Seven year later

Harry cast a diagnostic spell on the blood spattered onto the nightclub wall as the French Aurors detained a very confused young man with a wand dangling, half forgotten, in his hand. They were in wizarding Paris, in the entertainment district. A women pulled her shawl tighter around her as she stood among a small group of scantily clad young people who were watching them from the other side of the barrier ward the Aurors had set up – most had just spilled out of the nightclub to see what all the hubbub was about.

"The spell that killed M. Alain did indeed come from Roger Smith's wand" Harry reported, gesturing to the man the Aurors were detaining. Roger Smith was his missing UK tourist. He had last been seen nearly a week ago. For someone accused of murder, he was taking everything very calmly. Or maybe he was in shock.

"What was the nature of your dispute with M. Alain?" The Auror asked in stiff, school-book English as he expertly whisked the wand out of Roger's hand.

"I keep telling you, I don't know any Alain. And I don't have any dispute. I have no idea how I got here! One moment I was leaving my pub after dinner, and the next I'm here, covered in blood!" Roger's calm demeanor slid precipitously towards panic (and rightly so, as he was the prime suspect in a murder. And the French Aurors did not take kindly to Englishmen murdering their citizens). Apparently the calm had actually been shock.

Unobtrusively, Harry began casting some additional diagnostic spells on Roger as well.

"So you were romantically involved with M. Alain?" The Auror made a notation in his little notepad.

"What? NO! I'm no poof!"

"Excuse me, do you object to me taking a sample of your blood?" Harry asked at the same time as the Auror said, "I will need to see your memories of the past hour!"

"What? Yeah, sure." Roger looked around in confusion as the Auror extracted a wisp of memory for later viewing (in a pensive) as Harry gave twirl of his wand and tiny rivulet of blood burst from Roger's finger and flew into a proffered vial.

Harry turned to the Aurors, "I think my work here is done. I will let you know if I find anything new".

The Auror heading up the investigation gave a perfunctory nod. As far as he was concerned, this was an open & shut case. And he didn't particularly like British law enforcement meddling – they had their own forensic specialists working the case as well.

Harry apparated to the hotel room that he was staying at and checked his watch. He still had an hour before going over to Daphne's, if he wanted to take her up on her offer of dinner.

Obviously, they couldn't go out to eat. And while her elf was a decent cook, the point of the visit wasn't the food. Harry sighed. It was all very tiresomely repetitive: Have a light dinner, great sex and then an argument.

He set his alarm so he wouldn't be late.

In the meantime, Harry un-shrunk his trunk and walked down into it. Inside, there was a compact study with a small potions worktable (and a sleeping bag in the corner, for emergencies). He quickly set his usual array of five potions cooking, and put a drop of Roger's blood into each one. He would have results by morning, telling him if there was anything in the blood that didn't belong, such as drugs, potions, or enchantments. Anything to explain why a British citizen disappeared for a week before showing up at a crime scene, to all appearances framed (not that the French Aurors were going to believe that – they were French).

But that was in the morning, and there was no reason to waste time. Maybe it was because of the way the Dursleys had raised him, but Harry was as good at his job as he was bad at life (not that he would ever acknowledge either of those facts). Harry apparated to the French Ministry and requested the file on M. Alain from the Aurors. It technically wasn't any of his business, as law enforcement was handling the case, but you didn't get far in this job by minding your business.

The clerk examined his letter of authorization, stating that he was assisting the Aurors, and tapped his wand on a huge filing cabinet that ran the length of the room. A moment later a thin sheaf of papers flew out from deep inside. "I'm sorry, we don't have much. He worked for the Ministry, at a low level position in the imports division."

"Was he a pure-blood?"

"It is against the law to keep records of such things here in France!" The clerk huffed.

Harry shrugged and nodded to show that he understood, before asking again, sotto voice, "Was he?"

"Off, the record? Yes. He was from a very prestigious family that dated back to before the Reign of Terror."

"Hmm." Despite what the French claimed, they cared about blood purity almost as much as the British, if not more. They just presented it differently. And blood status had become a growing source of friction in recent years, both in Britain and in France.

*UHD*

After collecting what limited information he could, Harry returned home to check on the potions before heading out to meet Daphne. The first two looked normal, but the third had changed to a dark green, and the fifth one turned into a thick glop. 'That's odd'. He had never seen his test potions react this fast. There was clearly some foreign magical material in Roger's blood, but it wasn't anything that Harry had seen before. A potion strong enough to cause such an intense reaction in his tests should have killed Roger.

Daphne would just have to wait - it wouldn't be the first time. But it's not like he was her first priority either (as clearly her social standing was far more important to her), so Harry figured it was be ok. He grabbed his coat and apparated to the French Ministry again, to see if he could cajole the French authorities into letting him talk to the prisoner.

*UHD*

"Absolutely not," the Senior Auror on duty replied, fixing Harry with a sneer. "I might consider it if you were from the British Aurors, but you are a nothing, a forensic mage!"

Harry sighed. 'Very disappointing.' The sneer was a six out of ten on the Snape scale. "Very well" Harry turned and walked away. As soon as he turned the corner and was out of sight, he whipped his invisibility cloak over himself and pivoted on his heels, walking silently past the Auror on duty and into the detention block.

Roger was in a cell most of the way down the corridor. As Harry approached, he noticed that one of the prisoners across the way was watching Rojer with amusement – apparently entertainment was hard to come by in here.

He cast a quick confundo through a gap in his cloak on the possible witness before stupefying Roger. He then slipped into the cell and used a simple mirror illusion to make the cell appear to be empty. It wouldn't work on close observation, but the only potential witness was now trying to count his toes and failing. "Oh, I need to take my socks off first!"

Harry rolled his eyes as he silenced the prison cell to prevent sound from escaping and removed his cloak "Enervate".

"Whao.. Why are you here?" Roger replied, trying to understand what had just happened.

"What was the last thing that you remember before waking up on the street, with a dead man in front of you?"

"I told you people – all I remember was gong to a pub!"

"And what drug did you take?" Harry asked.

"I didn't take anything!" But Roger's guilty start gave the lie to his words.

"Imperio!" Harry cast the illegal spell on Roger. "What did you ingest at your pub?" He wouldn't normally escalate this fast to Unforgivables, but anybody who took illicit drugs was lower than the mud on his shoes as far as Harry was concerned. And besides, it was clear that Roger had no resistance to mind control magics.

"I bought a loa pill from a man. He said it would fill me with a great spirit, and that I would be able to look down on he world, as from a great height."

"What was this mans name? Where do I find him?"

"He called himself Louis Bokur." And he gave direction to the pub, which was in a 'gentrifying' district on the outskirts of Paris that had recently become popular with young people, both muggle and magical.

"Finite Incatatem."

Rojer started, "That was illegal! Aurors can't force a confession with the Imperio curse!" His eyes were huge and he was clearly on the verge of panic again.

"As I was just recently reminded, I'm not an Auror. Oblivate." Harry kept it weak, so it would only remove a few minutes of memories. He then swept his cloak back over himself and let himself out. 'I would never have made it as a Gryffindor'.

Now the correct legal procedure (if Harry cared about such things) would be for him to contact his French Auror liaison and get a warrant out for this M. Bokur. But Harry wasn't an Auror, he was an Unspeakable. Everybody knew that some Unspeakables – the best of the already elite fraternity - did research on new or dangerous magics, while other, more prosaic ones, helped Aurors identify spells that already been cast. But what almost nobody was aware of was that there was a third kind of Unspeakable. Harry's job wasn't to invent magic or identify spells. It wasn't even to protect England's laws, like the Aurors he often partnered with. It was to protect Wizarding England.

By any means necessary.

Once outside the Ministry wards, Harry apparated to the pub.

*UHD*

Harry sipped his tankard of German ale (he had earlier disappeared the alcohol from it – a nifty trick when on a stake out). Finding M. Bokur was not very difficult – the dread-locked man in the worn muggle army surplus jacket appeared to spend all of his time at the pub. He looked like every stereotype of a marijuana dealer from every bad movie that Harry had ever seen. The room was dark, with the only lights over the bar, and it was packed with small tables surrounded by metal stools. The ambiance was all 'Mad Dog 20/20'. Harry wasn't certain if Louis had worked out some arrangement with the owner, or the establishment simply didn't care what he did here, as he was clearly bringing in customers. The problem was who approached him at his chosen table near the fire exit door. Or to be precise, who didn't approach him. Over the past two days Harry had observed multiple people – mostly young men - come up to him nervously. Some were clean cut, others disheveled, but none had the arrogant swagger of other drug dealers: they were all M. Bokur's customers.

And M. Bokur never left to rendezvous with his supplier, or even to go to bed.

Over the several days Harry had watched, as the bar hit closing time M. Bokur would relocate to outside, where he would smoke one final cigarette before eventually climbing up onto the roof and going to sleep there under a rain repelling charm.

So instead, on the third morning, Harry stopped off at the Auror office and tipped them off about some of what he had seen before continuing on his way to the pub, whistling a jaunty tune. He even stopped to pick up a newspaper. Today, he wasn't going to be hiding under his cloak, so he needed something as cover.

He took a spot at a table on the same side of the pub as his target and put his feet up on the stool opposite as he opened up the newspaper. And now he waited. 'Here we go'. He smiled as two large men dressed in muggle leather jackets and jeans, with military-style caps on their heads, came inside. They were either two gay guys cruising the wrong bar or a pair of Aurors trying to dress Muggle. Harry surreptitiously put his feet down and palmed his wand behind the paper.

It was clear which Luis thought they were. As soon as they approached his table he tensed up, and as one reached for him, Luis threw the napkin holder at his face and ran for the fire exit.

As the fire alarm blared, distracting everybody, Harry cast a mild confundo on the Aurors and slammed through them, knocking one to the ground as he followed the drug dealer out the back. "This way," he yelled, pulling M. Bokur into a side street and then through a maze of alleys before climbing up the fire escape and into an empty apartment through a window that he had unlocked earlier that day.

The two Aurors came stumbling out of the intersection a moment later. They looked around before one of them pointed further down the same side alley and they continued running. As they ran past below their window, Harry and his new friend crouched down so that even if the Aurors looked up they wouldn't see them.

Harry considered using an Imperio on his companion, but there were a surprising number of ways of defeating that spell, ranging from a strong will to some potions. It wasn't worth the risk.

"Thank you for the help," M. Bokur eyed hims suspiciously.

Harry shrugged, "I don't like Aurors."

"What did you say your name was?"

"Didn't."

Luis eyed him some more while he waited for the Aurors to lose interest in him. Harry puled out a deck of cards and raised an eyebrow, offering to play a game, but his companion shook his head, instead continuing to watch the street.

After a half hour the Aurors still hadn't returned. Louis pulled out a cheap looking wand and cast a disillusionment spell on himself. It wasn't terribly good, but it would suffice on the dark street, especially from a distance. "Well, my friend, this is where we part ways. Enjoy your stay in Paris." He slipped out onto the fire escape and then up to the roof. Harry wrapped himself in his cloak and pulled out his Firebolt, gently drifting out the window and following M. Bokur from above. He took the piece of shoelace that he had surreptitious snipped off of the fugitive's shoe and used it to cast a simple 'point me' spell, in case he lost sight of the drug dealer in the dark. One of the things his Unspeakable training had stressed was that something will always go wrong, and usually at the worst possible moment, so you must always have a contingency plan.

Louis was making good time across the rooftops, using a leaping spell to cross from one to the next. He never paused until he was a good 4 blocks away. Then, from the lee of the neighboring building, he activated a port key and disappeared.

Harry swore and lifted up into the sky and immediately began swooping through the sky in a large circle, holding tight to his cloak so it wouldn't blow off.

As he flew, the shoelace slowly began to pivot. Harry smiled ferally, 'You're not getting away that easily, you bastard,' and followed the direction of the shoelace.

An hour later, he was outside a tiny third floor room fronting onto a stinking alley in a slum at the very edge of the city. This was a completely muggle neighborhood, which was evinced by the stink wafting up from the trash dumped between the buildings (wizarding folk would have disappeared their trash). A pair of winos sat next to a dumpster underneath the window, chatting quietly.

From across the street Harry casts a warning spell onto the stoop and settled onto a second floor fire escape (which had a good view of his target). A strong breeze gusted through, making Harry shiver. He cast a warming charm on himself and settled in to wait. 'I should have brought some coffee.' He hadn't had much sleep the past few nights, and he was running on fumes. He chugged another pepper up potion. It probably did a better job of waking him up than the coffee would have, but it tasted far more vile. 'Maybe Jacobs is right – I should work with a partner.' But who would he work with? The few other Unspeakables in his line of work that he had met were all assholes (though from what he had heard, the opinion was mutual). And hiring civilians could go wrong in so many different and interesting ways. And Harry didn't want to be the cautionary tale that future Unspeakables discussed by the water cooler. 'If I had some school buddies that I trusted, it might be a different story.'

Thankfully, he didn't have to spend another night out in the elements – an hour later the warning charm woke Harry from a half doze. He turned to see a tough looking eastern European man entering through the same door as M. Bokur. Harry waited. Sure enough, a few minutes later the thug walked back out.

As he did, Harry drifted his broom back into the air and followed after him. He silently dropped down to street level and lifted up his invisibility cloak just enough to cast a small, precise cutting curse to liberate a scrap of the man's shirt collar before floating back up, casting another 'point me' spell using the scrap.

This time, he didn't need it. Midnight found Harry floating outside a shipping company warehouse. He was tired and out of pepper up potions, but in this line of work you couldn't stop once you had a lead.

Harry circled the building – he was near the docks, and all the buildings here were warehouses or office buildings for shipping related companies – next door was Ace Logistics, Barron's Insurance, and a trucking company with a sign so worn that he couldn't make out the name.

Harry returned to the back of the building. Next to the two large doors of the loading bay a wizard dressed as a muggle leaned nonchalantly against the brick facade, as if he just happens to be there for no reason at all (not that anybody with sense would be fooled – this wasn't a neighborhood for hanging out in after dark). 'He must be muggle born – he's dressed normally.' The disguise was ruined by the fact that he kept twirling his wand between his fingers, like a gunfighter spinning with his six-shooter. Harry gave whoever had come up with this disguised sentry an 'A' for effort before casually drifting his Firebolt through an open second floor window. It was one of those that swung in, so he had to make sharp turn to avoid knocking into it. Inside, the warehouse was mostly empty, with just a handful of pallets loaded with cardboard boxes by the main doors.

In the back of the giant room there was a man sitting behind a desk, working through shipping invoices. The thug Harry had been following was leaning against a filing cabinet next to him. Harry drifted closer, so he could hear what they were saying.

"Luis was almost caught. He doesn't know if the Aurors were looking for him, or if it was a random sweep, but we need to be extra careful next Thursday, just in case they know something," the thug commented as he opened a can of Coke.

The other man nodded, "I'll hire some local muscle." He was speaking English, and with an upper-class British accent. "And I'll have the boys dock in Poole – it's easier there."

Before Harry could hear anything more, another man runs up, "Boss, the wards tripped – somebody is in here!"

Harry swore under his breath as all three men pulled out their wands. An oppressive feel slammed down on him as well – somebody must have triggered anti-apparition wards. Good ones.

'I don't need this right now.' Harry was no Gryffindor – he raced back out the same window he had come in through, but he clipped it on the way out, causing it to slam shut after him. As soon as he was free of of the ward, Harry apparated back to his hotel room in Calais.

*UHD*

"Here's my report," Harry handed Jacobs a stack of parchment as he walked into the 'Magical Weather' office.

The middle aged man grunted as he flipped through it. "Tell me what it says".

Harry resisted the impulse to sigh, 'So why did I write this, then?' His boss hated reading reports, even though he insisted that Harry write them up. In detail. "We have a drug smuggler, probably with connections to somebody in authority, bringing in a shipment of something on Thursday to Poole." Illicit drugs were a rare vice in the wizarding world, but it was a growing problem. Since most were imported, the Ministry deemed it an 'external threat', and roped the Unspeakables into dealing with it. Especially since this was the same drug dealer who was supplying mind controlling 'loa pills' in France. Not that Harry had any proof that was what was being smuggled.

Jacobs snorted, "That's vague as shit. Are you even certain it's going to be this week?"

Harry grit his teeth, "No, but it's all I got. And he clearly is connected - the wards they used were Auror grade."

Jacobs pulled out a cigar and stuck it into his mouth. He kept the cigar in his desk for times when he needed to think. He never lit it, just gumming the end for a bit before putting it back.

"I'll get you somebody from the Auror's office to go to the docks in Poole. But don't expect much. I certainly don't."

Harry nodded. That was fair.

Harry took a public floo to the building down the block from the flat he stayed at when he was in England. He wouldn't call it a home, as all it had was a bedroom and a bare-bones kitchen. And wards. So many wards that even the goblins would be impressed.

Harry staggered up the stairs and unlocked the door before flicking the lights on in the kitchen. He pulled open the refrigerator. Empty. 'Right.' He staggered into the bedroom and flopped down. 'I'll deal with it tomorrow.'

He knew he wouldn't. It was too much trouble when he didn't actually live in the apartment. Not that he 'lived' anywhere – apartments were just a place to sleep when he wasn't working.

Seconds later he was asleep.

*UHD*

Harry woke up, mid morning, and staggered into the kitchen, 'thank merlin I still have coffee'. He mixed up some instant and grimaced at the taste. 'Another reason to visit Daphne,' He took another sip, and his brain kicked into gear, "Oh, shit." He remembered he had never told Daphne that he wasn't coming. She would be pissed, in a passive-aggressive fashion. 'That woman needs therapy.' He sighed, 'And I need to get her a present as an apology'.

He finished his coffee and headed out into Diagon Ally. A few minutes later found him in Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. "Hey George, how's business?" Harry leaned on the counter. This time of day the store was pretty empty.

"Oh, pretty good. End of the school year is always pretty busy." George didn't ask how Harry could tell him apart from his twin – he had outgrown those sort of shenanigans. Which said something, given that he was the co-owner of a joke shop.

Harry looked around the store, "Really?" He peered under a counter, "So where are you hiding the customers?"

George laughed, "It's already July, Harry. You really are off of the school schedule. I was talking about last month. Are you coming to the monthly dinner this Saturday?" Molly tried to keep the family together by hosting a dinner for everybody once a month, and Harry was invited as an 'honorary Weasley', though he always felt awkward going – the debt they had with him had long ago been repaid, and without that he wasn't certain what his relationship was supposed to be to the Weasley family, and more importantly, how how he was supposed to act around them.

"Sorry, no. That's why I came by – I'll be on a business trip, and I'm not certain how long it will run."

"You're worse than Bill."

"Hey, I'll have you know that my business trips are real!" Harry retorted. Bill was working for Gringotts, and was now one of their top curse breakers - he would often be called out for projects at different locations across Europe.

"So are Bill's. It's ok, though - Percy will also be out this week, as he has some conference in France to attend to, so it will just be the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes crew."

Harry nodded, "So Ginny is still on the outs?"

George shrugged. None of the Weasleys felt comfortable talking about the red-headed black sheep.

After some more chit chat, Harry continued on to the jewelry store to buy a small silver chain for Daphne. He couldn't afford much on his salary, but that was ok, as she couldn't wear it anywhere except in private anyways. Harry didn't dwell on how messed up their relationship was. As a matter of fact, he did his best to avoid introspection altogether, as when he dwelled on his life he didn't much like what he saw – a mediocre mage in a dead end job who hadn't accomplished anything significant, and wasn't likely to at any time in the future. The Dursleys had drilled into him that his only value was when he was being useful, and in his opinion, he wasn't particularly – any other wizard could do his job just as well. Maybe better.

Growing up, the only things that had made him stand out were that he was cheaper than hiring a lawn service, and that he could cook as well.

And in the adult world, neither of those two skills were valued much. Harry took a deep sigh. Today was Wednesday, so he could pop over to Calais in the evening and then still make it for the investigation the following day.

*UHD*

"So what are we looking for?" Senior Auror Tonks asked as she greeted Harry a few blocks from the docks, in Poole. It was Thursday evening, but her shift had just started so she was chipper and full of energy. Harry on the other hand looked knackered, like he's already had a long day at the office. 'I bet he spends all day in some basement lab. A little fresh air will do him good.'

"The Department got wind that there was a drug smuggling operation working out of the docks here."

"Got wind how?" She asked. She hadn't heard anything through the Auror grapevine, so whatever it was must not have come in through official channels.

"I am not at liberty to say."

Tonks sighed, "I figured." The Department of Mysteries had a collection of prophecies. Every few months one of their Unspeakables would make a make big to-do in the back corridors of Ministry because they thought that they had one solved. They were usually wrong. Tonks glanced at her watch before looking around. They were standing in a quiet alley between two warehouses. "And I assume that you don't know exactly where the smugglers are?"

At Harry's apologetic shrug, she sighed and muttered under her breath, "Working with the DoM is always a shit show," before adding at a normal volume, "I figured as much. My partner is setting up a ward to detect magical activity. Ah. Speak of the devil – Junior Auror Weasley, this is Unspeakable Dursley"

"You seem to be speaking to him just fine. And probably swearing also, knowing you." Ginny smirked smugly.

"Hi, Ginny. It's been a while".

Ginny just rolled her eyes at him, but smiled to take the sting out.

"Ok, here's the drill. The ward will detect any active spell use, but if the bad buys don't use their wands, or if they're asleep or some shit like that, then it'll get nothing. So we go warehouse by warehouse, casting detection charms. Weasley, you got the attuned blockers?"

Ginny handed Harry and Tonks small leather straps that stuck magically to the back of their wands, dangling off of the back like a decoration. "These will prevent the ward from detecting your casting. But for shit's sake, keep your power down, otherwise you'll burn them out. Ok, we'll split up and each take one row. Weasley, you take the civilian."

"Auror Tonks, that's against regulations," Ginny protested, not that she usually cared about the rules, but she was an Auror now!

"We're grown ups here, Weasley. I'll be one row over if anything happens." Not that it would. This wasn't her first assignment with an Unspeakable. She didn't know how the Department of Mysteries had gotten its information for this case (though she had her suspicions), but it was probably just as lousy as usual, and they knew it. If they had thought that they would find something, there would be a whole squad of Aurors, not just her and a trainee. Well, Weasley wasn't a trainee anymore. And at the rate she was going, she would make senior Auror in another year. The woman was smart, she had drive, and she was damn good with a wand. If something did happen, she would keep Dursley safe.

As Harry and Ginny made their way down the row of giant warehouses, Harry broke the silence, "we might need to check some of the small docks off to the side as well – there's no guarantee that they are using the main pier."

Ginny nodded as she cast her first Revelare spell and swept it across the the closest section of building. Harry did the same on the other side.

They were half way down the row when Ginny asked, "Are you still seeing Hermione?"

"What?" Harry stopped, and recasts the detection spell because he had lost his concentration, "What makes you think we're dating?"

"You mean other than the fact that you were thick as thieves in Hogwarts?"

"We were both studious and liked books. Besides, Hogwarts was a long time ago. We are just friends."

"Hmm." Ginny made a skeptical noise, "I was working detail for the Oxford graduation. I saw you there with her. You still looked pretty chummy."

"What, you're starting to sound jealous." And paranoid, but that was a good thing.

"Maybe I am – I invited you to that dueling gym I found two months ago, and you never got back to me!"

'Oh, shit!' Harry face fell as he wracked his brain for an excuse. After a prolonged pause he replied, "Ah, yeah. I'm sorry. I forgot all about that. I didn't write it down, and things got busy at work…"

"Oh, yeah. So busy, running samples through potions. That's so exciting it must have distracted you." But before Harry could say anything, Ginny forced a smile, "You must be so happy that you were Slytherin, because otherwise Snape would have never let you pass your Potions OWL." She knew that she could be abrasive when she was annoyed, and working with Tonks wasn't making that any better, so she put in an extra effort to be nice. She didn't want to scare off yet ANOTHER guy.

"My job isn't all potions."

"That's right, sometimes you get to explain your results to a hot Aurors like me."

Now it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. They reached the end of the row, to find Tonks already there. She pointed to the vast web of small piers and boat slips off to the side of the commercial docks. "I was hoping it would be easy. Let's start walking."

These smaller piers fronted onto either residences or small shops, so the three of them mostly targeted the boats themselves with detection spells, sometimes crossing the street to examine buildings that might be used for storage.

"Ok, how about we go to that gym this weekend." Harry finally broke the silence.

"What, you two going on a date?"

"Don't you wish, Tonks. It's at Baily's. I want to see if Harry has kept up with his dueling skills." Ginny turned back to Harry, "She's been trying to set me up since I've been partnered with her. But her taste in men is awful, which is probably why she's still single herself."

"Shh!" Harry crouched down and held up a hand. The pub they had been approaching had just disgorged a group of men speaking in a foreign language – a quick charm informed Harry that it was Albanian.

The two Aurors pressed up against the building, and Harry disillusioned himself as he did the same.

"My information says that Albanians could be involved." Daphne had said something about her husband being in Albania. It wasn't too much of a stretch to assume that he might be hiring local help there as well.

They followed the four men - they were clearly inebriated, but not to the point of being staggering drunk. They walked several blocks down the marina before turning down a pier where a mid-sized boat was docked all by its lonesome. They climbed the gangway and disappeared inside.

"Can we search that without a warrant?" Harry whispered.

Tonks nodded, "It's not a house. Stupefy anybody you see, and they won't even know we were there." She silenced her feet and lead the way up the metal ramp, not making a sound.

An hour later, they had nothing. "The boat has a hold big enough for cargo, if it's small & valuable."

Harry justified himself.

"Yes, but there's nothing there currently."

"It's clearly a commercial boat. I doubt these Albanians have authorization to dock here." Ginny countered, defending Harry. "If these are your smugglers, we could get them deported."

"I hate to say it, but anything we do will just tip off their boss without accomplishing anything. I think we let our respective departments know to keep an eye on things and then let them go about their business once the stupefy wears off."

Tonks nodded, "Ok. I'll tell my boss, you tell yours."

"And I'll see you on Sunday, 2pm. Don't be late!" Ginny stretched. It was getting on towards dawn.

"It's a date."

"Don' get Tonk's hopes up, Dursley" Ginny teased.

*UHD*

That Saturday, Harry met up with Hermione and Terry for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't the best place to eat, but it was a fixture of their teenage years, whenever they visited Diagon Ally. "To four years since graduation," Terry toasted.

"Speak for yourself. My most recent graduation was two weeks ago." Hermione corrected primly. She was holding her mug of ale with her pinking sticking out, like a high society lady drinking champaign, as she took a swig.

Harry snorted in amusement at her self deprecating humor. Other people might mistake Hermione for being humorless, much like one of her text books, but Harry enjoyed her dry wit. "So, at the graduation I had to run before I got around to asking - do you know what you are doing next?"

"I was considering working for a consulting company – the pay they were offering was quite something - but I decided to go into civil service."

"Wow." Harry was impressed. The consulting job would probably have paid twice - no, maybe five times - what the Ministry did. 'That's a real Gryffindor.' He was humbled with her dedication to her beliefs. He wasn't certain if he would have made the same choice. 'Not that I had many options. There's not much call for sneaky bastards that like to fight dirty,' He smiled, silently adding, 'And don't have family connections.'

Hermione blushed and gave a self conscious shrug, "I was offered a position in the Department of Records in the Ministry. Its kind of a wizarding mix of the censes bureau and a university sociology department."

"Oh, so like you will be seeing if the purebloods are right & the muggle-born are taking over," Terry commented sarcastically. Harry quirked an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Terry didn't used to be interested in politics.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "There isn't some miraculous surge of muggle-born. We are just doing a better job of finding muggle-born and integrating them into our society. And the fact that many Purebloods are having one child per family isn't helping." Except the Weasleys. Pretty soon all Purebloods would have red hair. But she didn't say that part as it would be rude. Though when she caught Harry's eye, he was clearly thinking the same thing.

"This is 'better?'" Terry scoffed, interrupting her train of thought, "there are so many horror stories about muggle-born not being able to get a job or being passed over for promotion. And when they bring complaints to the Ministry, nothing happens. And lately there have even rumors of muggle-born disappearing and the Aurors doing nothing."

"I haven't heard anything about that. Do you have specifics that you can share?" Harry asked. "I'm not in law enforcement, but I have connections." That last was a lie on several levels. Harry was just as bad at making friends now as he had been back in school. Maybe more. So the only friends he had where the tiny handful that he had made back at Hogwarts.

Terry paused, before admitting sheepishly, "Oh, it's just something I heard – rumors." He took a bite of his sandwich to cover up his embarrassment.

Harry turned to Hermione. "Is this something you can look into, at your new job?

"Maybe. I think I will have a lot of flexibility as to what I work on – I will be starting as an independent analyst."

"Wow." Harry repeated before raising his glass, "to the library gang, we might all still be pathetically single, but at least we're making strides in our careers."

Terry didn't raise his glass, "Um, actually.."

Hermione turned and asked shrewdly,"so, what's her name?'

".. Kathrin. She's muggle-born."

"Which is why you are suddenly interested in muggle-born issues. You guys pretty serious?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. It kind of happened pretty quick. She works at the law office down the hall from where I am."

"Well, good for you!" Harry and Hermione listened as Terry revealed the whole history. Harry's love life was a mess, and he wasn't certain how to change it, so he appreciated a simple romance like Terry's. He then turned to Hermione, "So, where's that competitive spirit that we have come to know and love? You need to step up your game!

"Shows what you know! Maybe I do have a boyfriend." Hermione paused, before jabbing a fork at Harry. "Or maybe I'll ask you out!" Before looking down at her salad quickly to cover up the blush that spread across her cheeks as she got flustered. She wasn't one of those girls that liked talking about feelings, like Lavender or Parvati – whenever that sort of conversation would start up, she would pull out a book & tune it out.

"You couldn't even ask Ron out!"

"That was in third year! That was like 9 years ago!" Hermione replied, this conversation had moved so far out of her comfort zone that she couldn't even find it with a telescope, "I've changed!"

Terry and Harry exchanged a look. No, she hadn't.

"Anyway, anybody want to order desert? I see Tom heading this way." Terry interrupted, rescuing Hermione. Though he cast a sideways glance at Harry, 'How dense is he? I thought forensics required you to be observant. I guess he's only good with potions. Unless somebody helps him out, he's going to be a virgin forever.' He cast a speculative glance at his friend.

*UHD*

The following day, Harry met Ginny at Baily's – the gym she had recommended. It was actually underneath a muggle Atlas gym – you walked into the sauna and out into Baily's. The gym consisted of a walkway that led down to three 'alleys' - narrow rooms that were 30 feet wide and 200 feet long. You could see into them part way as the first thirty feet didn't have a separate ceiling, and instead relied on wards to protect observers on the walkway from stray spells. There was also a stack of optional equipment at the back of the walkway. One of the alleys was in use by two men working on formal dueling.

Ginny was waiting for him at the stairs leading down to an empty alley. "So, you ready?"

"Yeah, let's see what they taught you in Auror Academy."

As they descended into alley, Harry could feel the wards tingling over them – they were powerful, but not very subtle (probably to save cost). The walls were natural granite, to help absorb the spells as well, but even still there were a few pockmarks on them.

"Ready, go!" Unlike their neighbors in the other alley, Harry and Ginny fought freestyle, where anything short of lethal spells was acceptable.

Ginny as usual opened up with a flurry of spells – she was as aggressive as ever. But Harry met them head on.

More exactly, he didn't meet them head on – he dodged or deflected them with small taps of his wands as he responded with his own stream of spells, chaining them together like a professional.

Five minutes later, he scored the first point. "Where did you learn to chain spells like that – I don't remember you doing that back in dueling club." Ginny asked as he helped her up. She had learned to cast like that in Auror Academy, but even most Aurors never got very good at it. Not like Harry.

"Oh, here and there. You know I like dueling. So have you gotten any leads from the stakeout in Poole?"

"Nothing. The Albanians left and haven't been back. I set up some wards to alert us, but otherwise we aren't going to do anything – the department is too short handed." There had been more budget cuts this year, which Minister Leach had promised were the last. Of course, that was what he had promised last year as well, "Do you know what they were supposedly smuggling?" Ginny offered Harry her water bottle as they took a short break. Dueling was exhausting.

"Thanks." He took a sip before continuing, "This is completely off the record, as my boss would have my head if he found out I talked about it, but the word is that its some sort of drug that makes people do things."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry, you are so innocent sometimes. That's how all drugs work. They make you do things that you normally wouldn't. That's why people take them."

"Don't be a prat, Weasley, I didn't mean it like that. I meant it makes you do specific things, that are out of character."

"Still doesn't seem that different than Pixie dust. But I'll keep my ears open in the staff room, see if I can get some leads." Ginny figured Harry could use all the help he could get. She wasn't certain what his job was, but it seemed like he was just a glorified gopher for the eggheads in the DoM. Getting a solid collar to his name would maybe let him get out form under their thumb. Maybe even a transfer to the Aurors.

"Thanks, Gin. You're the best," Harry leaned over and absentmindedly put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick hug.

Ginny stopped dead for a moment. "Hey, enough rest. Let's start round two."

In the end, they went for 6 rounds – Harry won 4, and Ginny got 2.

It was supposed to be five rounds, and Harry had claimed victory after his third win, but Ginny had insisted on one more round, so that she could tie the match up at three all (and then maybe force Harry to fight one more bout after that, so she could eke out a victory). Because she had more in common with Hermione than either girl realized.

Unfortunately, that hadn't worked out, and now both duelists were exhausted. "You've really improved since Hogwarts, Gin." Harry slumped to sit down next to Ginny as they both gasped for breath.

"Of course I have, you doof. I'm an Auror. What do you think they teach us in Auror Academy?"

"How to eat doughnuts?"

Ginny punched him in the shoulder. "Ow!"

"Yeah, and they teach us how to throw a punch too. What I'm surprised with is how much better you got."

"I was always better."

"Don't make me hurt you, Dursley!"

Harry shrugged. He didn't say that he would have done even better, except there was nothing in the Alley to transfigure, so he had had to stick with charms & curses only. "So have you heard that Zambini is trying for the professional dueling circuit?"

"Yeah, that sounds like him." Dueling was a rich man's sport. You spent 6 months training, fought a handful of bouts, and then went back to laying on the beach for 6 months before starting the cycle all over again.

They sat and talked about dueling and quidditch and other forgettable stuff before Harry glanced at his watch, "I should get going. I still have a bunch of reports to write up."

Harry was just about to get up when he paused and turned back to Ginny, "how come you never go to your parents' family dinners?"

"I'm an Auror – with the amount of overtime I get, I don't have time."

Harry nodded, "Yeah. That's the same reason I give them, when they ask me. But actually, I don't go because I don't know how to act around them."

Gunny nodded thoughtfully, "In my case, it's the opposite – my mother doesn't know how to deal with me being an Auror, and not a housewife. She's so out of step with the times – it's like she thinks it's still the 70's!" Ginny sighed, "She keeps pressuring me to get married, she even invites some random guys to 'meet me' when I do show up to what's supposed to be just a family dinner!" She pushed up off of the ground before turning to give Harry a hand up.

As they headed up the stairs to their respective changing rooms, Ginny called out, "Hey, Harry - ask Zambini if he knows anything about the smuggling. His family has connections in those circles." Meaning that his mother was suspected in the poisoning 7 of her husbands, so he might know about magic drugs.

END

Ok, I'm back, and hopefully I will be posting once a week.

I know where I'm going, though any comments or recommendations are still appreciated.