CHAPTER ONE

Maze, Music and Murder

Harry tore through the darkness, his heart pounding in his ears.

He knew that he needed to locate his teammates as soon as possible, but he already had his plate full trying to stay unscathed and undetected. For now, his team would have to survive without him. He hoped that was the right call; even the loss of one of them would be unacceptable.

He continued running through the maze, following the direction of a single hedge wall. From an adventure book he had read as a child, Harry knew that keeping contact with one wall as he went would eventually lead him to the exit.

But this was an enchanted maze. He needed to keep in mind that the usual rules couldn't be trusted. He wasn't entirely sure yet, but he had an inkling that the walls were moving. Still, he couldn't afford to use the Point-Me Spell, so this was the best hope he had.

As long as it doesn't lead me to the enemy or a Dark Beast, I should be-

Harry's train of thought cut off as he rounded the next corner. It was the widest passage yet and it was all taken up by a deep, murky bog.

Gritting his teeth, Harry briefly deliberated on what course of action to take. The sensible option would be to double back and hope he didn't get lost or come across a more severe obstacle. The reckless option would be to brave whatever was waiting for him in the bog's dank depths.

The one thing he knew he absolutely couldn't do was also the one thing he strained to do. He couldn't use his Mage Sight to see what was waiting for him in the bog, as doing so would be a virtual flare for his pursuers. If he wanted to complete this trial successfully, then he was going to have to move forward.

If I cared about being sensible, I never would have entered the Triwizard Tournament in the first place.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Harry began his approach at a dead sprint, only to be thrown back by the sharp, jagged figure that burst out of the water. It was a massive Beast, at least twenty feet long and down on all fours. It looked like an albino alligator, but one that was shrouded by foot-long bone-white spikes that covered almost every inch of its skin. If it weren't for his enchanted training gear, Harry would have been impaled upon them. The Beast seemed to understand this and roared at being cheated out of its prey.

A Shrake, Harry recognised.

For a brief moment, the boy and Beast stared at each other. Then the Shrake lowered its centre of gravity and fired the bone-like protrusions out of its body, directly at him.

Throwing caution to the wind, Harry cast Protego! just in time to block the shower of razor-sharp spikes. As the broken pieces of bone dropped off his fading shield and onto the ground in front of him, the Shrake used its visual obstruction to skitter towards him with shocking speed. With reflexes that could only be magically augmented, Harry leaned his head back to avoid the creature's whipping tail and leapt backwards, high into the air.

To give himself enough time to land, he verbally cast "Aries!" and a great hulking ram was conjured from thin air. It charged directly at the Beast and was quickly torn to shreds on its newly-regrown spikes, but it managed to clack the Shrake's jaw closed with its horns, shattering its teeth. The very instant the Shrake opened its maw in agony, Harry jabbed his wand right at it. Perfuro!

His Piercing Curse aimed true. A splatter of blood shooting out from its mouth was the only sign of the destruction that had been done to its innards. Knowing that his pursuers wouldn't be far behind, Harry didn't wait around to watch it die.

Sprinting towards the bog, he thrust his wand towards the ground at the very edge of the water, casting Aeris! A bullet of air sent him hurtling up and over the water, and he landed safely on the other side. He rolled, snapped to his feet and continued running without losing his gathered momentum.

After going a full minute without seeing an enemy, Harry slowed down from a full sprint to a light jog to focus on his breathing. While his training with Nicolas and the Solace sisters had improved his overall fitness and dexterity by leaps and bounds, he was unused to the strain of long-distance running. The stamina he had built up from swimming could only do so much to help.

A glance at his watch told him he was nearing the hour mark, and he began to feel frustrated. There was little doubt that Eliza and Cedric had found the exit, leaving him struggling to keep up as usual. The now familiar image of Eliza's superior expression flitted through his mind's eye, and it was enough to make him grind his teeth. Even after months of training together, they still couldn't-

Harry skidded to a stop. He'd spotted movement in his peripheral and his guard went up reflexively.

Recognising the shape as humanoid, Harry fired a Disarming Charm at it. He didn't expect it to work but he hoped it would identify the figure. A Shield Charm snapped into place, and he relaxed as its glow illuminated Cedric's familiar face.

"Glad to see I'm not in last place this time." Harry smiled. "Come on, let's get out of here." He turned away from the other boy, which was a critical mistake.

He failed to see the Stunning Spell that hit him square in the back.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Captain Alastor Moody paced before them in silence, limping on his metal leg, his disappointment palpable. As he was the Auror Captain of two-thirds of this year's Triumvirate, Moody had been the obvious choice to be their Team Coach, especially as he was a former Hogwarts Representative himself.

Harry had quickly learned that Moody wasn't one to mince his words, which he proved again by telling them off, one by one. "Diggory!" He barked, and Cedric somehow stood even straighter. "How many times do I have to tell you? You're too hesitant in your attacks! That's a good quality for an Auror, but not in a competition. Keep it up and it'll cost your team the Triwizard Cup."

"Yes, Sir! I'll work on that!"

"Potter!" Harry didn't stand at attention. While they may be using the London Citadel's maze for training today, this was not Auror's business. Instead, he folded his arms and leaned back against the hedge wall, resisting the urge to scowl. "You know what your problem is?" It took a considerable amount of effort, but Harry managed to remain silent. He knew from experience that Moody didn't appreciate backtalk. "You think you're smarter than you are."

Harry's pursuit of silence swiftly failed. "What?!" He snapped his head around to glare at Eliza when she snickered at his expense.

Moody narrowed his one good eye at him but chose to overlook his impertinence. "You didn't think the enemy would disguise itself as an ally because it's not something you would do. And if it's not something you would do, you think it's worthless, don't you?" Harry wrinkled his nose. How he could be blamed for not knowing the Auror volunteers would disguise themselves as Cedric? As though hearing his thoughts, Moody added, "Just because you wouldn't consider it a viable strategy doesn't mean it isn't one."

Harry scowled. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Moody growled, causing Harry's scowl to deepen. "You need to hurry up and master your Mana Suppression Technique. Switching it off and on shouldn't be difficult for you at this stage and we're running out of time for you to figure it out. We've only got six weeks until the Preliminary Rounds!"

Moody paused, as though waiting for Harry to utter another petulant comment. When he stayed quiet this time, Moody grunted and moved on to Eliza. "Hawthorn." Eliza stiffened as she awaited judgement, but Harry already knew that she needn't have worried. "Good job." Moody nodded at her before limping off. "I want you three to meet me at eight o'clock tomorrow! Before Hogwarts' front gates!"

The Triumvirate remained as they were while he departed. The instant he was out of sight, they collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. Not one of them wanted to display weakness in front of Moody.

As they set about stretching and rubbing sore muscles, Eliza turned to Harry with a tired grin. "Hear that, Harry? Good job."

"Oh, shut up." Harry snapped. He was in no mood to hear her regular gloating. "He's your Squad Captain. It's only natural for him to favour you."

The smile quickly slipped off her face at the accusation. "That's not the reason-!"

"Just give it time," Cedric told Harry, cutting his sister off. He conjured three glass goblets and filled them with water before handing two to his teammates. "He already likes you, but he doesn't want to go easy on you."

"How can you tell?"

"He's still training you, isn't he?" Cedric shrugged. "Moody is the second most powerful Auror in Britain. He should be running the Manchester Citadel or Birmingham's, but instead, he's spent the last forty years training Cadets. He puts them through the wringer, over and over again, because he loves bringing out the best in talented people. He would've passed the job on to someone else if he didn't think you had potential."

That made Harry think. "I'm glad he's not taking it easy on me," he said finally. "I definitely would've lost my temper then." He took several gulps from his glass, wincing as he disliked the strangely hollow taste of conjured water.

Eliza snorted into her goblet. "I wish you would lose your temper with him. He'd swat you away like a fly."

Harry narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth, paused, and then shut it as he reconsidered what he was about to say. "I've got to go. I've got plans tonight." There was only so much Eliza Hawthorn he could put up with, and he was already past today's limit.

"Didn't you hear what Moody said?" Eliza demanded. "Eight o'clock tomorrow. You should be resting."

Harry climbed to his feet. "I promised my friends," he shrugged. "You do know what friends are, right?"

She frowned. "I have friends."

"Cedric's your brother. He doesn't count." They had fallen into a well-worn rhythm of exchanged insults, but he had apparently taken things too far today. After a moment spent wracking her brain for a name, she shot to her feet and stormed off.

"Thanks for that," Cedric sighed as he too got to his feet, "She's going to be so much fun at home now." Harry snorted. "Do you have to antagonise her? We're all part of the same team."

Harry frowned. "She's Team Captain. She should be a better leader instead of going out of her way to annoy me."

Cedric huffed. "That's exactly what she said! She told me you needed to be a better subordinate!"

Whatever message Cedric was trying to convey went over his head when Harry heard that. "She called me a subordinate? A subordinate?!"

Cedric froze. "I probably shouldn't have told you that, should I?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

This summer was a scorcher. Blazing sunlight and cloudless skies were everyday occurrences that were only interspersed by the occasional thunderstorm which left muggy air and sizzling soil in its wake.

This evening was no different. The setting sun shone through the wide windows in Harry's bedroom and past his rafters, causing long shadows to play along the walls. A late-afternoon storm had turned the air unbearably humid, and even the usually stoic Argos seemed to be breathing too deeply in an attempt to cool himself down. Despite this, he refused to splash around in the birdbath Harry had transfigured for him- probably to protest the loud guitars and drums of Expired Daydream that reverberated off the walls.

"You're in a good mood," Anthony said over the music. He was sitting at the desk, spinning idly in the chair.

"I've been looking forward to this," Harry said as he examined himself in the mirror. "I've been needing a break."

"But we just got back a week ago," Terry pointed out. He was lying on his stomach atop the bed, his eyes fixed on today's Daily Prophet crossword.

"Eight days ago," Harry corrected.

That made Terry glance up. "You've been counting?"

"Between Cadet work and Triumvirate training, I've been stretched pretty thin," he said defensively. He saw his friends exchange knowing smirks in the mirror.

"You can just say you miss her," Anthony said innocently.

Harry fought down a blush. "Shut up."

"There's no need to be embarrassed," Terry grinned. "You miss your little girlfriend. It's sweet."

"I will hurt you." That only made them laugh.

Things between him and Lisa had been going well this summer. Very well. But it had been a fortnight since he'd last seen her. For his fourteenth birthday, Nicolas had surprised him, his godparents and his best friends with five nights at Poseidon's Kingdom, the underwater resort and theme park. Both Moody and Felicia have been making him pay for it with extra work since he got back.

That was why he was looking forward to tonight. He needed a chance to cool off and hang out with his friends. He would regret it tomorrow during training, but he'll just have to buck up and deal with it.

As a cool breeze swept through the room, Harry cast "Capillo!" for the third time and began to examine his new hairstyle in front of the mirror. This was Michael's breaking point.

"Would you hurry up?" He demanded. He'd been lounging on the balcony but stormed inside when he realised Harry was no closer to being ready than he was five minutes ago. "We're going to be late."

"What?" Harry cupped a hand over his ear, pretending he couldn't hear him over the music. Michael scowled and repeated his question after he lowered the Wireless' volume with his wand. Harry sighed. "Would you let me get ready in peace?" He returned his eyes to the mirror as he tried to arrange his hair in a way that was somehow neat but not too neat. He didn't want anyone to think he put any effort into looking good.

"Oh, that's lovely, dear," his mirror cooed. "Nice and tidy!" Harry grimaced and cast the charm again.

"Michael's kind of got a point." Anthony sighed as he watched Harry struggle. "Lisa doesn't care what you look like. She wouldn't be with you if she did."

"I'm two seconds away from hexing you."

"Don't test him on that," Terry muttered, tapping his chin with the feathery end of his quill. "I've seen him do worse for less. Can any of you name the coach of the team that won the 1974 Quidditch World Cup?"

"How are you still working on that?" Michael asked incredulously. "I would have given up as soon as breakfast was done."

Terry hummed, not removing his eyes from the crossword. "That's the difference between a pro and an amateur." Immediately going back on his words, he repeated his question. "Do you know the answer or not?"

"Sebastian Garnier." Michael sighed. "How do you not know that?"

"Because I have a life." Terry shot back as he scrawled the answer down. "Finished!" He rolled off the bed and blinked at Harry. "How are you still not ready?"

Michael threw his hands into the air. "That's what I've been saying!"

"Give me a minute!"

Harry kept his gaze on the mirror, but his eyes flickered around to take in his friend's reflections. He and Anthony had always been of equal height, but his friend had outstripped him over the past year and was now half a head taller he was. He'd allowed his hair to grow out a bit at the top and kept the sides carefully shaved to emphasise the tight, dark curls. In conjunction with the considerable loss of baby fat in his face- putting even more definition on his fine features- he now appeared to be quite a bit older than he truly was.

Michael, in pursuit of reclaiming the Quidditch Cup for Ravenclaw, had doubled down on his training. Whenever he wasn't performing his Cadet duties, he could either be found in the Citadel doing weight training or behind his Aunt Amelia's house, flying his broom at all hours of the day and night, much to Susan's displeasure. This left him with broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms, which he took pleasure in flexing when he thought no one was watching. Coupled with the new buzz cut he was sporting, he looked like he'd aged two years in a single summer.

But Anthony had always been tall and Michael was already stocky. So, out of all of them, it was Terry who had undergone the most dramatic change. Puberty had hit him with all the force of The Hogwarts Express. He had shot up significantly over the last four months but failed to put on much weight. The result made him look like the human equivalent of a stretched-out piece of chewing gum. His voice had cracked, deepening considerably and- though he had tried to hide it- Anthony had been quick to reveal his Healer-prescribed use of Bubotuper pus to combat his acne. Michael had tried to cheer him up by saying he finally looked his age, but for some reason, Terry didn't take it all that well.

In contrast, Harry hadn't changed all that much. He'd grown an inch or two since Christmas, but that difference was unnoticeable when compared to Anthony or Terry. He'd kept forgetting to ask the Automaton for a haircut but eventually decided to refrain as Lisa repeatedly told him she preferred it long, and he liked it when she played with it. He'd grown a little hair along his jaw sometime this spring, but Maia had teased him and claimed it was just a shadow. More encouragingly, Remus had taken him aside last week and taught him to use the enchanted shaving kit he'd bought for his birthday.

"There isn't much to shave, but no one wants to see sparse bristles on someone's face," he told Harry. The action had him feel like a man at the time, but when compared to the sudden development of his friends, Harry felt frozen in time.

He could only hope this stagnation wasn't reflected in his duelling ability.

"No, no, no!" The mirror cried. "You can't go out like that! You look so scruffy-" it said as though scruffiness was a fate worse than death- "Someone, fetch a comb!"

Harry grinned. "Perfect." Finally happy with how his hair had settled (it was so much harder to get right when it was this long) he straightened his printed t-shirt as he struggled to decide on which jacket he should wear.

"Alright, now you're taking the mickey!" Michael snapped. His raised voice startled Argos, who had started to nod off when the music's volume had been lowered. The owl hooted lazily in annoyance, but Michael ignored him. "It's boiling outside! You don't need a jacket."

"It gets a little chilly at night."

"Then use a Warming Charm!" Michael countered as he and Anthony frog-marched Harry out of the room. Terry followed after them. "We won't be outside for long anyway."

"What's the rush?" Harry asked. "We still have time."

"They go on in thirty minutes." Anthony pointed out.

"I'm hungry!" Michael whined at the same time. "What?" He asked when they all side-eyed him.

"We can just use our badges to skip the queue," Harry told Anthony. Then he turned to Michael as they descended the stairs. "And you can help yourself to the kitchen at any time."

Michael looked embarrassed. "I can't just rummage through someone else's pantry. That's rude. I want to order something before we get to the show."

They heard Maia's laugh before they saw her. She was putting on a pair of earrings in front of the mirror by the staircase. "Good idea, Michael. It's never a good idea to drink on an empty stomach." She waved him towards the kitchen. "Help yourself." Looking abashed, Michael slouched off to make himself a snack.

"No one will be drinking," Harry said firmly. "The White Wyvern is under-eighteens only tonight."

"Right. I understand perfectly." Maia winked conspiratorially, leaving him with the impression that she didn't understand at all. "You know, the summer before our Fifth Year, we went to see The Weird Sisters play. It definitely wasn't under-eighteens and James managed to sneak in a flask of fire whiskey in his-"

"We should probably get going," Harry interrupted. While he usually enjoyed listening to Maia's tales- especially the misadventures she had with his dad- he knew better than to give his friends free ammunition in their teasing. "The girls go on at nine." Michael returned at the perfect moment with a thick, stacked sandwich in one hand, and Harry shepherded his friends towards the fireplace.

"Wait!" Terry craned his neck to look back at Maia. "James managed to sneak it in his what?"

Harry tossed in a handful of Floo powder before his godmother could respond and shoved Terry into the green flames. "The Leaky Cauldron!" He called and Terry was whisked away. "Who's next?"

"I think I can manage on my own," Anthony said delicately. He took the Floo powder from Harry and stepped into the fireplace. Michael swiftly followed but Harry paused before he departed.

"Are you going out?" He asked Maia.

She tensed. "Yes. Why?"

Harry shrugged. "You look nice." She raised an eyebrow, and he was quick to correct himself. "Not that you don't always look nice. I just that meant you look even nicer than you usually do," he finished lamely. He wasn't exaggerating. Maia had a cool, effortless beauty no matter what she was wearing but now that she'd put in a little effort, she had become outright glamorous.

"Thank you," she smiled. "I'm having drinks with a friend."

Harry knew what she wore when she went out with friends, and it wasn't a little black dress. "So, it's a date?"

"Too soon to say." She eyed him carefully. "Are you alright with that?"

Harry nodded quickly. He didn't want some misguided parental concern to prevent her from living her life, especially after the dour mood she'd been in this week.

His therapy sessions with Healer Swann were going well, so he was down to one appointment a month, but Maia was still seeing him twice a week. There had also been talk of putting her on potions to supplement her treatment and she struggled with the idea of needing additional help. Even though she'd been doing her best to hide it, Harry could tell it had chafed her pride, so it was nice to see her in a genuinely good mood again.

"I'm happy for you," he said honestly. "Now I just need to work on getting Remus a social life and my work will be done." Her laugh was cut off as Remus' voice called out.

"I heard that!" He descended the stairs in his robe and slippers. "And I take great offence."

Maia eyed him with disdain. "Have you been in bed all day?"

"And I'll be here all night," Remus sighed contentedly as he threw himself on the sofa.

"Just because Professor Sinistra is visiting her relatives, doesn't mean your life should stop." Harry pointed out. "Go out and do something."

"I am doing something." Remus gestured to the misty screen he'd switched on. "I'm watching the Odeon. What?" He asked when they both stared judgementally at him as the fireplace behind Harry turned green. "Aurora is with her family and I'm here with mine. Besides, I've only got three weeks of holiday left before school starts. I mean to enjoy it."

"If you want a break, Professor, you could simply hand out less homework," Anthony suggested as he stepped back into the living room. He turned to Harry without waiting for a response. "Are you coming or what?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're such a nag," he tutted. Anthony growled in frustration as he was whisked away again. He glanced back at his godparents. "Have fun tonight."

Maia kissed his cheek. "Only if you do."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Remus warned. Harry knew that was his version of "have fun."

Smiling, Harry stepped into the fireplace and out into The Leaky Cauldron where his friends were waiting impatiently.

"Finally!" Terry said exasperatedly. "Let's go!" He led the way out back, pausing only to pay for their use of the fireplace, and leaving them to hurry after him.

"I don't like how long his legs are now," Anthony complained. "It was already a pain keeping up with him." Harry and Michael laughed as they entered Diagon Alley.

Lamposts had been lit along the narrow winding street, their flames flickering brightly against the deep blue sky. It was that awkward time of night when the shops were all closed, but it was still too early for the night's revellers to come out. The only exception was The White Wyvern. During school holidays, it hosted under-eighteens on Wednesdays and had earlier hours as a result.

The White Wyvern was well past Gringotts, on the very edges of Knockturn Alley. It was a grubby little bar with a sloping roof and frequented in the day by shadier clientele than The Leaky Cauldron was willing to abide. However, at night it hosted all those who sought a good time in the club beneath its premises.

It was even more popular than Harry had heard. About three or four hundred teenagers were queueing up behind the barricades, some of whom he recognised from Hogwarts, but many more were unfamiliar to him- they likely attended Rosewood's or Wendell's, the other British Wizarding schools. The club had opened at seven, so he dreaded to think how long these people had been waiting.

Fortunately, they didn't have to do the same.

The boys ignored the shouts and complaints of those in the queue and walked right up to the bouncer. He was a massive, mean-looking guy who looked ready to rebuff them, but he straightened up quickly when they flashed their Auror badges. He ushered them inside without even checking their wand licences to see if they were over thirteen.

"But they just got here!" Draco Malfoy complained. He was at the front of the queue, flanked on either side by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Shut it!" The bouncer snapped.

"How dare-!" Malfoy gasped. "Do you have any idea who my father is?!"

The last thing they heard was Goyle sigh, "Give it a rest, Draco." Harry didn't know how things stood between those three now (as Crabbe and Goyle hadn't been welcomed back to Hogwarts after failing to get the minimum five WOMBATs) but he remembered that Crabbe and Goyle had been in a permanent state of exasperation with Malfoy after Crabbe knocked him out in their first year. He guessed the three only hung out together afterwards because no one else liked them.

"You know," Anthony chuckled as they made their way across the barren pub. "Being an Auror is hard, but it's the little things that make it worth it."

They climbed down the long rickety staircase that led into the club below. The music seemed to vibrate through the wood, pounding the steps as though trying to escape into the outside world. At the bottom, they emerged into a dark windowless room. Its size was difficult to judge as mirrors ran along the walls, making it seem larger than it was. Thin, obscuring smoke wafted between writhing bodies that were only illuminated by crisscrossing beams of light that shot into the crowd. It was hot and airless, so Harry was glad Michael had talked him out of bringing a jacket.

Harry led the way, moving through the crowd and towards the stage where a band he didn't recognise was playing. He nervously checked the time on his Ouroboros. Anthony seemed to read his mind. "What time are they going on again?" He had to shout to be heard over the wailing music.

"Nine!" Harry shouted back. "At least that's what she told-!" he quickly stopped shouting when the band abruptly brought their set to a close and lowered his voice. "That's what Lisa told me."

"I wouldn't worry. These things tend to run over," Terry said knowledgeably.

Michael looked at him doubtfully. "How do you know that?"

"You don't know everything about me, Michael."

Anthony rolled his eyes and chose to ignore that easy setup. "We didn't miss them," he assured Harry. "There's no way." As though in response to his words, the girls stepped onto the stage at that exact moment, carrying and levitating their instruments and equipment.

Amanda was wearing her stylish sunglasses- the ones that had been enchanted with the Supersensory Charm- so he doubted she could tell it was him who gave her a thumbs-up. Still, it made him feel a little proud to see her look over the crowd without a trace of nerves.

He tried to catch Lisa's eye, but she was too focused on her drumkit to notice. Somehow, she looked even better than she usually did with her hair pulled back and the sleeves of her shirt rolled up to her shoulders. There was something about seeing her in her element that he found particularly alluring.

Finally, when they were ready to begin, Amanda put her mouth to the microphone and announced, "We are Quill for the Bard!" The second she finished speaking- and with synchronicity that could only come from numerous rehearsals- the other girls began playing a quick, upbeat song with their instruments.

There were a few cheers and jeers from the crowd that only quieted when the music slowed down and Amanda began to sing.

Lisa had been right. Amanda had an incredible voice.

Padma and Isobel turned to each other as the chorus approached, playing the keyboard and cello with increased urgency, almost as though they were goading each other on. Lisa banged her drums with escalating force and Su moved closer to Amanda, shredding her guitar as she excitedly mouthed along to the lyrics.

Harry watched them all with great admiration. While he'd been ready to support them no matter what, it was so much easier to do so when their song was actually good. He'd trusted Lisa when she said they sounded great, but he hadn't expected to immediately like their sound so much.

He could tell that the other boys agreed with him. When they got over their collective surprise, they began jumping up and down with everyone else to the lively song.

As they had only been given thirty minutes for their first set, Quill for the Bard could only play eight of their songs, but the audience loved every single one of them. While they ended the show with a fast-moving melody and a chorus he already knew was going to be stuck in his head for days, Harry's favourite had definitely been the melancholy love song. Perhaps it was arrogant to presume this, but something in the lyrics made him think Lisa had written it about him.

Unfortunately, his friends seemed to think so too.

"Did you really hold her close underneath the moonlight?" Terry snickered. They were sitting around a table, sipping cold drinks to cool themselves down.

"No." Harry lied. "Shut up."

Michael snorted. "Tell me how you really feel, Harry." He paused before adding, "Tell me how you really feel, really feel! You're as tightly locked as a Gringotts vault-!" He extended the last word in a poor imitation of Amanda's soulful croon.

Harry tried to downplay it. "That could be about anyone." He ignored the ensuing laughter and sat back in his chair. His sweaty skin was rapidly cooling in the far airier, but still crowded pub. The club was fun for a while, but then it became a little claustrophobic.

The Hobgoblins, a semi-famous band with one hit song, took the stage after the Quill for the Bard set ended. The boys had already agreed to meet the girls in the pub upstairs, and as none of them were Hobgoblin fans, it was no hardship to miss out on their performance.

It took a little while for the girls to show up at their table, as they needed to get their instruments and equipment safely stored away before coming to meet them. As they approached, Harry stood to greet Lisa with a hug.

"You were brilliant." He said that to all of them, but he held Lisa's gaze as he uttered it.

"Thanks." Her cheeks were already pink due to the strain of drumming and all the excitement of the night, but the colour in them deepened at his words. Her eyes dropped and took in his t-shirt for the first time, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stem her laughter. "You cannot be serious with that shirt!"

"Why not?" Harry asked innocently. He casually brushed non-existent wrinkles from his I'm Banging the Drummer t-shirt. "It's the truth, isn't it?"

"No, it is not!" Lisa protested. She glanced bashfully at her laughing bandmates before smacking his shoulder. "If people see you in that they might mistake you for a groupie."

He shrugged. "I stand by it." It had been embarrassing to buy and even more so to wear but it was worth it to see her so flustered. Now it was his turn to notice what she was wearing: the butterfly earring studs he'd bought for her in March. "You wore them?" It was the first time he'd seen them on her.

"Yeah," she said lowly so only he could hear. "I was saving them for a special occasion. Our first performance counts, right?"

"I would think so." He cupped the side of her face and traced his thumb just beneath her earlobe. "They look good on you." He wasn't lying. It made her pale grey eyes appear closer to silver.

"Hmm?" She tipped her head back. "How good?"

He dipped his head to kiss her, aiming for a quick peck, but she ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him in deeper. He was all too eager to reciprocate.

Things had been good between them ever since Valentine's Day, but this summer had been particularly great. It had become routine for Harry to go over to her house whenever he had a free afternoon. Her parents worked long hours and they could get privacy at hers that they'd never get at Brightstone House. When it came to the days her parents were home, he was able to apparate them to wherever she wanted to go or take her for a ride on Hugo II as she'd come to prefer.

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts by a flash of light. It was so bright he saw it through his eyelids. He tore himself away from Lisa and went for his wand. "What was that?"

Anthony had already run past him to chase a dark figure but gave up as he was immediately swallowed by the crowd. "Some weirdo with a camera just took a picture of us."

Harry narrowed his eyes. He was about to tell his squadmates to fan out and block the exits, but Lisa got his attention first. Her cool fingers on his jaw, she gently moved his head back towards her. "Forget it. I don't want some creep ruining our night." Harry briefly considered arguing with her before accepting that this was her night of celebration. He didn't want to be the prat who ruined it.

Moving to retake his seat, he found that it had been stolen. Padma was sitting on Michael's lap and the two were snogging furiously. "Ew." Lisa wrinkled her nose as though they too hadn't been kissing a minute ago.

"Why'd they steal my chair?" Harry muttered as he and Lisa walked around the table to the two remaining seats. "He had a perfectly good chair."

"Some people have no decency," Lisa tutted before sitting sideways in his lap. Harry grinned and was about to kiss her again when they were interrupted.

"Hypocrite!" Terry coughed before thumping his chest. "Oh! Excuse me." Lisa narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. Harry quickly spoke before they could start another one of their arguments.

"That was a great show," he said to Su and Isobel. The former beamed proudly while the latter smiled ever so slightly. For Isobel, that was the same thing. Then he turned to Amanda. "I heard you were a great singer, Brocklehurst, but I never imagined that."

Amanda nodded excitedly and her sunglasses, which were hooked on her collar, bounced along with her head. "It was exhilarating!" Harry, Anthony and Terry watched in fascination as she began to speak at length about what the experience was like. The boys had never seen her so giddy or so talkative before.

They hung out like that for a while, sipping drinks, talking about the gig and going over their plans for the Duelling World Cup. Eventually, their night out was brought to an abrupt end by the vibrations coming from their Auror-issued communication mirrors. Glancing at the other boys (even Michael who had finally moved his face away from Padma's) Harry knew that he wasn't the only one to receive the call.

Playtime was over. Duty was calling.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

They reached the Citadel in under four minutes.

They would have gotten there sooner, but they had struggled to get through the crowded bar and the throng outside to reach Diagon Alley's West Apparition Point. Flashing their badges at the on-duty Sentries, they hurried inside and ducked into the changing rooms. They hurried to get out of their civilian clothes and into the spare uniforms they kept in their lockers before rushing to the bullpen. Their only detour was to the infirmary as Terry needed to restock the potions in his utility belt.

Harry turned the corner in a hurry, afraid of what Felicia's reaction would be if they dawdled any longer, but froze at who he saw rushing through the bullpen. Anthony bumped into his back.

"Oof!" He groaned as the wind was knocked out of him. "What'd you stop for? We're going-" he immediately stopped when he saw the sight that made Harry pause.

Felicia was jogging towards them in a red satin dress, heels in hand. She ran in their direction towards the witches' changing room.

Harry found his voice as she moved past them. "You're late. Which is weird because you're never late. Were you out with friends?"

"No, a date." Felicia corrected distractedly as she rushed out of sight.

Harry's eyebrows knitted together as his conscious brain struggled to make a connection that his subconscious had already solved. Finally, comprehension dawned on him, but he shook his head in disbelief.

There's no way, he firmly decided. Two people can have dates on the same night. It's just a coincidence. They don't even know each other. They haven't even met! There is literally no way for it to be possible.

However, doubt still crept into his mind as they entered the bullpen. There had been an uptick in Death Eater activity since June, and the room was alive with activity even at this late hour.

"Are you lot still here?" Lieutenant Shacklebolt asked incredulously. "The Commander wanted your squad in his office five minutes ago. Go!"

The boys quickly turned and hurried back out of the room, bumping into a more normal-looking Felicia as they did so. "Commander Boot wants us in his office, apparently," Michael informed her. She let out a little groan of despair but turned and led them there anyway. Knocking on his door, they heard his familiar voice from within. "Enter."

"And where exactly have you lot been?" Commander Boot asked as he lowered the parchment he'd been examining.

"The answer depends on whose asking," Terry replied flippantly. "My father or my superior officer?"

Commander Boot narrowed his eyes. "Both."

Terry opened his mouth to reply, but Anthony hastily cut him off. "We were out with friends."

"When you are summoned here out of your typical hours, assume it is an emergency and arrive here promptly. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." The boys chorused.

"Sir, it's my fault," Felicia said firmly. "My Cadets were ready by the time I arrived at the Citadel."

The Commander raised his eyebrows in surprise. Harry couldn't blame him. Felicia was notorious for her punctuality. "What held you up?"

Felicia's expression remained stoic, but her cheeks flushed. "Personal matters." Michael looked confused and turned to their Captain questionably, but Harry stepped on his toes. This was something he didn't want to have confirmed. Not by her anyway.

"No matter," the Commander sighed. "It's not an emergency, but Detective Chief Inspector Walsh has another case for us. As usual, he's asked for your squad by name."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Four simultaneous cracks! pierced the night air.

The Cadet Squad appeared in the alleyway between two dilapidated office buildings and stepped out into the street. According to the street sign at the corner of the road, they were somewhere in Hackney. The building that concerned them was immediately obvious due to the sheer number of police officers and crime scene investigators swarming around it. The faded orange sign above the door indicated that this was a hostel.

Squinting due to the flashing blue lights on the police cars, Harry followed Felicia and his friends across the street to the red-bricked, four-storey building. He kept his head on a swivel as he brought up the rear. After what happened at Acacia Asylum, he was always vigilant in case another ambush disguised itself as a mission.

"Err…why exactly are we here?" Michael asked. Following his gaze, Harry saw a large group of exhausted women huddled beneath foil blankets. One of them was giving her statement to a uniformed officer in heavy-accented English.

"That's what we're here to find out," Felicia said. She ducked underneath the police tape and stepped into the property itself.

For a place that made its money hosting travellers, the hostel's foyer was rather unwelcoming. The walls and surfaces were grimy and the carpet was dusty and pockmarked by ancient gum. The vending machine by the doors was broken and duct tape was used to cordon it off. There wasn't even anywhere to sit. If Harry had been a backpacker looking for a place to crash for the night, this sight would have been enough to make him turn around and leave.

Their contact was waiting for them by the welcome desk. He was a beanpole of a man, with brown hair greying at the temples and shoulders stooped by stress. He greeted them with a scowl. "I specifically asked for you alone." Detective Chief Inspector David Walsh kept his gravelly voice low, but he leaned over Felicia's smaller frame menacingly.

Their Captain wasn't intimidated in the slightest. "David, I've told you already. They're my Cadets. They assist me with my work and in return I train them to the best of my ability. Simply put, they go where I go."

Harry leaned around Felicia to greet the man directly. "Good evening, Mr Walsh. How are you?" He knew remaining polite and strictly professional was essential when it came to dealing with their contacts in the Muggle world. Besides, the only issue Walsh had with them was their age. He had already expressed his approval of their work on all three previous cases they had worked together on, only going back to objecting to their presence when they met up for the next one.

Harry didn't hold it against him. From what Felicia had told them, Walsh had a daughter around their age. As Muggles were more susceptible to permanent injury, it made sense for him to be uncomfortable with their involvement.

Apparently, Walsh didn't subscribe to the whole "be polite to those you work with" philosophy. He gruffly told the Cadets to, "Stay down here. Don't move." He made for the stairs where most of the activity was, but Felicia remained rooted to the spot.

"What part of "they go where I go" don't you understand?"

Walsh glared down at her, and she returned it with as much venom. Looking at them now, Harry found it hard to believe that they were old friends. The Inspector was one of the few Muggles whom the Veil did not affect, but instead of enlisting in the Witch-Hunters Guild, he had joined the Metropolitan Police Service. Eventually, he gained the attention of the London Citadel through his excellent record and uncanny perceptiveness.

Like their other allies in Muggle law enforcement agencies around the world, Walsh was generously compensated by the Auror Corps. In return, he was asked to inform the London Citadel whenever he came across something his mundane colleagues weren't equipped to deal with. Whenever something magical occurred in the Muggle world that somehow managed to slip past the Shards, it was up to Walsh and others like him to find out.

The Inspector's expression finally softened as he seemed to realise he couldn't get into an argument with her here. They were invisible to the Muggles around him, but he was not. "Felicia, I'm not joking. It's pretty grim up there."

Felicia was stubborn. "Whatever it is, I can assure you they've seen worse." Walsh sighed but acquiesced.

Harry wasn't sure about the others, but he had definitely never seen anything worse than the crime scene they walked in on.

"Flames of Bedlam!" Anthony cursed.

And he bet Anthony hadn't either.

The walls were splattered with more blood than he thought a single person could possibly contain. Torn limbs had been thrown carelessly around the room and a headless torso was on the bed with its chest cracked open, organs on display and white ribs splayed like angel wings.

While he'd never seen violence on this level before, Harry had long grown used to grisly sights and remained mostly stoic, but Michael turned green around the gills and Terry simply turned on his heel and left the room. Harry couldn't blame him in the slightest; the hot summer night had only made the rancid scent more potent.

But he could deal with the stench of rotting meat. What he saw hanging from the lampshade disturbed him far more.

"Is that his-?" He began to tentatively ask before Walsh cut him off.

"Yes." Walsh's tone was professional, but Harry could detect hints of pity and revulsion- feelings any man who saw this sight would commiserate with. "The other bits were found in the communal bathroom if you want to take a look?"

Before he could answer, there was a horrified wail from down the hall. "I think Terry beat me to it," Harry muttered.

"I'll make sure he doesn't throw up on the...remains," Michael said before he hurried out of the room.

"Seen worse, yeah?" Walsh asked Felicia who scowled in return.

"I wasn't expecting this." She gestured to the room at large and shook her head. "This doesn't match any Dark Beast I know of. They only kill to consume, and nothing looks like it's missing."

"Only forcibly relocated," Anthony muttered darkly as he observed the small chunks of fat and muscle that had splattered onto the ceiling. Harry glanced at him warily. It had been a while since he'd heard that undercurrent of rage in his friend's voice.

"Any thoughts, Cadets?" Felicia asked. "Harry?"

"There's only one bed," he pointed out. When Anthony raised his eyebrows, he expounded. "Hostels are cheap accommodations, meant for travellers who only need a place to sleep for a couple of nights." Growing up, Harry had hoped to travel extensively. But even as a child, he felt the need to make sure it was viable and affordable before he got his hopes up.

"Do hostels not have private rooms?" Anthony asked.

"Sometimes, but every room we passed on the way up here only had one bed in it." Harry thought about the women outside and how not a single man had been among them. Then he considered the foyer and how off-putting it was. "I don't think this is a real hostel."

"You're right," Walsh sighed. "It was just a front. From what we can figure out, they had a few rooms available for insistent customers who kicked up a fuss, but the hostel was just a front for a brothel. We think the..." he paused as though searching for the right word, "clientele and whatever security this place had scarpered when they heard the sirens."

"So, this guy was...what? A customer?" Anthony asked before his eyes widened. "But what about the girl he was with? Did she see anything?"

"She's missing," Walsh muttered. "The other girls were kind enough to tell us her name, Natalya, and provided us with a picture." He passed Felicia a small picture of a solemn brunette who looked only a few years older than Harry and his friends. "She's been working here for almost two months."

Felicia hummed. "I would've said she was a witch if it weren't for this picture. It's easy to mess with memories. Less so to create tangible evidence."

Harry opened his Mage Sight. "I can't sense anyone magical aside from us, and there aren't any active curses either." He raised his wand. "Aura Incantatem!" Glowing white sparks were shot from the end of his wand and coated the claw marks on the body. "But the killer is definitely magical."

"Maybe," Walsh muttered. "Maybe not. We've had similar reports from seven other crime scenes across the country over the last year," he informed them. "Three in the capital including this one, but I didn't see anything worth calling you lot for. Not until I found this anyway."

He lifted a clear, plastic evidence bag to display the torn forearm within. But that wasn't what caught their attention. What did was the bronze Ouroboros clamped around the wrist.

"Your spell might be picking up on the corpse's residual magic instead of any left by the killer," the Inspector pointed out. "Tell your people to be on guard. It looks like someone's on the hunt for wizards."