Chapter 18

There was a woman with mousy brown hair pacing in front of the entrance to the castle. She looked up at every person passing as if anxiously waiting for someone, though her expression tried for casual. Not far off, standing with a bemused expression, was Dumbledore. Allen made for the pair.

"Ah, at last," Dumbledore called loudly. The woman turned from her pacing, saw Allen, and half-smiled in relief, holding out a hand.

"Wotcher," she greeted warmly. Allen was surprised at the firm hand shake she gave him, and smiled back politely.

"Allen, let me introduce Nymphadora Tonks, an Auror for the Ministry, and your guide for the next few days."

"Just call me Tonks, Allen. I've heard all about you from Professor Dumbledore. We can talk on the way down. Got everything you need?" she added, gesturing to Allen's one bag, thrown over his shoulder.

"Yes," he said simply.

Nodding, she led the charge out of the castle, Dumbledore taking the rear. Allen met pace with Tonks, who had a purposeful way of walking that, for whatever reason, seemed stiff and affected.

"We'll both be new to the case in Sheffield," Tonks said, brisk tone matching her brisk walk. "Until yesterday I was assigned here to Hogsmeade, but the professor seems to have pulled some strings." She grinned, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Can't say I'm too upset about it, I've been aching to get out of the village."

Allen glanced back at Dumbledore, whose eyes were smiling mischievously. Allen opened his mouth to ask a question, but Tonks had begun speaking again.

"So, you're an expert at these creatures we're trying to find?" she began conversationally, looking at Allen.

Looking away from Dumbledore, he replied, "If they are what I think they are, then yes." He paused when he foot got stuck in a deep pile of snow. After pulling it out and shaking the snow off, he continued, "I need to speak with the witness, hear directly from her what happened." They continued walking.

Tonks frowned. "Her memory was Modified. It'll be tricky to fix it."

"Why was it Modified so soon after the attack?" Allen asked. "She could have some information she only remembered later."

"Standard procedure," Tonks replied, frowning in slight confusion now. "With the need for secrecy and the war, it's more important than ever."

"I'm not a wizard," Allen explained point-blank. "So your "standard procedure" is entirely new to me. Forgive me for not understanding."

Tonks raised surprised eyebrows. "You forgot to mention that, professor," she called behind her shoulder. Then she shrugged. "My dad's a Muggle, and he took to magic pretty well when I was growing up. You seem adjusted yourself, been around long?"

Allen nodded. "Couple weeks."

"Hmm," she said, but by now the village of Hogsmeade was in sight and Tonks checked her watch. "Shoot, we need to hurry, Portkey leaves in a few minutes." She picked up the pace, Allen and Dumbledore keeping up.

"So these are the basics: Dumbledore recommended you as a specialist of some sort, and I wouldn't mention to my superiors that you're a Muggle," Tonks said quickly. She held up an envelope for Allen to see and stuffed it back into her pocket a moment later. "That's Dumbledore's recommendation. You'll see the damage and give us your opinion when you've got your look. I'll see what I can do about Sally Farpolde but I can't promise anything. It's not just the difficulty of the magic," she added, anticipating Allen's interruption. "It's the politics, and the ethics, too. Playing with memory is tricky and we try to avoid it when possible, and restoring a Muggle's memory of magic...well." She sighed, her expression doubtful. "We'll go from there. I can show you your accommodations after we finish at the site. Got that?"

"Got it," Allen replied. It sounded standard enough.

They entered the village, and turned down an alley where Tonks made straight for a punctured soccer ball, stopping in front of it, panting slightly. Allen looked down at it dubiously.

"Is that the Portkey?" he asked.

"Yup," she said, picking it and up and holding it. "We can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds and its best we leave from a general point, just in case."

"In case of what?" Allen didn't bother to ask what "Apparate" meant; likely just more wizard mumbo-jumbo.

But Tonks wasn't listening; her eyes and attention were on her watch. "One minute, Allen." She jerked the ball at him. "Hold on tight to that and whatever you do, don't let go until we land."

Allen did as she said, and then looked over his shoulder at Dumbledore. The professor, oddly quiet this whole time, waved to a passerby, who moved along after a moment. "As I said yesterday, Tonks is an associate of mine, and I trust her to take care of you while you're out," he said, now looking at Allen over the rim of his glasses. "Good luck, Mr. Walker. See you in a few days."

"See you soon, professor," Allen said, and then felt a rough tug at his belly button, and the world was spinning in a sickening whirl of color. He couldn't have let go of the Portkey even if he wanted, and just as suddenly as it began it was over. Allen tumbled to the ground, jumping to his feet almost immediately and holding his arms out in a steadying motion.

"Nicely done," Tonks chuckled. He looked over and saw she grinned humorously at him, brushing herself off. "Not too many first-timers land on their feet. Well, we're here, so let's go."

Allen felt for Timcanpy in his jacket collar, and the little golem wriggled his way out, flying dizzily for a moment before landing on Allen's head. Allen looked around at his surroundings, and blinked at the changes. They were standing in an alley, Tudor-style buildings visible on the other side of the street. As they came out of the alley, Tonks leading, Allen saw there was only a little snow here, not as heavy as at the castle. There was the smell of burning in the wind.

They walked briskly, Allen looking around. The outside world was real and he was back in it once again. He didn't feel like he'd left for very long and yet at the same time it was like he'd been gone forever.

"Watch it!" Tonks yelled, and Allen stopped abruptly as something sped past him down the road. He stared.

Tonks chuckled. "Be careful there, Allen, you almost got run over."

Yeah, but run over by what? Allen mused. He watched as the metal carriage sped down the road before turning, disappearing from view.

They turned down the street and Allen slowed down, taking in the damage.

The entire street was a blackened shell. Some walls here and there were still standing, but the buildings were damaged beyond repair, lawns blackened and burned, a few cars reduced to scrap.

It certainly looked like any other aftermath of an Akuma attack. Yes, there was a line in the dirt from a stray bullet; there, holes in the still-standing wall of a two-story, just the right size from a quick glance. He looked around for the empty clothes of victims, but there were none he could see from here. As he took it in he noted one or two people in gray uniforms standing at the outskirts of the area, keeping curious onlookers away. A large letter M was embroidered on the sleeves; it made the wizards and witches faceless, presence more than people.

He half-expected a Finder to appear out of the corner of his eye, but he was still walking slowly, taking the place in. He heard his name being called and turned away, walking toward where Tonks and an older man were standing. The man was frowning down at her and Allen recognized the look of a put-out official.

"And I don't appreciate interference," he growled, but then he noticed Allen. The man stared stonily at Allen and then held out a hand. Allen took it, the man gave a single gruff shake and let go.

"So you're the expert, hmm?" he said, tone gruff, nose red from the cold. He was a stout man, one of the few not dressed in uniform gray, with grey hair, kept military short, and deep lines on his face crafting it into a semi-permanent frown. He was staring openly at Allen, eyes impassive. "I'm Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office, and you are?"

"My name is Allen Walker," Allen introduced crisply. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"How old are you, boy?" he asked gruffly.

"Nineteen," Allen lied. The man snorted.

"Aye, and I'm Minister," Robards replied. "You can't even be of age. What is this, Tonks?"

"I have a letter from Professor Dumbledore, vouching for his credibility," Tonks said evenly. She reached into her coat pocket and produced the letter, holding it out to Robards. He took it, waved his wand over the paper; satisfied with something Allen couldn't see, he opened the letter with a flick and read over it quickly, the lines in his face deepening. He folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket, then turned his attention to Allen.

"Well, then, Mr. Walker, what have you got to tell us?"

Allen looked around, then said, "Those lines in the dirt were caused by bullets, which are discharged by something called an Akuma—in this case, a Level One."

"What is an Akuma?" Robards interrupted, and Allen gave a short explanation of a weapon, sans the creation story.

"And why haven't I heard of these before?" Robards asked crisply.

Allen paused. That was a good question, and amazingly not one he had thought of an answer for. "They're an unusual magical creature," he answered, after a slightly too long pause.

"Hmm," Robards vocalized disbelivingly. "Very unusual, if I've never heard of it. Is this kind of damage common of…Akuma?"

"Usually there are corpses," Allen replied evenly. "That only the houses were destroyed is odd. They're made to kill people. All this," Allen said, gesturing, "it's just extra."

"Wait now, you just said they're made," Robards replied, eyes gleaming. "By who?"

Allen sighed. "If we're going to talk about this, let's sit down," he said. "And I can explain why I'm here, at the same time."

"Anything else you want to look at, Walker?"

Allen shook his head. "I want to talk to Sally Farpolde, about what she saw."

"Can't do it," Robards replied immediately, "memory's been Modified."

"Undo it," Allen replied curtly. "I need to talk to her about what she saw."

"And I can't," Robards said, just as firmly. Allen stared at Robards, and was getting ready to start arguing, when Tonks cut in.

"Sir, civilians," she said, pointing behind them. Robards broke eye contact with Allen to see a pair of people arguing with a Ministry official in gray. Robards sighed heavily, but walked over to take care of it.

Allen shook his head. "It's the same everywhere," he grumbled.

"Well," Tonks replied, "I've got the same questions as him."

Allen looked at her. Tonk glanced at him, then at the damage at the houses. She shook her head. "I'm more prepared to believe that there's new Dark magic than some destructive mythical creatures I've never heard of," she said simply. Then she grinned, though the humor in her eyes was bitter. "Then again, always have to be prepared for the unexpected. Eh?"

Yet again, Allen was given the impression that her apparent light-heartedness was forced. But before he could think of a reply, Robards had already come back. He stopped in front of the pair, his eyes fixed on Allen. "Well, Walker, we've no headquarters here, but there's a coffee shop down the street where we can talk."

They walked briskly down the street, Robards pulling up his collar against the wind that whistled down the thin street. Small cars and mopeds passed every once in a while, and Allen forced himself not to gawk. It was more than the vehicles; music pumped out of speakers, sounds unlike anything he'd ever heard, full of heavy bass and drums or strange distortions that weren't like any instrument he'd ever known. The fashion was weird too; though not wizard weird, where everyone wore robes. Allen remembered that the article had mentioned the town had a mix of Muggles and magicians, and he wondered how they kept their magic hidden in such a place. How they explained the fire, and the fear, and the gray-uniformed Ministry guards.

That was briefly pushed out of his mind when they arrived at the coffee shop. There was a machine grinding the beans that the Science Division would have loved to get their hands on, more strange music pumping out of the room, and the barista wore a headset, minding the most complicated-looking cash register he'd ever seen.

"Hello, what can I get started for you today?" the barista asked. Allen stared at the menu, not believing the prices, and finally said, "Just black coffee."

"Alright, what size?"

What size? They came in sizes? "Um...small?"

She nodded. "Alright, one tall coffee, that'll be £2."

Allen fished around, until Tonks said behind him, "Oh, we're all together," gesturing to herself and Robards. Allen stepped back, they ordered, and Tonks paid with Muggle money, the face on the cash different from the one Allen remembered. In fact, the cash looked different. He mused on that, staring at the cash register and the coffee grinder. They looked like something the Science Division would use, but he couldn't recall ever seeing anything like it outside headquarters.

He shrugged it off after a minute, and tapped his foot to the music as he waited. He was beginning to like it, weird as it was.

A few minutes later his hands wrapped around a cup of hot, black coffee as the three looked for a seat. Tonks sipped on tea, as did Robards. As they settled down in a corner, Robards flicked his wand discreetly, then put it away.

"What did you just do?" Allen asked, sipping his coffee, grimacing at the burned flavor. Allen noticed the shop sounds of grinding beans and the music had dimmed, sounding almost tinny.

"I'm making sure we can't be overheard," Robards replied gruffly. Then he settled, lowering his chin as he looked into Allen's eyes, face again impassive. "So, Walker, start explaining."

Allen set his cup down. He took a breath, and then looked into Robards' eyes evenly.

"What I'm about to tell you needs to remain between us. You can change the details when you close the investigation, I don't care about that. But this has to remain a secret. Do you understand?"

Robards' face remained impassive. "And if I don't?"

"Then I won't be able to tell you what Akuma are or how to handle them, and your people will get hurt because of it. I want to avoid that. I would like your cooperation."

"I don't appreciate threats, Mr. Walker."

"It's not a threat, Mr. Robards," Allen replied evenly. "It's fact."

Robards was silent, and he and Allen engaged in a small battle of wills, until at last Robards just nodded. "Deal. Now, tell me about these Akuma."

Allen did. He told them how the weapons were made, how he could take of the problem, how magic would not. Robards listened silently, his full attention on Allen. Tonks listened as well, and when Allen was done, both of them were ashen. Allen, taking Tonks' advice, did not tell Robards he was a Muggle; he would let the head of the Auror office assume he had magic, just like everyone else here seemed to.

"I'll let you talk to Sally Farpolde," Robards said at last.

xox

The inn where Tonks and Allen checked in was cozy and small. Allen was pleased with the comfy bed and the window, and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally had a moment to himself.

Robards had said it would take time to fix the witness's memory, and that Allen's time with her would be short. He accepted it, and took the chance to relax while he could.

It wasn't a hundred percent certain that it even was Akuma. The wizard's enemy could have a weapon they didn't know about that was just incredibly, coincidentally similar. But he was out of the castle, back in the world, and that meant trouble could appear at any time. He hadn't seen Tonks in action yet, so he didn't know how she would handle a fight if one came along. He just had to hope that Dumbledore's faith in her was enough.

Although, if Robards' reaction to the recommendation letter said anything, it was that Dumbledore's faith might be worth something.

Pressure was building behind his eyes. It had been all afternoon. He rubbed his eyes, pressing into them with his palms. Timcanpy fluttered around him. It wasn't the level of headache that had become a regular part of life. But it was worrisome enough. Getting up, he went over to the sink and splashed some water on his face.

The pain in his eye came without warning, sharp and stinging and terribly familiar. Gritting his teeth and covering his eye, gears whining above it, he ran to the window and threw the curtain open. There they were, three Level One Akuma hovering above the burned shells of buildings, waiting.

He didn't stop to think; he activated his Innocence with a thought, bolting out of his room, nearly running into Tonks. She halted as she took in his appearance but already he was flying past her, yelling, "Stay inside, take cover!" before he was gone, out of the building, the jagged edges of his cloth Crown Clown launching him into the air.

The first Akuma went down before it even saw Allen; the other two turned to fire, and Allen dodged, wincing as bullets hit the building behind him. He had to move faster. Months without battling Akuma, however, took their toll; flying debris cut his face, stinging. He wiped blood off his eye with his right hand. He landed on a roof, flexing his fingers, the metal claws rasping against each other. He launched forward, eye whining, shooting pain in his head.

"Oh come on," he muttered dryly to himself, slashing through the second Akuma and dodging the gases, striking down the third and final Akuma with another slash.

It was over before it really began. Ministry officials in gray stared at Allen as he told them to back off until the smoke cleared. Robards had come flying out at the sound of the first Akuma blowing up, and after a moment of watching Allen in action, got to work himself, shouting for people to set up a perimeter, keep the Muggles out. Spells hid the sounds and sights of fighting, and someone cast a charm on the smoke, gathering it into a ball to clear the air.

Allen's eye throbbed and his head felt like it was splitting into a thousand pieces. He collapsed onto his knees, barely registered rough hands grabbing him and pulling him back from the ruin of his brief fight.

"Walker, let me see," a voice said urgently, and his hand was pulled away from his eye. Tonks hissed in empathetic disgust, and Allen felt blood drip down his chin. With a thought, he deactivated his Innocence, collapsing heavily onto himself and covering his face in his hands.

"Tonks, report," Robards' voice cut clear through the splitting of Allen's head.

The splitting headache was disappearing already, dying as soon as he had deactivated his Innocence. Something prodded his hand, and he said, panting, "I'm fine. Just give me a moment."

"You're bleeding from your eye. Move your hand now."

It was a hard order, but Allen obeyed, eye shut firmly against the receding pain. Something cool passed over him, the wetness on his skin disappearing. "Try opening your eye now," Tonks said.

He did, slowly. "Thanks," he said softly. Tonks nodded and straightened up.

"That," he panted, looking first at Tonks and then at Robards, "was an Akuma. That is what I'm here for."

"I don't understand," Robards said, staring at him. "Where did they come from? Why did they come out?"

Allen shrugged. "New victims were appearing. I told you, they're made for killing, it's in their programming. With all the officers here to investigate, you make yourself new targets." He rested his head in his palms, headache receding as he rubbed his temples.

He was glad that, for now, a headache was all it was. Months without action had made him slow; he hadn't been hit by flying debris in a long time. He made to stand, and Tonks took his arm, helping him up. "There will probably be more tonight. Tell me, has anyone died in this village in the last few months? I'll need to see who and when."

"Why? Do you think there will be more?"

Allen nodded. "Yes, I do."

xox

The rest of the afternoon Allen stayed out of the way as Ministry officials blocked the area off, spelling away the broken debris, fixing damage on the houses in teams. Allen watched in amazement as roofs were repaired with a flick of magic, and realized with annoyance that him and Hagrid fixing the Quidditch stands by hand was completely unnecessary.

People stared at him out of the corner of their eyes, or with quick glances, whispering among themselves about the attack. Allen escaped to the inn, which had a radio and a television, where he watched a science fiction movie in complete fascination. The plot was simple: rescue a princess, destroy a space station; there were laser swords at some point? He enjoyed it regardless.

When the movie ended, he flipped the channels, frowning at the remote and its ridiculous amount of buttons.

The innkeeper came over after a while and asked Allen to stop changing channels, and so he escaped to his room. He tried to take a nap; when that failed, he watching cars pass by under his window, thinking.

After nightfall Tonks knocked on his door with dinner and a report, setting both down on the desk in his room. Allen approached the meal with his usual gusto; Tonks chuckled at the sight.

"Slow down there, Walker, it's not going to disappear." Allen shrugged, but did slow down. Tonks sighed, sitting down at the desk in the room, shedding her cloak and laying it across her lap. She opened the folder, looking at the names.

"When'd you change your hair like that?"

Tonks looked up at Allen, who was polishing off his dish with a hunk of bread, soaking up sauce. "Hmm? What'cha mean?"

"Your hair's blue. It was brown earlier." It was indeed; it wasn't vibrant, just a hint of color, but enough to see a change.

She chuckled. "I'm a Metamorphamagus. I can change how I look without a wand. Watch," she said, and sat still as her hair grew shaggy and stark white. The skin around her eye wriggled and morphed until there was a long scar, complete with pentacle, running down her eye. Her jaw shifted, eyes changed subtly in shape and color, skin paled, shoulders broadened slightly, chest shrunk. Sitting in front of Allen was Allen.

His jaw dropped. She chuckled, then without a moment to lose morphed back to herself, blue hair and all. "Passed Disguise and Concealment on the Auror exam with flying colors."

Allen put his mouth back together for a moment and stared with new admiration. "That was amazing," he said.

"Thank you," she replied, the emotion genuine, not forced. "Although you've got quite the transformation trick yourself, don't you?"

He hummed, setting his plate down. "I guess."

Tonks stood up, grabbed the folder on the desk, and started walking over to him, but her cloak had fallen around her feet and her feet caught in the fabric, sending her forward. She corrected just before her face landed on the floor, feet thumping heavily on the floor. Allen was halfway up from his chair.

"You okay?" he said worriedly.

She chuckled in embarrassment, bending down to pick up the cloak. "Ah, yeah, I'm fine. Bit clumsy, is all." She carefully draped the cloak over the chair, and then shook her head as she grinned sheepishly. "Almost failed the Auror exam because of that. Stealth isn't my strong suit." She ambled over, handing Allen the folder. "Here, the list of names you asked for."

He nodded, setting it down without looking at the contents.

"Why did you need that list, by the way?"

"Has to do with how the Akuma got here," he replied.

She gestured to the folder. "One of the people on that list is a relative of Mrs. Farpolde."

Allen set his plate down, picked up the folder, and opened it, reading the list. It was short; five names. He was silent for several moments, staring at the page, before shutting the folder, his face carefully blank. "I need to talk to her as soon as I can."

Tonks smirked. "Yes, you've made that very clear. The witch we sent for will be here in the morning."

Allen nodded. They both fell quiet, Allen polishing dinner while Tonks stood, awkward. He set his plate down. "Did you need anything else?"

Tonks started, then shook her head. "No. Just came by to drop that off."

Allen yawned. "Okay. Well, I'm tired, so I think I'll turn in early. Thanks for the folder," he added.

Tonks understood the dismissal and after a moment backed away, grabbing her cloak and wishing Allen a good night before she left.

When she was gone, he looked down at the list of names beside him. His eyes honed in on the date of the last disappearance: March 4, 1996.

He stayed awake for hours, thinking.

xox

His nightmares were the most intense he'd had in months.

He was in that horrible grey room, the one where he'd met Neah as more than a shadow behind his shoulder. He was chained to a stone chair, and Neah was standing over him, hands tucked in the pockets of his overcoat, smirking. He didn't say a word. Allen struggled, helpless. He screamed in frustration. Neah just smirked, shaking his head, mocking Allen in total silence.

The scene changed.

Now he stood in the ruins of the North American branch. He walked through the empty ruins slowly, his limbs sluggish, every step a struggle, searching until he found what he was looking for.

There were two bodies, broken into cracks, pieces scattered here and there. There was blood and bone and Allen looked down at their faces and felt too much.

The scene changed again. He stood alone on a track in the middle of a field of wheat, staring out into the horizon. A voice said behind him, "Run on, boy. Run forever if you have to. You won't catch up."

"You'd know, wouldn't you?"

"Not as well as you, though."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

The man chuckled again. "That's a secret. You're not ready for it yet."

"I thought you wanted my body. I thought you'd do anything to get it." Allen laughed, a sharp, unhappy sound. "Aren't I one of your brothers now? One of your family?" he added, practically hissing. "Don't families tell each other the truth?"

The man's voice lost its mocking quality, turning hard. "You know very little about family if that's what you think."

"And whose fault is that?" Allen said coldly. "Your family took every person I ever cared about."

"Not true," Neah said. "Your precious Innocence did plenty of harm. Suman Dark Fell when he wasn't useful anymore. It destroyed Alma Karma's life. It even killed your master." He taunted, "Or didn't you care about Cross?"

Allen turned with a raised fist, but he was alone. Wind rose and shot through him, chilling him to the bone, pushing him forward like he was nothing but air. Allen shouted wordlessly and the wind rose higher, to a gale, pushing the wheat flat and lifting Allen off his feet.

He fell into his cell at the Order, at the feet of the Innocence that murdered his master.

"There you are, Allen Walker," Apocryphos said, leaning over him. Allen raised his head, and looked directly into the eyes of a smiling cardinal, just inches away. "I've been looking for you. Join me," he said, reaching a hand toward Allen's face.

A burning hot hand grabbed his left shoulder, holding him down; Allen howled in pain, and bolted up in bed, sweating.

His shoulder still burned and he grabbed it, feathers sprouting from his shoulder through his fingers. His sheets were twisted around him, his shirt soaked through with sweat. He was burning hot, panting hard, trying to breathe through the pain in his shoulder. He looked at it, but in the dark he couldn't see anything. Struggling to untangle himself from the bed, he fell out, thumping heavily. Cursing, he hoped no one came looking, and made for the window, throwing it open, hoping for light.

A streetlamp from outside cast a dim orange glow into the room. By it, he could see a wing-like growth sprouting a foot high from his shoulder. He stared down at his hand, shaking. In the light, the skin was dark grey.

"Go away," he hissed, grabbing his head and staring at the reflection in the glass, talking to more than Neah's reflection. "You aren't welcome. And you won't win. I am Allen Walker, this is my body, and you can't have it."

A/N: Small edit made to the price of coffee. Thanks Tsarina Torment for the info! To address faq's: Time travel, answered. Allen and Hermione are not going to be involved romantically. I think that covers it. One last thing: Like most of you, I'm back in school, so my sporadic updates will continue. Sorry. But next chapter's written, so see you next week with that. Hope you're all doing well.