The Man With No Shadow

Chapter Three: Shadows and Light

***

Harry Apparated into a vacant building that was less than ten minutes' walk from the flat Ron and Luna had shared for the better part of a year. This was one of numberless stations placed throughout Muggle Britain by which wizarding folk could come and go without being observed by non-magical peoples. There was no telling how a Muggle would react upon seeing a witch or wizard pop out of thin air. It was far better in the long run to avoid such complications than set them to rights. Ministry Obliviators had to be called in (skillful Memory Charms being outside the expertise of most wizards), which meant extra paperwork in a job that already staggered under a load that would buckle the knees of a mountain giant.

This particular building was owned by the Ministry, whose personnel alone were authorized to use it (or, in fact, even knew of its existence). Harry was thus surprised when he heard a soft popping sound behind him even as he peered through a shuttered window before essaying to exit the building. He spun about, his wand leaping to his hand --

"You must have got top marks in the Auror program," Hermione said in an even voice (though the momentary twitch at the corner of her mouth signified a tacit appreciation of his acquired skills). Harry straightened with the slow ease of a cat and slid his wand back into his Muggle jacket.

"Top of my class."

Harry noted that Hermione evidenced no slightest surprise at seeing him here. Even as Ron had said, Hermione would likely have been disappointed had her two best friends not tried to set her up in such manner as they had. Harry smiled inwardly at the realization that, even in a constantly-changing universe, some things remained immutable. Turning back to his task, Harry squinted as he peered through the slats of the boarded-up window.

"All clear."

As Harry turned with his wand raised, he saw that Hermione already had her own wand pointed at the locked door. Obeying a crisp "Alohomora!" the door opened silently, and Harry went out, his eyes scanning the streets cautiously. He turned to tell Hermione that it was safe to come out, but she was already at his side. She closed the door behind them, nodding when the magical lock clicked automatically.

As Harry turned up the collar of his overcoat against the damp post-Winter chill, he said conversationally, "You haven't seen Ron's new flat, have you?"

"No," Hermione replied as she fell in beside Harry, allowing him to lead the way. "Ginny's told me all about it in her letters, of course. I checked the map at the Ministry, and I saw that this was the closest safe house." She carefully avoided adding the words, "Where I knew you would be," but the brief twinkle that flashed in her mahogany eyes did not go unnoticed by Harry.

"It's a nice place," Harry said. "About the same size as my flat, actually -- which isn't all that big, come to that. But it's a lot roomier than the loft he'd been renting from Fred and George in Diagon Alley. And with Luna sharing expenses, he's actually saving money in the exchange."

"Just the one bedroom?" Hermione said as casually as she could. Harry suppressed a grin.

"The new publication's doing well," he said, diverting the topic away from Ron's and Luna's co-habitation, of which he knew Hermione to be less than approving. "Frequency's just been increased from fortnightly to weekly."

Harry drew a thrice-folded tabloid-sized newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Hermione. She stretched it between her hands until the banner at the top could be read in full: QuidditchQuest. The decorative lettering was of the same design employed by The Quibbler, immediately identifying this as a sister publication. The page was filled with headlines declaring the victory or loss of one British Quidditch team or another, and the by-line above each article was the same: Ron Weasley.

"Given some of the essays I corrected for him at school," Hermione chuckled, "I never imagined that Ron would someday be making a living by the written word."

"When it comes to Quidditch," Harry said, "enthusiasm covers a multitude of sins. And giving credit where it's due, Luna edited those first pieces Ron wrote for the sports insert of The Quibbler. But to his credit, Ron paid attention and got better every time. When Luna's dad decided to spin the insert off as a separate publication, Ron was ready to assume full responsibility. As you can see," Harry tapped a finger just under the banner to indicate a line of bold type, "Luna's the editor -- but that's mainly because Ron would rather travel around the world watching Quidditch matches than sit in an office editing copy. He still can't believe he's actually getting paid to do something he'd gladly do for free."

"I'm very happy for him," Hermione said as she re-folded the paper and handed it back to Harry. "He's out of the shadow of his family, doing something he's obviously good at."

"Does it bother you that he and Luna are living together?" Harry asked in as casual a manner as he could manage.

"It's really none of my concern, is it?" she answered with apparent indifference.

Harry studied Hermione's face out of the corner of his eye. He'd become good at reading people's hidden thoughts; it was a valuable attribute for one whose job it was to sort out Dark wizards. Eliminating a threat to the peace of the magical world before it actually became a threat was a tricky business. Whenever the Aurors suspected that someone might be tilting toward the Dark Side, that one was placed under covert surveillance so as to head off the threat before it came to full flower. Many an embryonic threat to wizardkind had thus been snuffed out with loss of neither life nor property. The key lay in an Auror's ability to see little things to which untrained eyes remained blind.

Looking at Hermione now, Harry was glad that she was not typical of the witches and wizards he had to contend with in the course of his job. Her face betrayed no slightest hint of what might be lying just beneath the surface. He did not wonder that Madam Bones had accepted her so readily into the MLE division. None who did not know her as he did would ever suspect that she was one of the most formidible witches in all of Britain. She looked more like a librarian than a law enforcement witch. And that camouflage was more valuable than anything Harry had learned in his three years of Auror training.

When Harry stopped before the door to Ron's and Luna's flat, he drew his wand as if to unlock the door, but stopped himself abruptly.

"Old habits," he smiled at Hermione. "I used to just let myself in when Ron lived over the joke shop. But I have to keep reminding myself that Ron isn't living alone now. Wouldn't want to walk in on something...private, would we?"

With a nod of understanding (if not aproval), Hermione rapped on the door while Harry was tucking his wand away. Harry's alert eyes saw the curtain at the nearby window flutter, as if someone had drawn it back an inch or so before releasing it a moment later. The door flew open, and Ron leaped forward and smothered Hermione in an embrace that nearly knocked her off her feet (and which came so suddenly that Harry made an instinctive grab for his wand before common sense prevailed and he relaxed again).

"Bloody hell, luv!" Ron exclaimed as he fairly squeezed the breath from Hermione's lungs. He placed a long, fierce kiss on her cheek (coming far too close to her mouth for Harry's liking) before holding her at arm's length and grinning broadly. "You look positively smashing! France must agree with you, is all I can say. Come on in -- both of you," he said, adding the last words almost as an afterthought as he glanced at Harry over the top of Hermione's head.

Closing the door behind his guests, Ron took Hermione's coat and hung it on a rack standing in the corner. Harry held out his own coat, but Ron was already leading Hermione into the small chamber that doubled as parlor and dining room, leaving Harry to hang up his coat and follow them with an inarticulate grunt. He found the room exactly as he remembered it, the only difference being the couple who sat side-by-side on the couch. The pair did not remain seated for long. Ginny Weasley leaped up immediately and pulled Hermione into a hug surpassing Ron's (no mean feat, Harry judged). Neville beamed at Hermione before going Weasley-scarlet when she hugged him precisely as she had Ginny.

"I'm so happy for you," Hermione gushed as Neville disengaged himself as best he could and sought out the comfort of his new fiancee's side. "Have you set a date yet?"

"May, we think," Ginny said as she chuckled over the blush coloring her future husband's face. "There are so many people we want to invite, and we need to coordinate everyone's schedules before fixing a date."

"Whenever it turns out to be," Hermione smiled, "I'm sure Madam Bones will give me the day off for something as important as my 'little sister's' wedding."

"And Kingsley has already filled out the papers exempting me from duty," Harry assured Ginny. "All I have to do is fill in the date, and he'll sign it. So unless Voldemort rises from the dead between now and then, you can count me in."

To his credit, Neville flinched only a little at mention of Voldemort's name. Ron, to his even greater credit, flinched not at all (though, like most wizarding folk, he still could not bring himself to say the name).

"Good evening," came a dreamy voice from the doorway leading to the kitchen. All heads turned toward their hostess as Luna Lovegood entered, her wand balancing a tray on which sat a bottle of wine and six crystal goblets. Like everyone else, she was attired in Muggle evening wear. Since his hosts, like Harry himself, lived in a Muggle neighborhood, it was best that they act the part at all times to avoid drawing undue attention from genuine Muggles. Luna looked almost fairy-like in pale blue, a marked contrast to Hermione and Ginny, both of whom favored dark colors. "Dinner is in ten minutes," she said as she directed the tray to float with feather-lightness onto the oval coffee table sitting between the couch and a pair of easy chairs. "Just enough time for an aperitif."

At a wave of her wand, the bottle rose and filled each tiny goblet with a rich amber liquid. Apricot wine, Harry judged, which he and Ron both knew to be Ginny's favorite for special occasions (otherwise, she and Neville both shunned alcohol as a general rule). As the bottle settled onto its base, Luna waved her wand again. The glasses rose and spread out in an expanding circle until each was within reach of its intended recipient's hand.

"A toast!" Ron announced, lifting his glass high. As everyone imitated his gesture, Ron smiled at Ginny and Neville and said, "To the best sister a bloke ever had -- and to the only wizard good enough for her!" Harry was sure that Ron's eyes flashed in his direction for a split second, presumably acknowledging their earlier conversation on the subject of Dean Thomas, before returning to the engaged couple. "May they live happily ever after in wedded bliss!" Ron gestured with his goblet to indicate that the toast was completed, and everyone sipped the sweet nectar with glad faces.

As everyone leaned forward to set their empty glasses on the tray, Hermione said very softly to Ron, "It's good to know that you think so highly of marriage, Ron."

Not missing a beat, Ron allowed his eyes to flicker toward Harry before replying, "I might say the same thing, luv."

Hermione's smile dimmed only slightly. Before she could think of a reply, Luna spoke again.

"If everyone will be seated, dinner will be served as soon as Ronald prepares the table."

As Luna disappeared into the kitchen, Ron drew his wand and motioned for everyone to stand back. The small dining table at which Ron and Luna sat for meals was folded and leaning against the wall. Ron flicked his wand, and the table rose, drifting toward the center of the room. From first piece to last, the furniture filling the modest parlor sprang to life and backed away like timid housepets, clearing a space for the dining table, which unfolded itself like the petals of a flower as it settled to the floor. It was evident that this table, which typically served only Ron and Luna on a daily basis, was not nearly large enough to accomodate six diners. But in the wizarding world, appearances were more often than not deceiving.

"Engorgio!" Ron commanded.

Within seconds, the small table had grown to four times its normal size. Ron looked back to where the table had sat against the wall. Two smaller shapes were now visible, heretofore hidden behind the table. At first glance they looked to be chairs, but closer examination revealed that they were not substantial, appearing instead to be no more than drawings of chairs etched upon the wall. With a cocksure smile directed at Hermione, Ron flicked his wand, and the two chairs leaped from the wall and burst into three dimensions. Still smiling, Ron made a slashing motion with his wand, wielding it as one might a carving knife. As if to verify the allusion, the chair split neatly in two as if cloven by an invisible blade. Each half then burst outward until two complete chairs sat on the hardwood floor. Ron repeated the procedure until six fully-formed chairs sat at the ready. With a final flick of his wand, Ron sent the chairs sliding around the table in a perfect ring.

Harry had seen this many times, notably on nights when Ron played host to the ritual poker game he and his mates engaged in weekly (schedules permitting). But Hermione seemed quite pleased with Ron's display, and he bowed as Harry sniffed in silent amusement.

Ron then directed his wand at a cupboard, from which place settings and cutlery leaped forth and settled in perfect formation around the table. He then tucked his wand away smoothly, looking as pleased as a cat with canary feathers dappling its whiskers.

As the guests seated themselves (Harry was barely able to beat Ron to the back of Hermione's chair to seat her), a succulent aroma presaged the arrival of a platter that floated before Luna's extended wand. None seemed more delighted by the platter's contents than Ron.

"Roast lamb!" he exclaimed, his ravenous expression reminding Harry of Sirius when the fugitive (and nigh starving) Marauder received the food smuggled to him by Harry from the kitchens of Hogwarts. The memory bit deep, and Harry shrugged it off with the stoicism of his Auror's training.

Smiling with satisfaction, Luna said, "I know you thought we were having roast beef, Ronald. I thought I'd surprise you. Molly was a big help."

This was welcome news to Harry. Luna was a good cook as far as it went (though, compared to Ron, Harry was himself the next thing to a chef), but Molly Weasley had no equal in Harry's eyes this side of the English Channel. Careful not to commit a faux pas in front of Hermione, Harry slowly unfolded his napkin and spread in across his lap. Ron picked up a knife only slightly smaller than the sword of Godric Gryffindor with which Harry had slain the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets and touched its gleaming edge to the moist skin of the lamb roast --

"Bloody hell," Harry hissed. "Not now."

He reached into his pocket and drew out what appeared to be an ordinary gold Galleon. But the markings on it were not the usual numbers denoting the year of its minting by the Gringotts goblins. Instead, letters were moving across it, spelling out a message. Looking up now, Harry saw that Hermione was staring into her own palm in like manner as he.

"Would you hand me your plate, luv?" Ron said obliviously as his eyes floated away from the lamb roast and sought out Hermione. But the lilt in his voice died as he saw the apologetic look in her large brown eyes as they rose to meet his.

"I'm sorry, Ron...Luna," she said.

"What?" Ron said, perplexed. He looked at Harry, who held up his gold coin. Recognition flooded his blue eyes.

"What is it?" Neville piped.

"Call from the Ministry," Harry said. "Everyone's on 24-hour standby since..." His voice trailed off. Shifting his gaze, Harry said, "Sorry, Luna." With the tantalizing aroma of Molly Weasley's glazed lamb filling his senses, Harry's lament had never been more genuine.

As Harry rose, he saw Hermione hugging Ginny as she said her goodbyes, punctuating her words with additional congratulations. Harry added his own apologetic congratulations as he kissed Ginny (carefully placing his lips far from her own as Hermione looked on, somewhat bemused) and walked toward the door. Throwing on his coat, he held Hermione's out and slipped it over her arms.

"I'll save you some, Harry," Ron said, nodding toward the platter.

"If there's any left when you're done with it, you mean," Harry smiled. Ron laughed, clapping Harry on the back as he escorted them to the door. Following a final apology to Luna, Harry and Hermione stepped out into the night, their shadows stretching before them from the light pouring through the open door. Then the door closed behind them, plunging them into darkness.

Standing now on Ron's front step, Harry said to Hermione, "Should we risk it?"

"The safe house is ten minutes' walk," Hermione said decisively. "That was a Class One alert. We have no choice."

Harry nodded. A moment later, after a hasty glance in all directions, both of them Disapparated with a soft popping sound.

Harry grimaced when he saw Geoffrey waiting for them at the mouth of a dark alleyway.

"Sorry, Potter," Geoffrey said smoothly. "Couldn't wait, you know."

Harry hadn't seen anyone less sorry about something since the days when he'd had to look into the dispassionate eyes of Draco Malfoy on a daily basis. Ignoring Geoffrey, Harry knelt down to examine the motionless form lying at the MLE wizard's feet. He examined her with a practiced eye before turning her onto her back. He nodded once before rising.

"She's alive. Best leave her for the Muggle constables. We have more important matters to attend."

Harry drew his wand and swept it slowly around in a complete circle.

"No human presence," he said. "I'm going to have a look around." To Hermione he added, "If the Muggle police start asking questions..." Hermione drew her wand and nodded.

Keeping to the shadows, Harry swept around in an ever-widening circle, his eyes and ears alert. An unnatural silence hung over the streets. That might be nothing more than his imagination, he realized. Turning a corner, he stopped dead. A dark figure stood under a street lamp on the next corner down. It was virtually motionless, and Harry might have thought it a post box had not the wind stirred the edge of a black cloak fluttering just above the sidewalk. Harry took a step forward -- and in that instant, the corner was suddenly empty. Harry blinked. Had he imagined it? The swirling fog did tend to play tricks on the eye.

But there was something else, something Harry realized only now with a sudden chill. Though the figure had been standing under a street light, he could swear that it had cast no shadow!

Shrugging, Harry returned to the alleyway, where Geoffrey still stood, speaking in hushed tones to Hermione. She looked around at Harry's approach, her eyes questioning in a manner apparent even in the shadows.

"Thought I saw someone," he said. "We'll need to do a full sweep of the area before the Muggles arrive. Though I'm not sure what that will accomplish."

"In this case," said a familiar voice, "the less we find, the more we'll know, if you get my meaning."

Harry saw Tonks approaching from the shadows huddling between the street lamps. Not bothering with a greeting, he asked, "Did the chemists learn anything from the other victims?"

"Yes," Tonks replied grimly. "The saliva on the wounds is definitely not of Muggle origin. This isn't the work of a poser. There's a vampire loose in London."