The Man With No Shadow

Chapter One: Shadow From the Past

***

Harry was roused from his night's slumber by a light tapping on his bedroom window. Despite his fatigue, he came awake instantly. It was an instinct which the Ministry endeavored to instill in all its fledgling Aurors, and those who embraced it stood a better chance of living long enough to collect their Ministry pensions than those who did not. CONSTANT VIGILANCE. After three years of training, followed by six months in the field, Harry had learned it as well as anyone.

In a single fluid motion, Harry snatched his wand from under his pillow, rolled out of bed on the side opposite the window and crouched like a cat poised to spring. He held his breath, and in the silence of the early morning the tapping was repeated. Gripping his wand firmly, Harry peered over the edge of his mattress until he could glimpse the window through which beams of brilliant sunlight were streaming. A small form sat huddled on the window sill, its features shadowed by the backlight. But the outline of soft feathers glowing halo-white was unmistakable. Harry emptied his lungs and rose easily, his wand falling to his side.

"Hedwig," Harry smiled as he opened the window. "Where have you been? I was getting worried."

Hedwig hooted, seeming to roll her great, amber eyes with what passed for exasperation in snowy owls. Harry chuckled.

"I know, I was being silly. You've never failed me yet, have you?" Hedwig nipped Harry's finger affectionately, eliciting another chuckle. But Harry's good humor faded when he saw the letter tied to Hedwig's leg -- in particular, when his eyes fell on the gold seal stamped on the mauve envelope. Harry had seen it often enough in the last three years: The crossed-wands symbol representing Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Harry untied the string around Hedwig's leg mechanically, whereupon the owl, relieved of her charge, flapped toward her perch next to Harry's bedside table to gulp some water.

Harry stared at the envelope in his hand, his eyes travelling over the elegant curves of the script spelling out the name Harry Potter. Hermione's handwriting was, if anything, even more graceful now than when they were house-mates at Hogwarts.

The debate over whether to open the envelope lasted less than a second. If Hermione's letter were anything like those she had sent over the last few months, there was no point in reading it straightaway. Harry tossed it onto his bed, narrowly missing Hedwig, who hooted indignantly, ruffling her feathers in admonishment.

"Sorry, girl," Harry said unconvincingly. Hedwig made what was unmistakably a sniffing sound before turning her back on him and tucking her head under her wing for a much-needed sleep.

The angle of the sunbeams streaming through Harry's window indicated that the hour was scarcely past dawn. Though he had slept less than four hours, he felt no desire to go back to bed. He had learned to get by on less and less sleep throughout his training; now that he was fully awake, he felt as refreshed as if he had slept twice as long. But for all that, it was only his body that had been renewed by his brief sleep; the fatigue weighing suddenly upon his spirit would require more than bedrest to dispel.

Owing to his late shift the previous night, Harry was not due in until noon. But now that he was awake, he reckoned he might as well go in early as lounge unproductively around his flat for six hours. Merlin knew there was always paperwork waiting to be done, and the sooner it was out of the way, the sooner he could get on with his holiday. He'd been waiting forever for some proper time off. The Chudley Cannons were playing the Wasps in Wimbourne tomorrow, and Ron had promised to get Harry the best seats in the house (a promise his oldest mate was more than qualified to fulfill nowadays).

After a quick shower and a breakfast consisting of orange juice and a stale English muffin, Harry Apparated straight into the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. He walked between the rows of gilded fireplaces (which accomodated those Ministry employees who could not, or elected not to, Apparate) and approached the fountain lying at the midpoint of the hall. The golden statues, larger than life-size, standing in the midst of the tinkling waters were of a wizard, a witch, a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf. The first time Harry had set eyes on this fountain, more than five years ago, the three non-human figures had been wrought in a manner so as to place them in an attitude of subjection and inferiority in regard to the witch and wizard. Minister of Magic Arthur Weasley had set that to rights straightaway upon assuming office nearly four years ago. Now, all five figures boasted a noble bearing, each equal to the others, representing a brotherhood of spirit wholly uniting the magical world for the first time in history.

At least, that was the illusion it put forth. Harry knew better.

Passing the Fountain of Magical Brethren, Harry approached the golden gates at the far end of the hall. A stubble-faced wizard clad in peacock robes lowered a much-folded copy of the Daily Prophet and peered disinterestedly at Harry.

"Eric," Harry said with a short nod.

"Mr. Potter," Eric returned before allowing his eyes to fall once more upon the periodical in his hand.

Passing by the guard's station, Harry entered a smaller hall wherein sat two rows of lifts framed by wrought golden grilles. Harry found one that was empty and entered. The golden grille slid into place, and the lift rose with a great shuddering clatter. It stopped at Level four so that a couple of Interdepartmental memos could dart on board, their pale violet flanks fluttering like hummingbird wings. These hovered around Harry's head until the lift stopped at Level three, where they darted off with a great flapping of parchment.

When the lift stopped at Level two, Harry lingered in thought as the grille rolled back, which nearly proved his undoing. The grille began to close again, and Harry was only just able to bound forward and snake through the bars as the platform dropped away virtually under his very feet. Someone below must have summoned the lift, because it vanished so quickly that Harry's hind foot was poised over thin air for a moment before it swung forward to settle on the floor. Grateful that none had seen his careless gaffe ("Constant vigilance, my arse," he muttered under his breath), he turned into a corridor, glancing incuriously at the enchanted windows lining the wall on his right. They were not proper windows, Harry knew, but the wizard equivalent of a Muggle computer screen, bearing an image that looked real but was, in fact, pure illusion. Passing through an oak door, he eventually came to an open area divided into cubicles. He approached one which boasted a sign reading AUROR HEADQUARTERS. At his approach, a wizard looked up from his desk, mild surprise on his darkly handsome face.

"What are you doing here so early, Harry?"

Harry idly picked up the name plate on the wizard's desk, ran his fingers along the graven letters spelling out KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT -- DEPARTMENT HEAD -- AUROR DIVISION.

"Couldn't sleep," Harry shrugged as he replaced the name plate. "Thought I'd get last night's paperwork out of the way before you-know-what starts rolling downhill."

Kingsley laughed and nodded. "Arthur takes his paperwork a damn sight more seriously now than he did when he ran the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts division."

With a smiling nod, Harry turned and walked to his own cubicle. He found the appropriate forms waiting in his in-box and began filling them out. He had no sooner signed his name to the last report and sent in flying off when a bright, cheerful face popped over the edge of his cubicle wall.

"Wotcher, Harry! Bit early for you, innit?"

"Couldn't sleep," Harry said.

"You've been taking Mad-Eye too much to heart, you have," Tonks said with a wag of her finger.

"Maybe," Harry said. "But if I hadn't spotted that bloke up in Farnsworth last week -- the one who was hiding in the eaves of that old bell tower -- he'd have hexed me from here to next Christmas. When I saw that sparrow flying around the tower, I figured something, or someone, must have disturbed it. As it was, I was only just able to duck in time. Say what you want about Moody, but you don't get to be an old Auror without knowing how to stay one step ahead of your enemy."

"Well," Tonks said with a crooked grin, "as it happens, your arrival is auspicious. Old Gillingham called in via fire-com. Seems he got drunk last night and accidentally Cursed his legs off. St. Mungo's is fixing him up right enough, but we'll be short-handed until he gets back."

"I have three days coming," Harry protested weakly. "It's been double shifts for a month, and I haven't had a proper holiday since I got out of training."

"That's what'yer gets fer comin' in early," Tonks chuckled. "If you'd come in at noon, like it says on the schedule board, I'd be long gone, off doin' the work o' two. I guess I shouldn't be so hard on ol' Mad-Eye after all."

Harry heaved a defeated sigh. "What's the assignment?"

Tonks grew serious, her cockney accent evaporating. "Strange attacks in Muggle London. Could be supernatural. Could be copycats. If it's the latter, Scotland Yard can sort it out. If it's the former, it's our kettle of fish."

"When did all this start?" Harry queried as he rose and sealed his desk drawers with a personal Locking Charm.

"Three weeks ago," Tonks said.

"Why didn't it come to us sooner?"

"Procedure," Tonks said. "Magical Law Enforcement has people who do nothing but watch telly and read the Muggle papers all day, looking for unusual bits." Harry's eyebrows rose, and Tonks grinned. "Nice work, eh? But it's usually old Aurors or MLE chaps who've been injured in the line of duty and can't do field work. Me, I hope I never qualify. You should've seen the row old Mad-Eye put up when they tried to assign him to Research. But getting back to it, when they find something off treadle, they report it to MLE. Madam Bones assigns some field agents who gather the facts, interview the appropriate Muggles -- wiping their memories after, of course -- and make out a report with their recommendations. She shunts it up to the Minister, and if he gives it the nod, it gets chucked back down to us."

"I take it there was an attack recently?" Harry said.

"Late last night," Tonks nodded. "MLE has some people there now. They should be finishing up about now, in fact. The Obliviators' cubicles are all empty. If you'd slept in today, you'd've missed all the fun."

"Lucky me," Harry said somberly, though Tonks could see the smile he was trying unsuccessfully to suppress. "Right, then. Lead the way."

After a brief stop to secure Muggle clothing from a clerk who made them sign release forms in triplicate, the pair Apparated into an abandoned building, one of many safe houses placed throughout Muggle London for just such purpose, and infused with anti-Muggle Charms to prevent its habitation by non-magical personnel. Tonks moved a tattered curtain aside to peer though a grimy window which prevented the better part of the sunlight from invading the room's dusty interior. She looked back over her shoulder and nodded, and Harry followed her out the door, which locked behind him automatically.

Harry saw two wizards in Muggle attire questioning two genuine Muggles. He had no difficulty distinguishing one pair from the other; the wizards' clothing was mismatched and slightly out of fashion. He and Tonks had done a much better job of it, both of them having grown up in Muggle environments.

Whenever it was necessary to update the Wardrobe Department, the Ministry commonly engaged employees with Muggle backgrounds, like Tonks, to make the necessary purchases. Even so, it was a rare witch or wizard who possessed the insight to assemble a proper wardrobe. Harry remembered the dreadful examples running rife at the Quidditch World Cup seven years ago, and he bit back a smile as he assumed a professional aspect in imitation of Tonks as they approached the small group of Muggles both true and faux.

"Special Branch," Tonks said with casual formality as she made eye contact with the two genuine Muggles. She flashed a counterfeit badge, Harry doing likewise, and the Muggles nodded. Turning to the wizards, she asked, "So, what's it all about, then?"

The two MLE wizards exchanged a look before one detached himself and led Harry and Tonks a short distance away.

"Definitely summat funny," the wizard said. He was a head shorter than Harry, with a face like a bulldog and small, dark eyes that seemed to rattle about in his head in an effort to look in ten different directions at once. Alastor Moody would have approved.

"Supernatural?" Tonks prompted.

"Too soon ter tell. But I ain't rulin' it out. But that's why you lot are 'ere, innit?"

"Where was the attack?" Tonks asked.

"Over 'ere," the wizard said. He walked off without a backward glance, and Tonks turned to Harry.

"Back in arf a mo', guv'nor," she winked. She sprinted off after the MLE wizard. Harry sighed and walked back to the other wizard, who appeared to be concluding his interrogation of the Muggle couple.

"Bit young for Special Branch, aren't you?" the woman said unexpectedly as she surveyed Harry's youthful features closely for the first time.

"My uncle is the Chief Inspector," Harry said, effecting a sheepish smile. "You know how mothers are."

"Too right," the woman's husband breathed, which reply brought a sharp look from his wife which he pretended not to notice.

"Thank you," the wizard said politely to the couple. "You've been very helpful." He nodded, and the man returned the gesture.

"Not at all. Always glad to help London's Finest."

Harry had been formulating some questions for the wizard, but a new one popped into his head as the Muggle couple turned and strolled down the sidewalk.

"Aren't you going to wipe their memories?"

"That's the Obliviator's job, innit?" the wizard smiled. "Me, I'm bugger all when it comes to Memory Charms. But we have a good one spot on -- just hired, in fact." He nodded toward the departing Muggles, and Harry saw that a woman (presumably a witch) had appeared as if from nowhere to intercept the couple from an oblique angle. She looked about quickly, then drew her wand and pointed it smartly at the pair.

"Obliviate!"

Harry nearly jumped out of his shoes. He knew that voice! Even faint with distance, it was unmistakable.

"HERMIONE?"

Approaching now at an easy stroll, her bushy brown hair dancing in the morning breeze, Hermione flashed a restrained smile.

"Hello, Harry."

"What are you doing here?" Harry croaked, unable to mask his surprise. "I thought you were in France?"

"Didn't you get my last letter?" Hermione said. "Oh, dear, I hope Hedwig didn't run into any bother over the Channel. There was a storm brewing over Paris when I sent her off."

"No, she arrived this morning," Harry said quickly, easing Hermione's worry. "I just...I didn't get a chance to open it...work, you know."

This answer seemed to mollify Hermione, who understood all too well the obligations of work and its inate capacity to intrude upon one's personal affairs. "Well, it was nothing important, really. It was just a note to tell you that I've finished my apprenticeship at Beauxbatons and that I'd be coming home straightaway.

"Actually, I haven't been home yet, strictly speaking. I quite naturally reported to the Ministry upon arrival, to clear my official re-entry into the country, and before I knew it I was being sent out on my first assignment." Harry looked confused, and Hermione elaborated. "In my letter, I also mentioned that I'd been taken on at the MLE as an Obliviator. Charms was my speciality at Beauxbatons, you know."

Harry nodded, still unable to think of something intelligent to say.

"Um..." Hermione said hesitantly, a look of uncertainty in her soft brown eyes, "...has Geoffrey briefed you on the case?"

"Geoffrey?" Harry repeated vacantly. Hermione nodded toward the MLE wizard, and Harry was suddenly struck by how much the man resembled Gilderoy Lockhart, down to the wavy golden hair and brilliant (and, in Harry's opinion, slightly vapid) smile. He tried not to frown as he said, "No, I...didn't get to ask him." He paused a moment, then asked, "What do you think? I mean, what does MLE think?"

"Madam Bones isn't sure yet," Hermione said. "It could be real. It could just as easily be a poser. Some of the Goth Underground go for this sort of thing, you know."

"'Ere, now," interjected the voice of Tonks, whom Harry now saw approaching alone as the bulldog-faced MLE wizard skewed off to join his companion, who had abandoned Harry and Hermione upon seeing his partner's approach. No doubt they intended to exchange case-related information out of the hearing of non-MLE personnel. In his brief time at the Ministry, Harry had found the various departments to be inordinately secretive in regard to internal matters, often to the point of paranoia. "Some of my best Muggle mates are Goth," Tonks said defensively as she joined Harry and Hermione.

"No offense," Hermione said quickly as Tonks regarded her with something less than favor following what she regarded as an unfounded accusation.

"Oh, they're a bit out there," Tonks shrugged dismissively. "But it's all just for laughs, y'know? They'd never go this far."

"You think it's for real, then?" Harry asked.

"The blood at the scene of the attack was real enough," Tonks asserted.

"You're sure it isn't animal blood?" Hermione said in a quietly challenging voice.

"I do know the proper spell to ascertain the nature of a blood sample," Tonks returned coldly. "It's human blood, and it's fresh."

"Where's the victim?" Harry asked.

"In hospital," Tonks said. "She's still alive. Old Clotworthy there," she nodded in the direction of the short, squat MLE wizard, who was talking in subdued tones with his companion, "told me their inside man is on the watch. We have operatives in all the major Muggle hospitals, posing as orderlies," she explained to Hermione, who nodded in a manner as if to imply that she knew this already. "Quick as the victim is stabilized," Tonks resumed, "we can slip in and question her. We may need an expert, to probe her memory," she added.

"That'll be Hermione's speciality," Harry said.

"Oh?" Tonks turned back to Hermione. "I heard MLE was taking on new personnel this week. Obliviator, then?"

Hermione nodded.

"Any good with Probing Spells? Some of the lot I've seen pass through MLE the last couple of years can wipe a memory right enough, but when it comes to probing for specific details, they're about as subtle as a hippogriff in a tea shoppe."

"I just finished a three-year study in Advanced Charms at Beauxbatons," Hermione said, trying not to sound defensive in her turn. "Top marks, with honors."

"'Bout ruddy time the Ministry got something right," Tonks said approvingly. Then a light suddenly flickered in her eyes. "Hang on. You're Hermione Granger! I thought you looked familiar. You've changed."

To that Harry gave a hearty, if well closeted, assent. The change wrought by her years abroad was all too evident now. Hermione was never lacking in confidence where magic was concerned, but she now carried herself with a poise and a self-assurance that seemed to surround her like an invisible aura. Had he not been so surprised to see her in this unexpected venue, he would have spotted it sooner.

Harry was now aware that Tonks was regarding him out of the corner of her eye, even as she gave every evidence of focusing her full attention on Hermione. It was a subtle nuance few save a trained Auror would have spotted. Moreover, he knew what she was thinking, because he would have wagered a month's salary that it was the same thing he was thinking. But it was not something he wanted someone other than himself to think. Though why he should feel this way, he wasn't sure.

"Well, then," Tonks said with a smile, "tell us all about it. Wassit like over there? I've heard stories about Beauxbatons. Is it true that -- "

But Tonks was interrupted by a voice calling out, carrying unnaturally far in the crisp March air.

"Oi, Janie, luv!"

Harry jerked his head around to see the young wizard with his hand in the air and his brilliant smile shining as though he were chewing on a mouthful of St. Elmo's fire. He turned back to Hermione, and he was startled to see her blushing in a manner that Ginny Weasley would have envied.

"If you're all done chattin' up your old boyfriend," the blond wizard laughed throatily, "Madam Bones'll be expecting us."

"Right," Hermione said loudly. Then, in a low voice: "Are you still at the same flat, Harry?" Harry nodded, the power of speech having temporarily deserted him. "Quick as I've settled in, I'll be in touch."

And with that she was off to join her MLE mates, leaving Harry staring after her -- and Tonks staring just as fixedly at Harry.

To Be Continued ...