Chapter 10 : Midnight Run

"Alastor, you've got to be kidding me, you look like a walking armory." Harry grumbled as he trudged after Moody, who was trying rather unsuccessfully to blend in with his environment; it wasn't easy considering he was wearing an unsightly green trench coat with at least six stakes lining the inside, several more poking out of pockets, and a long sharp-looking silver machete dangling from his waistband, glinting in the sun.

"We're hunting vampires, it pays to be prepared." Moody muttered back, glowering at Harry's skeptical stare as the two reaches the bus stop, which only had a few Muggles on the other side. "Muggles won't be asking too many difficult questions – and if they do, I have some lines I can spout to make 'em back off. Besides, I know how to make them forget it all."

Harry thankfully didn't draw quite as much attention as Moody - his Unspeakable robes were currently stuffed inside a small moleskin bag hanging on his belt which was considerably larger on the inside – standard equipment from the Ministry. He'd chosen to go with his usual Muggle attire and just put the cloak when arriving at their target, since even Muggles would get suspicious of a fully hidden individual hitching a ride. Thankfully, Harry had quite a bit of experience in acting Muggle to make up for Moody's lack of subtlety.

He had been right to worry about Moody returning to his paranoid behavior while in the field – it turned out to be even more true than he'd expected, actually. Moody had brought every possible vampire-slaying tool one could think of. Wooden stakes, garlic and a wooden cross Harry could understand – those were traditionally associated with vampires, after all. He wasn't sure what to make of the mirror he'd pulled out – or the vinegar. Or a pair of mummified hooves dangling on a string.

"Who're you, Van Helsing?" A man rather reminiscent of Uncle Vernon asked, as Harry carefully positioned himself a distance away from the ex-Auror, avoiding the eyes of quite a few curious onlookers.

"It's just a costume." Moody said, his fake eye staring straight ahead like a normal fake eye would. "I'm going to a convention, y'know."

"Ah, I've heard about those," the man answered, looking rather smug. "I'm not much for that stuff, but to each his own, I suppose? Any interesting tales to tell about who you're dressed up as? Was my guess right?"

Moody was thankfully interrupted from sharing his opinion on historical vampire hunters when their bus sputtered to the sidewalk, looking altogether beat up. Harry quickly boarded and Moody was swift to follow – unfortunately, so did the large man that Moody had been talking to. Harry sighed deeply, fearing what was coming.

He wasn't wrong – for the next half hour Moody exposited extensively on the merits of vampire hunters – though he knew next to nothing about Muggle fiction, he quite convincingly played the part – and his one-man audience seemed delighted.

Harry stared out the window, trying to focus on his mission as his mind kept wandering to other things. His visits with the Custodians weighed particularly on his mind, as they'd been quite disappointed to note that Harry's predictive prowess had dimmed somewhat – he'd only had the feeling of something going to happen a few times, and none of them resulted in any actual predicting. Aside from his violent episode during summer and the life-saving babble when he'd first entered the Department, nothing had happened at all. The Custodians were quite convinced Harry was the real deal, but they were quick to point out that theirs was not an exact science.

It was strange, really. Harry certainly hadn't requested yet another peculiar talent – between parseltongue and a mental connection to Voldemort, he was quite set – but it had been a beacon of hope – after all, this WAS a power that Voldemort knew not – and he could use more of those.

Of course, that led to what was really bothering him – his Prophecy. He was going to end up killing Voldemort – or the other way around. It was as set in stone as anything could be – and yet he was trouncing around the Ministry building and America doing odd-jobs. Sure, he was learning a great deal – but would it be quick enough? Voldemort could only stay in the shadows for so long – the Ministry knew he was back, after all. Harry thought wearily about the fact that he'd be talking this over with Sirius if he could – but it was too late now.

This would all end up in a bloody battle to the death at some point. Would he even be capable of dealing a lethal blow? The only time he'd ever done that – Professor Quirrell – it'd been by accident. This time, it would have to be intentional. Thinking about his dark fate, Harry slowly nodded off.

"Hey, stop dozing." Moody said as he tapped Harry on the shoulder, sometime later. "Next stop is us."

"Really?" Harry wondered as he looked out over a decidedly rugged looking field they were passing. "This doesn't look like Washington to me. Shouldn't there be big buildings and such?"

Moody scoffed as he pulled Harry out of his seat and onto his feet, before steadying himself as the ancient bus shuddered to a halt in the middle of the road.

"There's no bus stop here?" Harry whispered as he stepped out. "Why did he-"

"I just confunded them," Moody answered, discretely slipping his wand back into his sleeve. "You never know."

"It's the middle of the day, if they were vampires they'd burst into flames." Harry pointed out dryly. The bus pulled away again, making a U-turn and heading back at great speed. "How far did you pull them off course to get us here?"

"Oh, a bit." Moody responded with a nasty grin. "There's a good reason why I did that, Potter." He shoved his hat down over his fake eye, which was rotating crazily once more. "You know bloodsuckers can have thralls. Anyone on that bus could've been one."

"I suppose," Harry admitted. "Still, it's not exactly likely, is it?"

Moody ignored that, stepping into the brush alongside the road, his machete in hand to get rid of the thicker undergrowth – they'd apparently stopped in the middle of nowhere. The sound of rushing water could be heard in the distance, in the direction Moody was heading – it was also quite chilly out for this time of year.

"We're near the border with Canada, it's no wonder it's chilly." Moody said with a grin, apparently thinking the same thing he was. "Bit early in the year for hard frost, I suppose, though there's always some snow up the mountains. We're heading a few miles down the river, where the first two bodies were found – it's also where a couple of the British vamps were spotted."

"What's this place called, anyway?"

"Stevens County – it's not too populated around here, though. We're heading for an unpopulated bit of it, in fact." Moody replied. "Place they used to call Young America."

Harry snorted, picking up the pace until he walked alongside Moody. "If it's abandoned, why are we going there? Wouldn't the vampires need to be near people?"

"You'd expect so, yes." Moody answered. "However, the reason Williamson and Proudfoot were sent here was the disappearances as well as what was found – you did read the file, didn't you?"

"I read the first two pages or so," Harry said apologetically.

"Eh, those things are too dull, I'm aware of that," Moody said with a wry smile. "At least fifteen people have gone missing here over a period of three months - only one of them was found, dead. Sucked dry."

"You think they are keeping their own private food supply." Harry deduced. "It's not exactly the stealthiest tactic, though."

"They're probably building up a stock – most likely they're setting up a new clan here," Moody said with a sharp look around the decidedly unthreatening forest. "Definitely not European ones, at least, if that's the case."

"Great, it's definitely not the civilized ones," Harry muttered darkly. "That just sets my mind at ease."

"You know your spells, Potter? Fire will work well enough, and cutting curses will work if you make 'em strong enough. Concussive spells to knock them away would be another option - plus you can always banish some sharp branches at them for a quick and easy solution." Moody twirled his wand and smiled cheekily as he poked his hat with the wand. "You've been using this kind of thing for weeks in our little practice sessions."

The sound of the river was getting quite loud now – Harry had no idea which one this was, but it was definitely large. The trees were also getting sparser – and finally, there was a glimmer of water in the distance.

"Columbia River," Moody pointed out. "It's said to have Kelpies in it, though I hear there's quite a few wizards 'round these parts, which means they don't have a local Nessie story here. Though I do believe there was an incident with an ogre that got a little out of hand."

Harry tried to make out the distance to the river, casting a mild warming charm on himself as once again felt a chill from the wind. If this was the day, the night would probably be unbearable. The first structures of a small town came into view – they looked rather dilapidated and old and most of the paint was coming off. "What are these buildings, then?"

"It's a ghost town." Moody said before Harry could ask. "There's a lot of those around here – some of them truly haunted, most of them just abandoned by the residents. I believe this one was a lead- and silver-mining town that got left behind early this century."

"Everyone just left?" Harry wondered. "So nobody lives here, anywhere?"

"There's bound to be some people up and down the road, but all this? Might as well be trash. The perfect place for a predator to set up shop and snatch the natives, if you ask me."

Harry followed Moody as they passed several more derelict buildings – Harry saw a rotten ferryboat in the distance, and what remained of a sawmill, several corroded circular blades laying besides the door in a pile. The place was a mess.

"Listen," Moody said suddenly, halting Harry with a gesture. "I got instructions – you're supposed to be here without drawing too much attention. The Muggles don't matter – they've already forgotten. You'd better suit up before anyone else comes by, though."

Harry nodded and he pulled his Unspeakable Cloak out. "Why didn't you get something like this? You're awfully distinctive."

"Everyone knows me even under most disguises, because of the damn leg." Moody said brusquely. "I'm a known asset, as they say. You're the unknown. That's how it's going to be, for a while at least. You'd best avoid letting anyone know who you are – put on that voice charm, to be sure – and you'll just use some alias."

"That will be weird," Harry muttered, fitting the hood snugly over his face. A quick application of a little voice modulation later and he might as well have been anyone. "I'm not used to this whole incognito cloak-and-dagger stuff. Almost nobody wears the hood in the Department."

"Of course they don't," Moody answered. "The Department of Mysteries is safe. It's home. You don't walk around your own home and hide your face from colleagues."

"Unless you're in temporal," Harry muttered in response.

"Now, just remember – you're just an Unspeakable. No name. Even if we meet our targets."

"Really?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow that went, of course, unnoticed under his enchanted hood. "I can't say hello to Proudfoot and Williamson? They already know I'm an Unspeakable. Heck, everyone knows thanks to the Daily Prophet…"

"What nobody knows is that you're in the field." Moody pointed out. "My presence isn't a big surprise – I've been on the list for a while, and I've certainly got the experience. You're the odd one out, here."

"I suppose I'll just do my little acting thing again," Harry said, followed by a groan. "It was hard enough to be harsh with the press – at least Rita Skeeter was there to get me angry so I could do it without stammering. "

Moody sighed deeply as he looked worriedly at the position of the sun. "We should be seeking for signs of our missing Aurors or any vampire activity. Corpses, maybe."

"Joy."

The next few hours were spent going back and forth across town, trying to find anything of note. So far it was a bust. There was nobody in the village, there weren't even any vampires lurking around in the shadows. It appeared to be, in fact, exactly the kind of ghost town that it was supposed to be.

"Are you sure this is the spot?" Harry asked for the third time that hour. It was infuriating – Moody was far too tense to go into any serious conversation and the village was turning out to be so much rubbish. "We've been going around for hours – maybe we should take a break?"

Moody sighed as he looked again at the sun. "We've got little sunshine left – we've got to get somewhere safe."

"Ah , come on, the vampires might come out in the dark – at least it'll give us something to do." Harry joked.

"Don't kid about that crap." Moody retorted angrily. "Vampires can, and will, slaughter anyone they come across. You'd best have your wand ready. I think we can hole up in one of the farms and just lock up all the doors."

"That'd stop a vampire?"

"No, but it'd give us warning," Moody said with a macabre laugh. "There's a couple variants that need to be invited, but most would just bash the door in. Either way, we'd know they were there."

It took about half an hour to barricade themselves in one of the rather run-down houses. Moody had spent the next hour showering the structure with measures against vampires – there was a distinct smell of garlic in the air. Harry spent the time catching up on some much-needed sleep.

It was somewhere far after midnight when Harry awoke – he could see the sliver of the moon through the window. He could make out little of the outside world from between the cracks of the planks covering most of it. The house creaked and groaned faintly, reminiscent of the Shrieking Shack.

"Alastor?" Harry asked in the darkness. He didn't hear the old Auror nearby, but the man could be quite stealthy. Nobody answered.

Harry walked over to the dreary hallway, squinting to make out things in the darkness. He quickly cast a Lumos charm and used the soft light of his wand to make his way towards the only other room that was in decent condition. "Where are you?"

A muffled sound came from the direction of the front door and Harry tensed up, his wand pointing ahead of him as he made his way over. "Who's there?" Mentally he recited the incantations for fire and cutting curses.

"Let me in!" It was an unfamiliar voice, certainly not Moody's. Harry quickly backed off, his wand aimed at the door. He nearly leapt through the roof when he backed directly into Moody who'd apparently managed to sneak up on him. He motioned for Harry to speak, his wand aimed at the door.

"Who are you?" Harry asked with the harshest tone he could manage – talking with a different voice than normal was still strange to his ears.

"Peter Williamson, I'm looking for a safe place to spend the night. I saw the barricaded windows and knew someone else was out here, finally." The voice answered, sounding strained. "Do you have any food? I'm all out and I haven't eaten for days."

Harry made sure he didn't make any noise that would suggest recognition. One of the two Aurors they were sent to find found them on the first night! "What're you doing out in the middle of the night? Surely you are aware this area can be hazardous after dusk."

"I just said, I saw the barricaded windows." The voice answered. "I saw a light flickering from behind them, too. A light charm, wasn't it?"

Harry cursed his thoughtlessness, trying to remain composed. That was most definitely a rookie mistake to make. Moody didn't react. Harry steeled himself as he spoke again. "Are you alright, Auror?"

"I'm fine," Williamson answered, apparently sitting down on the other side of the door. "You're from the Ministry, aren't you? Sent here to fetch us."

"Us?" Harry questioned.

"I lost track of my colleague, Proudfoot. He's out here somewhere, but I haven't seen him in a day or two." Williamson answered. "We've been stuck here for a while."

"Why didn't you apparate away?"

"They took our wands," Williamson said, exhaling loudly. "We were attacked the fourth day here – got torn up pretty well, too. Managed to stake a few but not before they disarmed us."

"The vampires," Harry concluded grimly, glancing at Moody. "Any idea what kind they are?"

"Dire Vamps, definitely Dires." Williamson answered with a sniff. "Completely consumed by blood lust and terribly devious. Nasty critters."

"Please remain calm, Auror, while I discuss with my colleague what we'll do about you."

"No need." Williamson answered, and suddenly the door blasted open, slamming violently through the hall into Harry and throwing him back across the floor. "I can let myself in."

Williamson looked entirely unlike how Harry had last seen him – his hair was tangled and dirty, his eyes reddish with large dark bags under them, as if he hadn't seen sleep in weeks. That wasn't the most important difference, though. A mouth full of dagger-like teeth dripping saliva marred the formerly handsome face. "Vampire!"

"So I am," Williamson agreed, before pouncing on Harry with incredibly speed, knocking away his hand and lunging for his throat. Moody charged forwards, his wand firing off incendiary curses without any incantation. Harry threw himself sidewards, just avoiding being tackled by the vampiric Auror and he smoothly made his way back onto his feet, his wand aimed and ready. Williamson, however, wasn't done.

It hadn't taken more than a moment or two – Moody was already setting fire to the floor under the vampire's feet as Williamson grabbed Harry's robe and dragged him out of the house without even noticing his victim's frantic flailing. He was fast. Curses impacted against the vampire's back but he barely seemed to notice the concussive blasts.

Harry cursed repeatedly as he was carried away at an astonishing speed, Moody quickly vanishing from his sight. He still had his wand, thankfully, and tried unsuccessfully to hit the man's ankles with a severing charm while ignoring the pain in his limbs from striking the ground repeatedly. 'Diffindo!'

Williamson snarled, madness plain in his bloodshot eyes as he smashed Harry against a tree, knocking the wind out of him. Harry thrashed feebly against his far sturdier opponent, his wand still grasped tightly in his fist. It was about time to try out some of the spells Moody had been teaching him.

"Incensio Terum!" Harry said under his breath, slamming his free hand into the vampire's chest as he aimed his wand at it. With a flash of light and a wave of heat his hands burst into flame, the fire immediately starting to consume the vampire's clothes, forcing him to stumble back. Harry quickly waved his hand to get rid of the flames - It would start to burn him too before long. With a twirl he aimed his wand dead-center at his enemy. "Fidus Attingo!"

With a startled cry Williamson suddenly vaulted backwards, slamming his own back solidly into a tree with a garish snapping noise as the white light of the spell faded. Harry didn't wait for the vampire to get up. Williamson was quickly tied up in ropes with a muttered "Incarcerous."

"Well, that was easy," Harry said with a smirk, panting. Williamson snarled but couldn't get anywhere. Harry sighed deeply as he made his way over, rubbing his back where he had hit the tree. Williamson didn't seem particularly interested in talking – he was openly staring with hate in his eyes.

"I don't suppose you could tell me where Proudfoot is?" Harry questioned, making sure his robe still covered his features. "Has he also been Turned?"

"I'll tell you nothing, Unspeakable." Williamson answered, glowering. "You have forfeited your life by setting foot in my territory!"

"You've become quite a bastard, haven't you?" Harry questioned idly as he levitated the wrapped up body besides him and headed in the direction he'd arrived from – the vampire had been incredibly fast, so they could be miles away from the hide-out by now.

Williamson refused to answer, muttering curses under his breath constantly. Harry became uncomfortably aware that he was lost – the trees looked the same and the buildings in sight were not ones he recognized. Moody wasn't around either – given his eye, that man would've found him right away had he been anywhere within a mile radius.

Harry sighed deeply as he looked indecisively at his new prisoner – the ex-wizard was still glaring balefully .

The recently turned Auror obviously wasn't in his right mind. He remembered his job if his little charade at the door had been anything to go by, but he'd then charged blindly inside, and only managed to evade getting slaughtered by Moody through being incredibly fast and lucky. There were several types of vampires that had insanity as a defining trait – all of them extremely dangerous.

Harry suddenly realized that we was awfully exposed – he was in the middle of a forest far from civilization in the middle of the night, and there were definitely more vampires around. His cloak would serve as a decent camouflage – but it wouldn't cover Williamson. With a curse Harry disillusioned the vampire, hoping nobody had noticed the slip.

This was definitely not what he'd signed on for in the mission – these vampires were way beyond his skill, and he'd only managed to tackle Williamson by the fact that he'd apparently forgotten that wizards used wands and disarming him. Insanity again?

Harry's musings were interrupted by a low growling noise from the night – he couldn't pinpoint direction but it was definitely not coming from Williamson. His wand was ready in hand, but nothing showed itself. It took nearly fifteen minutes for Harry's heart rate to drop to acceptable levels.

Between having no clue where Moody was and being decidedly lost himself, Harry was weighing his options – he could continue through the night with his prisoner, but he'd probably end up running into other vampires, and he wasn't convinced the ropes could keep the vampire down if he really wanted to get out.

Harry finally decided to just wait out the night, taking Moody's example. He strode to one of the smaller double households along the road and barricaded the door; there were no large windows, thankfully. He dumped Williamson in the otherwise unoccupied basement, layering on a few more layers of rope and stunning him until he finally seemed unconscious. He didn't know half the spells that Moody used to protect the house – but then, that hadn't worked the first time around either.

It wasn't even half an hour before Harry began hearing something abnormal – the sounds of footsteps, despite the fact that, yes, Williamson was still very much tied up and unconscious. He quickly traced the sound to the wall – was there someone in there? Had someone else already tracked him down?

The building next door had been locked up, and Harry had given it no mind. Apparently, someone else was waiting out the night – though definitely not Moody, who'd have recognized him through the wall.

There was only one other person that was bound to be out here.

"Auror Proudfoot?" Harry asked as he knocked on the wall, trying to sound calm. What were the odds of running into both of the targets in one go?

"Who's there?" a voice answered, sounding terrified. "Go away, I'm armed!"

"I am Unspeakable-" Harry briefly panicked as he hadn't thought of a codename to use – finally he just went with what came to mind first. "Prongs, representing the British Ministry of Magic."

"Oh, thank God." Proudfoot answered. "I've been hiding out for days now - I didn't think anyone would come. They don't let anyone leave, here. During the day, Muggle thralls block the roads out and at night they hunt… I don't have a wand, I don't have a way out!"

"Please remain calm, Auror. What do you know of your colleague?" Harry knew full well what had happened to Williamson of course, but he was curious as to what Proudfoot would have to say.

"He was… taken, early on. We were studying the remains found, trying to determine what kind of bloodsucker did it, when we were assaulted by four of them – dire vampires. One of them recognized our wands and they got rid of them right away, leaving us defenseless. We managed to take out a few of them with our backups, but we were overwhelmed."

"Did you see the British vampires that were spotted in the area? Can you verify their identities?"

"The big blond one is definitely here," Proudfoot answered. "I think he's a European Vampire. There's a couple female ones, too – no idea about those. I thought I saw an old Dire, but I'm not sure."

"How many remain alive?"

"There's at least two or three of them left," Proudfoot responded nervously. "I don't know if all of them came to nab us that night. We shouldn't have been out after dark – it was stupid. We got nearly killed because of our overconfidence."

"Our mission is to retrieve you two and to help you finish your mission. The capture or death of the British vampire is what yours turned into, right?" Harry asked. "Four of them should be no match to the three of us with wands."

"Our? Three? Who else do you have out here?" Proudfoot questioned, tapping on the wall from the neighboring home.

"I am afraid I have some bad news," Harry said with a frown. "Auror Williamson was taken and Turned – I captured him earlier. He's quite delirious and aggressive. He tried to snatch me from a previous hiding place where I was waiting for the sun with a colleague."

"Where is that colleague now?"

"Probably waiting for the sunrise elsewhere, or still out searching for me. He can take care of himself, though. I'm certain you are familiar with Associate Moody?" Harry felt weird using Moody's new title – maybe he could convince Scrimgeour to give him a snappier one?

"You're here with Moody?" Proudfoot asked, sounding somewhat elated.

"He's out there, somewhere." Harry responded, relaxing. "I'll meet up with him when the sun comes up. You can come along."

"Oh, that won't be necessary." Proudfoot answered. Harry's eyes went wide as he jumped back from the wall, realizing this was far too familiar. He cursed at himself for falling for the same trick twice – with an almighty crash half the rotten wall came tumbling down, the slavering ghoul that was left of Auror Proudfoot stepping through, brandishing what was most definitely a wand.

Harry swore at his stupidity as he threw himself behind a table, flipping it on its side. He'd managed to send two concussive blasts into Proudfoot's chest before the vampire charged, knocking the vampire back through his entrance hole with a snarl. At the same time loud roars of fury resounded from the basement; his prisoner had woken up. Great. Time to get drastic.

"Bombarda!"

With a resounding crash the entire side of the building came crashing down – the house, flimsy as it was, was completely infested with woodworm and couldn't take the stress. With a burst of speed fueled by pure panic Harry rushed out of the collapsing home, at least one snarling vampire on his heels.

Harry cursed his own inattentiveness as he snapped off cutting curses and concussion charms, managing to knock Proudfoot over briefly – the vampire was up and on his feet within moments, though. He'd been tricked by these bastards twice now – it was time to get serious. They were insane, and definitely out to kill him. Time to pull out the big guns, as Moody would say.

"Lacarnum Inflamarae!" Harry shouted, aiming his wand over his shoulder as he kept running. The almost unbearable heat that briefly felt like it'd set his hair on fire definitely confirmed it'd worked.

A fireball the size of a small car rushed at the pursuer with incredibly speed – Proudfoot had mere moments to avoid the spell and only managed to avoid the centre of the blast. With a yowl the wizard landed on his behind, partially singed. Harry didn't stick around to find out what he'd do next.

It seemed mere seconds later that Harry was again trailed by the Auror – but this time there were two people in hot pursuit. Williamson had gotten out. Another fireball made its way over, but this time Proudfoot didn't even hesitate – he plowed right through, a pale blue glow visible on his skin as it passed. A flameproof charm.

Harry cursed as he realized that unlike Williamson, Proudfoot was quite capable of using magic – and the stunners now flying past him were particularly unhelpful. Wizarding vampires, he recalled, were both rare and powerful – precisely because they were capable of covering their weaknesses with magic. He was a trained Auror – Harry could not possibly beat him. It didn't help that Harry had no idea where he was going or where he could find Moody – he didn't even recognize where in town he was. The only point of reference he had was the distant gurgling of the river.

Harry managed to clip Williamson with a fireball – that vampire, at least, didn't have his own spells to rely on. Neither of the two seemed interested in saying a word ever since they'd stopped acting innocent – they were slobbering like rabid lunatics now.

Harry felt the burn of the extended run in his legs – he was definitely going to have to end this chase soon, one way or the other. Harry contemplated briefly that he had extreme options in case of emergency – but he had no idea if the two newborn vampires could be rehabilitated or if they'd be stuck like this – and like hell was he going to be responsible for a pair of dead bodies on his first mission.

A nasty cutting curse glanced along Harry's hand, almost making him drop his wand; he managed to hold on to it with his fingertips and bit through the pain. "Need a distraction." He muttered, looking around frantically – the forest looked the same as any other part.

"Expulso!" Harry incanted, managing to knock both vampires off their feet. Suddenly, Harry realized with dread that the two were moving at his speed – nowhere near the speed that Williamson had originally grabbed him at. They were toying with him!

Harry was distracted from his panicked conclusion by a new voice. "Well, look what's got our renegades all bothered," It said with a sharp, uncomfortable laugh.

Harry slid to a halt as he almost ran headfirst into what was most definitely a third vampire – a tall blond-haired man with hooked eyebrows. Something about him reminded Harry strongly of Avicenna – European Vampire, then. Williamson and Proudfoot had stopped some distance away, both with blood red eyes and drooling, but keeping a respectful distance. This was doubtlessly the target, though he couldn't be the one who turned the two Aurors by virtue of being the wrong type of vampire.

"They're quite unsightly, aren't they?" The blond said with a slight smile and a familiar British accent, though Harry couldn't quite place it. He concentrated on getting his breath back, somewhat thankful that he hadn't just been slaughtered by the insane pair. The new vampire didn't seem to notice Harry's distraction. "Newborns tend to be that way – particularly Dires like them – volatile, thirsty, very powerful."

"What do you want?" Harry asked in as steady a tone as he could manage.

"What is a cultured vampire like me doing with such beasts, I'm sure you're wondering," the blond said, ignoring the question. "Let's just say that I have need of some of their … unique characteristics. It's of no concern to you – you will be dead."

"What did you catch today, brother?" Another voice said as a fourth vampire emerged from the shadows. "Why, that's an Unspeakable robe! Where'd you steal that one?"

Harry didn't answer, looking for a way to escape – but he couldn't find any. "Who are you?"

The second vampire laughed, moving fully into the scant moonlight. He had a slight sheen of whitish hair on his head, but he was almost completely bald – his face was contorted into a snarl and unlike his 'brother', he had a full set of razor-sharp teeth – the same type as Williamson and Proudfoot, no doubt. His face bore deep furrows and lines, as if he had spent centuries worrying. He was wearing what Harry instantly recognized as an old and faded Unspeakable robe, much like his own. "Surely an Unspeakable such as yourself should recognize my face? Surely you, if nobody else?"

The blond vampire snorted, pulling a hair through his short curls. "They've all forgotten you, of course. A black page in their history, a darkened patch. Undoubtedly it's a secret locked in the deepest vaults."

"You do not recognize me, do you, Unspeakable?" The balding vampire wondered. "It's remarkable how much is forgotten over time. It's sad, really – we of the eternal race maintain the knowledge over eons, and you squander it over decades…"

The blond vampire glanced at the two hungry Aurors that had slowly crept closer, intent on carnage. With barely a twitch he had a long wand out and aimed at them. "Incendio."

The result was gruesome – the spell was far stronger than Harry had ever seen it, burning through Williamson and Proudfoot's flimsy defenses almost instantly, sending them both to the ground in flames – though they were both still twitching, still alive.

"That is your punishment for your escape, underlings." The bloodsucker turned to Harry with a smirk. "These two fled their confines - one of them had hidden a wand in the most unlikely of places. You didn't have anything to do with that, did you, Unspeakable?"

Harry still hadn't responded much to the vampires – mostly because he had no idea how to get out of this mess. He felt decidedly unprepared for a meeting with a gathering of apparently notorious vampires.

"Let me relieve you of that bothersome stuffy cowl of yours," The blond said, sending Harry into an immediate panic. He had no glamours on to hide his identity!

With a sharp tug Harry felt his hood fall away, exposing his face to the chilly touch of the night. A swift intake of breath resounded – Harry briefly wondered if vampires really needed to breathe – and he was smashed against the floor with a single blow. "YOU!"

"Calm yourself, Caspian." The white-haired bloodsucker said with finality.

"It's HIM! He can't be here, it's impossible! He's human and he's here!" Caspian replied, his decorum apparently gone in the blink of an eye. "He can't be!"

"Think rationally. Are you certain this is the one you mean? Did he kill your wife? You must be certain or you are merely a murderer. No better than your filthy kindred."

"He has the hair, the eyes, and the freaking lightning scar! That can't possibly be a fluke!" Caspian snarled, glaring down at Harry who was incapable of moving even a finger with the extreme strength of the vampire holding him. It made Williamson's grip feel feather light.

"He is clearly a mere boy. Unless you are declaring that this, despite evidence to the contrary, is one of our undying race, I see no possible way in which this could be the same individual." The balding vampire looked down unemotionally. "Save…"

"Save what?" Caspian snapped.

"He wears the robes of my old profession. The one who killed your wife may be what this person will become. We may be meddling with the hourglass of time, here."

Harry's look of shock was only eclipsed by that of Caspian who blinked repeatedly as he studied Harry. It didn't take long for the look to change into one of hate.

"Then I'll kill him! Slaughter him here and prevent him from becoming that person!"

"You cannot." The other vampire responded immediately. "It's already happened – you cannot change what already happened by altering things here and now. One way or another, someone will return back in time to kill your wife – killing this boy would merely ensure that you murdered an innocent. Terrible things happen to those who meddle with time."

"You don't seem to have much of a problem with killing anyway," Harry whispered, trying to take deep breaths and looking at the two crumpled Aurors as Caspian's monstrous strength restricted his airflow. The vampire growled under his breath.

"You really do not recognize even me, do you? I have remembered you now… You're new in the Department – you've not even been inducted in the true secrets yet, I imagine. Remarkable to see you in such a state. I know of your reputation, of course…" The balding man laughed thinly, his bright green eyes sparkling merrily as he caressed a silver signet ring on his hand. "You have so very many things to look forward to… so very many terrible and great things."

Harry shivered at the realization that this man – these men, even – were aware of far more than he'd even guessed at. It seemed his job at the Temporal Division would be quite a bit more exciting than he'd realized. He wondered briefly if the chill that ran down his spine was fear finally piercing his iron will. With a start, he realized that the chill was more – a peculiar and eerily recognizable feeling came over him, and he felt his fear slipping away. Icy cold and sluggish resolve took over – divination!

The images that came to him were disjointed and unclear as before – though definitely easier to make out. He recognized Caspian and the other vampire – though with far longer hair – and Moody. Words came up unbidden. "The end for thy will come by elder and ash."

Harry noted that the balding vampire had gone even paler than he already was, though Caspian didn't seem to even listen, frowning in confusion. The cool, oddly unfeeling calm dissipated, whatever interpretations he'd come up with fleeing. He would have to think about it later.

For a few moments, nobody spoke – the white-haired man finally nodded at Harry, seeming oddly respectful. He gazed briefly at his ring, as if contemplating it. Harry couldn't get a good luck, but it seemed familiar. Some shape within a shape. "Our experiments here are done – we will be gone by dawn. You will find the bodies I used at what was once the sawmill – do with them what you will. You'll be seeing us again, I'm certain." The old man turned around with a flourish, apparating away, swiftly followed by Caspian who threw Harry fully to the ground, his eyes flashing red.

That left the two new-borns – one of them whining pitiably as he scratched at his burned face, the other lying eerily still. Neither seemed to have any strength left in them to pose a threat – knocked out by a single spell, where Harry had barely managed to dent them with his most powerful. He finally set aside thinking about the implications of his run-in with his future and levitated the two wounded vampires along, his eyes scanning for any landmarks or signs of the other vampires returning, slowly making his way towards the river. He was remarkably certain that any and all signs of vampire activity would be gone if he went and took a look.

It was nearly half an hour later when he finally caught up with Moody, who was hurrying through the forests at an incredible pace, sweeping out large areas with his eyes. It seemed Harry's kidnapping had spooked the ex-Auror quite a bit as the man visibly had to calm down in relief as he saw Harry approach and they exchanged passwords. Harry hadn't bothered to put his cowl up again and sighed deeply as he slumped down next to Moody.

"That was one hell of a first night," Harry commented as he dropped his two captives to the ground, both now unconscious.

"What the hell happened out there?" Moody asked, staring at the two vampires. "Williamson and Proudfoot both got turned? Where's the sire?"

"Gone, now." Harry said with a frown. "He talked to me, if you can believe it. He was civil about it, too. Apparently, he knew some things about my future. I think I need to talk to those Temporal guys when we get back."

"You met Caspian Trenton?" Moody inquired, his eye whirling in its socket to look for the vicious vampire.

"Yes, though there was another that seemed to be in charge." Harry said, frowning. "He didn't say his name, but he was quite surprised that I, as an Unspeakable, didn't recognize him. I think he might've been an Unspeakable from long ago. The robes certainly looked like mine."

Moody ushered Harry along towards the house he'd originally been abducted from. "I've put three times the protective charms on the building, it should be safe now – but you won't be leaving my side for a second till we get back, you hear?" Moody grumbled under his breath. "Constant Vigilance!"

Harry nodded weakly, smirking at the ex-Auror's antics as he bolted the door closed behind them, casting sticking charms and locking charms all over the door. Nothing like a near-death experience, even someone else's, to get the paranoia flowing.

"They're gone now," Harry pointed out, noting that the sun would be coming up within an hour or two. "Between the Aurors and us, they probably realized their little operation here was compromised."

"How are they?" Moody wondered, walking over to the two unconscious vampires – Moody had put several heavy stunning spells on them to keep them out cold. "Did you do the burning?"

"It was a punishment from their makers. Apparently they ran away from Caspian and the bald guy. I assume they tried to get help but they got so hungry that they couldn't think straight – only about getting food, apparently. Proudfoot attacked me as soon as he realized I was alone and vulnerable."

"He did speak the truth about there being a Dire, then?" Moody asked, shoving Williamson with his foot. "They don't have the look, but they're young, I suppose. They've got the teeth right, though."

"Let me guess, little to no hair, bright eyes and wrinkly pale skin? Looks like a dried up prune?" Harry thought out loud.

"That would be them," Moody said. "Not too many that survive to old age – you might want to inquire with your superiors. You have a shot at having the clearance for that sort of thing. They've got an official name and number and all that but nobody remembers that stuff."

Harry nodded, frowning. He was thinking back to that moment, there, where he'd once again tapped into whatever divination talent he had. Harry was uncomfortably aware that his prediction, what he remembered of it, was about death. Between feeling his own imminent death, seeing the impending death of a family and this, an uncomfortable pattern started forming.

"We should get in contact with home and tell them what happened. Get someone to clean up any bodies. We're not going to catch those two bloodsuckers this time, I'm afraid."

"This'll be a grand report," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Day One, get ambushed by vampire, escape, get ambushed by another vampire, escape, get ambushed by two MORE vampires who decide to take pity on your unlucky self."

Moody snorted as he took a long swig from his canteen. "I reckon we can just apparate back to the Portkey point without any more lengthy Muggle rides. I doubt either of us would prefer another jaunt through these woods. Can't say I want to stick around."

Harry nodded, noticing Moody's uncomfortable expression. "What is it?"

"I've got to apologize for my awful handling of the situation, earlier. You got snatched right out of the house, right under my very eye. I wasn't vigilant enough and it cost you. The only reason I don't have to lug back a corpse is luck." Moody grimaced. "Clearly I've been slacking off while training you."

Harry rolled his eyes, considering that he had barely known what was going on before he was out of sight of the house in the first place – it'd just happened too quickly. Who knows what insane new training the old codger would come up with from this most recent brush with death?

"Speak."

The Death Eater rose quickly to his feet, keeping his head lowered. Nervously he wiped his hair out of his eyes. In his hands was a square envelope with silver writing on it, as well as a wax seal. "My Lord, an owl arrived several minutes ago with this."

Voldemort rose from his seat, putting aside the thick tome he had been studying, frowning at the black letter that his follower held in shaky hands. "What delivered it?"

"A black owl, my Lord. I didn't recognize it."

Voldemort nodded slightly, narrowing his eyes, before snatching the letter away. "Is there a reason it did not arrive into my hands directly?"

"I don't know." The Death Eater answered nervously. "It dropped its letter and left immediately. I would've thought it was meant for me if it did not carry your name, my Lord."

"You may go." Voldemort said, turning away. The letter had clearly been sent by proxy - intended to be delivered to a follower of his and then passed along. For what possible purpose? Owls were quite capable of finding him, even if they left rather confused about where they had been.

He quickly cast several counter-spells on the envelope – there was only a single curse – one that would affect anyone who opened the letter that had no right. Identical, in fact, to the letters he himself sent regularly. Interesting. Clearly, the sender knew enough about recruitment letters to mimic them – but this was not from any established connection. For once, Voldemort found that he was curious.

He quickly removed the letter and opened it – neat, thinly spaced lines. A large, swirling autograph and silver triangle seal at the bottom. It took but moments to take in the contents.

A sinister smile made its way onto the Dark Lord's visage, his red eyes glinting in the firelight.

Minister Scrimgeour gazed dispassionately out the window, absentmindedly tapping on his desk and ignoring the sizable piles of documents surrounding him. For the first time in several days, the Ministry was managing itself for a moment.

His time as the Minister for Magic had been rocky thus far; following up on a Minister in disgrace, many expected far more than he could reasonable deliver; seemingly thinking that he was a saviour from on high that could fix all that Fudge destroyed with a wave of his wand. Scrimgeour was uncomfortably aware that only the most obvious of injustices had seen improvement thus far, with many regulations pending Wizengamot review – it could take years to get through them all.

Between fixing the restrictive policies regarding Magical creatures and beings (a section of Wizarding law that saw considerable alteration under Fudge) and the on-going conflict with the resurrected Lord Voldemort, nobody really seemed to have time for all the minor things – all the sneaky little rules that had been slipped in along the way, apparently to make it harder for anyone to challenge new laws.

Thankfully many Ministry employees kept meticulous records, allowing him to easily sort through the most problematic issues; some went into so much detail that it was honestly a bit on the extreme side; particularly the people regulating Muggle relations.

What was currently occupying most of his consideration, though, was the peculiar folder of documents currently spread across the desk, between various stacks of material that had not yet been signed. A report from the Department of Mysteries.

It'd always been a secretive bunch, the Unspeakables; Fudge had very little interest in the activities there when he was Minister, something Scrimgeour had been curious about when he first accepted the position. It seemed that, though subservient to the Ministry in name, the Department largely liked to function on its own, with extensive contacts in the Wizarding World at large that would allow them to put their inventions and discoveries into practice before the Wizengamot or Minister ever set eye on those.

His greater interest in the Department had evidently been noticed as reports had arrived on his desk starting from his second week; case reports on magical experiments, interim reports on the status of various large projects and a thick stack of covert scrolls dedicated to the most well hidden missions its members got involved in.

The first time Scrimgeour first went down there to take a look for himself had been remarkable; he'd gotten a full tour around the local premises, and received descriptions of other facilities across the country and elsewhere; he even spent some time looking at artefacts that had long been thought lost, but were safely stored away behind many wards. The people had been remarkably open – and yet it all felt a bit false.

By now he was quite aware that there was more going on than innocent research and experimentation; it had been how he had first discovered about what exactly the Temporal Division got up to that really made it obvious to him.

This led him back to the document that had been on his desk regularly for the last two months. This report should not have been in his hands, as it had not yet been written. It was this report that had actually inspired him to arrange the very missions described in it; a paradox if he ever knew one.

The temporal division was messing with time; terrible things happen to people who mess with time.

Scrimgeour just hoped he'd made the right choice. He closed the folder with a sigh, frowning at the cover. Perhaps he'd one day find out why that symbol would be on it.

Luna Lovegood had been remarkably absentminded lately, even more so than usual. She'd regularly forgotten that she'd arranged study sessions with Neville and occasionally even walked into a classroom fully convinced she should be there, when the class had ended hours before.

It wasn't really her intention, of course – she was distracted. Hermione had tried to coax the reason for her distraction out of the Ravenclaw but to very little success; Luna had simply smiled and waved it off. All that she'd been able to deduce was that it had something to do with Harry. Currently she was stretched out on one of the fluffy armchairs of the Gryffindor Common Room, her eyes closed.

Harry's absence at school remained peculiar, Hermione thought; it had been mere days since he'd last been visiting but it felt far longer, and each time they'd really had few things to talk about; the first few times Hermione went into what was being learned at school but Harry had quickly caught up with them, and was now well ahead in several classes.

"Is Harry coming over next Saturday?" Ginny asked as she strolled in, half an hour later than she'd promised.

"Next week. I think he's been invited to dinner by a co-worker." Hermione answered with a slight smile. "A vampire, so I imagine Harry might not be too pleased with the menu. Where have you been?"

"They really hire vampires and werewolves there, huh." Ginny wondered out loud, ignoring the question. "The new Minister must be really tolerant – my dad's got all kinds of good things to say about him."

"Anything beats Fudge." Hermione answered. "Though I must point out that most of the currently employed non- or part-humans were already-"

"Yes, yes, the Department of Mysteries is special." Ginny rolled her eyes. "I wish I could take a peek sometime, see what Harry gets up to. It's weird only seeing him occasionally. Besides, soon we'll not even recognize him, I imagine. He's being taught by people that are up there with the Headmaster in fame."

"Enough about Harry," Ron said as he slouched in with a smile. "I just got done trouncing the Ravenclaws in a practice game. Shame you weren't there, sis. That's far more important!"

"You'll have your Seeker for the next real game," Ginny said with a smile. "I'm really not interested in your excuse for an exercise, Ronald."

Ron grimaced at his full name. "Well, Ginevra, you'd better catch us a snitch in the next game. I'll hold you to it! We have to win the cup this year to show the school that Gryffindor can succeed without Harry in there. Besides, I think McGonagall will grill us if she can't have her cup."

Hermione sighed as she got up out of her fluffy armchair. "Ron, can you think about anything except Quidditch? I don't mean food."

Ron coloured, but he didn't answer right away. "Quidditch is a very important sport to talk about!" He finally said with a glare. "You shouldn't knock it."

Ginny sighed deeply, prodding Luna in the side. "Hey, sleepyhead."

"I'm not sleeping," Luna answered clearly, sitting up. "I'm merely letting my eyelids catch a nap. I'll need my eyes later, after all."

"Whatever you say, Luna," Ron said with a shrug. "Anyway, I'll see if I can get anything done tonight – I'll see you all later."

Ron quickly shot up the stairs leaving the three girls alone; Ginny sank into the chair next to Hermione, sighing contentedly. They were the only people in the Common Room right now; most were up in the dorm rooms already.

"I had a strange dream last night," Luna started. "It had Harry in it."

"Really, Luna?" Hermione answered.

"He was all sweaty and tired and he had his wand out." Luna continued, oblivious to Hermione and Ginny's widening eyes.

"I suppose it's nice to have dreams about Harry sometimes," Luna said. "At least I know he's okay. I'd certainly notice if anything happened to him."

"I didn't know you and Harry were so close," Ginny said, perplexed.

"Oh, we're not, not really. At least, not yet." Luna answered. "I'm sure we'll figure out the whole teamwork thing at some point, though. Now, if you don't mind, I think I might go write something. I feel like the Quibbler could use a new section!"

Hermione and Ginny stared at each other for some time after Luna left.

"Luna? Truly?" Ginny finally said softly, staring at the direction the girl had gone. "I wouldn't have expected it in a thousand years."

Hermione had narrowed her eyes. "I don't know what to think. Luna pining after Harry? I'd sooner have expected it from you, honestly."

Ginny just stared, unblinking. "I might have a crush on the guy, but I'm not bad enough to go catty on anyone else who has the same. Especially if it is Luna. Although I think you yourself would think differently about my brother."

Hermione glanced up with wide eyes. "Don't you dare say that when-"

Ginny groaned. "Just tell him, Hermione – he's a Quidditch-obsessed dummy convinced that he's inferior – but he certainly fancies you." Ginny left her to stew on that – if the smartest person in the school couldn't figure that out, how could she blame Harry for not figuring out her crush? Some people just didn't get this.

She sighed deeply as she thought about finally letting go of the illusion that she and Harry could be together – but she couldn't. Who knows what might happen in the future?

Harry and Moody arrived back in London the next morning, Harry thankfully landing on his feet this time, though he bounced along the bespelled floor some distance before stopping. Moody didn't even seem fazed by the Portkey, stepping confidently off the platform.

It'd been unfortunate for both that they'd arrived back where they got into America and found it empty – unlike the Ministry, this apparition spot actually had opening times. They'd spent the night in one of Moody's tents which was sizable enough inside to have separate rooms and a remarkably full enchanted fridge. Both of their prisoners had been locked inside a very familiar trunk instead.

Moody strode on quickly with Harry hurrying behind, reminding the latter of his tour of the Ministry by an incognito Minister for Magic. The trip to the elevators was quick and this time Harry himself sent the special elevator up to the first floor without even a sound.

"You are expected," Percy said as they arrived – strange, as Moody hadn't yet alerted anyone to their return. Perhaps someone had seen them on the way up and sent a quick message?

"Alastor, Mr. Potter." Scrimgeour said as he shoved aside a think folder he was reading and placing a potted plant on top of it to keep it closed. "You are back considerably earlier than expected."

"We ran into… complications," Harry started, suddenly realizing his voice charm was still active and quickly cancelling it with a gesture. He shrugged off his hood as well. "Both of the Aurors that were sent were turned and they were awfully interested in our presence."

"You have brought them back, I trust?" Scrimgeour said, looking over his glasses with an unidentifiable expression.

"They're in this trunk," Moody said, tapping the large wooden trunk that had been inside his jacket pocket in its shrunken form. "Dires, and no clue if they've already fed. Certainly not recently."

"I see," Scrimgeour said, nodding. "You met with a Caspian Trenton, wanted fugitive?"

"Yes…" Harry started. "Wait, how could you know that? I haven't even told anyone that except Moody here."

"You haven't written a report, yet." Scrimgeour answered, tapping the folder he's set aside. "I have more sources than word of mouth, Mr. Potter. Surely an Unspeakable like you should be aware that there are more possibilities."

Harry swallowed, thinking back to his meeting with Caspian and the balding vampire. "There was a second one – he was familiar with the Department of Mysteries and wore one of our robes. He didn't introduce himself, though."

"I am aware," Scrimgeour answered shortly. "I can only tell you that you will undoubtedly uncover his identity in due time. I merely request that you do not dig too deeply to find this information and get yourself in trouble. There are good reasons he is not public knowledge."

"I suppose I'll have to take your word on that."

"Indeed. Suffice to say his interactions with the Ministry far predate my own arrival at the Ministry." Scrimgeour nodded at the folder, stroking his beard in thought. "Much of what I find in here is confusing to me, as it must be to you. I believe there are very few people who could make heads or tails of it – and most of them are unwilling to elucidate anything or not allowed to."

"The Temporal Division, I gather." Harry tried, frowning.

"Somewhere in the coming year, the Time Room must be repaired," Scrimgeour said with a shrug. "Whatever will happen in the future lead to one of the employees of the Ministry risking serious injury to himself to send this report back in time, allowing the Ministry to prepare."

"That's not possible, though." Harry said, frowning. "You can't change the past."

"How would you know such a thing, Mr. Potter?" Scrimgeour asked idly, a feral grin appearing.

Harry sputtered briefly, trying to come up with a feasible excuse that didn't include travelling through time with Hermione and her time-turner.

"I am aware of the Black incident," Scrimgeour said, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. "You must surely know that the time-turner in question was on loan from the Department of Mysteries? Oh, Dumbledore had to exert quite a bit of pressure to get such a thing authorized… It all turned out for the best, I suppose."

Harry gulped at the Minister's sharp look. This man was a lot sharper than he had originally seemed. "I suppose…"

"I must admit the most curious aspect of it, for a time, was the reasoning you could possibly have for saving a criminal – not to mention one whose crimes would be so near to your heart. Unlike Fudge, though, I dare stand up to Dumbledore and demand explanations."

"You believe me?" Harry said with some amazement. "I mean, about his innocence."

"Mr. Pettigrew is currently skulking around this very Ministry, Potter," Scrimgeour answered dryly. "I'd be an idiot if that didn't convince me. It is unfortunate that he met with his end so very shortly before he would've been exonerated."

Harry nodded uncomfortably. "I've come to terms with what happened, somewhat. I think Sirius wouldn't have minded the way he went out – fighting Death Eaters, protecting his- his godson. If you can find a chance to officially pardon him, I'd appreciate it."

"I will see what can be done, Unspeakable Potter – but you'll find that there are still many people in Ministry employ that would balk at such a thing. Without any hard evidence, it's difficult. Perhaps when Pettigrew has outlived his usefulness, he can be captured and held accountable."

Harry agreed with that, blinking at noting Moody's uncharacteristically sullen frown.

"I understand that you failed in your assigned task," Scrimgeour said, looking at the ex-Auror. "Not a good start, Alastor."

"I got careless," Moody said gruffly. "The vampire was a hell of a lot faster than I expected, and I foolishly failed to consider anything near those velocities. I'd trapped the entire hallway against vampires but the creature barely even touched the floor long enough to notice the fact. By the time I got serious, he and Potter were gone."

"You will face consequences for your unsatisfactory performance, as you surely understand." Scrimgeour pointed out. "Things may have turned out well this time, but we cannot afford such mishaps in the future."

"Understood, Minister." Moody answered, shrinking in on himself. Harry had never before seen Moody of all people looking guilty and sorry.

"It all turned out well," Harry said consolingly. "At least, as well as it could've gone. Nobody died, we got the Aurors back – even if a bit toothier than before – and the vampires had to pack up and move elsewhere. Next time there's a sighting, a bigger group will be sent to deal with it."

"Aurors Williamson and Proudfoot will be handed over to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where they will be nursed back to relative health; since there is no longer a rule against vampires serving as Aurors, they will be retested and may re-join if they're up to it."

"Quite generous," Moody pointed out. "Fudge would've had them jailed."

"Well, you'd better be thankful I'm not Fudge or you might well have been fired over this incident," Scrimgeour said. "For now, Mr. Mustang will be taking over the leadership position in your new assignment; hopefully you'll soon be complete. The position will be up for review in a few weeks. We'll see if it works out."

Moody nodded unhappily.

"You may wait outside, Alastor." Scrimgeour said, sweeping open the door with a flick of his wand. "I have some words for Mr. Potter's ears alone."

Scrimgeour sank deep into his chair, looking interestedly at the wizard before him. Moody quickly left, closing the door behind him – there was a distinct fizzling sound – the muffling spells were back in place.

"I have read your report - I'm aware you've yet to write it, but bear with me – you quite clearly skip over an event that I'm aware did occur."

Harry blinked owlishly. "How would I know what I didn't include in my report, Minister?"

"Rufus is fine," Scrimgeour said with a friendly smile. "I am referring to a report I received yesterday regarding a minor prophecy."

Harry nodded, frowning. "Why wouldn't I include that in the report? You already know about it anyway."

Scrimgeour shrugged, picking up a loose parchment from the desk. "The Custodians informed me of the prophecy immediately, given that I was rather impressed by your last one. Can you shed any light on its meaning?"

"Beyond the obvious?" Harry wondered. "It was about the death of the two vampires in front of me – whoever kills them is old and does it with fire, I figure. There are some other ideas I've had but I'm unsure on those."

Scrimgeour didn't answer, twirling his wand in his hand. "The Custodians have come across another interpretation that they'll probably share with you – the words 'elder' and 'ash' have rather more connotations than the ones you mentioned. Suffice to say that if such an interpretation is correct, there are several colleagues who would be interested in your assistance. "

"Colleagues, sir?"

"Indeed. How much do you know about the activities of Necromancers?"

Author's Note : Well, it took a while since I had other obligations, but there's a new chapter! Most of the next one has already been written as well, taking things back to the Department of Mysteries and the Custodians, as well as Snape's latest information on Voldemort's activities.

References in this chapter are sparse : The town used here does really exist, and is in fact a ghost town. Several of the geographical features are also real. All of the items that Moody carries along with him are protections against vampires from non-European traditions or the more familiar stuff. Too bad he didn't get to use many of them this time around.

Inspiration for Dire Vampires was taken from variants on the European Vampire tradition (particularly some of the habits of the 30 Days of Night type); the elder Dire Vampire here had some inspiration in visuals from the Master in Season 1 Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Caspian Trenton is named after Caspian Pierce from 'The Embrace' series, and Matthew Trenton from Blood Thirst, both vampire features. (Obscure! :P)

Since some concerns were raised regarding including Twilight or Naruto in this story (neither of which I intended) I'll inform you here : neither sparkly vampires nor orange-clad ninja will appear in this fanfic. Nor will Volturi or Sharingan. I intended to work in Japanese Mythology from the beginning and figured a Shinobi would be the ideal way in; the Naruto references there came in from being introduced to the show recently. Twilight was only ever intended as a target to make fun of, honestly, since I am not a teenage girl.

I will see you next chapter.