Chapter 3
Draco had been in America for all of an hour, and so far he was extremely unimpressed.
The Bureau was located in New York, which to Draco's eye was a filthy city packed to bursting with people who looked, and in some cases, smelled, like they didn't wash. The Muggles here were certainly more vibrant than the ones he'd encountered back home, but that did little to endear them to him. And they were everywhere, standing on the sides of the streets, pouring out of buildings, leaning out from carts, calling out the names of things Draco could only assume were foods. There was so much, and he knew that even if he weren't here on business, he would never have enough time to get used to a place like this.
As it was, he barely had time to look at anything anyway, since the witch who had met him at the Portkey Customs Office walked as quickly as she talked.
The Portkey Office was not in the same building as the Bureau for whatever reason, so they'd jaunted across the street to an industrial looking megalith of a building that Draco had to crane his neck to see the top of. The dash across the street had nearly killed him. He'd seen cars before, but never so many in one place, with people hanging out of the driver's side windows yelling obscenities.
From the nonchalant air that the witch, Tamara Jones, he reminded himself, had hauled him across the street, he gathered that this was a regular occurrence.
"Don't the Muggles notice this?" he'd asked her as they entered into the cool front lobby of the building.
"Oh yeah," Tamara replied, her heels clacking on the polished floor as she led him over to a bank of lifts. "They notice it. It would have been murder to try to hide something this big in a city like this." She pressed a button on the wall and tapped her foot impatiently. "But there are strong repelling charms on it, and it looks like a run down apartment building to them. Most of them keep away."
Draco nodded, stepping into the lift with Tamara when the doors slid open. She mashed another button, and the doors closed, allowing the lift to start moving up.
"But why have your Bureau in a Muggle area at all?" Draco couldn't help asking.
Tamara laughed. "To be honest, I think we just like using their resources. Running this place on electricity is so much easier than having it run on magic. I don't know how you do it over in Britain."
"We manage," Draco sniffed, and Tamara laughed again.
The lift dinged and they were moving again, heading down a hall filled with witches and wizards wearing Muggle clothes and bustling about. A few of them called out to Tamara, grinning at her and looking at Draco with interest.
He had a moment to be glad that he hadn't worn his robes liked he'd started to, before he was being dragged into an office.
The office was roomy and organized, with a mahogany desk in the middle. Behind the desk sat a woman with dark brown hair and light brown skin. She looked up and arched an eyebrow at Tamara.
"Morning, Captain Pritchett," Tamara said with a grin. "I've brought Auror Draco Malfoy to see you. He's the liaison from Britain's Magical Law Enforcement. Auror Malfoy, this is Captain Sophie Pritchett. She's our version of a Head Auror."
Captain Pritchett got to her feet and held a hand out. "Good to meet you Auror Malfoy."
"And you," Draco replied, shaking her hand.
The captain took her seat and gestured for Draco to take one across from the desk. "Thanks, Tamara," she said to the other woman. "I've got it from here."
Tamara gave the woman a salute and smiled at Draco. "It was nice to meet you Auror Malfoy," she said, waving before she dipped out of the office, closing the door behind her.
"I was honestly surprised to hear that your DMLE was sending someone over so quickly," Captain Pritchett was saying. "Officer Yukimura from Japan hasn't even acknowledged my request yet." She shook her head. "I keep saying that we need some kind of international committee for these things, you know? So we all can communicate better."
Draco nodded. "That would certainly make things easier."
"It would. But hey, these things aren't up to me. I make suggestions, and they tell me that my job is to keep the people safe. Which of course brings me back to why you are here. How much do you know about the situation, Auror Malfoy?"
"I've been thoroughly briefed by Head Auror Weasley. You've been recording high levels of raw magic from an unknown witch or wizard that you think is either a natural citizen of Britain or Japan based on their power levels."
Pritchett inclined her head. "Exactly. Now, these flares are registering as Dark Magic, but we can't say for sure if they are. Raw magic usually hits the radar as Dark because it's wandless."
"Understandable."
"Head Auror Weasley said that you have unusual experience with wandless magic?"
Draco snorted. "That's one way of putting it. Suffice it to say that I can do a fair bit and have dealt with it before. Have you traced these flares to a particular area yet?"
"That's what my team is working on now," Pritchett answered, flicking her wand and unrolling a map on the wall to the side of her desk. "See that red circle?" she asked, gesturing to an area that was ringed in red ink. "That's as close as we can pinpoint it."
Draco rose from his chair and went to look at the map. "How big of an area is it, really?"
"Technically only about a mile all together, but there are a lot of shops and apartments clustered on top of each other. Urban sprawl is definitely going to make finding this person harder."
"And what will you do, if we do find them?" Draco wanted to know.
Pritchett shrugged. "Question them. There aren't many who do wandless magic without a reason. I want to know where this person is from, why they're here, and what they are doing that requires so much magic."
Before Draco could open his mouth to reply, an alarm rang out from the corner of the office. Pritchett swore and rose to walk over to a box that was lighting up and recording numbers. "This is the machine that record the flares of magic," she explained to Draco. Her eyes widened as she read the numbers. "God. This is the biggest one we've seen so far and we've been recording this for weeks. It's also reading much Darker than usual."
The door slammed open then and a man ran in. "Captain Pritchett! We need to get a team down to Area 9 right away."
The woman turned to look at him. "Situation?"
"Info's still coming in. So far, it looks like a wizard went apeshit. Multiple Muggles down; no word on casualties."
The captain swore again. "If this isn't our mystery person's work, I'll eat my badge. Declan, get your team together. Have someone alert the emergency response team and for God's sake make sure there are some Obliviators on the scene."
The man, Declan, nodded, saluted, and rushed off.
Pritchett sighed. "I knew this wasn't going to stay peaceful. What do you think, Auror Malfoy? Ready to see what this is all about?"
Draco smirked. "Certainly." This was what he had trained for.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Draco Apparated to what the Police-wizards called Area 9 with Pritchett. He could see bodies scattered around on the ground in front of what appeared to be a cafe. There was already a team of mediwizards tending to the wounded, and the Obliviators were keeping the crowds under control. Declan hurried over to the two of them.
"Who're you?" he asked Draco.
"This is Auror Malfoy," Pritchett replied. "He's British. What've we got?"
Declan turned to point at the injured. "Muggles. None dead, but they are seriously injured. Something slashed them all good."
"Can the mediwizards handle it?"
"They're doing what they can."
Something stirred in Draco's mind and he moved forward to look at the nearest victim. It was a woman, wearing a light yellow dress that was liberally stained with blood. He had a flash of remembering, and his blood ran cold.
"Auror Malfoy?" Pritchett asked, walking closer to him.
"I know this spell," he murmured. "I...I was a victim of it some time ago."
The captain's dark eyes trained on him. "Who cast it?"
"A friend. Well, we weren't friends at the time. Did they find who did this?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. Chances are he or she's long gone by now. What can you tell me about this spell?"
Draco tore his eyes away from the Muggle woman. "The spell is Sectumsempra. Dark, definitely, and it was created by a former Death Eater decades ago. You know of the Death Eaters?"
The woman nodded. "We heard about them. How do you recommend we treat it?"
"I think the mediwizards are doing the right thing," he replied, looking over at the members of the team who were moving among the wounded. "The Muggles might need some blood replenishers, though. And they will be out of it for at least a day. Depending on how deep the cuts are, there might be scarring."
Pritchett called over one of the mediwizards and relayed that information. "We're going to need to move out of here very soon," she said after a moment. "And we need to get all the information from this scene that we can. Walk with me."
Draco fell into step with the woman, sharp eyes taking in everything that was happening around them. "That spell takes a high level of power to do with a wand," he murmured. "Anyone who can do it wandlessly is not someone to take lightly."
"So it's pretty safe to assume that this is one of your people, then?" Pritchett asked.
"I'd say so."
"And this Death Eater who created it," she said slowly. "Was he the one who used this spell on you?"
Draco shook his head. "No. Ironically enough, he was the one who made sure I came out of the whole thing alive."
"So other people know the spell?"
"I've never seen it used by anyone other than the person who used it on me, but it's possible. If one has the power, it's not hard to master."
Pritchett tapped her lips, thoughtfully as they walked the perimeter of the scene, Police-wizards bustling around them, making sure everything was cleaned up and contained. "If this person is one of your former Death Eaters, what do you propose we do?"
Draco snorted. "Lock them up. The only ones our government cannot account for are the most dangerous ones."
"Lovely," the captain replied dryly.
"Captain!" The shout made them both turn their heads and hurry over. A Police-witch was kneeling at the entrance to an alley, eyes trained on something. "You'll want to see this," she said.
Pritchett leaned in before Draco could. "Do you think he's one of the injured?" she asked.
The Police-witch shook her head. "No blood, Captain. Unless he was hit by something else. He's also not a Muggle."
With a strange mixture of dread and anxiety coiling in his stomach, Draco moved so that he could look down at the male the two women were examining.
He was unconscious, but even with his eyes closed, and as dirty as he looked, Draco would have known him anywhere. After all, there weren't any other wizards with hair that untidy and a scar that distinctive. "Potter," he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away.
Pritchett nudged him. "I take it he's one of yours."
"Yes," Draco replied, mouth suddenly very dry. "He is definitely one of ours."
