Harry met up with Proudfoot as they made their way to the Aurors' office.

"Hope we have some intel on this group of wackos we're investigating," the older man grumbled with a dour look on his face. "Hardly want to go wandering into the outskirts of a deserted Muggle town and find myself at wand-point." Grizzled, but not unkind, Proudfoot reminded Harry of a more sociable and slightly politer version of the late Mad-Eye Moody.

Harry agreed. "Yeah…wouldn't mind having a crystal ball for once."

The older man gave a Sirius like grin. "Merlin knows you've walked into enough death traps in your day, Potter. Wouldn't hurt to befriend a true Seer…it wouldn't do much, but it would be better than nothing."

The comment reminded Harry of Trelawney's prediction. "Blimey, the reunion was already nearly a month ago?" He racked his brain to recall the words…something about a choice that wasn't a choice…something unexpected gained…

"Well, I've gained a few scars and headaches recently, but that's hardly unexpected," he thought, smirking.

Deciding that his friends had been right, and Trelawney's prophecy was a load of rubbish, Harry refocused his mind on the task he'd be facing in just a few minutes: infiltrate the Muggle town of Hinchley Wood.

Kingsley filled in the pair of wizards. "There's been minor Dark activity near there, but never enough to warrant going over. Someone put a bunch of Dungbombs in a park, things like that…we figured these were Muggle pranksters until one of our agents was going through the area, as she has family near Hinchley Wood, and saw magic graffiti on a garage. Wouldn't come off with Scourgify or Aguamenti." Kingsley sighed. "It's hard enough keeping track of all the magic that goes on unnoticed in London alone, but you throw in these Muggle places…anyway, we believe their hideout is somewhere in this neighborhood." He pointed to a cluster of x's on the map and continued, "Most of the magical occurrences have centered around here, near the train station, though other activity has been detected elsewhere. We have not heard of any more attacks, but we had a team put apparition alert wards up soon after the last one, and they have not been set off, nor have they been tampered with, as far as we know. Additionally, we've seen an unusual crowd of Muggles popping in and out of a house that's about a ten minute walk from where the train was. These may be members of the Nex in disguise, but it could just be a common meeting place for Muggles, so be careful and use discretion." Kingsley coughed and resumed his speech. "If you gather any kind of information, we'll collect it in a clean pensieve upon your return. Should you need assistance, we will of course be on call." He touched the small "MoM" badge that all Aurors wore on their robes when going on missions. Harry grinned. Hermione's enchanted coin idea from fifth year was still alive and well. If an Auror desperately needed aid, they could tap the badge three times, and it would send out an alert to other Aurors with the badge.

"Would you be able to get a report back by…say, Friday afternoon? Two days from now?"

"Sure thing, sir," Proudfoot answered. He retrieved two small hip flasks from a cabinet and filled them with Polyjuice Potion—enough so that he and Harry could assume different identities for around two or three hours, should their recon work take an especially long time. Voldemort's previous attacks had convinced the Ministry that they could improve their covert operations.

"Got your cloak, then?" Proudfoot asked.

Harry nodded.

"Alright. Well, best be off. I think we'll need to fly in…nowhere to Floo, and Apparating without having a great idea of where you're headed is sure to get you splinched."

The pair summoned a couple of brooms, disillusioned themselves and their transport, and were off.

"Oi, there's the hospital!" Harry called, pointing an invisible finger at a white dot that seemed larger than others.

"Down we go, then!"

They gradually descended and removed the disillusionment charms under the cover of two large oak trees.

"You know the drill, Potter," Proudfoot muttered as he altered his clothes. He changed his cloak into a black leather jacket, and transformed his robes into a dark blue button down shirt and a pair of messy blue jeans.

Harry nodded. His cloak always came in useful for gaining information. In this case, they were planning to visit a Muggle patient in the hospital to try and determine what curses the Destruere Nex had used during the attack.

An urgent whisper. "Potter!"

Proudfoot beckoned to the invisible Auror.

"What?"

"How are we going to explain why two random men are dropping by to visit a Muggle in a hospital? Won't it be a bit odd for us to just be asking questions about the attack?"

Harry blushed. Even after Hogwarts, he wasn't accustomed to coming up with more than spur of the moment plans. "Yes…So, um, how about we…tell the patient we're policemen if he gets suspicious? We could say we're off duty?" he suggested, hoping the older Auror would find his plan acceptable.

"With a persuasion charm…it'll do," Proudfoot grunted. He cracked a smile at Harry. "Always gotta be thinking on this job, Potter. Take it from a former Ravenclaw."

The receptionist looked over as the door opened, but no one was there. She gave it no thought—a strong wind sometimes triggered the sliding doors. She went off to grab a cup of coffee. Fortunately for Harry, she left the patient list on her computer open. Next to a name, he saw the information he wanted. "Current status: Stable. Odd references suggest a concussion…"

He reconvened with Proudfoot out by the trees.

"We're going to see a Jason Reynolds. His report said he's been spouting nonsense, but…"

"That nonsense may be important information if the Nex had forgotten to Obliviate him," Proudfoot completed the thought. "But of course, we'll need to be cautious in asking him any questions."

"Absolutely." The two straightened their clothes a bit, then marched into the hospital.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the receptionist asked.

"We're here to see Jason Reynolds," Proudfoot stated. "We heard he got hurt in that dreadful accident, but we're not from around here."

"I'm his cousin," Harry added quickly.

"Okay." The receptionist sucked in a breath. "Jason's…doing alright. His injuries were less severe than some others, but he's not always making sense when he talks. So, I apologize in advance if anything he says seems disturbing or…off."

"We understand," Proudfoot assured her. "He's been through a pretty traumatic experience. Thinking you're catching a train to get home, or to work, or to a mate's house and then…"

Harry suddenly felt a wave of empathy for the Muggles. They had to deal with disappearances and deaths, same as magical folk, but they hadn't volunteered to fight against the Dark. The Muggles who were tortured at the Quidditch World Cup in his fourth year—their only crime had been to come into contact with Death Eaters, and that was hardly their fault.

"It's been very trying," the receptionist admitted quietly as she led the wizards into an elevator and then down a hallway. She managed a wan smile. "As I said before, Jason's doing better than some others. He broke a couple of ribs and suffered minor head trauma, and he's been saying all sorts of strange things…he may have a concussion," the woman concluded. With that, they had reached Jason's door. "I'll let you speak to Jason privately, and will be back in a few minutes—I just need to check on another more seriously injured patient first." She left, and the two Aurors took quick action before entering the room.

Harry pointed his wand at the door. "Muffliato!"

Proudfoot, meanwhile, had charmed a piece of spare parchment. If Jason wasn't convinced that the two men were policemen, the paper would do the trick. They went in. Jason, it seemed, had just woken up.

"Er…not to be rude, but why are two strange men in my hospital room?" he frowned, then winced as he tried to sit up.

"We're working undercover with the British police, Mr. Reynolds," Proudfoot answered. "We're trying to gather information about the recent…breakdown on the Tube from eyewitnesses, since we've had conflicting reports about what really happened."

"Well, I know this is going to sound a bit crazy, mate…"

Harry interrupted gently, "We're taking everything in this matter very seriously, sir. Anything you could tell us—if you're up for it—would be appreciated."

"Right." Jason adjusted a pillow to prop himself up, then continued his story. "Well, I was waiting for the train, actually. This kinda oddly dressed woman and…maybe her boyfriend, I guess, were there, too, along with some other people. But, you know, it's London, you get all sorts of folk here. I remember just a couple minutes before the train arrived, those were talking to each other quietly. And one of 'em said, 'We've gotta get more here soon. The shipping process is taking too long.' And one of them mentioned there were more of…whatever…coming from a place called Bulgaria."

"Why did these people stand out to you?" Harry asked.

"Well, soon as the train arrived, and just before it crashed, they vanished. There one minute, gone the next," the middle aged man replied.

"Could they have walked away without you noticing? Gone to a different platform?" Proudfoot suggested.

Jason shook his head. "The platform we were at isn't close to any others, and they didn't go to the staircase or the elevator. One moment they were there, then they weren't."

"Alright." Proudfoot scribbled the information down on his parchment. "Thank you so much, sir. Hope you feel better soon. Rest up."

The man chuckled. "I'm ready to get out of here so I don't have to hear the nurses telling me that all the time…but I will, don't worry."

Harry and Proudfoot left, and began discussing what exactly Jason's words meant. "They need more…more what?" Harry wondered.

"And what are they getting from Bulgaria?"

"If they're shipping, say, something illegal over here, you'd think the Ministry would've heard about it," Harry added.

Proudfoot snorted. "You still have a bit too much faith in the Ministry's abilities, Potter. Dark wizards grow up in deception, finding ways around laws is second nature to them. Should they want to hide something, they can."

"Well, hopefully we're going to find out what they're hiding now."

As they walked down the street, they noticed seven Muggles drive down, park, and walk into the same house.

"That looks like our target," Proudfoot muttered. The two wizards cut down a side street. Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak as Proudfoot disillusioned himself.

"Shall we sneak into the house?" Harry asked.

"I think it'd be better to eavesdrop from outside if possible," Proudfoot responded.

Harry agreed, and they walked toward the house.

"Specialis Revelio," Proudfoot muttered. A slight shimmer, then nothing.

"Alright, no wards except for the anti-Apparition one, but we knew about that," he whispered. The pair walked up the driveway. Harry glanced at the mailbox. There were a pair of eyes on it. It read, "Dr. T.J. Eckleburg." Beside him, Proudfoot chuckled.

"What's funny about that?"

"It's a reference to a Muggle book. One of my friends nicked it from their house and I read it a while ago at Hogwarts. Perhaps an eye doctor once lived here."

Harry felt a twinge of disappointment. Maybe this was just a normal Muggle house after all.

The two wizards found a slightly open window along the side of the house. It appeared to be a window in the living room. They couldn't see much, but they could at least hear what was going on. Harry dug in his pockets and triumphantly pulled out a pair of Extendable Ears. He and Proudfoot crouched down and slipped the ears into the opening.

"So, how's the mobilization coming along?" a female voice asked.

"The trips haff not been questioned, and the Muggles suspect nothing," a man answered.

Harry and Proudfoot looked at (or tried to look at) each other. "Bulgaria," they mouthed.

"And our other supporters?" she asked.

A man and a woman replied, "They've been quite easy to manipulate."

"Exploiting their lack of knowledge about the Ministry has been quite easy. Since the Ministry still relies on the paper and owls…" the man snorted, and others joined him in a derisive laugh.

The woman completed his sentence, "It's been no trouble at all for us to use other means of communication to convince our allies that the Ministry must be taken down, and that our 'peaceful negotiations' have been met with warfare. They're accepting that violence may be necessary for the overthrow."

Someone else piped up. "D.T.J.E. I."

The five conspirators suddenly split up. Two of them walked out of the kitchen, while three went out the front door.

"This doesn't seem good…" Harry worried. "What could those letters have meant?" T.J. seemed absurdly familiar, as though he'd just heard the letters…the name on the mailbox! The eyes!

Proudfoot's thoughts apparently mirrored his own. The older wizard whispered pointed into the magically expanded bag of supplies and whispered, "Accio Brooms." Unfortunately, this gave away their position.

"There they are! Stupefy!" the woman shrieked. Harry and Proudfoot rolled under the car in the driveway to dodge the spell.

"You do not haff to vight," the Bulgarian called.

The Aurors heard slow footsteps.

"I think we'll need to blow this car up," Harry muttered.

"And then?"

"Get the hell out of here."

Proudfoot nodded. "3…2…1…"

The pair pointed their wands at the underbelly of the Ford Explorer. "Reducto!"

The unexpected blast had everyone ducking for cover. Proudfoot pointed his wand at himself. "Ascendio!"

Harry followed suit. They used the extra space in the air to clamber onto their brooms and began making their escape.

Harry screamed in pain—he'd been struck in the back with what felt like a fairly sharp dagger, and nearly slid off his broom. His eyes grew heavy, and his vision faded to black. He registered that Proudfoot grabbed him before going unconscious.