. I also don't think I'm bragging when I say that I have a very high capture rate. Now, officially I'm on vacation. I just got engaged and I'm visiting family to tell them the news. If the Ministry tries to butt in, I'll just tell them that she begged me to get you out of this house for the summer. Honestly, I'd have told her yes even without all this mess with Voldemort. I've heard plenty from her about these people."
Harry smiled slightly at her. He couldn't convince his mouth to give a better performance than that, but it was genuine. "I'd like that."
As Ruth blew smoke about protective custody and safe houses at the Dursleys, she went over her impressions of Harry in her mind. The kid was listless, though he seemed happy enough to be getting out of this house. He was having to deal with the trauma on his own, and that couldn't be a good thing for a kid about to turn fifteen. Even hardened military people like Jim Ellison had trouble dealing with that kind of thing alone. Of course, Jim had Blair.
Hmm. Blair. She wondered if she would be able to get Blair to come to England while she was here. He might be able to help Harry on the psychological front. Some of the things that had happened to Blair were just as horrific, and she was sure he'd be willing to talk to the boy.
She helped Harry to pack his things into her rental car and then to secure his snowy owl, Hedwig, in the back seat. She hated driving in Europe because of the reversal of right and left, but she could do it. As she drove herself and Harry toward London and the Granger residence, she watched her young charge. He had withdrawn into himself during the journey, not asking any questions or attempting to make conversation. She knew now that she HAD to get Blair out here. She couldn't trust a psychologist and couldn't tell them the whole story anyway, but Harry needed someone to talk to, and soon. Otherwise, Ruth was afraid that he'd wither away. She didn't see him as the sort to give up, but she also didn't think he knew how to fight the feelings of despair that were perfectly natural.
They arrived at the quaint London residence and got out of the rental. Harry got Hedwig out of the back seat, but they left the rest of his things in the car for now. Ruth went up to the front door and knocked. A small, dark-headed woman opened the door and came out on the porch. "Ruth! I'm so glad you made it! I thought you'd get yourself killed trying to drive a British car."
Ruth shook her head ruefully, grinning at her sister. "Sarah, you say that every time I come here, and I always survive those horrible things." She turned to Harry. "Come on, kid. We'll get you settled in."
Harry looked around the living room. It was a fairly normal home, though a very few magical objects had managed to make their way into the decor. They were carefully hidden, and he thought that they had probably come from Arthur Weasly. But it was mostly just a normal Muggle English home. Sarah said, "Jeremy is still at work, Ruth, but he'll be able to bring your things in from the car as soon as he's back. Now Harry, I've got the upstairs guest rooms set up for you both. There's two of them, although one is really the library. I swear, that room is so full since Hermione started attending Hogwarts! She's constantly buying this history or that spell book. Some of the book stores in Diagon Ally have her on every waiting list! The room will look positively bare when she grows up and gets a place of her own."
Harry spoke, certain that if he didn't, he'd never get a word in edgewise. "Where is Hermione?"
"She's at the Weaslys' for dinner, dear. She intends to bring Ron back with her. I imagine you can use all the friends you have right now." Mrs. Granger bit her lip just then, probably to prevent her from mentioning the reason for that and bringing up bad memories. She changed the subject to the work of her husband, a safe subject as both of them were dentists.
Ruth briefly debated whether or not to rescue Harry from her garrulous sister, but decided that it would be better if she could keep his mind off of things for a while. She looked at her watch. 2:30pm. That meant it was 6:30am in Cascade. Jim and Blair would be getting ready for work, and Blair was probably in the bathroom shaving. Perfect! "Sarah, I need to borrow your mirror for a moment."
"Sure, Ruth."
She walked to the small wall mirror in the short corridor that led to the kitchen, took out her wand and spelled the mirror. "Telecom! United States, Washington State, Cascade, 852 Prospect, #307, the bathroom mirror." Then she tapped the mirror with her wand, and its reflective surface turned smoky and swirling. As the smoke cleared from the surface, it was no longer a reflection, but a window into the Blair and Jim's bathroom. Sure enough, Blair was standing there with half of his face still covered in shaving foam, his expression reading shock. Cheekily, she said, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the cutest witch of all?"
Cascade...
Blair stared into the mirror. What the hell?! It had turned all smoky and swirly! What was going on here? Then the mirror resolved into an image. Ruth. Was he dreaming? Sure, he had been missing her, but surely not enough to cause hallucinations over the bathroom sink! She said, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the cutest witch of all?"
He glared at her. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
She just grinned. "Oh, no. I fully intend to keep you around for a very long time! You didn't answer the question."
He smirked at her. "Oh, I don't know. I always thought Glenda from the Wizard of Oz was pretty cute."
"Thanks a lot!" She giggled. "Hey, do you think you'll be able to come here on the weekend if I come get you?"
"Um, sure. How would you do that?"
"Magic."
"Sure. What do you need?"
She sighed. "Harry needs someone to talk to, and I know you've dealt with being hunted by psychos before. This kid is just weeks from his fifteenth birthday. The same bad guy has been trying to kill him since he was just a baby, and he killed a classmate right in front of him."
"Shit."
"Yeah. I don't know all the details. He won't talk to me. But I'm pretty sure he's been having nightmares and flashbacks."
Blair thought about it. "Well, I haven't used any of my vacation time yet, and I think Simon's going to murder me if I don't get some of it used up. He doesn't like having it just sit around in the budget. I could probably stay a week." He paused, thinking about how to arrange things. "Tell you what. Can you do this with any mirror?" At her affirmative, he continued. "Call me back during lunch. It should be about eight there. I'll put a little mirror in my backpack. Make it at the half hour, and we should be in the truck. I'll see what I can do. So how's your sister?"
She grinned. "Distracting Harry by running her mouth a mile a minute. She does know how to talk. I haven't even been able to tell her about us yet."
"Okay. Well I need to finish getting ready for work. I'll talk to you later."
"Okay." She kissed her finger and touched it to the glass. "Bye, love."
"Bye." The image of his fiancé disappeared from the glass to be replaced by his own reflection. He sighed. This was better than phone calls, that was for sure!
Jim's voice came through the door. "What's going on in there, Chief?"
Blair grinned, taking the opportunity to tease his Sentinel. "I got a call from Ruth on the mirror above the sink."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, like 'Mirror, mirror, on the wall...' She uses mirrors like a video phone!"
"So what did she have to say?"
"She asked me to join her in England. Apparently the Potter kid is pretty traumatized. He doesn't really have anyone he can talk to about it. He can't exactly go to a therapist, after all." Blair sighed. "She figures that with my experience, I can at least give the kid someone to vent at who'll understand somewhat."
Jim nodded. "Yeah. Is he having flashbacks?"
"Ruth thinks so, but he's clamed up." He knew the feeling. Harry didn't want to talk to anyone because in his mind, there was no one who could really understand what he was going through. He remembered his own reluctance to talk to anyone following his first encounter with the criminally insane, David Lash. "Since Simon's been after me to use up some of my vacation time, I can afford to take a week and go. What about you? How's your vacation time look?"
Jim grinned, glad that his Guide had automatically included him in his plans. It had taken them both a long time to get over the insecurities that they had both harbored since before Alex Barnes had blown into their lives two years prior. He said, "I should have plenty enough to go with you. We'll talk to Simon before we go to lunch, get things set up and make sure our case load is clear." He chuckled. "Simon's going to freak out that you're getting married."
Blair snorted. "Yeah, not to mention the reactions I can expect from the rest of the guys. I'll bet that by the time we get back from lunch, my desk will be decorated with paper balls and chains."
A sudden loud tapping at the glass of the balcony window caught their attention. Jim went out and discovered a large barn owl sitting there on the balcony, a letter carried in its beak. Wondering who would have sent them a letter like this, he opened the sliding glass door to admit the bird. "Hey, Chief! We've got mail."
"Owl post?"
"Uh huh." The owl hopped and flapped its way to the back of one of the arm chairs, dropping its burden on the coffee table. Thinking that the animal might be hungry, he left the letter where it fell and went to the kitchen, reaching into the refrigerator for something the bird might like. There was actually some leftover turkey breast from the Police Department picnic two days ago. That might work. He addressed the owl. "Turkey all right?" It nodded, an odd gesture for an owl, but perfectly understandable. He brought the last chunk of meat back to the living room in a small bowl just as Blair emerged from the bathroom. "The letter's addressed to you, Sandburg. It's from the FBMA field office here in Cascade." He sat the bowl of meat in front of the messenger, who dug in heartily, making happy cheeping noises as it ate.
Blair came and sat next to Jim on the sofa. He mused, "Why would they be sending me something?" and picked up the letter. It was a much less fancy affair than the one Dumbledore had sent to Ruth, just a plain white envelope and black ink, but still sealed with red wax on the back. He broke the seal and removed the letter and the three silver beads that were in the bottom of the envelope. The letter read,
Blair Sandburg,
I am Eric Swacky, head of the FBMA field office for the Pacific Northwest, and consequently your fiancé's boss. She told me of your engagement, and there's a few things that need to be done, some paperwork. As I'm sure Ruth told you, Muggles are generally prohibited from knowing about the wizarding world at all, but out of necessity, spouses are an exception to this. There are also other exceptions in play since you're a cop. Your partner and your CO are also to be told so that no mistakes are made, but all three of you will need to sign nondisclosure agreements. You will all receive some literature on the basic history and physics of magic, any information that you might need to adjust to the new reality you have been thrust into. You'll all need to stop by our office at some point within the next month to fill out the paper work and receive your IDs. They will keep you from being stopped by Muggle Relations officers, otherwise known as Obliviators, who would wipe the knowledge of magic from your minds. The tokens I've included will protect you until you can find the time to get down here. If you plan on joining Canon in England, you'll need to come before you leave, so that you'll have something to show the Ministry's Obliviators, should it become necessary.
On a personal note, I've known Ruth Canon for a lot of years. She's my best detective, and one of my best friends. I'll take it very personally if you hurt her, and I know quite a few nasty little curses that would cost me my badge if I used them. Nothing permanent, you understand, but very --ah-- uncomfortable. She's a good person. Treat her right.
~Eric Swacky, Head of Auror Division
Blair grinned and let Jim read the letter. The Sentinel raised an eyebrow at the threat, but the sentiment was clear. Blair chuckled at Jim's reaction. "He sounds like Simon."
The corner of Jim's mouth quirked up at that. "Yeah, he does. Well, we need to let Simon in on all this. It's not going to be easy to get him to believe all this. He has enough trouble with the Sentinel thing, and this is much bigger than all that."
"Yeah. I guess I'll write Swacky a response. The owl is obviously waiting for it. We'll need to go down there over the weekend so that we can get those IDs before we leave. Maybe Swacky will have some idea of how to break it to Simon."
"Ellison! Sandburg! My office!"
Blair whispered under his breath, "It's good to know that some things in this universe are constant."
Jim snorted. "Yeah, like you getting us into trouble."
"Hey, I deny any responsibility for Simon's bellow!"
They walked into the office, Blair taking one of the chairs and Jim standing instinctively at parade rest. Captain Banks turned around in his swivel chair and set a file down on the desk. He turned an appraising look on them both, steepling his fingers under his chin. He said in tones that you would use with a particularly slow child, "Do you two know what today is?"
Blair decided to be cheeky right back. "Friday?"
Simon glared at him. "Uh huh." He said nothing else, waiting.
Jim shook his head. Blair just had to live dangerously sometimes. "July 7th, Sir. Let me guess. Budget's due by Monday?"
"That's right, Ellison. I knew you were a good detective. Now, anyone want to guess what I'm missing to make my report complete?"
Blair was trying very hard to keep a straight face, since he had the form in question in his hands. "Our vacation requests?"
"Very good, Sandburg. The Academy must be doing their job right." He switched from sarcasm to bellow. "Now since you've figured this out, why don't you two get your butts in gear and get it done! I refuse to have my ass chewed out by the Chief because you couldn't get your forms in here on time!"
"Of course not, Simon. That's why we have them all finished and right here, waiting for your signature." He held up the file in his hands, grinning from ear to ear.
Simon glared at him. "You enjoyed that, didn't you."
Blair nodded quickly. "Yep!" Jim couldn't keep from chuckling.
Simon's glare turned on him. "All right, you clowns!" He looked inside the folder. "This next week?! Why the hell did you wait so long to put in this request?"
"Something came up, Simon."
"Like what, Sandburg?"
Blair's smile changed subtly, becoming the brightest thing the captain had ever seen. "Like I proposed to Ruth Canon and she said yes. She already left for England to tell her family there, but she agreed that Jim and I needed to get the Hailey case wrapped up first. That's already on your desk, by the way."
Simon's jaw dropped. "You're getting married?!"
Blair laughed. "Yeah. Can't keep chasing that table leg forever. I knew that eventually someone would knock me over the head with it. Seriously, though, I love her. I've never felt like this about anyone, not even Maya."
Simon shook his head a grin starting to emerge around his former irritation. "Who won the pool, Jim?"
Jim grinned. "I don't know. I'll have to check with Rhonda."
Blair rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised that you guys have been betting on this. When did you start it?"
"Oh, about the time that Sam tried to burn your eyebrows off." The Sentinel chuckled. "The different bets were both on time and type." Blair raised an unsinged eyebrow at his partner, awaiting an explanation for that remark. "Well, if I remember right, about half bet that you'd never get married at all. Of the others, everyone bet on how long it would be before you settled down and on what type of girl she would be. They had to list hair and eye color, body type, and profession." Then he snickered. "I definitely win the profession part of the pool." At the look, he said, "Classified."
Simon's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "What?"
Blair nodded. "Yeah. Her boss sent me a letter, though. You and Jim are allowed to be informed of the nature of her job and some of the facts surrounding it, but this isn't the place to do it. Jim and I are going to her office after we get off. Do you want to join us? It'll be a lot easier if you're there with us so they only have to do this once."
Simon glared at him. "I'm about to take another trip to the Sandburg Zone, aren't I?" At Blair's grin, he sighed. "All right. Next time, I expect you to give me more notice on vacation plans, Sandburg. Now get out of here, both of you! Go! Catch bad guys!"
Granger residence...
Harry sat at the dinner table basically just poking at his food. Normally, he would have been digging in, as the Dursley's idea of a good, full meal for him was a sandwich, and Mrs. Granger's table was beautifully spread, but he couldn't seem to get up any enthusiasm for food. It didn't seem to matter so much with the images of Voldemort's attack floating through his mind like poisonous jelly fish, nearly invisible until the moment of attack, and as unpredictable as the currents of the sea.
The tiny, child-sized, snake-like thing of evil was lifted by his servant and placed in the cauldron, the captive boy once again praying for it to drown, though he now knew it would not. The pain in his scar was intense as Wormtail began the hideous spell. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, your will renew your son!" The cracking of the grave's surface beneath Harry's feet and the thin stream of dust that traveled to the cauldron. The stuttering fear as Wormtail spoke the second verse of the spell. "Flesh -- of the servant -- w-willingly given -- you will -- revive -- your master." Watching from behind closed eyes as the servant cut off his own hand and put it into the pot. Then the sound of the injured evil right in front of him. "Blood of the enemy...forcibly taken...you will...resurrect your foe." The knife in his arm, just a prick. The blood in the vial, and then in the potion. And then, the thing which had haunted his existence since he was a child had stood, once again whole, once again powerful. Lord Voldemort had returned.
Harry stood abruptly from the table, the image of the flat, reptilian face of his enemy haunting his waking dreams, and the chair he'd been sitting in tumbling to the floor. Unheeding, he ran, heading up the stairs and into the room he'd been given.
Everyone watched, astonished. Sarah's startled "Oh, my!" was the only thing said until the door slammed. All but Rose were surprised at Harry's actions.
Hermione said, "This isn't like him. Why is he acting like this?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah. It's like he saw a demon after him or something!"
Still staring up the stairs after her young charge, Rose nodded. "Something like that. Only he can't run from it. It's in his memories."
Jim, Blair and Simon walked into an unassuming building on Chancey Street and up to the front desk, where a secretary sat doing her nails, obviously bored out of her mind. It wasn't until she looked up at them that it became obvious that there was something different about her, but her eyes were a shocking amber. She said, "Can I help you, gentlemen?"
Blair handed her the three bead tokens and said, "We're here to see Eric Swacky."
The woman grinned. "Oh, you must be Auror Cannon's new fiancé!"
Blair was surprised. "She told you?"
She giggled. "No, of course not. It's all a big secret. That's why the whole building knows about it!"
Jim an Simon laughed as Blair grinned shyly, a faint flush rising in his cheeks. Jim slapped him on the back. "Sounds just like the station."
"Station?" The secretary's amber gaze was curious.
Blair filled her in. "We're police officers." He cocked his head at her. "I'm guessing that you're supposed to be the person who gets those who have no business here to go away, right?" At her nod, he said, "Then you should probably wear a different color in your eyes, like blue, green or brown. The amber is a little surprising."
She blinked. "Oh! I forgot to change them this morning!" The detectives were amazed as she blinked several more times and her eyes changed color from their natural amber to a deep chocolate that matched her hair. "That's the one thing I have the most trouble remembering to do when I'm on front desk duty. Thanks for pointing it out!"
Blair cleared his throat to cover his surprise. "No problem."
The secretary led them to an elevator and said, "Whenever you come here, you'll have to use this elevator. The other one is hidden by an illusion and can't be used without a wand. The Auror Division is on the fifth floor. Just hit the buttons like you would in a nonmagical elevator." Then she turned and went back to her desk.
Blair, Jim and Simon all piled into the elevator. It was an old-fashioned kind of device, with an elegance that hadn't really been seen in elevators since the 1950s. Blair, though, could feel the difference. This was no ordinary lift, worked by electricity, pulleys and cables. He felt the same kind of energy weight within it as he had when Ruth was working those little spells at the loft. Perhaps it was because he was a Shaman? Was he sensing the magic itself? If that was so, was a Shaman just a primitive wizard, or was there some distinct difference? His anthropologist's soul was squirming with all kinds of questions, and he hoped he'd be allowed to do some research.
They reached the fifth floor and were met by a small, strange creature. Vaguely humanoid, about thirty inches tall, he had a large, flat head that seemed too large for his body and contained a huge pair of dark brown eyes and a wrinkled countenance. That face was framed by two very large, pointed, and slightly floppy ears. The rest of him was very slender and dressed in a charcoal business suit that wouldn't have been out of place in the thirties if it were larger. The hands were small, but the fingers were extra long. Blair thought such a creature was probably a very good typist.
The little being spoke up as it reached them. "You are Blair Sandburg?"
Blair nodded. "Yes, and these are my partner, Jim Ellison, and my captain, Simon Banks."
The creature bowed lightly. "Tilly is most pleased to meet you all. Auror Canon is the very best at what she does, and it is good to see her happy. Captain Swacky is ready to meet you all. Follow Tilly, sirs."
They followed the odd little creature to the office at the back of the bullpen. Things in the room weren't that different than their own bull pen if you didn't look too close, but there were some things that were decidedly odd. This all became abundantly clear when the large potted plant next to the door stood up on roots that extended from the drainage holes in the pot and moved to stand in front of the door like a sentry. Tilly reached out and tapped one of the leaves, causing a few sparks to drift through the air as he ordered the plant to stand aside. The three Muggle cops knew their eyes were as big as saucers, but they all managed to not say anything.
Once inside the office, the man behind the desk stood and walked around it. Shaking each of their hands in turn, he said, "Welcome, gentlemen. I imagine things are looking a little turned on their heads right about now. Don't worry about it. There is plenty of time to learn the whole thing. Right now you only need the basics. The government loves paperwork, whether it's delivered by owl or mail truck, and people are people wherever you go. As for the rest, things can get very interesting on this side of the fence."
Simon said, "Blair tells me that an Auror is basically a cop. What kinds of cases do you handle here?"
"Generally, we only have to deal with non-humans and part-humans. Problems like werewolves and vampires, even an occasional dragon, though there aren't a lot of them in this hemisphere. I once had to deal with a phoenix who mistakenly landed in a firestation on his dying day. It took fifteen Obliviators to clean up the mess on that one. Usually, it's not humans we have to deal with. The really petty stuff, like flying cars, is the responsibility of the Misuse of Magic Department, so we just have to deal with things like Muggle baiting." At the looks he got on that one, he said, "Oh we get our pranksters. Really silly curses get put on Muggles from time to time, like jinxing the lids on trash cans so that they'll never close, or causing washing machines to eat one sock out of every pair. Sometimes it's far more obvious, like causing people to see UFOs or ghosts that aren't real. Pretty scary stuff sometimes. The worst cases, though, are when wizards actually go bad. There have been instances throughout history in every country of dark wizards. Historically, the one you'd probably be most familiar with would be Morgan le Fey. The most recent one, of course, was Voldemort."
Jim said, "What can you tell us about that case?"
Swacky sighed. "Not a whole lot. His real name is Tom Riddle. When he graduated from Hogwarts in England, everyone who knew him thought he'd go into politics or something like that. He was power hungry enough. But he also had a thing against Muggle-borns, and he was extremely afraid of death. He started doing a lot of research into immortality, trying to beat death, but no one could be sure how much success he met with until just recently. Anyway, he had a lot of supporters, both from compulsion and free will. Any who were strong enough to keep him from spelling their obedience and refused to join him willingly, he destroyed.
"When he went after James and Lilly Potter, however, something went wrong. He killed both of them and then went after their one-year-old son, Harry. For some reason, the spell he used bounced back and hit him instead. He should have died from it, but all he had done to prevent his death must have been at least partially successful." The red-headed man stood and went to his coffee maker. It didn't actually look like anything special, but it was obvious that the machine worked without the aid of electricity. There was a hazy glow coming from the plug end of the power cord, which was coiled neatly beside it. But the resultant brew was just simple coffee, so the three Muggles didn't look too askance at it. "Every year for the last four, either Voldemort himself or a servant has come after Harry at school. There's no guarantee, though, now that he's completely revived, that he won't make an attempt earlier, though he'll probably have figured out that Dumbledore is gathering as many helpers as he can on this." He snorted as he poured the coffee into an ordinary mug. "The kid probably knows more than the Ministry of Magic does about this case, and certainly more than we do here in America."
Blair asked, "So why did this professor ask specifically for Ruth?"
Swacky grinned at him. "Because she's the best. See, Ruth went to the Cascade Police Academy after she graduated from the Greathaven School here in Washington State. She was raised a Muggle before her talents were discovered. She sees things much differently than most wizards. She knew that she wanted to go into law enforcement, but several incidents in her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes led her to believe that if she wanted to get a good idea of how to be a detective, she'd better learn it in the Muggle world. She graduated from the CWPA with top honors, and then she came to Quantico and the Auror Academy. She understands human motivations better than any other agent in the bureau. She's had to deal with plain human darkness more than the rest of us. Anywhere in the country, if they had a bad wizard on their hands, it'd be her they'd call."
Blair understood that. He was kind of the opposite to the PD. He was much quicker to find an alternative explanation for someone's behavior than greed or depravity than his colleagues, as well as being better able to predict group behavior based on cultural patterns. Other departments had been known to consult him on ritualistic killings, as well as artifacts and university life. His propensity for sharing knowledge, whether asked for or not, could be annoying to those not used to it (or even those who were), but you never knew when an idea might be sparked from some stray bit of esoteric information.
Jim said, "This is going to sound like a kid's question, but where does magic come from in the first place?"
Blair wanted to know that himself, so he listened intently when Swacky answered him. "No one's really sure, but they think it's just another force of nature, like gravity. They guess that humans have adapted to it just like those other forces, and that's where you get wizards."
The three men continued to ask questions until Tilly, who they'd been informed was a house elf, came in to remind his boss of a meeting he had in five minutes. "Well, gentlemen, I hope I've been of some help to you. Tilly will give you the paperwork you need to fill out and show you where you can work on it undisturbed. Blair, I know that you and Ruth will be happy together. I'm glad you found each other." They all left his office and Tilly showed the three detectives into one of the work rooms that was empty. He gave them all a small stack of forms to fill out, with quill pens and wells of ink. The forms were fairly straight forward, but both Jim and Simon had to ask for duplicate forms before they got the hang of writing with the quills and not dripping ink all over the paper. Blair just grinned and kept his mouth shut. He used the pen with ease, having once taken a calligraphy class as his fine arts elective.
Once they got the forms filled out, they got wizard photos taken for their IDs. It was a decidedly odd experience, and Blair was starting to get a headache from the intensity of the magical ambiance in the building. He was going to have to get used to that. He wondered why Jim wasn't effected, but then he guessed that it was the Shaman thing. He decided that he was going to have to do some research. He hoped that he would be able to get into a wizard library soon. The anthropologist in him was twitching.
Once they had returned home for the day, Blair told Jim about his sensing the magic around him at the FBMA office. Jim just grinned. "Maybe it's a Sentinel thing. You know, I get the hyper senses and you get the extra senses."
Blair glared at him. "This is serious, Jim. What am I going to do if I keep getting headaches around a lot of magic? I'm marrying a witch!"
Jim thought about it, no longer smiling. "You'll have to find a dial of your own for it, like the ones for my senses."
Blair sighed. "I won't be able to do that until I'm around magic again, 'cause I don't even know how I'm doing it."
Jim sat down on the couch beside his Guide, handing him two Tylenol and a glass of water. "What does it feel like?"
Gratefully taking the pills, he took a swig of the water, then said, "You remember Corinna Santiago?" Jim nodded. "I remember a very similar feeling when Oshun was with her. It had a different -- well, flavor, for want of a better word. And Oshun was more contained."
"You think this is a Shaman thing, then?"
Blair nodded. "I do, but I don't know what to do about it. I was never trained, Jim. I have no idea how to be a Shaman."
Jim thought about it for a moment, searching through his memories of Incacha. After the Chopec Shaman's death, Blair had made him sit down and remember all that he could of his time in Peru, knowing that Jim needed to remember in order to properly honor his old friend. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that there was only one thing they could do. "You're going to have to find someone who does know."
"Another Shaman."
Jim nodded. "Yeah. Incacha used to tell me that he was trained from the time he was just a boy by the elder Shaman. Passing the way to you like he did was an emergency tactic, not really the best way to do it. It's probably a very good thing that the wizard world keeps itself hidden like it does, or you'd have been worse off than I was when my senses came back on-line. There probably is some connection between wizards and Shamans in the past, enough that there's still a link. You're going to have to be trained by a full Shaman, and it's not going to be easy. I don't know all the details, but since you're going to have to get all that training in such a short time, I can't imagine it's going to be a piece of cake."
"Yeah, but Jim, where are we going to find a Shaman? Especially when we're headed for England, not Peru or the African plains."
The Sentinel shrugged. "I don't know, Chief, but we're going to have to figure something out soon. Otherwise, you're going to be in a lot of trouble."
Yay! I finally got this part finished! Now my sister can quit griping at me! I have no idea when the next one will be out, but I promise to try and work faster. Feedback is always welcome!