In Search of: A Bracelet

Have you ever heard the phrase "Be careful what you wish for?" It ranks right up there with the old Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times," for sayings you never want to experience. Right now I was experiencing the worst of these phrases.

Times are always interesting when people are trying to kill you, and I got my wish for some exciting work...If I'd known the job would end up like this, I would never have taken the case...or I would have at least asked for more money.

My name is Potter, and right now I feel like I should have stayed with the Aurors. At least with them I had backup when I was under attack. Unfortunately, my entire backup is at Hogwarts School... teaching. It's gonna take them a couple of minutes to arrive, and I'm not sure I can last that long.

How did I get in this predicament? Well...that starts about ten years ago, when I completed my N.E.W.T.s at Hogwarts. Seven years ago I became an Auror. Two years ago a new Minister of Magic was elected after our...beloved...Cornelius Fudge retired. Eighteen months ago, the new Minister of Magic decided to "downsize" the Auror department. There were rumors that my good friend Kingsley Shacklebolt was high on the "early retirement list." I heard all these damned euphemisms for getting sacked, so I went to my head of department and used my fame as "he who defeated the Dark Lord twice" to try and save Kingsley's job.

Turned out the new Minister had something against Kingsley and sacked him anyway. He quickly found Kingsley's friends and sacked them too. I would have been out too, but the minister thought I was too "important" to fire. Turns out he kept me around because the public would have lynched him for sacking me. In all, eleven Aurors were showed the door.

Seventeen months ago, I retired from the Aurors and made quite clear that it was the new minister's policies that caused me to leave. I did this by sending a letter to the Daily Prophet and it was front page news for a month.

Twelve months ago, Percy Weasley became Minister of Magic. He contacted all of the discharged Aurors and asked us to return to service with the Ministry. Six of the twelve returned. Kingsley, the other four ex-Aurors, and I declined.

We declined because Kingsley, Tonks, and I decided we wanted to start up our own little private investigation firm. With six ex-Aurors, we thought we could get a lot of business.

Six months ago, half of our staff went back to the Ministry. This left Kingsley, Tonks, and me with our little PI firm. The other three had left because most of the jobs we got were just complete bollocks. Usually we ended up tailing cheating spouses. Not a fun job, no one ever ends up happy from one of those, but we got to stay in business. Every now and then we got a job to find a missing person or collect an item that the client was too embarrassed or too afraid to go to the Magical Law Enforcement. These jobs were more satisfying to me. It really stretched my investigative skills.

So for the last six months, Potter, Shacklebolt, and Tonks Investigations ("No job too mundane") scraped along. We were still looking for a big case that would catapult our little company to prominence.

Two weeks ago, I was sitting behind my desk with my feet propped up reading the latest issue of "Which Broomstick?" I followed Quidditch and occasionally played for fun with my old friend Ron. He managed to get signed by the Chuddley Cannons and he asked me to practice whenever I was free. I am now the unofficial Seeker coach for the Cannons.

A magical alarm went off in my room and I quickly transfigured the magazine cover into a manila folder. A second later, one of the most beautiful women I ever laid eyes on walked through my office door. I rose to greet her.

"Good afternoon, Miss. Welcome to PST Investigations, how can I help you?" I gave her my usual canned speech and a big fake smile.

The woman sat down. She had a face that would make a bachelor fall to his knees and thank God he hadn't found the right woman yet and a body that was the ideal in every teenager's wet dream. But I was engaged to my own beautiful woman, and I was almost twenty-eight years old.

"I need you to find something for me, Mr. Potter," she said. She had the voice of a seductress from an old American motion picture. When she finished her sentence, she flipped her hair. It was like watching a shimmering golden waterfall cascade around her head and down past her shoulders.

I didn't ask her how she knew my name. Not when the answer was scarred onto the middle of my forehead. My smile became more genuine. This wasn't going to be a job about tracking a cheater.

"What is the item in question, Miss...?"

"Ms. Warbeck. It is an enchanted bracelet that I wear for good luck," she replied.

The name Warbeck touched off a little bell in the back of my head, but I paid it no mind right then. Clients' names were only important when you needed to collect payments from them.

"Okay, Ms. Warbeck, I need you to describe the item in as much detail as possible and elaborate on the enchantment it has on it. Also, could you tell me who might have taken it?

"Well, when not worn, the bracelet is about six inches in diameter. When it's on a body part..." She stopped and gave me a seductive smile that suggested that the bracelet was occasionally not worn on her arm. "When it's on a body part, the bracelet shrinks...or grows...to fit it. I think it may also have a Location Charm on it, because my manager always seems to be able to find me."

Something clicked inside of my head. "Why are you coming to me? You should be able to have your manager find the bracelet." Location Charms can only be used by the witch or wizard that placed it upon the object, so she couldn't find it herself.

Ms. Warbeck flashed me her dazzling smile again. "I think my manager stole my bracelet," she answered, smile still in place.

I felt a slight buzz from my pocket. It seemed that my old sneakoscope was trying to tell me that she wasn't being completely honest.

"Ms. Warbeck, you aren't telling me everything," I said. "You will be completely honest with me, or I will not help you. People can die from a lack of information, and I do NOT plan on being in trouble because you decided to leave something out." That was my usual speech to people who tried to shy away from telling me the truth.

She blushed; apparently she didn't expect me to catch her little fib. "Well, my manager didn't steal as much as disappeared after I asked him to care for it. I think he may have been jealous of my fans," she corrected herself, flashing another coquettish smile.

At that moment, the name connected in my head. She was the world famous Singing Socererous, Celestina Warbeck. The Quibbler once reported of extreme acts of debauchery involving the more attractive attendees to her concerts. That was apparently the second time the Quibbler had published an article that was true. I made a mental note to tell Luna the next time I saw her.

No buzz from my pocket this time. "Well, Ms. Warbeck, I'll take your case. The standard rate for hiring us is ten galleons a day plus expenses."

Her smile faded from her face. Apparently she didn't realize that hiring a private investigator would be so expensive. "That's a little much for hiring just one person. How do I know you won't waste time to drive up your fee?"

I looked her straight in the eye and said, "Ms. Warbeck, firstly, you are hiring all of PST Investigations, not just me. Secondly, if I wanted to drive up my fee like that, I would simply purchase items and charge them to your account." I held up a hand, forestalling the inevitable retort. "You aren't the first person to wonder about that. So our little group devised this little item." I tossed her a small key chain. It landed in her lap and she stared at it.

"That keychain is linked to me and it tracks all of the time I think about a particular case. All I need you to do is say, 'I, Celestina Warbeck, agree to hire PST Investigations," and whenever my two companions or I spend at least three hours working on your case the counter on that keychain will go up by one. Also, the counter will go up by one for every ten galleons that we spend in relation to your case."

Ms. Warbeck started to smile again. "That still doesn't prevent you from running up a huge expense bill."

"No, it doesn't. On that point, you will just have to trust me."

The very first time a client had questioned my integrity, I went off on him. After doing this job for awhile, I stopped taking offense to their lack of confidence in my honesty. Nearly every client has questioned my integrity, and I've just started to ignore it completely. Though there is something rather ironic about a cheating husband questioning my integrity while he's running around on his wife and is paranoid that she is doing the same to him. I've shamed many a client by pointing out this tidbit of information.

"Well, our little investigations group will get right to work, Ms. Warbeck."

She beamed one more smile at me and left. I started to collect all of my necessary equipment for a job. I grabbed my wand from its hidden place under my desk and tapped the side drawer of my desk. The drawer popped open; I pulled out my trusty Heckler & Koch .45 and put it into my shoulder holster.

A couple of clients have asked me why I own a Muggle weapon. My response is that most wizards underestimate the usefulness of a good firearm. There are other practical reasons that I do not elaborate on to the client. The first and foremost is that the Ministry and the International Confederation look down on cursing people in broad daylight on a crowded street in Muggle London. There have been a few times when a curse or charm would have been advantageous to defend myself, but I had to resort to pumping my quarry full of lead because we were in front of King's Cross Station.

There's also that rare time when I've been hired to track down a Muggle. Those cases never went particularly well. The Muggle, more often than not, was an innocent victim or an unknowing insulter to a wizard. The wizard often holds a grudge deep enough to hire us to track down and capture the Muggle. I usually try to work out exactly went on before I consider bringing a Muggle into our world. More often than not, the wizard was just trying to use me to cause a little mayhem.

But I digress. It was time for me to get moving on this case. Usually, I would discuss this with Tonks or Kingsley, but they were both working cases. That meant I went home and talked to my fiancée or I hit the streets and talked to my eyes and ears out there. I didn't have a preference right away, so I pulled out a sickle, assigned a choice to each side and flipped it.

Twenty minutes later, I was locking up the office. Our "executive assistant" had today off, so I left a note for Tonks and Kingsley about the case and my plans on how to start it. I then set off for Diagon Alley. I had a useful informant there in one Mundungus Fletcher.

Mundungus had never really progressed past being a petty criminal when he was younger. After a few too many dust-ups with his "colleagues," he decided to settle down as a pawn shop owner. That doesn't mean he cleaned up his act and went straight, he just uses his shop as a front for fencing stolen property. I busted him once when I was still an Auror, but decided to "protect" him and he became a confidential informant for me. He's been more eager to help me lately since I'm no longer an Auror. Mostly because I'm not looking to bust him any more and I pay a whole lot better now that I'm away from the Ministry.

I approached his premises on Diagon Alley. Mundungus had picked a spot close to the infamous Knockturn Alley. The location made it convenient spot for thieves, muggers, and all around low-lifes to hock their wares while still maintain some semblance of respectability.

But tonight was not going to be as productive as I hoped. As I drew close to the shop, I noticed that the lights were out. It was barely nine at night, Mundungus never closed this early because he always said that he made his best purchases after about ten. My right hand strayed towards my wand as my left hand was drawing my HK.

I pushed the front door open slowly and peeked inside. The experience that greeted me was very unpleasant. I could see four people lying on the floor, motionless. An awful smell permeated the air and that was what bothered me the most. It smelled of iron and feces.

I checked on the person nearest the door. He was lying on his front. When I rolled him over, I saw that his eyes were wide and staring. Someone had hit this guy from behind. A quick check of the other three in the shop gave me the same result: dead and staring.

A weak groan came from being the counter. I dashed over for a look and there was old Mundungus lying sprawled on the floor with his intestines about him on the floor. He was vainly trying to keep them in his body and he had a dreadful pallor about him.

"Dung! What happened?" I asked as I dashed towards him.

"Harry, I didn't think I'd see you again before I went. I dunno Harry; some blokes busted in here and killed all my customers. Tortured me until I told 'em what they wanted. I woulda given 'em what they wanted, but the bloke wasn't selling..."

I reached into my jacket, pulled out my emergency alert charm, and activated it. Thirty seconds later two faint pops came from the back of the shop. I rose and saw two Healers from St. Mungo's approaching us.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," the curt voice of the bald healer said.

"The shop owner has been attacked with the Eviscerata Curse," I replied.

"Hm, yes, I see. Orderly, conjure up a stretcher and we'll Apparate back to St. Mungo's. You will come with us too, Mr. Potter."

I nodded. Mundungus would have more to say...if he made it through this ordeal. I waited until they were ready and we all Apparated to the Waiting Room of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

As soon as we arrived, the two Healers rushed off to an emergency care ward while a witch approached me. I turned to face her and gave her a cursory glance. She was a cute little whisp of a girl. Wouldn't have won any beauty pageants with her height, but she still had a girlish attractiveness to her.

"Mr. Potter, my name is Kylie Thompson, I'm with the Ministry. I was wondering if you could answer some questions."

She didn't have to say it; she was probably one of the new Aurors that Percy had hired a couple of years back. It was apparent by her demeanor and the way she looked around the room.

"I'll do what I can, Miss Thompson," I replied.

"As you know, finding four dead wizards and Mr. Fletcher makes you the only witness."

That struck me as an odd way to start off a questioning session. "I didn't witness anything, Miss Thompson. Mr. Fletcher was simply fortunate that I wanted to speak with him tonight."

"Why did you want to speak to Mr. Fletcher?"

I gave her a second look. This one was more searching than the first. I thought I saw a hungry gleam in her eye, but when I looked back, it was gone. I never discussed business with anyone but my co-workers and my fiancée. This Auror wasn't on my sharing list.

"I just wanted to relive old times. He was a good friend of my Godfather."

"Mr. Potter, you are not being forthcoming with me."

"Miss Thompson, I have told you everything I know about this atta-"

She cut me off, "You haven't told me anything about the attack, Mr. Potter."

"That's because there is nothing I can tell you about the attack, Miss Thompson. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go found out about my friend."

I spotted the orderly that had appeared at my alert. It turned out that he was also looking for me. He pulled me aside and described Mundungus's condition. The news wasn't too good.

"Mr. Fletcher is still in grave condition, but we expect him to make a full recovery. You'll be able to speak with him later this week. We'll owl if there are any changes in his status," the orderly explained to me.

I gave my contact information to the orderly and left through the front entrance. As soon as I was outside, I Apparated to the Diagon Alley/Knockturn Alley intersection. I headed back to the shop, but when it was in sight, I began to notice a lot of missing things. There were no visible signs of Auror presence or Magical Law Enforcement forensics wizards. There was no sign that anyone had even showed up after I had left.

One lesson I had learned was to never do what your opponent expects. Rather than wait for help, I pulled my .45 out again and carefully went inside the shop. The four bodies were missing; perhaps the Healers had come back after they had taken care of Mundungus. I made a mental note to check at St. Mungo's to see if they had been back. The stench was still heavy in the air, but Dung had his intestines back in the right place, fortunately.

I moved behind the sales counter and took a look around in the cabinets and drawers. There was a tin full of money, a wand, a small crystal cube, and a sandwich. Looks like Dung was ready to spend most of the night here. I grabbed the crystal cube and pocketed it. This little cube recorded everything that went on in the shop. It was a useful little tool that Hermione had invented. I had several in my office...almost a requirement now for my job. How Hermione manages to teach, raise a family, and invent is beyond my ken.

I turned and moved into the backroom. I knew that Mundungus was not the cleanest wizard in the world, but the storage area had obviously been ransacked. It would take awhile before I would discover anything missing.

Amidst the debris, I saw a black ledger half hidden in the mess. I wasn't sure how useful it would be until I could decipher it.

As I tucked the notebook away in my jacket, a light over the door began to flash. I knew Dung used that as an alert when he was in the back "managing inventory." I strained my ears and heard two people muttering back and forth. I couldn't make out what they were saying. The door was still open, so I quickly moved next to it so that I couldn't be seen from the shop.

"...could become trouble. He was always meddlesome, even as a child," once voice said. This voice was male and seemed rather familiar to me.

"I talked to him when he arrived at St. Mungo's, but I don't think he trusted me." This voice was female, but I was sure that I had never heard it before in my life.

"Bah, he probably wouldn't have trusted anyone who didn't know the secret handshake," replied the first voice, dripping with sarcasm. "Moody taught him to be very paranoid."

I heard the front door creak open again. The male voice spoke up, greeting the newcomers.

"Ah, Crabbe...and Flint, good, I want you two to check out the back room and collect the body. We might need it later. Come, dear, we must be going, more meddlesome Ministry members may be here soon."

"Do you enjoy long strings of alliteration, or are you just the world's biggest ponce?"

I heard two large pairs of feet approaching the door. I saw one huge form walk past me and towards the back of the storeroom. With a quick glance over my shoulder towards the door, I saw that the other figure had stopped with his back to the storeroom. I moved quickly behind the huge form and pistol-whipped him.

Crabbe grunted loudly and fell to the floor with an even louder crash. Flint turned in the doorway, his wand in hand. He pointed it at me and yelled, "STUPEFY!"

I dove to the right as the spell streaked past where my head was and heard the spell hit the back wall with a loud crack. I rolled up to one knee and fired three shots at Flint. The first shot hit his wand, causing it to explode in a shower of green sparks. The other two shots caught him full in the chest and knocked him off his feet.

Guns aren't always effective against wizards. If they're prepared for them then guns are practically useless. That's why I only use it when I have the element of surprise. You'd be amazed at how much trauma a wizard can take before he dies. If Flint was lucky, someone who gives a damn about him will show up soon.

On that thought, I stood up and gave Crabbe a good hard kick to the face, to make sure he stayed down. I felt no remorse for doing that to him. Frankly, I felt that Crabbe was getting off light. He's killed or maimed several Muggles since he left school.

I walked to the back of the storeroom, dreading what I might find. Sure enough, there was the body of a young woman, the same young woman who had introduced herself to me earlier as Kylie Thompson. The only difference was she looked like she had been badly beaten and the left side of her hair was noticeably shorter than the right. I felt for a pulse, but I couldn't find one.

More sounds came from the front of the shop...apparently all of my gunfire had caused a stir with the neighboring shop owners. I holstered my gun, kept my hands visible as I moved through the doorway, and made sure to tread upon Flint.

"Hold it right there!" someone shouted.

"Put your hands behind your head and lay down on the ground!" a second voice shouted.

I followed their instructions to the letter. One of them moved past me into the back room. The other nudged me with his foot and said, "Get up, but keep your hands where I can see them."

I stood slowly and kept my hands well away from my body. The back room suddenly lit up as the wizard who had dashed past me muttered, "Lumos!" The wizard behind me called out, "What do you see?"

"There's one big bloke lying on the ground. I think he's stunned. There's a woman back here, too. She looks pretty bad." He moved back into the doorway. "This one here," he said indicating Flint "has almost had it. His breathing is shallow and his pulse is almost nonexistent."

"Call for more help," the wizard covering me ordered. "You," he gave me a sharp prod in the back, "are coming with me to the Ministry."

In the other room, the other wizard was trying to revive Crabbe with repeated cries of "Ennervate!" After several unsuccessful tries, he stuck his head through the door and angrily asked, "What spell did you use on him?"

I shrugged. "I didn't use any magic. I beat him senseless, which didn't take very long, trust me. I've known that man for over fifteen years; it wouldn't have taken a two year old long to beat him senseless.

"So where are we going? I don't want to be around this filth too much longer."

"We're going to the Auror department in the Ministry of Magic." The wizard behind me moved to the fireplace and murmured, "Incendio!" tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fire, and said, "Auror's Department, Ministry of Magic.

"Get in, someone will be there to question you."

I stepped into the fire and went spinning off into the Floo Network. I never really liked this mode of travel; it always made me feel ill. I stopped Flooing as soon as I passed my Apparition test. I began to slow down and soon stepped out into my old office in the Auror department.

Sitting in the office was a man with horn rimmed glasses and flaming red hair. The Minster of Magic, Percy Weasley, looked almost as shocked to see me as I was to see him.