She squealed, dodging out of the way and attempting to run, but was caught. He bent down and grabbed her by the midsection, tossing her onto his shoulder in one smooth motion.

"Luc Bennet put me down this instant!" she laughed, punching him in the back softly.

"Not until you've paid the price for your cheek!" he said, spinning her around.

She laughed and tried to wiggle out of his arms, but he simply gripped her tighter. He slowed his turn and flipped her into his arms before he fell back to the soft grass. She giggled as she landed on top of him, her breath a bit faster than normal as they both tried to calm their racing hearts. She smiled and poked him in the nose.

"Hi," she said, propping herself up on her forearms directly on his chest.

"Hi," he returned with a smile.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Do you come here often?"

He shook his head.

"No, not really." His smile widened. "I generally only stop by to pick up sarcastic women who look good in purple."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so? Well, I happen to know someone like that."

"You do?" Luc teased. "Funny, I know someone like that too."

"Tell me about her," she teased, "perhaps I can introduce you."

Luc nodded, the smile and mischief in his eyes remaining. There was nothing he enjoyed more than coming to the spot where they'd met and acting like children without a care in the world. It held a significance neither could deny, so it always felt a bit like stepping back into their comfort zone. He took in her face, big blue eyes looking down at him, a smirk playing across her lips. There was beauty, yes, but he loved her because she was like life itself, a breath of fresh air in a world that could feel so suffocating.

"She's blonde, ultra sharp, looks great in heels, and is probably the funniest person I know," he said softly, tracing a finger down her cheek. "You might have seen her around. Her name is Fleur."

She swatted him in the chest and leaned up, straddling him before smacking him again. He laughed, holding his hands up in defeat, though she pinned his hands to the ground and stared directly into his eyes.

"Try again," she said in faux menace.

"Her name is Gabrielle Delacour," he whispered as he sat up and wrapped his arms around her. "And we're to be married."

He kissed her softly, the same way they'd kissed the night he'd proposed, the moon hanging overhead, framing her face in the most beautiful of light. She hadn't screamed and lept at him. Hadn't danced around in joy as she looked at the ring on her finger. Instead, she simply smiled at him, cupped his cheek, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

It was perfection, in his estimation.

"If we're to be married," she whispered as she looked away, "then why did you let me die?"

"What?" he asked, recoiling in shock.

In the blink of an eye the scene changed. The park was gone, replaced by an inferno that burned hot. The trees and grass had disappeared, replaced by burning wood and smoke. She was gone and he sat alone in the fire of the shop he knew so well. The place that had been burned into his memory like the smokey ashes of its remains. The place he saw whenever he slept. His eyes filled with tears.

"You let me die," her voice sounded from everywhere and nowhere. "You were supposed to protect me."

He let his head hang as the shame washed over him. He balled up his fists, opening and closing them as disgust followed the shame. Both squeezed his heart, tighter and tighter, until the pain was nearly unbearable. He tried to focus, find his center, but the hopelessness hit him like a hippogriff. He took several ragged breaths. It was all he could manage.

"I'm sorry," he said, broken.

"You never loved me!"

"No!" Luc yelled, head shooting up from the table as his eyes opened.

He paused. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession as he took in his surroundings. The tension in his shoulders released as reality broke through his imagination. He was still in the orphanage records room at the archive building. He sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow, pushing dark thoughts from the forefront of his mind.

The dreams were never the same, but they always made him feel like a failure. Like who he was couldn't measure up to what she had needed. Maybe if he had been smarter, faster, or more vigilant then she would still be alive. He shook his head and took a deep breath, shoving those thoughts into the recesses of his mind. He knew it wasn't true, but there wasn't anything anyone, not even Fleur, could say to him that would make those feelings go away completely.

The only thing that felt like it might was bringing her killer to justice.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Dearest Gabby…" he whispered to himself. They were familiar words, shared between two people madly in love. So many letters written with the sentiment that he'd lost count. "I must look incredibly pathetic."

The small room was beginning to feel suffocating, so he stood and walked to the window. He slid the glass up just as the door opened. Fleur peeked inside then motioned for someone to join her, moving into the room. Harry followed close behind. She looked down at the mess of files and folders on the desk.

"Did you find anything?" she asked.

Luc took a deep breath before shaking his head and moving back towards the desk.

"Not really," he said, shuffling the papers to grab a few that held interest. "Some reports of people in funny clothes visiting children a handful of times. Likely Hogwarts checking in on new kids who hadn't responded to their letters. Haven't been able to find anything with the name Riddle though."

Fleur sat down in one of the chairs and picked up a sheet of paper.

"It was a long time ago, and there is a decent population size."

"Eh, I get the sense there's more to it," Luc said as he returned to his chair. "My gut says Riddle found a way to get his records removed. Or he simply removed them himself. If he's as brilliant as Albus Dumbledore thinks he is then I don't put it past him to erase himself from any sort of orphan registration."

"Maybe he destroyed his records then went on to kill his family?" Harry posed.

Luc shrugged then froze.

"Wait, what? He killed his family? Sounds like you two had more luck."

Fleur smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, we think we know where he's based."

Luc opened his eyes wide. That was quick. Far quicker than he'd anticipated they'd find anything. If he were being honest with himself, he thought they'd be at this for weeks, not days. He was sure Harry had prepared for that eventuality as well, so this was a stroke of incredibly good luck.

"Spill it," he said.

"The muggle world," Fleur said before launching into a full explanation of the Riddle family murder and the message written on the wall.

Luc rubbed his chin and leaned in his chair, pushing it onto its back legs. He rocked back and forth as he thought, contemplating the story.

"Hiding in the muggle world," he muttered, voicing his thoughts aloud. "That's actually a really great way to hide from witches and wizards."

"That's what I said!" Harry called with a smile, leaning towards Luc to give him a high five.

Fleur rolled her eyes.

"In any case," she said, cutting into the smug looks Harry and Luc were giving each other, "we need to figure out where. If he's in the muggle world then he's got to be doing something there. He's clearly not in business here."

"Don't you know the muggle world, Harry?" asked Luc.

"Not as well as my mum or uncles," Harry said before slapping himself on the forehead. "My uncle Remus and Peter might be able to point us in the right direction. Luckily, I'm having dinner with them next week."

Luc nodded. Asking wizards who know the muggle world better than the average magical user was a good plan, though he wondered what they would do if the idea didn't lead them in the right direction. He looked down at the papers, thoughts going back to a dark wizard who effectively erased his presence from the British wizarding world.

He looked over at his two companions and took in their postures. He nearly smiled at the way they leaned into each other without thinking. How their hands touched unconsciously as they shuffled through the papers on the desk. He nearly frowned at the gestures, ones made by two people who had clearly gotten it bad for the other but not yet realized it, because they made him think of his Gabby.

He turned and looked out the window as a wistful look passed through his features.

"Dearest Gabby…" he whispered again, "what do I do?"

"What was that?" Fleur asked.

He smiled and looked back at her, knowing she could tell what he was feeling. They'd known each other for so long that they'd become like siblings. It was difficult to hide things from your older sister, even adopted ones. Especially if they had a mind as sharp as Fleur's. She could read him like a book.

"I know a bloke who works for the muggle police. A squib," he announced. "He owes me some favors. Think I'll pay him a visit."

"What are you going to do?" asked Harry.

"I'm going to go through unsolved theft cases dating back over the last ten years. See if I can't find anything odd that the muggles don't recognize as magic. Until you talk with your uncles we're at a bit of a standstill."

Fleur nodded. "I do need to get back to work as well."

Luc made a shooing motion with his hand.

"Well get out of here, I'll clean this up," he said as he took out his wand to begin organizing the papers.

As they piled themselves into neat stacks and placed themselves into the various cardboard boxes he'd taken them from, his thoughts turned back to Gabby once more.

Perhaps he'd take a trip back to France before visiting his contact here in London.

He could use a walk through the park.

.

.

Harry looked around the pub, scanning the tables before finding them, smiling and making his way over. He let a couple pass him headed towards the bar before he reached the table, a smile remaining on his face.

"Harry, it's great to see you," said Remus, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug.

The two released and Harry hugged the other man with one arm.

"Uncle Remus, uncle Peter," he said as they sat down, Peter catching the bartender's attention and calling for another pint. "It's been far too long."

"And who's fault is that?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow, tilting his own pint back to take another sip.

"Here you go, love," the bartender said, placing a glass in front of Harry. "What'll it be?"

"Uh, fish and chips?" he asked.

"Coming right up," she said with a nod before heading away from the table.

Harry turned towards Remus.

"So, how are things with the Foundation?"

Remus sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, but a smile played across his face. After a brief stint working at Hogwarts during Harry's time at the school, Remus had found himself aimless, unable to find work after his affliction had become public knowledge. Luckily, Dumbledore, in combination with the rest of the school staff, had exercised rarely-used executive powers in the school charter to open a foundation for muggleborn students. The purpose of the foundation was to help those who are new to magic have a more seamless transition into the world, so that they started Hogwarts with at least some additional help.

Remus had been chosen to operate the foundation, though there had been an outcry at first. Years later, the general public seemed to accept that Remus was a good man who had been wronged by Malfoy and his cronies, though nobody had been willing to rectify that wrong.

"The board of governors finally approved sending muggleborns their Hogwarts letters eight months in advance, so we're hoping that will ease some of the frenzy we normally get right before the school year starts," Remus explained. "Overall though, business as usual."

"Oh, come now Moony," Peter chimed in, "you're just being modest. Tell the boy the best new addition to the program."

Remus rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment before looking over at Harry.

"I explained to the Hogwarts staff that, with letters going out early and our staff's largest burden being assisting muggle families with tasks just before school starts, we have an opportunity to offer classes to those who are interested."

"What kind of classes?" Harry asked as he sipped his pint. The bartender placed his food in front of him and patted him on the shoulder before going back to the bar.

"Just the basics of the wizarding world. How our money works. Where our major shopping districts are. What we do for fun. A broad overview of the Ministry. Things like that."

Harry nodded as he dug into his plate, glaring at Peter as the man swiped a chip.

"What did they say?" he asked.

"They loved the idea," Moony said with a smile. "Your mother was especially thrilled. Said it took her longer than she'd have liked to get some of the smaller details down when she first got her letter, so having a program like that will help immensely."

"And you'll get to teach again," Harry said with a big smile. "Despite your best attempts at hiding it, I know you've missed it."

Remus nodded.

"You're not wrong there. I think it'll be fun." He laughed and pointed at Wormtail from behind his pint. "This one is abandoning me though."

"Oh?" Harry asked, looking at Peter. "What's that mean?"

Peter shrugged.

"Potions business is picking up," he said casually, swiping another one of Harry's chips. "Skilled brewers are difficult to find, and somehow people keep finding out I'm still around."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you only did that to cover your remaining bills? Last time we talked you said you didn't want more clients. That your coffee shop was the more interesting part."

"It was," Peter said with a smile. "I love that place. Bought the building with every pound I had after finishing Hogwarts and built it from the ground-up. But when St. Mungos sends a representative to your door asking about setting up a contract, you can't just ignore them."

"No shit?"

Peter nodded.

"Yeah, they stopped by the shop last week." Peter leaned back in his chair and locked his arms behind his head. "They've started supplying clinics throughout the country with potions to help spread out where people can go for help. Trying to get healers in every major city access to enough basics to treat most injuries, but they need more people who can brew some of the more complicated draughts."

He sighed and looked at Harry with mock anger.

"I'm pretty sure your dad tipped them off about my little operation. They said the O I got in potions on both my OWLs and NEWTs meant I was a prime candidate to help them out. The contract was also very generous. Damn Prongs, taking me away from my shop."

Harry laughed and shook his head. Peter had always loved his little slice of the muggle world, preferring the art of perfecting a cup of coffee to the magical world, yet his skills with potions was undeniable. He'd been privately brewing for his friends for years, expanding to just a few paying clients as time went on. Never enough to pull him from behind the counter at The Lion's Roar though.

"Swap his vitamin potion for that hair colour potion the Weasley twins cooked up last year," Harry suggested, eliciting a laughter from both men.

"Oh, that's a great idea," Peter said with a wide smile. "The best part is that they can make it mimic the effects of a vitamin potion for the first twelve hours before the hair changes. Thanks, Harry."

Harry nodded and wiped his mouth on his napkin.

"I try my best," he said before looking at both men with a furrowed brow. "I have a question for both of you."

Remus frowned.

"Sounds serious," he said before sighing. "I'm glad your godfather wasn't around to hear that."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Hypothetical question," he continued. "If you wanted to go into the muggle world and start up a business, what would you go into?" He held up a hand as Peter opened his mouth. "Not something you're passionate about, though. Something that would make you money."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Padfoot told us what happened," he said, "you're not thinking about skipping out on us, right kid?"

Harry shook his head. He was touched by their concern, it spoke to how much they cared for him, but he couldn't tell them the real reason he was asking. His mum may be willing to keep their secret, but there was no way Moony or Wormtail would do the same. They'd been through too much with Sirius and James to withhold anything relating to him.

"Nothing like that, I promise," he said with a smile. "I've just been hanging around the muggle world a bit lately, what with the no job thing and all, and I was curious what someone with talent and some startup capital could do to make money there."

"Real estate," his uncles said at the same time.

Remus nodded.

"Yeah, real estate would be your best bet. Housing prices are going up but demand has also been rising. I've heard some of the muggle families I've visited telling me they've changed careers to be agents. There's a lot to be made there. The biggest firms take in very high profits and their executives live like kings."

"I've gotten several offers for my building," Peter added. "They've offered several times what I paid for it years ago. I'd make quite a bit of money if I accepted, but the cost of buying or leasing another place would be incredibly steep. It does seem a bit predatory, though. These big firms buy up land from small owners like me to sell for much more than they bought. Or they buy up all the places around and then slowly push you out."

"What's that company that made a splash a decade or so ago?" Remus asked Peter. "They were funded by some reclusive muggle and bought a bunch of big buildings downtown?"

"Ah, you're talking about Salazar Family Brokerage," Peter said, raising his finger when he remembered the name. "Yeah, they're owned by some old money muggle family, though I don't think anyone's ever met the owner. I think they might be American? They've been one of the leading companies buying people out and making huge windfalls on the resales. They own several of the buildings around my shop."

Harry bit his lip as he processed the information and took a deep breath to keep his reaction neutral. In his experience, there were no such things as coincidences. A big muggle real estate company named after one of the founders of Hogwarts? One that's owned by someone nobody has ever met? He'd learned long ago to trust his instincts, and every part of him was saying to do so. He'd need to talk to Fleur and Luc. They could get addresses to the buildings and go check them out.

He emptied the remainder of his glass and raised an eyebrow at Wormtail.

"Your round?"

"Yeah, nice try kid," Peter said, "you bailed on us a few weeks ago so you owe us. Besides, I beat your ass at darts the last time we were here, so you owe me two rounds."

Harry put his hand over his heart.

"That hurts uncle Peter." He sighed dramatically. "Your nephew is without a job and you're making him pay for rounds?"

"You're damn right I am, now get your arse over to the bar."

.

.

Harry took a drink of his coffee, savouring the taste as they walked. It hadn't taken them long to find the addresses for properties owned by Salazar Family Brokerage, though that had presented its own problems. The company owned a massive amount of the London business district, including some of the largest ones in the city. Making matters worse, the company's headquarters were listed as a simple post box, not an actual building. So Luc had suggested they get off their collective arses and simply take a look.

"Hey, we went to that place for dinner one time," he pointed out, waving casually at the restaurant behind them.

"Oh, they had fantastic French dishes," Fleur gushed before pointing next to it. "And that was the dessert place we stopped at after."

"Both are owned by this real estate company," Luc said, looking down at the addresses on the page. "This company must be flush with a ridiculous amount of money."

Harry furrowed his brow in concentration. They came to a stop at a crossroads, the intersection of several towering skyscrapers, interspersed with smaller buildings around them. The entire area they were in seemed to be owned by one company, though how much of a hand in their ownership was unknown. Perhaps they were just a holding company that made money off rent?

"It's going to be impossible to find anything if we don't come up with a plan," Fleur said, voicing Harry's next thoughts for him.

He looked down at the list in her hands, scanning the building names and addresses. Beside each address was one of three categorizations: corporate, commercial, leisure. This indicated what type of business was within, or which type dominated the space. They hadn't been able to get a complete list of business names, so this had to do.

"Perhaps we could try classifying them? Separate the list between large and small businesses?" he proposed.

"We could try looking at just one category at a time," Fleur suggested.

Harry snapped his fingers.

"We should try some detection spells. Look for magic."

Fleur shook her head.

"No, that won't work," she said. "There's magic everywhere. Witches and wizards come and go from the muggle world regularly, even if it's in small numbers. Additionally, the Ministry works with the muggle government, and they've placed apparition points all throughout the city with subtle notice-me-not wards."

"Hmmm," Harry mumbled. "Maybe we should go back to the government office and look through business registrations for all the businesses around here."

"Or maybe," Luc cut in, looking back at them and pointing across the street, "we just check out the building with the statue out front that looks just like our guy."

They froze and their eyes went to the piece in question. Harry squinted. Even with his glasses, at this distance, it was difficult to see the details, but from what he could see, Luc was right. The statue did have a passing resemblance. They moved quickly, crossing the street, avoiding a crowd of tourists before they were in front of the statue. With a good look, Harry's eyes widened.

Right in the middle of muggle London was a statue of Tom Riddle, there was no denying it. Older than his picture from Hogwarts, sure, but the facial features were undeniable. The strong jawline and broad shoulders were there, and while it was made of bronze, the eyes still felt as if they held that piercing quality that had stared back at him from the page.

"Salazar's Heir. Started with nothing but dirt until he dug himself out and grabbed his destiny," Fleur read from the plaque at the statue's base. She looked back at them. "This is most certainly Tom Riddle."

Harry looked over at the side of the building and read the sign.

"It says this entire building is for a financial firm." The area was busy, people going in and out of the building, all dressed sharply. He gestured for them to follow him as he moved towards the entrance. "Let's go inside."

As he pushed into the building the air changed, charged with the energy of everyone inside. The first level was busy, business people chatting on their mobile devices or walking quickly to the elevators. There was a line of seats at the far side of the room and a small deli packed with people.

It was so…normal. Nothing like he'd expected. Subtly he withdrew his wand and performed several diagnostic spells before hiding it once more. Odd.

"There aren't any wards here," he said in a hushed voice, though it was unlikely anyone would hear him anyway. They all seemed occupied.

Fleur raised an eyebrow.

"None?"

He shook his head.

"Not the usual ones at least. You can portkey and apparate in and out of this place all day long."

"It's a muggle business, that's not entirely unheard of," Luc pointed out. "Even if it's a front, dropping wards over the whole building would draw attention. Perhaps we'll find something if we go higher?"

"Does this place seem extra busy?" Fleur asked.

Harry shrugged, unsure, and turned towards the elevators. He made it a few paces before a man nearly knocked him over. Harry stumbled but righted himself before he could fall to the ground. As he stood to his full height he sent the man a smile.

"My apologies," Harry said.

The man spared him a brief look before simply turning away, continuing to move towards the exit. That's when Harry felt it and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Magic, the first he'd felt, came rolling off the stranger as they continued to get further away. Harry stilled, concentrating on the departing figure to ensure what he felt was real.

"Did you two…"

"Yeah, we did," Luc confirmed, looking around.

Harry let his senses wander, taking several deep breaths as Fleur and Luc split off in their own directions. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, recalling the techniques he'd been taught to feel the magic around him. Those in the magical world were exposed to so much magic on a daily basis that their minds simply ignored it most of the time. A necessity, for sure, as the amount of spells, enchantments, and wards they lived with was enough to overwhelm even the most well trained among them.

He quieted his mind and stripped away the filter that had built up over the years. As his own aura flared he felt a subtle darkness around him, hanging around like a cloud on an overcast day. He tried to find a source, only to realize there was none. It was everywhere. He opened his eyes and looked around, taking in the details of the people working there. He studied them and his eyes widened slowly at what he saw.

The feel of the magic that emanated from them. Impossibly subtle. The way they walked. Perfectly, without distinction. The way they moved their arms. Ever-so-slightly stilted. The look in their eyes. Focused, but not quite.

He'd seen this before.

In victims who'd been placed under the Imperius curse.

His mouth fell at the realization and he looked around wildly. His eyes found Luc's and he waved the man over. Luc nodded towards Fleur across the room and she followed. Harry's heart raced as another person under the unforgivable passed by him.

"Do you guys feel this?" He hissed to his companions.

"Something's off with the employees," Luc said. "They're muggles, but there's magic coming off them. Not just stray magic, something within them."

"They're all under the Imperius," Harry hissed.

Luc and Fleur gasped. They both turned around sharply, scanning the room, looking from person to person, trying to push through the buzzing of energy in the room. Harry pulled the filter back up, cutting himself off from the magic once more. People were noisy, he'd found that out years ago and he's been thankful for the unconscious filter.

"Feel it Luc," he said, "the magic is focused on their heads. Look at how they walk. How their arms move. Look into their eyes."

"Bloody hell," the Frenchman said, covering his mouth with his hand. "How?"

"How is this possible?" Fleur said, expanding on Luc's question.

"I don't know, but let's come back tonight," Harry suggested. "There's too many people here, but we might be able to find what's causing it if we're alone."

.

.

The lobby was empty when they entered the building under the cover of darkness, a quick tap on a side entrance and they were in. The atmosphere from before was gone, the lack of people making the air feel strangely stilted. Yet, the faint hint of darkness remained. Fleur and Luc waved their wands on wide arcs, different colour lights flashing before changing again. They both frowned as they swept the first level.

Harry took another look around. Something was off.

"Nothing," Luc said, frustrated. "There's nothing here."

"Shall we go up?" Fleur asked, pointing towards the lift.

"This building has ten levels," Harry pointed out.

She rolled her eyes.

"Then we'd better get started."

They moved as one, exiting the elevator at each level before fanning out to sweep for magic. They found frustratingly little, though there was magic. Idly, Harry noted as they left the lift on the fifth level, the same subtle dark cloud hung over everything. It was difficult to feel, only there if he concentrated, but it was there nonetheless.

The lift dinged as they reached the final level, opening to reveal a wide space leading to a single set of solid wooden doors. Harry took a deep breath, concentrating momentarily as they stepped into the room. The darkness has gotten muddled the further up they'd gone, and it was nearly gone entirely now.

"Still no wards," Luc noted as they reached the doors. "This feels like a trap."

Harry nodded, his gut telling him the same thing, screaming at him to turn around.

"Agreed," he said.

Fleur raised an eyebrow.

"What should we do?" she questioned.

He smirked at her.

"Spring the trap."

He and Luc each opened one of the doors, revealing a large office with an unobstructed view of the city before them. Along the right wall of the room were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, rows of neatly placed books within them. In front of the shelves was a wide oak desk littered with parchment and open books, their pages yellowed and fraying from time. The left side of the room stretched further back, a divider blocking most of their immediate view but there was a faint glow peaking above it.

Yet their eyes were drawn forward to the tall figure standing with his back to them. His high-class, tailored robes were coloured a deep emerald green and accented in silver trim. His hands were clasped behind his back as he looked out over the city. He made no move as they entered and seemed unconcerned that strangers had broken into his office, as if such things were of no consequence.

There was no surge of power or darkness emanating from him. No coil of evil wrapping itself around his aura like a snake. He seemed altogether normal. Harry's shoulder tensed as a ball of uncertainty landed in his stomach, unsure of the threat that stood before them.

The man turned around and smiled, inclining his head slightly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter, Ms. Delacour, and Mr. Bennet. My name is Tom Riddle. I believe you've been looking for me."

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AN: Thanks for reading!