A Wizard without a Wand

Police officer Frank Logan glanced at his wrist watch. Another hour before his shift would be over. Another hour of waiting. There wasn't much happening in the small town of Arington and he knew he should be grateful for that. Who'd want to see another wife beaten by her husband, another daughter threatened because she dared to love the wrong man or another young boy beaten up because he didn't want to hand over his mobile phone?

Still, Frank hated the idleness more than anything. He desperately wanted to get up and do something.

His colleague Olivia looked at her watch as well. "Do you have any planes for tonight?" she asked.

Frank stared at her, realising that it was rather rude a moment too late. Olivia smiled slightly. At least she didn't seem insulted.

"We're going out for a drink after work, Marc, Thomas Diana and me. We'd be glad if you'd like to come too."

Frank hesitated. He didn't want to give her any false hope and he didn't really feel like going out either. An evening with his colleagues might not be too bad though.

"You really need to go out sometimes," Olivia urged him on. "Life is more than work you know."

Before Frank had any chance to answer, the door opened.

"Isabella Norton is here with her new boyfriend," their secretary Mrs Miller said.

"Oh. I had hoped I wouldn't see her anymore," Olivia said.

The teenager had been the leader of a rather violent girls' gang at the local school. She had been a frequent "visitor" of the local police station. The last round of social service and especially her meeting with Red Cross volunteer and model student David Smith seemed to have finally changed her though. There had been no reports of any trouble since.

"She hasn't done anything as far as I know," Mrs Miller said. "She wants to report something."

"Very well, send her in," Olivia said while Frank asked himself if one of her victims had decided to take the law into his or her own hands. It was their duty to find out what was going on of course.

A few moments later, two teenagers walked into the room. Isabella Norton's look hadn't changed too much. She still had her hair dyed black with violet strands and wore a black leather jacket. She didn't apply her earlier access of make-up anymore though and it was quite visible that she was rather pale, dark lines beneath her eyes. Despite of the warm weather, she wore a green scarf around her neck.

Her boyfriend was a rather lanky young man with short brown hair and glasses. Not the kind of person Frank would have expected someone like Isabella to be attracted to.

"Good evening, Miss Norton, Mr Smith," he said and they greeted him in response. An amount of politeness rather unusual for Isabella. "I've heard you wanted to file a report."

Isabella opened her mouth but not words came out.

Instead, David started to speak. "Bella would like to tell you something."

Frank barely understood the rest of the sentence. Bella, Bella, this name. In front of his eyes, the girl's hair turned to a pure and natural black and the green scarf to one in green and silver stripes.

With a massive effort, Frank forced himself to see the girl in front of him as she really was. His head started to ache but that was better than these thoughts. Much better.

"What's the matter?" he asked, glad that he managed to make his voice sound normal.

Isabella swallowed and finally, she began to speak. "It's my mother. She, well, when she's drunk." She stopped in mid sentence.

"What's happening when your mother is drunk?" Olivia asked kindly. Frank was glad that she took over. Everything seemed to be swimming in front of his eyes. He hated this weakness. If anyone ever found out, he'd be rid of his job right away.

"Well, she's, she's beating me. Badly. And last night, last night she tried to strangle me."

The girl took her scarf off. Red marks were visible on her thin neck. So that was why she had worn it.

"These are grave accusations, Miss Norton," Olivia said. "Would it be alright for you to visit the medical officer with me? He can examine you and document the injuries you have."

Frank could see David talk to his girlfriend quietly. He could hear what he was saying. "Do it. It's the only way to prove this."

Finally, she nodded. Olivia made a phone call right away. They were lucky. The medical officer agreed to see Isabella right away.

Olivia told the two teenagers to wait outside for a moment. "I think it's better if I'm accompanying her. You need a bit of rest." She spoke more quietly so that no one else could hear her. "It's that headache again, isn't it?"

When he didn't answer she said: "You really should consider if therapy wouldn't be the better option after all. This can't go on like that and you know it. You men are just too proud. After what's happened to you it is quite natural that you need professional help. Being shot in the head and lying in a coma for 15 years isn't something anyone can get over just like that. There's no need to be ashamed you see."

"I'll think about it," Frank promised though there was nothing to think about. He didn't need any therapy and there was none that could help him anyway.

Frank did the paperwork while Olivia accompanied the young girl to the medical officer. When they returned so Isabella could sign the complaint, Frank's eyes lingered on David. He asked himself if the boy really was the person everyone thought he was or not. Did he really wish to help his girlfriend or anyone else by the way or did he only do this to hide his true self? You could never be sure.

Frank was glad when the two teenagers finally left, Isabella would stay with David overnight. Olivia didn't mention Frank's therapy anymore. Instead she talked about Isabella and how shocked she was about the way she was being treated by her own mother.

Frank agreed with her but he couldn't really feel anything about it. He found it hard to see the notorious criminal as a victim of violence who deserved pity. It all seemed so far away. The headache didn't subside and Frank knew he had to reject the offer to go out with his colleagues.

He wasn't up to it.

When Frank returned to the small house he had rented, the first thing he did was taking a pain-killing pill. It would lessen his headache, at least a bit. Frank knew that he should have something for dinner but he simply didn't feel like it.

He turned on the TV for distraction but the flickering light only made his headache worse, so he turned it off again and took a book instead. Some historical novel he read hoping to learn more about his new culture. The amnesia-excuse worked fairly well but he didn't want to repeat the story about his supposed health issues to everyone.

Reading didn't want to work out this evening either though. The headache remained, coupled with a restlessness that simply wouldn't allow him to remain on his couch. As soon as he got up again, his knees went so weak he had trouble walking.

Frank hated it so much when this happened. He knew it could cost him his job or worse, endanger other people when he did something like that on the job. So far, he had been lucky. It had never happened during the moments where it counted. There weren't too many anyway. They preferred to let him do deskwork. As if they knew more about his state than they admitted.

Bella, what was there in a name? Names were nothing to fear about, someone had said so.

Maybe Olivia was right. He should go to a therapy.

Frank couldn't go to therapy. Even if he had wanted to which he did not. It was impossible to tell any therapist the truth. The truth was that Frank Logan had once been someone else. Frank Longbottom, a wizard.

This man, this wizard no longer existed and most of the time, Frank was able to forget him. Not tonight.

Frank didn't have a wand anymore. He had borrowed one to fake the Muggle certificates and credentials that would give him a new past. Right after he had ran away from this Death Eater-ruled hospital. He had made it before they realised that he again knew who he was.

This had been eight years ago, since then, he had never held a wand again, never seen any spark of magic.

Well, actually he had. There was a little girl in the neighbourhood, Laura. Strange things had been happening around her and she had come over to Frank quite often, wanting to talk to him.

Until the gas meter readers had come. Laura's mother had left her daughter alone with them for a while because a neighbour wanted to show her something. She had bitterly regretted this. A few days later, the woman visited the police station because something was wrong with her daughter. She feared that one of the men might have done something to her while she was away. Frank had called the gas company; they had never sent anyone to Laura's family. The police had tried to find the men but they seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Strange things no longer happened around Laura and she hardly ever talked to anyone anymore. Her mother was angry at the police's failure to catch the culprits.

Frank could guess why this had happened. The visitors must have been Death Eaters or sent by them to take the Muggle-born's "illicit" magic away. Frank had failed to protect her. Failed again.

He walked towards one of the drawers which contained nothing but one single photograph. At first glance, it seemed to be a simple photograph of a garden with raspberry bushes. Frank looked at it for a while and slowly, as if she needed to check if it was safe first, a person came out from behind the bushes. Two people actually, a smiling woman who held a small boy with a chubby face. The boy held a few raspberries in his hand and was putting one into his mouth.

Frank looked at the two of them who seemed so happy. Neither of them knew what would happen so soon. They didn't know that they were going to die in terrible pain only a few days later.

He should have protected them but he had failed.

Alice hadn't wanted him to go and look for Voldemort. He still heard those questions she had asked. "Can't you stay here with me and Neville?" "Couldn't they send someone who doesn't have a small child?"

Frank had considered it, but in the end, he had decided to do his duty. How should he have known what the consequences would be?

He had never believed he was going to find Voldemort. They had found his body, it was certain that he was dead.

But Frank had found him. Not the wizard Voldemort; a shadow of evil, lurking in a forest in Albania. His body gone but his evil had remained, trying to possess the Auror who wanted to kill him. The thought of Alice and Neville had thwarted this attempt. She had saved him without even being there. Frank had never had a chance to tell her. He had needed to keep secret what he had found and now it was too late.

Frank didn't want to remember but he couldn't help it. He saw Alice fall under some devious curse from Lestrange, some sort of perversion of his gift, no doubt. He had stolen her wand, it was so wrong for him to even touch it. Frank knew what that wand had meant to Alice and he knew about the amount of respect she had always used it with.

She had actually managed to undo the Cruciatus curse used on him, for a short while at least. Later she had kept him from giving in twice. If it hadn't been for her word, he probably would have told him. Frank wasn't quite sure if he had been right not to. She shouldn't have had to endure this because of him.

"I can do to you whatever I want," Lestrange had said to her, touching her. Frank remembered the way he had been looking at her only too well. He didn't want to imagine what had happened after he had stopped noticing what was going on. It wouldn't help her anymore if he did.

Enough, Frank told himself. Enough. If he continued doing this, the memories would drive him insane again.

He had been thinking about something important, Voldemort.

Frank had not been possessed by Voldemort but he had still brought Evil back home with him. Alice had suspected something. "You know Frank; I think Mr Crouch's son has been following us. He approached Neville once, when we were at the playground. He asked if you were at home. His excuse was really bad. You don't think he could be a Death Eater, do you? Do you think he knows about, well that Neville is the other one?"

Frank had heard it all but he hadn't believed her. Barty Crouch, a Death Eater? The boy who had visited Frank's parents regularly? The boy whom Frank had taught how to ride a broomstick? Frank hadn't been able to believe it. Despite of everything he had learned during those long years of war, he had not been able to believe it.

Why hadn't he trusted Alice's instincts? She had been an excellent Auror and her judgement of people and situations had hardly ever failed. He could have prevented it all if he had only taken her seriously.

He should have gone to Dumbledore immediately. Back then, there had been many reasons not to do so right away, but now it was clear that he should have gone. Frank knew what Voldemort must have done to survive. It was magic so evil that he shivered from only thinking the name here in this quite Muggle neighbourhood but sometimes, the truth needed to be faced.

A Horcrux, Voldemort must have created a Horcrux to tie himself to this world. As long as he had it, he couldn't be killed. This was knowledge Frank should have shared with the right people as quickly as possible. Now, no one knew about it. A mortal tyrant could still rule a land, but he wouldn't be ruling it forever.

Dumbledore was long dead, Frank had gathered that much from the Healers' conversation he had overheard while they believed he was still too far away to understand.

Voldemort's Horcrux was probably still around and no one knew about it. No one other than Frank.

What had he been thinking, hiding away in the Muggle world for so long? The only thing he could do to vanquish his shame was finding and destroying this Horcrux and keep Voldemort from ruling forever.

It was the only way to honour their memory.

Frank didn't have a wand and he hadn't used magic for years. It wouldn't be easy and it would most likely be the last thing he did, but the thought wasn't bothering him anymore. What was there to lose if you had already lost everything?

It would take some planning, Frank was sure of that. He'd have to resign his job with the Muggle police but he was sure they'd understand if he told them he had to do so for health reasons. The superiors didn't seem to be too happy about him anyway. Maybe the suspected that something might not be quite right about Frank Logan's back-story.

Money shouldn't be a problem, thanks to Moody. Right at the beginning of Auror training, he had told them that they had to expect anything. "There might be a time when it's not safe to access Gringotts anymore. In this case, it's very helpful if you have an account with a Muggle bank."

Frank had followed this advice right away and opened a Muggle account with the rather huge amount of money he had inherited from his great-aunt Eudora. Frank had never really needed this money anyway, earnings as an Auror weren't bad. Some of the money had sustained him at the beginning of his escape, there was enough left for a few years if he didn't waste it. Frank would most likely be dead before he had to worry about his monetary resources.

His mind wandered back to Isabella Norton. She had more than the nickname in common with that other woman. Isabella too was a fighting girl who didn't care about others or at least she had been in the past. Even those issues with her mother, there had been plenty of rumours about Druella Black-Rosier.

Frank wondered if the Muggle-Bella would continue making the right choices. Either way, she had made him make the right choice, finally, after all those years. For that alone he should be grateful to her.