I'm back! To those of you who asked me nicely to update, here's your reward for reviewing. A full excuse for my almost-lateness will be found below. But for now…

On with the story!

Albus Dumbledore gazed over his spectacles at a slightly battered Mad-Eye Moody. The man had flooed to his office not three hours after the emergency meeting, with news of an encounter with his quarry. It had, quite frankly, shocked him that anybody had been successful this early. Asking the Order to keep on the lookout was a preliminary measure, with other networks to be awakened in time. But for the demon to be sighted so soon, and in Hogsmeade of all places…

Moody cleared his throat, breaking him out of his musings. Startled back to the present, Dumbledore blinked, then spoke.

"So, Alastor, besides the fact that you saw it in the Hog's Head, is there anything else of importance?"

The scarred man looked uneasy, his eye spinning even faster in its socket, focusing sporadically on the numerous shadows that dotted the corners of the room.

"He didn't look at all threatening. Was enjoying a drink, not bothering anybody. If it hadn't been for the eyes, I'd have thought he was a regular at the bar. Didn't act strange at all until the moment I hit him with the stunner."

Albus' eyebrows rose.

"And you're sure that it was the demon?"

Alastor chuckled darkly.

"I doubted it myself until the moment he started flinging shadows all over the place. Healed right over when I hit him with a Cutter, too." He scowled even deeper. "That's dark, dark magic Albus. You know the kind of rituals that lead to powers like those…"

Dumbledore frowned, his wrinkled forehead creasing in mild concern. Shadows and healing? He brushed it off as inconsequential. Simply another power to be contended against.

"Was anyone hurt?"

Moody shook his head.

"No, the bar was cleared by the time it managed to get out of the ropes." He grinned ferociously. "Nobody seemed to want to stick around to watch the fight."

Dumbledore sighed. That meant people had seen. Which meant that the secret was out.

"Thank you, Alastor. I know it's redundant, but please be careful. You have a target on your back, and one more enemy aiming for it."

The ex-Auror nodded briskly and stumped out. The headmaster leaned back into his seat and sighed. It had been a very trying day. And now, this new information. Why would it interact with wizards? From what he'd discovered on the topic, a demon would have been razing the town to the ground, not enjoying a drink. It didn't make any sense.

Fawkes trilled softly. He sighed, frayed nerves soothed by the phoenix's song. He could sort all these details out later, when it wasn't quite so late at night and his mind was clear.

Rita Skeeter was a very happy witch. The Prophet was booming, her defense lawyer had successfully won another slander lawsuit, and the next big scoop had fallen right into her lap. She could practically see the headlines- DARK WIZARD RAMPAGES AT HOG'S HEAD—followed by a few 'eyewitness' accounts, wrapped up with some nice scathing questions directed at the Auror Corps. Just enough controversy and a dash of fear. The paper would be flying off the shelves.

It had started when one of her *ahem* less reputable sources came to her with a half-drunken story of that senile has-been, Mad-Eye Moody, stunning and binding another patron of the bar. Said patron had proceeded to break free of the bindings and set his obviously dark magic rampaging through the building. Moody had been forced to run, and the Dark Wizard's status was unknown. It was the perfect story. Not too many details, and too few credible eyewitnesses. In other words, room to write creatively.

Practically cackling with glee, she gave one last look at the still-drying ink of her notes as she went to work on her typewriter, already planning how she'd spend the gold. Italy was nice this time of year…

Edward stopped where he stood, and leaned against the bricks of a storefront. He was wet, cold, and lost beyond all belief. The city he'd found himself in after taking the train from Hogsmeade was called London, and was the capital of a place called England. So far, he'd only learned a few things besides that. People thought he looked funny, everything here was faster and brighter, nobody wanted gold as payment, and the whole city was wet. Very wet.

As he walked down the darkening streets, he reached the conclusion that he was screwed. No money, no place to stay, and no information. Wonderful. At least the rain was dying down.

Seeing an opportunity to dry off a little, Ed clapped his hands together and ran them over his hair and clothes. Electricity crackled and steam rose off his frame as he continued on his way, ignoring the stares of the few others who noticed.

Mistake number one.

Several quiet *pops* sounded as men and women appeared in side alleys lining the street, filing in and surreptitiously blocking both ends of the road. The few actual pedestrians looked around, quietly disturbed at the number of oddly dressed people. This confusion was replaced by a sudden desire to go home and check on the roast they had left in the oven, or go to the pub, or find a loo. The entire street was cleared in a matter of seconds. Edward, lost in his thoughts, didn't give any attention to the changes.

Mistake number two.

The man in charge of the robed individuals raised his wand and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

"You're under arrest for violation of the International Statute of Secrecy. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Ed looked up from his self-pity and registered the current abandoned status of his surroundings, save for the Aurors in front of and behind him.

"I think he's talking to us."

Edward looked askance at the wizard in front of him. What violation of secrecy? All he'd done was a transmutation, nothing fancy. None of the magic these people seemed to care so much about keeping secret.

"Stop where you are! Put your hands in the air, and lay your wand at your feet. We've got anti-Apparition and Portkey wards up on the entire block! You're coming with us to a comfy little cell in Azkaban!"

That got his attention. Prison was a setback to whatever he felt like doing next, and breaking out would be such a pain. Besides, he'd already done fifty years for nothing but existing, he didn't need any more. Nodding his head at the decision and Pride's agreement with his reasoning, he politely told the man in a dress to fuck off.

And they took exception to that.

Ducking under one beam of light, he had just enough time to twist out of the way of another. There were seven of them total, but backup was always an option. He'd need to take them down fast.

A quickly transmuted dome bought him some time to think as the warped cobblestone shook overhead. When the dust and rubble settled, there was no golden-eyed criminal in sight, and the Aurors quickly spread out, Protegos up and detection charms going.

The first man had just enough time to look towards where his wand was pointing him as the ground reached up and swallowed his legs, his torso, and his arms. Buried up to his chest and still sinking, all he had time to do was shout a warning to his partners.

"He's underground!"

Then the world exploded.

Plumes of dust shot in the air as random bursts of the street shot upwards in a spray of sharp stone. Sections of the ground melted, swallowing four more Aurors before hardening again, leaving them immobilized up to their chins. The remaining ten stood back to back, wands pointing outwards and spells on their lips.

Footsteps sounded, sharp on the road amidst the settling dust and rocks. Edward stepped out of the smoke, arm-blade at the ready and a rectangular, a polished stone shield in his flesh hand.

The first spell, a dull red bolt, flew over his left shoulder, ruffling his hair. He mentally face-palmed. Five men downed, and they still waste time on warning shots. His pace continued uninterrupted. The next spell meant business, a vivid orange spiraling towards his chest. It was deflected by the shield, and crashed into a storefront window. Which exploded, with the contents bursting into spectacular flames.

Hm. Orange is a good color to dodge.

He deflected a few more shots, stopping his advance and backing up as the group opened fire in earnest. A shot clipped him on his automail knee, causing the port to shock him rather nastily. Half of his toes went dead. The distraction cost him another hit in his flesh shoulder, locking his arm out rigidly and forcing him to drop his shield. He snarled, and red lightning flashed, the street once again bending to his will. Only this time, they saw it coming. As soon as the light show started, the shifting cobbles were blasted to pieces, stopping his transmutation short. A second attempt got him the same results. He was about to really cut loose with a few pages from Kimblee's book when a sharp series of cracks echoed all around him. Ed raised his head to see cloaked figures from every angle.

"We've got you surrounded. Lie on the ground with your arms on either side, and put your wand in front of you. Resist and we'll start using lethal force. Nod if you understand me."

Edward did a quick mental calculation. There were about forty of them, and he'd burned through quite a bit of the Stone's energy in the past two days. Not to mention his stiff arm and half-useless leg.

He ignored Pride's grumbling, and nodded.

It seemed that no matter where he went, the criminal justice system was always inefficient and back-asswards. Not like he expected them to act nice to the guy who just blew up half a street resisting arrest, but still.

The 'Portkey' that they'd shoved onto him had felt distinctly unpleasant, and his arrival at what seemed to be a magical police station was greeted with a bruiser in another dress-robes, he was informed-who shoved him unceremoniously into a cell.

"Could I get a lawyer?" he chanced. They did have defendant's rights in this place, right?

"No." Apparently not.

That particularly eloquent conversation was followed by a translucent blue wall springing up in the doorway of his cell. At least his arm had loosened up. The pins and needles feeling was annoying, but at least the curse wasn't permanent.

"So, when do we break out?"

Edward frowned.

"Problem is, I don't think we can. I burned through quite a bit of the Stone, and short of eating a few souls, we don't have any way to replace all the energy we've lost. Transmuting my way out of the back of the cell could work, but we still don't know where we are, so-"

"HEY, GOLDY, SHUT UP!"

"Aaaand there's that guy. Think you could talk in your head, maybe? Save us some trouble?"

"Why didn't you suggest this sooner?

"You looked stupid talking to yourself for no apparent reason. It was amusing, and I'll take entertainment where I can get it."

The alchemist sighed, mentally conveying just what he thought of that particular hobby. He stood, and placed a hand on the back wall of his cell. Moments later, he drew his hand away, eyes widening in shock.

'Did you-'

"Yep. No feedback. Think we're bac-"

Ed shook his head vehemently.

'No, they couldn't have. If they did, we'd be lying in a pile of gold right now. For now, let's just chalk it up to more of the same voodoo magic that they've got going on.'

The same results were gained from his bed, sheets, even the bucket sitting in the corner. When they were inspecting that one, Pride had an idea.

"Maybe we could-"

'No.'

"But-"

'No.'

"You aren't even-"

'I told you Pride, we're not doing that. There are limits. For such a dignified person, I swear-'

It was Ed's turn to be cut off.

"What's undignified about looking at the barrier they've put up?"

Ed's eyes widened.

'Oh. We could do that.'

"What did you- Oh. Ohhh. Gross. What on earth made you think that?"

Ignoring the fake-retching sounds Pride was making, Edward walked over to the barrier, and put a hand on it. Again, no feedback. He was about to pull his hand away when Pride stopped him.

"Wait. Whatever that thing's made of, the Stone's filling up."

His eyes widened. In his excitement, he forgot to think his conversation.

"Of course! Energy! Magic is basically energy, so the Stone can-"

"SHUT UP!"

Dumbledore was getting tired of receiving late-night emergency Floo calls. Why couldn't the world wait until a decent hour to turn upside-down? He heaved a sigh in resignation and let the wards blocking the Floo open up.

A flustered Cornelius Fudge stumbled into his office, looking quite upset underneath the soot.

"Albus, there's been a bit of a disturbance down in London, and we'd like your input. We've apprehended the perpetrator, but he's…" the rotund man searched for a word to describe what he'd seen. "… Different."

Dumbledore wearily stood.

"Different in what way?" he questioned. "There are about twelve thousand wizards and witches in Magical Britain, and I hardly suspect they are all the same. Does our mystery man have a strange tattoo? An eye-patch? Or perhaps an interestingly shaped nose?"

His attempt at levity was lost on the Minister.

"No, Albus. He's different in that it took three squads of Aurors to get him to come in peacefully, and we're still trying to dig out the three that he managed to get to…"

Dumbledore's interest perked. After all, exceptionally powerful individuals didn't just appear out of thin air.

"And what on earth is the man in for, that one fifth of the Auror Corps were called in for his arrest?"

Fudge winced, his pudgy hands nervously wringing the brim of his bowler cap.

"Er… well, you see… it started out with just a minor breach of Secrecy. A spike of energy was located by the sensors, we sent in Aurors, and there's the man walking down a rainy street, completely dry. We're still trying to figure out why he'd risk arrest for something as simple as an Impervious charm… Anyway. Long story short, the men sent in were a little overzealous, and a fight broke out. Three men were buried to their noses in the street, and then the squad leader called for backup. He only surrendered when he realized they had him outnumbered and surrounded, and even then the reports say it took him a while to decide to give in."

Dumbledore frowned, putting on his 'weary grandfather' aura. Perhaps he could guilt the man into leaving him alone?

"And I suppose you want me to come help with cleanup, then?"

The Minister had the good grace to look sheepish.

"Well, not exactly, but if you feel like it, then you could help, but it's the other thing he's been doing that's got the Aurors on edge. He was hit with a partial Petrificus, and his arm should've stayed frozen for hours if not countered. But as soon as they got him to the station, it was right as rain again. They brushed that off, put him in one of the Ministry cells until he could sit for a trial, but, well, I have trouble believing it, the cell failed!"

Dumbledore's eyes widened fractionally.

"What do you mean, failed? Those wards are Gringotts' finest, they're designed to last centuries. Did he break out, or did he have an accomplice?"

Fudge now looked slightly better, knowing something the all-seeing Headmaster didn't. He took a breath and continued his tale.

"Well, from what the man on guard said (once we could get him conscious again), he was banging on the ward-wall for a bit, then suddenly stopped. He poked and prodded it, and then all at once, popped it like a bubble. At the same time, most of the wards in the rest of the cell block failed, and he escaped in the confusion. As far as the diagnostics go, he didn't break the wards. The runes are all still intact. He drained them, Albus! The Unspeakables are saying it's something like a magical vampire! Just sucked the energy right out of the system, and if he hadn't left, might have moved on to the Ministry's security wards next!"

Dumbledore drew his conclusion.

"And so you want help determining how to find our culprit?"

Fudge nodded, apparently relieved he hadn't had to ask himself.

"Yes. Of course, we realize you're a busy man, and I couldn't possibly intrude on your duties to the school, but any advice you have to offer-"

He was stalled by Albus' raised hand.

"Of course I can help. Just give me a description and I'll ask a few contacts to start looking."

"Thank you Albus, with your help I'm sure we'll apprehend the man in no time. The report put him in at about five and a half feet, maybe a bit shorter. Blond hair, red coat, white gloves. Let's see, there was something else I was missing. What was it now…?"

Dumbledore, with a mounting sense of dread, asked the question he really didn't want to hear the answer to.

"His face, perhaps?"

His friend brightened, having obviously remembered the elusive detail.

"That's it! Bright gold eyes! Strangest color they'd ever seen!" The Minister, now much livelier than when he came in, gave his thanks and headed towards the fireplace. Albus Dumbledore was on the case, and so the political storm would be diverted. As he spun away from Hogwarts, he didn't even notice the way a shaking Albus Dumbledore limply sat back down into his chair.

Dumbledore watched the Minister of Magic depart, with a mixed feeling of dread and defeat. The secret was out, albeit only partially. He could only imagine the next day's headlines.

It was times like this when he wished he could just retire quietly.

Meanwhile, back in a familiar well-lit but still sinister office, several cloaked men and women were being reprimanded.

"You mean to tell me, that he was right there, that they literally had him in a cell, and you couldn't extract him?"

The man in the shadowed cloak paced animatedly in front of his desk.

"For Merlin's sake, why do I even pay you people? You're given a briefing, a target, and a nice set of shrouded robes and notice-me-nots, but you can't do a simple retrieval?"

The most senior of the bunch stepped forwards, ready to protest.

"Sir, to be fair, it was chaos down there. Every lowlife in those cells was making a break for it, and we couldn't even see him. If it makes any difference, Seven managed to get a diagnosis of the magic he used to take out the Auror."

Sitting down at his desk, he folded his hands.

"And your results?"

"It wasn't magic. Or rather, if it was, we can't tell what spell he used. We've got no clue what he did, but there isn't a trace of any sort of magic on the floor. No animation, no transfiguration. Whatever he did left absolutely no magical trace."

The shadowy leader nodded.

"Put it in your report. Given that this isn't a complete loss, you're getting another chance. Get someone in some kind of contact with him. That's your assignment for the next month. Now get out of my office."

Not believing their luck, the subordinates filed out of the room. Under his illusion, he grinned. Umbra kinesis, a healing factor, magical resistance, ward sapping, and now undetectable manipulation of his surroundings. This was one they definitely wanted to gather into the fold. The things someone with his abilities could do…

He pulled out a bottle of Ogden's finest and poured himself a glass. This was cause for celebration, and the alcohol helped him scheme. Events were shifting much more quickly and everything seemed to focus around the mysterious golden man. It all depended on who could reach him first.

Because whoever did would surely be holding all the right cards when the time came.

The time for what? He frowned. That was the question.

Hey guys! I said June, it's still June, I met my deadline! YAY! Not at all going to apologize for misleading those who thought 'sometime in June' meant early June!

So… here's the awkward part.

You see, I wrote this story off of a particularly ravenous plot bunny who was sitting in the corner of my mind for weeks. It was bad. The first chapter was easy-peasy. Same for the second. Third took a little more effort and by the fifth I was running out of steam.

Let the dread mount in the back of your minds.

Just kidding! Not going to abandon the story. Remember the promise. Anyway, point is that basically, I need time to actually consider where this plot is going to head. I have a general idea, but specifics are going to take some time, and I refuse to write my first story without a plan. I apologize in advance for the words you're about to read.

This story is going on hiatus. Don't panic, it's probably just going to be a month. Maybe two. I will be back by September by the latest, and this entire train wreck of an AN will be taken down when Chapter 7 is put up. That is all. Thank you for your support.

~Ambiguity