A/N: A fairly long and exciting chapter, with a certain green-eyed hero inside.

Harry Potter's scar hadn't bothered him for nineteen years and that was a big relief- given that he couldn't be more sure that he had beaten Voldemort once and for all. Yet he craved putting himself out there with his best mate, Ron, because the idea of being on edge all the time excited him. He was indifferent to fame and glory which also presented itself with his involvement on dangerous expeditions. Ron however would mockingly bask in the fortune.

"Mate," Ron began as they ran through Dean Thomas' Trauma Centre. "You know, they'll be hundreds of articles congratulating us."

"I suspect as much," Harry nodded as they raced through the broken planks of wood and parchment. Bottles of spilled potions made the floor slippery and residents of the centre were trembling in the door-frames of their designated room, scared to tread outside. "STAY PUT, ALL OF YOU!" he snapped quietly.

"He went upstairs, Harry," Ron explained.

"Then we'll follow. We can't be too loud. There's one of him, but if we make too much noise he'll disappear before we catch him,"

"Fine. Too bad we can't use the invisibility cloak like old times," Ron sulked as they descended the stairs, treading carefully.

Harry snorted, and pulled it from his robe pocket. "I keep in with an extension charm, and weightlessness charm. I always knew it'd come in handy,"

"Brilliant!" Ron grinned.

They were much older and taller now, so they had to crouch exceptionally low in order for the cloak to cover them, the stairs creaking ever so slightly with their every breath. Their mission seemed very simple: find the man, and get information on what he wants. Followed by a trip to the ministry, and shortly after, Azkaban. He had received an alert Patronus about disturbances by a man not long before he arrived himself.

Dear sirs,

Diagon Alley, come quick. Brown coated men, unsure of their intentions. Small child severely knocked out and injured. Members of the public attempted to keep them at bay in duel.

Hurry,

Quentin Broomwell, 34

After receiving this, he dispatched a group of his finest Aurors: Cho (with whom who talked; the tension from their childhood leaving no scars on their relationship); Tarn-Frances Warbler; Joseph Wiles (an Australian who decided it was time to relocate elsewhere at the ripe age of 25); John Dawlish (by far the most experienced of the group); Ron Weasley; and Matthew Williamson. Very few could beat these men and women in a duel, and Harry believed that these alone would be enough to protect Diagon Alley.

As they approached the top of the staircase, they wriggled about until they were certain the cloak was on properly, before making their way onwards. They checked every room. Yet there was nothing.

Until they neared the end of the corridor.

That is when they heard shrill screaming and shouting.

"…that is right! You can hide information from me, Boot, but I will rip it from you if need be..." the snarl came from the last room, where it progressed from light, to dark. "Notio intorqueosis!" the voice drawled. Instead of the expected cries of agony, a sluggish sound came in response, similar to that of someone vomiting and writhing.

After the spell seemed to have worn off, a soft whimper was let out. "I promise…I promise…I swear, I don't know a thing…sir,"

Ron leaned over to Harry. "You don't think that's our Boot? You know, Terry Boot?"

Harry allowed this notion to sink in, suddenly feeling more apprehensive. "Yes," he breathed. "It might be. I can't imagine what he would have that is so valuable it constitutes an attack."

"We haven't seen him his school ended. For all we know, something could have changed for him."

"-YOU DO, YOU FILTHY, PATHETIC BEAST. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE, AND DON'T DENY IT!" The attacker seemed to have addressed his intentions with his torturing. The same spell seemed to have been used once more.

Suddenly, Ron and Harry scrambled about trying to get to the room, carelessly leaving the clock behind. As they arrived at the entrance of the room, the noticed a crying Terry Boot strangled by ropes and lying helplessly on the floor, a brown-coated man hovering over him, demonically, his wand piercing his bloodied up forehead.

The room was shoebox sized, and would probably go undetected otherwise. But right now, the blood spatters up the pastel green walls, and drawn curtains concealed the terror within.

"Explliarmus!" yelled Harry, pointing his wand. The man thrown over, his wand flying from his fingers and caught smoothly by Ron.

Terry wriggled with pathetic strength over to the bed and away from the fight. "Ron, grab him," called Harry cornering the mysterious attacker. "Now!"

Immediately, Ron pushed him into the corner and held him there, by pushing his knee into his thigh and holding his hand firmly on his elbow, twisting it around for good measure. "Tell what you're hear for," asked Harry, reservedly.

"Never," he growled.

"Well that just won't do," added Ron. "Tell us or-" In a matter of seconds Ron topples over, and Harry was slammed into the wall.

He ran over to the floor where his wand was, and grabbed Terry by the scruff of his collar, promptly spitting below his eye. "Now, you're going to come with me, wolfy, before you put us all in danger."

Ron threw some sharp last minute spells in their direction, and Harry smoothly aided Boot by a rather confused attempt to blast the capturer away.

"Expulso!"

"Deffindo!"

A green, square border was temporarily placed around Boot and his torturer, something unknown to the two Aurors, who attempted to penetrate it using as much force as they thought would work, yet they were unsuccessful. The two of them disapparated, leaving Ron and Harry thoroughly stumped.

"That…that…what was that?" Ron asked, dumbstruck.

Furrowing his eyebrows, touching the air where the shield had been moments ago, Harry said: "I don't know, Ron. Whatever it was, it was practically unbeatable. And it's nothing like I've seen before. Even so, we lost Boot. Did you hear what he said?"

"Yeah. He called him a beast, and 'wolfy', didn't he?"

"Exactly. Which means in the time we haven't seen Boot, he could have been bitten or something…"

Ron looked furiously puzzled. "It still doesn't explain why a bunch of men like himself would invade this area for one man, though. We better go alert the others,"

Harry nodded. "Right. Let's go,"

Outside, Isaac was overcome with deep concern. Rebecca managed to extract the name of the man who was holding onto her- Xavier Comice, a trainee Auror. The duel continued on for a good fifteen minutes, more casualties being carried away, singed bodies included. The brown-coated men seemed to be excellent duellers, albeit their evil intentions. Isaac was even surprised to find out they had the capacity for 'friendship' if it called be called such.

"Addanc, are you all right?" one shouted to the other who was masterfully firing villainous incantations towards Tarns-Frances.

"Fine, Set. Fine."

"Good," Set showed some kind of contorted, congratulatory smile. "Destroy him."

Tarns-Frances, just followed the glances between the two of them, allowing a very stupid, befuddled look upon his chiselled face. He fired several attacks, before his enemy stopped.

"What?" Tarns asked, teasingly. "Given up, have you? Scared you'll lose to me? Ha!"

Addanc simply stared menacingly into his eyes, and strode towards his other, unoccupied friend, Set. Suddenly, the two of them indicated to their glowing gloves, and jumped into the air, the surroundings of Diagon Alley almost smothering them as they washed away bit by bit, almost trickling down their bodies until eventually, they were no longer there. The same happened with other brown-clothed men. Leaving the defenders unquestionably confused. Many of the public fighters, gave the Aurors disturbed looks of questioning; they shrugged in response.

Quickly, Harry Potter assembled his team up and apparated nervously back to the Ministry in order to begin an investigation. As far as Isaac was aware, for Rebecca, the real evil started here…

"So, late are we?" Saraphina insisted.

Finding the ability to formulate a sentence was clearly not going to happen as Rebecca loudly gulped in response.

"Just as I thought! I can't believe you! I am so angry," she yelled, ignorant of the gazes of passers by, who were quickly finishing their shopping and leaving. "You don't even know how much trouble you'll be in with Mum. She'll hate you. And more importantly, she won't let me live my life again! You could have died, or wound up like those bodies. You- you thought you could go into the Centre all willy-nilly and take on a small group of unknown dark wizards? I don't know why I am surprised; you've always had a damn death wish!" ranted Saraphina, gasping for breath.

"Saraphina?" Isaac dared to ask for her attention.

"-what?" she snapped.

Carefully, Isaac chose his words. "I think that Becca didn't mean any harm to you by it. She just did a good thing," His words were evidently unhelpful, and Rebecca demonstrated such by giving him an exasperated look before slamming her palm against her sweaty forehead.

"Well of course you'd think that! Both of you are reckless Gryffindo- wait a second! That's the kid from the spider report, isn't it? You're hanging around with him? Gosh, I can't believe I didn't stop you earlier…"

Rebecca tried to interrupt. "Look-"

"-No!" Saraphine wailed. "I will not do what you want. I did you a favour and this is what you do?" Eventually her shocked and anguished thoughts were evaporated from his mind, and she smirked instead. "You know what? I've changed my mind. I don't care. Do what you want. You're of age in October, you may as well get yourself killed if you can. And the worst part is, Mum'll have to deal with you later and that'll be hell, so I could not give a griffin's left lump."

"If you could just stop acting so immature like always, and let me get a word in edge ways, then maybe you would care about me for once." Rebecca mumbled. "I don't know why you have always been so controlling and manipulative."

"What is this? Is this some kind of new thing for people your age? I didn't realise that manipulative and controlling had changed meaning." Added Saraphina, sarcastically. "When I was your age, it meant being horrible, though the way your saying it, it appears to actually mean caring and consideration for a sister who could have been taken down by an idiot in a brown jacket."

"That was NOT caring!"

"Oh, so stopping you from getting hit by his curse is manipulative?" Saraphina argued back.

"No…no- but telling me I can go die is pretty harsh! And the needless attack on Isaac about the Acromantula: well, I can't really argue because you don't know what happened, but it does not mean I can't be friends with him," noted Rebecca. "Not to mention the whole scheming of getting me into loads of trouble and blaming me for everything, which I know that you're planning."

"You don't know anything! If you did, you would not have not gone in after those men. Then soppy thing here," she pointed towards Isaac, who felt both incredibly offended and extremely intrusive. "came and saved your butt with a somehow successful spell and you just about made it alive!"

"I'll have you know that I could have coped well on my own…" remonstrated Rebecca, folding her arms.

"Now who's childish?"

Following a stressful half an hour of watching the sibling's argue, Saraphina got Isaac safely home to Westgate-on-Sea. His mother immediately answered the door to their pretty little seaside terraced house, to find him looking embarrassed in the company of his friends.

Louisa Equiorious was clothed in a Muggle vest, jeans and a flour-covered apron, with happiness written across her face, the way it is written across a children's storybook. When she noticed Isaac resembling a beetroot, standing next to his seemingly endearing best female friend, and a slender, fairly tall, long, blonde-haired girl, she thought he might have been so due to his company, but the stern look on the shorter, brighter haired female suggested that something different.

"I know it is none of my business to tell your son off, so I thought it would be better for a responsible adult like myself to bring him to his parents instead before I report grave news," Saraphina pompously informed her.

For a stirring moment, Louisa merely glanced upon the female communicating with her. "I'm sorry dear…how old are you?"

As Rebecca bent over, stifling laughter at her sister's failed attempt at maturity, Saraphina gasped, quietly answering with the tone of having been accused: "I am twenty one, Mrs Equiorious. My name is Saraphina, I'm not sure if you remember me, but I am sister to your son's friend, Rebecca here."

They were invited into their home to explain all matters concerning Isaac's safety being jeopardised. The sun, reflecting off of the sea nearby, lit up the house. Walls were neutral beige, detailed with darker brown swirls, and moving family photos attached to the walls every so many steps. Even after many years of being friends with Isaac and visiting his house, Rebecca still refused stop the adorable picture of him playing with a rubber toad in the bathtub from being laughed about. At this point, he learned to shrug and move on.

The kitchen was, cosy- perfectly rounded baskets filled with fresh fruits from the market were displayed on the counter, with plaid red bows tied around the handles. On the upper cupboards were gorgeous illustrations of their family tree, in gold and green and the best part, and most treasured by the family was the window above the sink, which presented a stunning view of the seagulls and muggles splashing about the water. Although they were a pureblood family, they enjoyed exchanging pleasantries with their muggle neighbours and friends. Part of their friendliness was what attracted them to the area. The Equiorious family had always intently involved themselves with muggles as they felt it was spiritually important.

Isaac personally thought that the little girl who lived next door was frustratingly annoying, but besides that, he could barely see any problems with muggles. He often busied himself with a game of football, joining the local boys his age. They thought he was strange when he couldn't offer an immediate answer to 'which school he go to', but they soon forgot about his oddness when they were immersed in a serious game. So as to fit in, Isaac read several magazines at the corner shop, and even went so far as to strongly support Thanet United F. C. until his muggle friends were utterly confused about why he would support such a 'tragically unknown' team. Persuading Isaac rather successfully, they got him to support Arsenal F.C.

"What seems to be the problem?" Lousia asked, offering them a seat on the pine, circle table in the kitchen. "Anything to drink?"

"Can I have some water, please?" Rebecca smiled.

"I'll have a cup of tea, if you don't mind, please," answered Saraphina. "I'm here to explain a rather concerning matter."

"Go ahead, deary,"

Saraphina seemed to undergo a moment of thinking before deciding exactly how to phrase her response. "There was an invasion in Diagon Alley. A group of men, dressed in brown came and duelled the public. Three of them went in search of something, we don't know what, but Mr Potter and Mr Weasley handled it, we think-"

"But whoever they went after got away, so the rest of the invasion squad disappeared and the Aurors returned to the ministry." Finished Rebecca.

Isaac felt he should speak up at this point to avoid anger from his mother. "We tried to do something about it too- hence why all three of us have a few minor cuts and bruises," he sighed. "Please, just don't be angry with me. I was only trying to help-"

"-my reckless sister who stormed in to attack the invasion on the Trauma Centre!" Saraphina contributed, scornfully, Louisa gasping at the thought of the centre being damaged.

"Thank goodness you three are all right. You son, are damn well lucky to be here, I believe!" she passed a glass of water to Rebecca who sipped gently. Saraphina too took her drink and held onto the cup as though she treasured its warmth. "Are you injuries causing much pain?"

"No," Isaac said. "Well mine isn't. I've only got a bruise or two on my wrists, and my leg hurts, but that'll wear off."

"My lip is fine, thank you,"

"I don't think it's going to be too much of a problem, thanks,"

A great sigh of relief came from the rosy lips of his mother. "And everyone else at Diagon Alley?"

The three of them froze to look at each other sadly; all tension vanished within an instant. "Mum. You've got to understand that it was really out of nowhere, so naturally there were some casualties. The people at St. Mungo's took them off of the site,"

"And were any…dead?"

"I think it would be foolish to not admit that some will be, to ourselves," Saraphina reported such with great disdain. "One recurring feature did seem to crop up with each of the bodies though,"

"You're right, Sara." Agreed Rebecca, who had finished chewing nervously at her sleeve. "I noticed they all seemed a bit, for lack of a better description, burnt." For once that say, the sister's seemed to have momentarily called a truce between their arguing, and remained solemn.

"Why are you sad?" came a voice. Osias was leaning happily against the doorframe, hugging a teddy bear.

Isaac turned around. "It's just grown up stuff, okay?"

His mother discretely thwacked him around the head with tee-towel, before marching over to her younger son and cuddling him. "Don't worry, Osy. We're not sad, we're happy because your brother has brought some friends over!"

"Right… we're happy, bro'," Isaac laughed.

All too quickly, Osias noticed Rebecca chortling at the struggle of his older brother, and leapt from his mother's arms, knocking over a couple of flower pots, racing over to Rebecca where he promptly jumped on her to cuddle her. Not predicting this, she spilt the water and became very apologetic. The shadow of a disappointed shake of the head came from her sister.

"Becca!" Osias squealed.

"Osy-posy! How are you?"

"Good," he smiled. "I am going to be a wizard, like my silly brother, Isaac, soon!"

"You bet you are!" gleamed Rebecca. Isaac smiled at the happiness on her face, and mustered a grin as well. "Sorry about the spillage, Mrs Equiorious,"

"Not to worry, dear. And call me Louisa already, you're practically family!" she chuckled, reaching for her wand next to the frying pan.

Saraphina whipped hers out instead. "Evanesco." Louisa quietly thanked her, but it was abrupt, and so caught her off guard. The water disappeared in thin air. "You're welcome."

"Hm," Louisa nodded. She was uncertain around Saraphina Huwett as the girl seemed to think very highly of herself in the most discrete of ways, even if her intentions, no matter how deeply, were good. She caught the two sisters giving each other looks when they thought they were not being watched, and of course, a mother knows all. After studying her for a while, she returned to the scene at hand, and warmly smiled. "You two are welcome to stay for dinner if you like, I'm sure Isaac wouldn't mind having you over?"

"That sounds-"

"-lovely, I think we can both agree, Becca. For the sake of our parents though, we really must be going now," Saraphina stood up, the scraping of the chair causing Isaac to cringe.

Louisa sighed. "Oh. Um…well lovely to see you again, Rebecca," she gave her a bone-crunching cuddle as she made her way to stand next to her sister. "And nice to meet you, dear," she said to Saraphina.

"Thank you again for the drinks, Mrs Equiorious," Saraphina said as she pulled Rebecca to the door. "I am just glad Isaac is okay after what just happened."

"Thank you for bringing him over, dear."

Rebecca waved sheepishly to Isaac as she stepped outside. "Bye, Troubled Teen."

He laughed and waved also. "Don't start calling that, now,"

"Too late," she smiled. Isaac had never realised quite how lovely her smile was up until then. He knew full well that she was pretty, but he had never quite stopped to admire just how natural she was, and how nice she looked when she was happy. He shook this thought from his brain and smiled at her.

After a long goodbye to Osias, Rebecca finally got away with her sister, and Isaac seemed relieved they were gone, as his mother began to badger him about all sorts of silly things.

"Do you like that Becca, girl?"

"She's very pretty, isn't she?"

"Not too sure about her sister, but I think that Becca likes you, you know,"

He was in for a tiring session of personal interrogation once more, so he retreated to his room with his little brother, to play a game of Wizard's Chess, before things turned rapidly into an angst-filled argument.

Ace Yearns paced around his bedroom bored out of his mind. His parents had been more than disappointed about the display at the market place, and decided that it was high time he learn the value of no magic as he often abused his abilities. As he was of age, he was only just getting used to the idea of magic outside of Hogwarts, but he had ruined things for himself.

Another crazy idea his parents had was for him to not meet his friends, which angered him very much. He received numerous letters from his close friends asking to go to Diagon Alley which he couldn't even bring himself to reply to. He thought it was very embarrassing that things had come to this. He re-read them with guilt:

Ace,

Because we're now famously known for being teenage psychopaths, I have been told I have to do community service as a punishment. I reckon it'll do me some good too, but that's beside the point. I could not so much as explain myself. However, I convinced my Dad to help me write a letter to the Ministry about the welfare of Lazarus, as I could at least show that this is why we did what we did. Either way, they're still not impressed about the damage and so I have to do this. I also am being made to join a community Quidditch team, if you're interested? Somehow, I'm not so reluctant in doing this.

I sent Becca an owl and she said that we can do voluntary work at the Trauma Centre in Diagon Alley if you want to join us? It should be interesting.

Have you got any letters about next year yet? I'm still waiting for mine, and so is Becca. Well, she's waiting for hers, not mine! Ha, yeah.

Reply soon, seriously, my parents keep going on at me about how disappointed they are.

Bye,

Isaac.

He couldn't help but laugh. He was more than willing to participate in Quidditch, but under his parent's restraints, he would never be able to get as far as the front garden. The mention of Lazarus made him feel sick though, as if he could just feel the beady eyes of his parents having been discovered at the ruins of the market place disaster a few days ago. To forget about what little he could do about this letter, he moved onto one from his other friends. She was the one who usually made him think about his actions more carefully, whilst Isaac would often just allow him to do whatever, and still have a go at him afterwards.

Ace-y mate!

It's Becca. I just wanted to ask you how you're Summer's been since we last spoke?

We need to meet up sometime. A couple of weeks before September we're going to Japan as part of my dad's charity campaign out there. We're meeting some Muggles too, so that should be interesting.

In answer to your question- no. I did not go on a date with Zach Petts over the first part of the holiday, so if that is some kind of sick joke between you and Isaac than I seriously suggest you rethink everything you have ever thought. Gosh, the thought of seeing him again makes me cringe- last time we went on a date in fourth year, I spat Butterbeer all over his face. I don't think we need to recount the rest of it as you and Isaac have definitely already squeezed every joke out of it as you can.

I am also inviting Eve round soon, and thought maybe you and Isaac and come over? I have not talked everything over with mum yet. Considering she's prepared to hoard every child that steps into her house though, I expect her to be more than happy about it. I'll let you know a date nearer the time?

Bye-bye, Big Ears,

Rebecca Huwett

Until then, he had not realised that he was so named 'Big Ears', or 'Ace-y' for that matter, but it did not concern him. He was used to an assortment of silly names. Eve Carter was a much more quieter girl than Becca, but did not make him laugh half as much. His grinning faltered when he came across another letter:

Why didn't you reply? C'mon we're meeting up TOMORROW. Are you coming or not? Also, Becca said you mentioned Zach Petts? Yeah, she's not happy so if you don't come, I might have to put up with her ranting about it on my own.

Hurry up,

Isaac.

Ace was starting to feel sincere regret in the pit of his stomach for not responding the first time. He just didn't know what to say to explain himself, since it was obvious that he had already go Isaac in enough trouble with his own parents as it was. He shuffled it beneath the next one:

Ace,

Really? She went out with Zach Petts again? Wow. I wasn't expecting that. I can't talk much, I'm a bit busy with family in Morocco right now. Dad's getting a bit stressed dealing with me and my cousins whilst my Aunt Chloe goes out to dinner with my uncle, Jeff. It is simply beautiful here.

Double check about the Zach Petts thing, and let me know because I want an opportunity to get revenge for all the times she made fun of me last year!

Got to go and I'll chat soon,

Eve.

The only consoling thought about this, was that even if he was allowed to reply, he wouldn't want to as she was very busy with her family. That, and the fact that she was enjoying time with her father who she has a very sad yet close relationship with. He had heard many stories about her uncle and aunt before, but especially remembered that they were avid Muggle travellers.

Ace-

I'm going to presume you are not coming. The least you could do is tell me why.

Isaac.

Two years ago, Ace would have destroyed everything in his path from reading that. However, as he was not infuriated as easily any more, he slammed the paper's down and dived on to his bed, before screaming mightily into the pillows. Then, he grabbed a quill, some spare parchment and wrote a quick apology.

Isaac. My parents said I can't go out. I will talk to you soon, but right now I am confined to my household. Bye.

Hurriedly, he fed some of the crust from his sandwiches at lunch time (which had hardened from the time spent lying about in his room all day) to his elf owl, Sharp, who flew off in an instant with his note. Inside, he knew it was pathetic that he was acting so childishly over being punished for something he knew he deserved. He just hoped that his friends wouldn't be mad at him.

"Ace, dinner is on the table!" his father bellowed.

"Coming," Ace went to go before it all hit him how selfish he was being. I'm not going to leave their messages unanswered. He scribbled some apologies in preparation for sending them off before hurrying down to see his Mother and Father who were sitting either end of a very long table, silently eating forkfuls of pork and mash.

Harry Potter sat in the largest cubical that there was to offer in the Auror department. Beside him sat a large family photo of him, and his children, and brothers and sisters in law, with their children. It covered nearly half of his desk: the part of it which wasn't covered in heaps of tedious paperwork and enquiries. As much as Auror work thrilled him, it also provided hundreds of opportunities to feel boat-load of strength weighing down on his shoulders. The sad part was that people were often in danger, with him being the soul reason for everything going wrong, if it does. The responsibility was tough sometimes.

One of them times was almost certainly that day following the mysterious invasion. Harry Potter, Head Auror, was lost for an explanation for the shield. Or for anything for that matter. His only lead was Terry Boot and he had not stayed in contact with him, so he left it up to Cho.

Of course, the bodies of the two other men who went into the Trauma Centre were found, but their memories were erased. They could not remember a single thing beyond their childhood years. A very obviously over-executed memory charm, though none the less successful.

To his surprise, Cho had found something and rushed into work that afternoon, with a very pleased Joseph Wiles following her.

"We have a lead," he smirked.

"He's not lying," Cho tried to hide a proud grin. "It's not much, but it's something."

"She managed to contact Michael Corner-"

"Who I spoke to briefly through the Floo network after the attack-"

Wiles continued: "-and he said he doesn't speak to Boot too much any more. Having said that though, he said someone named Anthony Goldstein does."

"So," Cho breathed, nodding to her partner. "We went and found out where he lives now, and talked to him for a bit this morning."

"We told him about everything, and he gave us this," Wiles finished, handing over a scrap of parchment.

Anthony,

Been away for some time- I was trying to protect my family and friend. Back now, but I won't be able to see you for a long time. I've gone into hiding. Tell no one.

"Well he's gone and told someone now," the ghost of a relieved smile wavered on Harry's face. "I'm impressed, you two. Nice work," he praised them. They high-fived.

Silence.

More silence.

"So now what, Potter?" Wiles awkwardly shuffled forward to allow Ron to enter the cubicle.

He sniffed. "What's going on, Harry?"

"They found a lead. It's the last thing Boot left for Goldstein. These two found it. Read," Harry passed the note.

Ron's face was enlightened with various emotions as he read it, the other three Aurors trying to avoid pointing out that his features had never changed so quickly before. "That's excellent. But like Joe said...now what? It doesn't say too much,"

"Nope. Barely a shred," Harry said dryling. "But, I think I've got an idea-"

"We also mentioned about him being called, 'wolfy'," Cho huffed. "It was useless, all Goldstein said was that he had stayed over at his house several weeks before that arrived and it was a full moon, so he's most likely not a werewolf,"

"You are right, it is not the most likely scenario. But his so called 'friend' that he was helping might be. Or his family. Or himself if he got bit shortly after his last visit," Joe offered Harry an encouraging smile.

Ron groaned. "So after all that- we have got diddly squat."

"Diddly squat, Ron," Joe and Harry said sadly at the same time.

"What about the brown jackets, or them strange gloves?" Cho put forward a fair question. No wonder she was a Ravenclaw.

"I have never seen them, before." Dawlish wobbled in, wiping his nose with a hankerchief. A recent expedition to some hills in Wales meant that he was wounded in the leg. His bones were fixed, but unfortunately, he would have to walk with a limp due to the dark magic the spell used possessed. "Has no one got a picture yet?"

"No, I'm afraid, Dawlish. I assure you that if I did you would be most aware of this fact, given that I would be changing colours, whilst bouncing around on the desk wailing Celestina Warbeck's smash hit 'You Stole My Cauldron' wearing a mini-skirt, but alas, I do not."drawled Harry, who felt miserable and helpless.

"The Prophet had some printing issues," mumbled Ron.

Conveniently, Samantha was just walking by- her sleek, glossy brown hair tucked neatly into a sophisticated bun. She was easily attractive, and possibly the object of Joseph's obsession. Even in his best efforts, his secret adoration of her was made devastatingly obvious; a fact frequently pointed out by Ron. "Afternoon, Harry," she said from behind the group, Joe moving terribly quickly so as to allow her some space. "Prophet came out about five minutes ago. There's a picture of the men that some innocent bystander snagged a copy of,"

She handed over the paper, where they surrounded the desk studying the picture. It was stupidly vague, taken from behind many heads. Luckily, there was a clear demonstration of the brown jackets moving about, and a blurry wand movement in the special set of gloves.

Harry thought it was ridiculous. "Well. We're done for," Ron was quick to point out the bad news.

"Whoa, whoa hang on a minute. We all saw them- what do we know?" Samantha furrowed her eyebrows gesturing for them to speak.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing, we went inside after one man who disappeared in seconds. You guys must have take note of something worth while!"

"A name or two, yeah," Wiles coughed regretfully. It seemed to have irked Harry that he hadn't said so sooner. "Sorry, I just thought it wasn't very helpful. You've been in a foul mood since the investigation was called."

Perhaps this was not the most appropriate thing to have said.

Harry gritted his teeth, the pain of it making him shudder slightly. "Wiles, you better tell me the names or I swear to Merlin, I will be even fouler!"

"Um...okay. It was weird. One was called Set, and the other something that began with an 'A'... Adam or Addan...that's it! It was Addanc,"

"Thank Merlin for your excellent memory, Wiles, or I would not have been inclined to forgive you for concealing information like that!" Joe sunk behind some of the members of the group. "Well at this point we've got something. I would go through the current registered wizards and see if they're on the list. We can get hold of surnames or something to contact family on conduct some interviews,"

"On it, Potter," Dawlish nodded before retreating to his cubical at the far end of the department.

"Now, I think it would be nice to get hold of some of the other duellers to see if they heard any more names, or could tell us more about the magic they used. We can make a list of charges very for their conviction...if we ever get hold of them,"

Cho enthusiastically put her hand up: "I'll do that,"

"I'll go with her," Tarns finally made an appearance.

"No. You're doing something else, this is an easy job and it doesn't need more than one person wasted," Harry ordered, distractedly. "On second thoughts, get Comice and Barden; those two slackers can help."

"Yes, I'll be back in a few hours, Potter," Cho scurried off, the feint sounds of her beckoning Comice and Barden to appear from whatever cubical they had ventured to.

"Wiles, get hold of Goldstein, so you can get hold of Boot's family. They might know something. Take Tarns with you-"

"- I prefer my full name." Tarns corrected. "Tarns-Frances," Harry narrowed a short, but angry glance at him, causing his confident demeanour to lessen.

"We don't have time for your name, Tarns," Ron told him.

Harry continued. "Yes, you two go- you're great duellers, and you'll need to be prepared in case they are dangerous or something. Ron, Samantha and I will go back to Diagon Alley and investigate the room where Boot was interrogated. I really must know what on Earth that shield spell was...it was dark."

"Not to mention absolutely magnificent," Ron remembered the fierce green glow, as thick as glass and as far as they knew, indestructible. "It must be weak somewhere, else they'll win every fight they're ever in,"

"True," Harry noted.

"Haven't a clue where Williamson is," Samantha began. "He might have taken time off to care for his wife. He kept mentioning she was sick in hospital, last week. Poor woman, bless him,"

"Doesn't matter. We've got work to do. Ron, Samantha, tell the others to get back here for half six at the latest to have a short meeting- I'll pay overtime." Harry shooed them away, before grabbing his wand, Boot's note, the picture and a sip of tea from his flash. He headed out after them.

A soft rustling in the trees.

The deep whispering of the bleak, afternoon wind of the forest was prominent.

And inside, enduring the fierce breeze were a group of tall brown-coated figures trudging along, their leading fellow, dragging along the almost lifeless body of Terry Boot. They were jeering in happiness, playfully smacking each other on the shoulder in celebration.

"Exemplary job, men," growled the carrier of Boot, wrapped in ropes, and ruined head to toe in bruised and blood. "Our threat has been successfully withdrawn from his normal environment, which will hopefully come as a good offering to Darmous. As you know, he felt that there was a leak. And wolf brains here, might be it. Another piece of good news; we lost Flame and Scolding tonight. As an act of shame, I shall tell you their real names: Martin Wood and Bromley Youth- we will not miss them if they were weak enough to lose to some worthless school kids," he spat, remorsefully at Boot's body, the phlegm landing in a little bubble on his chest.

"They died?"

"No, Fromir, no," he sighed. "I have rearranged their memory, since it was too short notice to heal them. They'll have forgotten their own names by now."

They dragged the body further singing dampened down grunts and chants of success. Their leaders would be most impressed.

Spell notes:

Notio Intorqueosis- a dark spell which only works if the caster foresees its results; tortures the victim by making them feel as though their insides are being twisted.

Long, but I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will feature a mentioned female character we have not seen yet; a ginger female; a family gathering; and some serious investigations.

Thank you for reading. Please leave any comments to notify about any grammatical errors or problems if you have encountered any when reading and I apologise in advance if this is the case. Plus reviews are very encouraging!

Many Oranges :D