Chapter 1

With a yawn, Harry Potter sat at the breakfast table trying to remember how to butter a piece of toast. He had had little to no sleep over the past few weeks. The Auror office was swamped with reports of beasts roaming the country. Naturally, that meant that he had put in nearly the maximum overtime at the Ministry for the month.

Giving up on the toast after the sixth time of stabbing himself in the thumb, he rubbed his eyes and grabbed a small bottle from the top shelf of the Potions cabinet. Downing the Pepper-Up in one swallow, he shook his head and, feeling much more alert, stepped over to the fireplace to Floo to the Ministry. One of these days, he was going to take a holiday…

Harry wasn't certain what exactly had happened in the four hours since he'd clocked out the night before, or rather early morning, but it was obvious that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was in an uproar.

"—saw the bus! Can you imagine? Memory Charms here, Memory Charms there!"

"I know! We've impounded the Knight Bus. Got to figure this out somehow…"

Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. He didn't care to guess what the officers were discussing; he was pretty sure he already knew. His cubicle was right next to the window, and he made his way over to it hoping that he wasn't going to be sent out immediately. He really was behind on his paperwork, and Arthur was going to be on his case again if he didn't get it turned in on tine.

He smirked. Arthur Weasley had been promoted quickly in the years following the Second Wizarding War. Eventually, he had been assigned as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Minister Shackelbolt had been pushing for that appointment for a long time. Arthur still thought of Harry as a son, but that didn't stop him lecturing him on the importance of punctuality when it came to paperwork. Of course, that might also have contributed to it.

Harry came back to himself as he realized a Memo was furiously whizzing around his head. He grabbed it and groaned. As he'd suspected, the Shadow had been seen again, and this time a Muggle had died. Not only that, another Muggle had actually witnessed the event and reported it to Muggle police. Not that they were completely useless, but they did tend to get in the way a bit, and they never could get to the bottom of the mystery. This time, apparently, something had changed the destination of the Knight Bus, and it had appeared long enough to run the poor Muggle over before popping back to its earlier route. Stan Shunpike, the conductor of the bus for as long as Harry could remember, was currently giving testimony in a Ministry interrogation room. Obviously, magic was involved. The problem was that no one seemed to know what to look for, and even scouring Knockturn Alley had turned up zero clues. No known magic could be responsible for everything that was happening, which, of course, left Harry and the rest of the Aurors assigned to the case under the assumption that they were dealing with something either experimental or highly dark.

Things were getting difficult to handle, though, as more and more Muggles were being attacked. They weren't all Muggles, however. The Muggle authorities might not realize it, but these attacks were happening all across Europe to wizards and Muggles alike. There seemed to be no distinction between them. The French Minister for Magic had been in the office only last week to discuss collaboration on the investigation. While Harry wasn't keen on working with the almost-impossible-to-understand-French officers, they had provided quite a bit of evidence linking several of the attacks with certainty.

"Harry," said a voice behind him. It was Arthur, looking concerned and more than a little irritated. He turned, hoping his face looked attentive. The Pepper-Up only did so much. "As you can see, there's been another incident. We've already got two squads working this case. I don't know what we're missing," he pulled a chair over from an empty desk and slumped into it, "How's the investigation going?"

Harry shook his head, "Not good. Even with the information from the French ministry, there are too many blanks to fill." He absentmindedly rubbed the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, an old habit that only ever came up when he was particularly distressed, "We have no record of anything like this. We know this shadow is part of the issue, probably causing everything to happen, but we simply cannot find one single reference to anything capable of this."

Arthur started to speak then looked as if he thought better of it. Harry frowned, "What?"

"Well, given the likelihood that this shadow is the product of some type of dark magic, I was thinking that we should perhaps find someone well versed in the Dark Arts…"

Harry was already shaking his head again, "We've tried. Knockturn Alley, hags, the werewolf dens… I even went to Azkaban myself two weeks ago. The prisoners fit to talk won't, and Legilimency on them is less than ideal. They don't have coherent thoughts anymore."

"Yes, I saw that report," Arthur hesitated again, "You know, there might not be anyone alive that can help us…" Harry looked at him sharply, noticing the emphasis he put on "alive". "What I mean, Harry, is that we might need to talk to someone who is, well, dead."

"That's a great idea, Arthur, except for one little issue," Harry stated levelly, "They're dead. Unless we figure out how to send officers beyond the veil without losing them, we're really not equipped to—"

"I was actually thinking a portrait of someone who is dead, not the dead person himself."

A light clicked, "You want me to go and pick his brain?"

"I was rather hoping you would. He's more willing to talk to you, for some reason. Always is."

"I don't think willing is really the right word, Arthur. He tolerates me. Barely."

"In any case, Harry, he might know something. He was rather… engrossed in the Dark Arts at one time, and he sat in Voldemort's pocket for years," Arthur spread his hands, "It's the only possible lead we have, Harry."

Drumming his fingers on the desk for long moments, Harry stared beyond Arthur Weasley. It had been years since he'd last spoken to the portrait. The last time hadn't exactly gone well, either. He'd had painted books tossed at him. They hadn't come out of the painting, of course, but Harry had gotten the point well enough.

As Harry sat in thought, the office Floo flared to life. It was small, meant only for communication. Harry and Arthur both jumped in surprise. Sitting in the flames was none other than Neville Longbottom's head looking severely distressed.

"Neville?" Harry said, quickly moving over to the Floo.

Neville sighed, "Oh, good, you're here. I was worried I'd have to come down there."

"What's wrong, Neville?" Arthur asked as he joined Harry by the fire. Neville looked like he hated to answer. The look on his face as he tried to formulate an answer made Harry's thoughts jump to the only reason Hogwarts Professor Longbottom would be contacting him like this. Harry gritted his teeth, hoping he wasn't about to have to go retrieve his thirteen-year-old son from Hogwarts. "James?" he said flatly.

Neville nodded but continued looking worried, "But it's not what you're thinking, mate. He hasn't done anything; it's just… Well, we may have a problem."

Raising an eyebrow, Harry pushed, "Yes?"

Neville took a deep breath, "He saw the Shadow."

Arthur dropped his wand. Harry didn't move, just made himself breathe. "Al?" he asked. Neville shook his head, "Just James. He saw it as he was heading out to Hogsmeade. Apparently, he stopped to tie his shoe, of all things. Ran right up to Minerva's office after. I happened to be in there, and he told us. Seems it floated right up in front of him and just stared for a moment before disappearing. Shook him pretty badly. Minerva's got Madame Pomfrey in here now with a Calming Draught, but having read the papers lately I thought I'd better call you. Nothing's happened yet, but that may be due to the castle's magic. It may not be able to get to him in here…"

Harry closed his eyes. Retrieving his cloak, he said, "I'll be right there, Neville." Neville nodded and pulled out of the fire with a pop. Harry looked over at Arthur and sighed, "Bloody hell…"

Arthur nodded and waved Harry away, "Go on. You're still on the clock; this is technically work related. And, Harry? Remember the portrait."

Harry nodded with a frown. He had to remember the portrait. The man might be the key to unraveling the entire mystery. He sighed again as he Disapparated to the Hogwarts perimeter. His stomach clenched as he considered what might happen to James if he couldn't figure this out, and quickly now. He stalked towards the castle doors, hoping that for once Severus Snape might be in a good mood.

A/N: There's chapter 1, then. Chapter 2 will follow shortly. Also, since we've now gotten into recognizable characters, I'll stick a little disclaimer in here. Said recognizable characters, places, etc. are not mine. This is merely an exercise in writing.