Chapter Text
The middle of summer was always a busy time in Diagon Alley. It was peak season for Hogwarts students—both new and returning—buying their spellbooks, robes and potion ingredients. Penny Haywood, employed in one of the main apothecaries of the busy alley, was close to feeling overwhelmed by the constant waves of customers restocking on standard ingredient, beetle eyes and other such substances. But still she kept that constant kind smile and unwavering cheery demeanour that had made her so popular in her school days, and whenever a new customer appeared in front of her after the ring of the doorbell she automatically greeted, ‘Welcome! How can I help you?’
‘Hi, Penny!’ one newcomer said very casually one day—a bit too loudly for indoors—as he approached the counter.
She beamed at her long-time friend. ‘Barnaby! Looking for ingredients?’
‘Yes, I’m taking care of a couple of sick bloodhounds…’
‘Oh, poor things!’
‘Liz showed me a recipe that could get them back to normal,’ he went on, feeling his pockets in search of something. ‘Made a list to remember… Did I put it here? No, the other… Maybe the first… Ah, here!’
Penny squinted her eyes at the little scrap of parchment Barnaby showed her, deciphering his cramped handwriting and ignoring the spelling mistakes. ‘You’re in luck, we still have all this in stock. A day later and we might not have powdered unicorn horn until Monday…’
While she perused the shelves behind the counter and gathered the ingredients, she asked Barnaby, ‘Other than sick bloodhounds, how’s work going?’
‘It’s good! Keeps me out of my grandmum’s house… But it’s so tiring as well—I’m always exhausted at the end of the day. At least working with the dogs always cheers me right up.’
‘It sounds nice for sure.’
Barnaby nodded. ‘Petting dogs always fixes everything. I said that to Jamie yesterday, in fact! He looked upset so I said I’d introduce him to the bloodhounds and let him play with them…’
Penny, in the middle of bagging the articles in her hands, paused and glanced curiously at Barnaby. With seven years of being in the know about everything gossip-related at Hogwarts behind her, her well-honed sense buzzed at Barnaby’s words—as well as a sense of concern for her old friend. ‘Upset? Did he say why?’
‘Something about his new work—he doesn’t really like it. Or his new boss.’
‘That’s unfortunate. But he’s in the Ministry too, right? Don’t you see him during your breaks?’
‘Not very often. He’s in Magical Maintenance, so he gets a lot of messes to sort.’
‘Right.’
Unconsciously, Penny bit her lip. Every time she was reminded of Jamie’s choice of career, she wondered. With his grades and matching drive and ambition, he could have applied almost anywhere and been accepted—yet “Magical Maintenance” was only a nicer way of saying “janitor”. It felt such a waste of talent…
Quickly, she banished the thought. She shouldn’t think about her friend like that, she reminded herself—it was wrong. Returning to the task at hand, she neatly finished bagging the ingredients, and charged Barnaby sixteen Galleons and three Sickles for the lot before warmly waving him goodbye.
Penny wasn’t the only one from her old peer group feeling overwhelmed that day. Somewhere deep underneath London, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic, Nymphadora Tonks was trying her hardest to sneak through the obstacle course set before her—and failing miserably for the fourth time that day.
‘Slower, Tonks!’ she heard her mentor, Alastor Moody, grumble as she walked out of the training room with her shoulders slumped. ‘Take your time, and don’t trip over your own feet again!’
Gritting her teeth, she mumbled, ‘I’m trying, Mad-Eye.’
She had started her Auror training with such enthusiasm, but the Stealth and Tracking course was putting that enthusiasm to the test—even pushing it to its breaking point, she feared. The training room dedicated to it had now become one of the worst places she had ever been in, almost as gruelling as Potions class with Professor Snape. It seemed like no matter how much she concentrated on not slipping or tumbling or making something else fall over, there was always a new way to screw up and get caught trying to get past the enchanted watchers she had to hoodwink.
Mad-Eye shook his head. ‘Not hard enough. If this goes on, I’m not sure you’ll pass the requirements to continue your training.’
‘Won’t I get issued an Invisibility Cloak on a mission?’ she asked. ‘Shouldn’t I train with those?’
Moody stomped his peg leg loudly. ‘You might not get to have a cloak with you all the time! Even if you did, you can’t rely on them. They tear, their enchantments fade… And some things can see past them,’ he added, pointing to magical his blue eye (that was currently turned scanning the ceiling). ‘Other forms of stealth will save your life one day—so you can’t skimp on them now! Now get back there and try again.’
She took a deep breath before going back to the start point. At Moody’s signal, the test began anew.
She lasted even less this time.
‘I was expecting better than that,’ Moody commented as she exited the room, defeated again. Tonks, head downcast, only nodded in response before turning again to the room, about to enter before Moody stopped her. ‘Hold on. You’re too distracted now. Take a break first, then try again.’
Letting out a sigh, she nodded again and slumped against the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Her hair, which she usually liked to colour some shade of bubble-gum pink, had turned a bit duller. ‘I swear, that room’s got something against me…’
‘Making up excuses won’t help you pass the course.’
‘And what will? I’ve been stuck on this thing for a week—a week!’ Tonks argued. ‘And it’s not like they teach you to be stealthy at Hogwarts, anyways…’
‘Training, discipline—that’s what will help. You’re here to learn the skills you need for the job; the skills school can’t teach you.’ Moody then chuckled grimly. ‘Then again, after everything you went through with James, I had hoped you’d learned a thing or two from your friend already.’
Her hair reddened and her nostrils flared. Standing up, she said sarcastically, ‘Well, I’m sorry you’re stuck with me and not Jamie!’
Mad-Eye gave her a piercing glare that made her regret her words instantly.
‘I’m not “stuck with” anyone, Nymphadora,’ he said slowly with a hardened look. ‘You have a lot of talent, talent that needs honing.’
She gulped. ‘I… I’m sorry-’
‘Don’t be. You’ve got the right spirit—just need to channel it the right way. Understand?’
‘Y-yes.’ Clearing her throat, she nodded and said more clearly, ‘I understand.’
‘Good. Take one more minute of break, then back to the test.’
‘Hey, Mad-Eye?’ Tonks asked, curious. ‘Why didn’t you offer Jamie a place in the programme, too?’
Moody didn’t immediately reply, frowning in thought for a moment; even his magical eye was spinning slower. ‘He wouldn’t have accepted,’ he said at last. ‘He made it clear to me last time we talked.’
‘At first I thought he didn’t get in because he wanted to be a Curse-Breaker,’ Tonks commented. ‘That would have suited him too. A janitor, though! Bonkers.’
‘Some people,’ Moody said with a small scoff, ‘after experiencing tough times, can’t bear to go through that again. They prefer peace and quiet…’
Tonks laughed. ‘Peace and quiet! If he weren’t going out with Merula, I might believe that’s what he wants.’
‘He’s still with Snyde?’ Moody said with a chortle, mostly to himself.
‘I know! Bonkers, I said!’ Tonks said, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘And what’s more-’
‘Enough chitchat,’ Mad-Eye interrupted her with a grunt and pointed at the door to the training chamber. ‘Break time’s over.’
As he watched Tonks open the door to the training chamber and disappear inside, Moody shook his head, still in his musings. ‘Always so stubborn, that one…’
A purple paper airplane came into his vision, flying quickly at first towards him and slowing down as it approached. It looped the loop in front of Moody, who caught it with a scarred hand and unfolded it, reading the memo. His brow furrowed as he did.
When Tonks exited the training room—having barely passed the test, a fact that still made her proud enough to be grinning from ear to ear—Moody said, ‘Good news, Tonks—I’m sending you on an assignment.’
The Smith brothers, Jacob and James, currently shared an apartment overlooking Diagon Alley. Tensions with their mother had reached a new peak over the summer, so the brothers had moved out from their childhood home to a small reformed attic in number 60b, Diagon Alley, that Jamie had found for an affordable price thanks to the help of his friend Badeea Ali (who was now their neighbour as well). Most of its space was taken up by a large sitting room, which had a small kitchen with a breakfast bar tucked in a corner and a fireplace in the middle of the room, between two of three tall windows that overlooked Diagon Alley. A third window was by the kitchen.
That night, only Jamie was home. Having just returned from work and freshened up, he was about to prepare dinner for himself alone (as Jacob had other plans for the night) and had just donned an apron when he heard some knocking at the front door.
When he answered it, a look of pleasant surprise took over his face before smirking. ‘Didn’t expect to see you today.’
Standing in the narrow hallway outside, Merula Snyde returned his smirk, though a bit tensely. Some of the tension lifted when he leaned in for a kiss, which she returned. ‘Surprise.’
‘Was today your day off?’ Jamie asked as she stepped into his apartment, closing the door behind her. He still wasn’t used to seeing her new hairstyle; her hair tips highlighted blonde since one lazy evening they were fooling around with colour-changing charms. She had liked the new look after catching a glimpse of her own reflection. Her cheeks were slightly flushed as well, though he sensed it wasn’t due to being winded from climbing the long flight of stairs to his flat.
She huffed, taking off her leather jacket and hanging it on a coat rack next to the door. ‘Not exactly. I had a… day.’
‘Want to vent about it?’
Her eyes drifted to his apron, and she smirked—albeit weakly—again. ‘Treat me to dinner first.’
‘Deal.’ Walking over to the kitchen corner, Jamie offered, ‘Bangers and mash?’
Merula pulled a face as she half-sat on a stool next to the bar. ‘You burned the sausages last time.’
‘I haven’t burnt anything since.’ Pointing at her with a frying pan, deadpan, he asked, ‘You want dinner or not?’
Their serious stares fenced each other for a moment until she chortled and nodded. ‘Your brother’s not home?’
‘He’s having dinner with our mother,’ Jamie replied, rapping his wand on some potatoes. They gently floated towards the sink and began washing and peeling themselves as if by invisible hands. Meanwhile, Jamie took out his last two bottles of butterbeer and handed one to Merula.
Soon enough, dinner was served, and they sat at the wooden dining table that was in front of the fireplace, opposite one another.
‘So, what’s new?’ asked Jamie tentatively. ‘Do you want to tell me about your day?’
Silent, Merula stared at her plate for a few seconds. Her grip on her fork tightened so much her knuckles whitened.
‘I got fired,’ she finally said, almost spitting out the words. ‘Third…’ she went on, interlacing some choice swears, ‘…job this week—and I got fired!’
Jamie, having guessed as much, gave her a sympathetic look. ‘What happened?’
‘This git wouldn’t stop asking me on a date, so I spilled a tray of butterbeer and chips on him,’ Merula explained. ‘Rosmerta didn’t like that.’
‘I’m so sorry…’
Her head snapped upwards. ‘I don’t need your pity-’
‘…that I wasn’t there to hex him myself,’ Jamie finished, scrunching his nose.
Her eyes went wide for a moment. She chuckled. ‘Had I known I was getting fired anyways, I’d have done just that.’ Shaking her head, she added, ‘Enough about my rubbish day. How was yours?’
Jamie shrugged. ‘Ordinary. Nothing much to say, really. There was a big mess in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office I had to sort out.’
‘Sounds boring.’
‘A headache’s what it was. Apparently, it was somebody’s bright idea for a prank to charm one of those toy chimps with cymbals to never stop banging. And I had to take care of it.’
‘How was that your problem, though? Aren’t you the janitor?’
‘These things always trickle down to Magical Maintenance when they’re not dangerous,’ Jamie said, picking at a bit of sausage with his fork.
‘So, you emptied their bin,’ Merula said, shooting him an inquisitive look. ‘That’s it?’
‘Believe it or not, I also had to go through some paperwork. But that was even more boring.’
She huffed. When she had learned of his new job, there had been some incredulity at first, and plenty of teasing afterwards. But the teasing decreased greatly after her first two jobs had not lasted long, and stopped altogether when her situation didn’t improve in the following weeks.
‘At least you can hold your job for more than a week,’ Merula muttered, looking down again.
Jamie stood up, going around the table to stand by her. His fingers stroked her hair as he leaned close and said, ‘You’ll find something. It’s just a matter of time. We’ve barely entered adulthood; we can’t expect to figure everything out immediately…’
Her violet eyes found his, and she asked sadly, ‘What if I can’t find anything?’
‘You will.’
‘I’m too contrary for everyone-’
‘Merula.’ He caressed her cheek. ‘There’s something out there for you. You just haven’t found it yet.’
The rest of dinner went by mostly in silence. Merula, though still frustrated, was no longer seething like before. Once they were done, and the tableware had been charmed to scrub itself clear in the sink, they lounged on a couch by a corner, to the right of the fireplace, cuddled.
‘I guess it’s back to job-hunting for me,’ Merula said, resting her head on Jamie’s shoulder. ‘Who knows, maybe I should become a janitor,’ she said, trying to chuckle—but it came out as a strangled grunt. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Jamie seemed tense at those words.
‘I don’t think that’s the right job for you,’ he said. ‘You’d hate it.’
‘It’s not like I liked serving fish and chips at the Three Broomsticks…’
‘Still… You’d probably die of bored-’
But a noise cut him off—a crackle. Startled, they sat up and stared at the (until then, cold) fireplace as an emerald fire was lit. A face appeared amongst the flames, and Jamie jumped to his feet.
‘Flump,’ he said, annoyed at the disturbance. He couldn’t complain, however—technically, he was on call that night. ‘Something came up?’
‘There’s been a last-minute emergency and you’ll have to cover it,’ replied Crescent Flump. He was a wizard with a constantly bored expression, the unkempt look of someone who had woken up with only five minutes to prepare before rushing to work, and a mood to match his appearance. ‘Come immediately by my office for briefing.’
Just as quickly as Flump’s head had appeared in the flames, it disappeared and they died out.
‘I’m sorry to cut tonight short,’ Jamie said, glancing sheepishly at Merula. ‘But work calls.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said with an unconvincing shrug, standing up. ‘It’ll be better if at least one of us can keep their job.’
‘I wish I didn’t have to go,’ Jamie lamented. ‘It’s probably just some puddle that needs mopping.’
‘Then don’t forget your mop,’ said Merula with a huff. She put on her jacket, pecked him, and left. Jamie watched as the door closed behind her with a mixed expression.
He hated to lie to her, even if it was necessary. But James Smith was a good liar—at least, when it came to his job.
Being employed in the Rare, Obscure and Confounding Case Division (ROCC, for short), he was required to keep the nature of his cases and the ROCC at large a secret, even from his closest ones. Even his identification badge hid his true position from anyone who lacked proper clearance, showing instead false information about the Magical Maintenance cover.
As Jamie Apparated with a snap at the unlikely entrance to the ROCC Division—a minging London alleyway with overflowing dumpsters—he scrunched his nose at the smell. Picking up a discarded trainer with two fingers, he placed inside his Ministry of Magic badge and went to throw the trainer in the bin. Before he could even release it, the trainer pulled him into nothingness. When his feet touched solid ground a second later, he managed to stay upright after stumbling a little. Retrieving his badge, he left the trainer behind—it disappeared a moment after—and took in his surroundings. The place still amazed him like the first time he had seen it. The main hall was like a mix of the Ministry Archives and its Atrium: large as the interior of a cathedral, with many wooden levels and bridges spanning an unfathomable abyss, but far brighter than the dim Archives, as there were great stained-glass windows charmed to forever show a sunny scenery outside. Huge statues of sorcerers and druidesses overlooked the abyss, holding enormous lanterns. Instead of the fountain of magical brethren, there was a statue of Atlas at the centre of the level Jamie had arrived at; its globe had many glowing points across the continents. Usually, there would be several witches and wizards gathered around it and inspecting the dots, but the place was currently mostly empty.
He strode towards the office area, to Flump’s cubicle. Most lights were out, Flump’s desk lamp being the exception. Jamie’s boss was working through a pile of documents when he stopped in front of his desk.
Jamie cleared his throat and asked, ‘Alright, Flump—what’s this emergency about?’
Flump barely raised his head to acknowledge him. ‘Confidential Auror case,’ he said flatly. ‘Alastor Moody has requested your immediate assistance.’
Jamie’s left eyebrow shot up. ‘My assistance? Specifically?’
Flump shrugged. ‘For some reason, yes. You can go now. Don’t come back unless it’s to deliver the paperwork.’
Through one of the exit-only fireplaces of the ROCC, and having transfigured his clothes to appear as the navy-blue robes that Magical Maintenance workers wore, Jamie arrived at the Ministry of Magic soon after. He took a lift to level two (‘Department of Magical Law enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services,’ the sing-songy lift voice said), and as soon as the lift stopped he saw Moody was already striding down the hall towards him.
As he exited the lift, Jamie asked, ‘You wanted to see me, Moody?’
‘About time you showed up,’ Moody said with a scowl. ‘Follow me, we have no time to waste—and we’re already short-handed as it is. Hopefully you’ll survive and keep all your limbs while at it.’
‘Keep my-? I’m going into the field?’
‘Of course. No better training than life threatening field work.’
‘With actual Aurors?’
‘Of course with actual Aurors,’ Moody scoffed as they walked into the Auror Office towards his cubicle. ‘What other kind is there?’ His blue eye spun around in its socket even quicker than usual, making sure they were alone. ‘This will be perfect for your Auror specialisation training. There’s still a lot you need to learn, but you’ll keep up.’
‘Well, I appreciate you vouching for me,’ Jamie said, though not very enthused. ‘I’ll do my best. So, what’s this confidential Auror case about?’
‘We’re after a dangerous Dark wizard—a very slippery one, he’s sent two Aurors to St Mungo’s already…’ explained Moody. He stopped for a moment to write a memo on a purple paper. After tapping it with his wand, the paper folded itself into an aeroplane and whizzed away, and as it did so Moody continued, ‘He’s after Gellert Grindelwald’s childhood wand, and has used the Cruciatus Curse to extract information on its whereabouts. Kingsley Shacklebolt has planned a stakeout in Knockturn Alley—you’ll be joining him and Nymphadora Tonks. Follow his lead. He’ll expect you to hit the ground running.’
‘Anything else I should know?’
‘Kingsley will explain the rest when he gets here. But a piece of advice: you’re dealing with a deranged criminal who’s on a mission. In these cases, offence is the best defence. Don’t give the target leeway.’
‘I understand.’
‘I’m certain you’ll do fine, but keep both your eyes open and trust no one apart from Nymphadora and Kingsley. Remember, constant vigilance.’ Moody suddenly raised his head a bit, looking behind Jamie. ‘Kingsley! Didn’t expect for you to get here so quick.’
Jamie turned, watching a tall and broad wizard of dark complexion whom he had known only by sight until then approach them.
‘I was already on my way when your memo found me,’ Kingsley said. He gave Jamie an appraising look, then smiled politely and extended a hand. ‘James Smith, your reputation precedes you. I’ve been told you will be a true asset to this operation.’
‘I will do my best, Mr Shacklebolt,’ Jamie said as he shook it.
‘I wouldn’t expect anything less. But enough of pleasantries. We have a Dark wizard to capture.’
Loud footsteps made them turn their heads: Tonks had just arrived to the office, practically running after Kingsley. She skidded to a stop, panting slightly. ‘Sorry! Took a wrong turn for a moment!’ Grinning at Jamie, she added, ‘Wotcher, Jamie, you made it! Moody mentioned he’d try to pull you from Magical Maintenance duty.’
Jamie glanced at Moody with a half-smile. ‘He made my boss an offer he couldn’t refuse.’
‘I’ll leave you three to it, then,’ Moody said, limping away. ‘They’re all yours, Kingsley.’
Kingsley led them to Knockturn Alley, briefing Jamie on the way there with any information that Moody had missed. As they were about to enter the dark alley, he said, ‘We have got word that our suspect is currently inside Borgin and Burkes.’
Tonks nodded and added, in an uncharacteristically serious demeanour, ‘Intelligence has determined that direct confrontation with the suspect would be dangerous.’
‘Good thing we have the element of surprise on our side,’ Jamie said, to which Kingsley nodded. They turned a corner and stood by a shadowed spot from where they could directly see the antique store. There was still light inside, but whoever was still there had to be by the back of the shop, because they couldn’t see anybody through the windows. All three of their wands were drawn, and Jamie held to his very tightly, trying to discern the meaning of the few noises they could hear. About a minute passed, and they saw a figure exit the shop.
‘Mundungus Fletcher…?’ Jamie mused, watching the short smuggler walk a little unevenly in their direction, seemingly not noticing them.
‘He looks jumpier than usual, doesn’t he?’ Tonks whispered.
‘I’ll interrogate him,’ Jamie whispered back, looking at Kingsley—who nodded his approval—and added, ‘Cover me.’
Stowing his wand to frighten Mundungus as little as possible, Jamie took a few steps to stop Mundungus on his tracks, casually greeting him. ‘Dung! Long time no see.’
Mundungus jumped and his hand went for his wand, but stopped when he recognised Jamie and grunted, ‘Oh, it’s you. What do you want?’
Lowering his voice to a whisper, Jamie replied, subtly pointing to Kingsley and Tonks behind him, ‘We’re after a Dark wizard and we’ve got word he’s in Borgin and Burkes. You wouldn’t happen know anything about it, would you?’
‘I di’n’ see anythin’,’ Mundungus said hastily, taking out a pipe from his pocket and fumbled to get his wand. ‘I di’n’ ‘ear anythin’. What of it?’
Jamie didn’t need Legilimency to tell Mundungus was lying, but it helped in sensing the reason behind it—fear. Snapping his fingers, Jamie produced a little flame between them and ignited the pipe for Mundungus who, so rattled he was, still hadn’t properly seized his wand. Mundungus’ eyes went wide, and nervously he took a pull from the pipe.
‘Let’s make a deal,’ Jamie said, scrunching his face as the smuggler let out a puff of rancid smoke. ‘You tell us everything you saw in there and we leave your name out of our report. This deal won’t be on the table for long. If you saw something, now’s the time to share.’
‘All right, all right!’ Mundungus threw his hands up in defeat. ‘I saw a ‘ooded wizard, torturin’ Mr Borgin. ‘E was ramblin’, lookin’ fer a rare wand. Mr Borgin told ‘im the wand was sold to a magical artefacts collector ‘ere in London.’
‘Hold on, he’s still in there torturing Mr Borgin?’ Jamie asked, taking out his wand again, but Mundungus shook his head.
‘You’re too late. ‘E is gone.’ Taking a few more puffs to calm himself, Mundungus rapped his pipe with a finger in thought. ‘It was strange, though. Once ‘e got what ‘e wanted, ‘e disappeared. No Floo powder, no Apparition. One moment ‘e was there—the next, it was only Mr Borgin. Who recovered too quickly from bein’ tortured like that, if you ask me. That’s it. That’s all I know.’
‘All right, you can go now, Mundungus. Thank you.’
‘Keep yer word,’ Mundungus warned. ‘I was never ‘ere.’
He scrambled away quickly, leaving Jamie and the other two. Kingsley said, ‘Impressive interrogation skills. Let’s check on Borgin. We need to find that collector.’
They walked into Borgin and Burkes, noticing the door to the back of the shop was open. Faint pained moans could still be heard coming from there.
‘Stay here,’ Kingsley said. ‘I’ll talk to Borgin. He knows me well so he’ll talk.’
Jamie and Tonks nodded. As Kingsley went to check on Borgin, wand in hand, they took a look around the shop. Jamie felt uneased—the last time he had been inside Borgin and Burkes, it had been to talk with Verucca, Merula’s aunt; the very same witch who had cursed blindness upon Jacob and pushed their father to jump off a bridge with cursed fire…
‘Jamie?’ Tonks asked after a few moments of silence, taking him out of his train of thought. ‘Everything OK? You look a little… pale.’
Jamie shrugged. ‘This place creeps me out.’
‘You were brilliant interrogating Mundungus.’
‘Thanks.’
‘It’s a shame you didn’t join Auror training with me. We’d make quite the team!’
Jamie shrugged again. He could sense she was expecting another answer—some sort of explanation—but he couldn’t explain his situation without revealing too much about the Division.
‘Didn’t feel right for me,’ he simply said.
‘And Magical Maintenance is?’ she questioned in a teasing tone.
‘I think I deserved something peaceful, don’t you?’
‘Yet here you are.’
‘You know me,’ Jamie said with a smirk. ‘Can’t stay out of trouble.’
Tonks went to say something in reply, but at that moment Kingsley returned to the front of the shop.
‘Borgin will recover fine,’ he said. ‘He has confirmed Mundungus’ story. And the collector who bought the wand is legitimate. However, the wand was sold without provenance, so there’s no certainty that it’s authentic. But the collector will must certainly try to secure one, most likely from-’
‘Ollivander!’ Tonks jumped.
‘If we get to the collector in time,’ Jamie suggested, ‘we could enlist his and Mr Ollivander’s help to set up a trap.’
‘Great idea, James. This means we’ve got two locations to cover. The collector’s home and Ollivanders.’
‘If we split up, we’ll cover more ground,’ said Jamie.
‘I agree. Tonks and I will head to the collector’s home, it’s likely we’ll find the Dark wizard there.’
‘In that case, I’ll talk to Mr Ollivander and explain the situation.’
‘Highly unlikely,’ Tonks noted, ‘but what if the Dark wizard also decided to pay Mr Ollivander a visit?’
‘Then I’ll have to fight him,’ Jamie said flatly.
‘You have guts, kid, I admire that. But remember, danger hides in the most unexpected places. Trust your instincts. They have a way of warning us of nearby danger,’ said Kingsley, and Jamie nodded. ‘All right, let’s move. Time is of the essence.’
The door to Ollivanders was unlocked when Jamie went to knock on it. He paused before opening it, a fear that he was late growing in him. All other businesses in Diagon Alley, except the inns, had closed already—Ollivanders should have been no different. He pushed open the door, making a little bell ring. A door behind the counter opened and a lamp was lit: Jamie saw Ollivander himself, unharmed and wearing a night cap, staring at him with narrowed eyes.
‘You’ll have to come back another day, I’m afraid. We’re closed already.’
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Ollivander, but I’m on official Ministry business,’ Jamie said politely but firmly. His eyes flickered to the counter: there was a rectangular wand box there, but very different from the ones on the shelves. ‘I’m helping the Auror Office track down a rare wand, and I thought you might be able to help me.’
‘Auror business?’ Ollivander looked astonished. ‘Tracking a rare wand? I’m not sure I can be of assistance, Mr…’
He faltered, raising a questioning eyebrow. Jamie tensed uneasily. ‘Smith. You forgot my last name?’
Ollivander nodded towards the door, stating coldly, ‘You can go now. We’re closed, and I have things to do.’
‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you some questions before I can leave,’ Jamie insisted. He pointed at the box on the counter. ‘That wand you have there, sir—is it one of yours? It doesn’t look like it.’
Ollivander’s face twitched. ‘This? Oh, it’s a curio from another wandmaker of whose work I’m a fan of,’ he said with a voice that seeped restrained anger. ‘Have you heard of Gregorovitch, Mr Smithee?’
‘Rings a bell,’ said Jamie. ‘But I’m sure he can’t rival your skill in wandmaking. My unicorn heartstring wand that you sold me, for example, has never failed me!’
‘Yes, well…’ Ollivander coughed, pointing again at the door. ‘If you have more questions about wands, you can come by tomorrow. We’re closed!’
‘Of course, Mr Ollivander, I’ll come back tomorrow,’ Jamie lied. Ollivander visibly relaxed. But Jamie didn’t turn to leave, instead noting casually, ‘Oh, but if you’ll just take a look at my wand! There’s just one thing I wanted to make sure…’
In one motion, Jamie took out his wand and whipped at the air with it. A bang rang, but the other wizard was just as fast and conjured a shield that absorbed Jamie’s curse.
‘Who are you?’ Jamie demanded.
The wizard in front of him grinned maliciously and Ollivander’s likeness melted away: the silver eyes disappeared revealing a crazed look, the grey mane darkened and lengthened, and the skin turned less wrinkled but to an unhealthy colour.
‘A Metamorphmagus? So that’s how you’ve been evading us!’
‘Clever Auror, but it’s too late!’ the wizard shouted, stabbing forward with his wand. Jamie dodged the curse, while the Dark wizard went on with glee, ‘I already have what I came for. I will reclaim Grindelwald’s glory as mine! You’re but an insect in the presence of-’
But he was not quick enough to evade or block the next red jet of light from Jamie’s wand, which struck him just over the gut. He bent over, struck the floor head-first, and lied limp.
‘You talk too much,’ Jamie said, flicking his wand again. The Dark wizard became stiff as a plank, his arms glued to the body and legs together. Jamie stooped to fetch the wizard’s wand and then checked the room behind the shop for the real Ollivander, fearing the worst. There was nobody there, and a back door that led to a secluded alleyway was ajar.
Not much later, Kingsley rushed into the shop, wand in hand. He lowered it upon seeing the apprehended wizard still lying on the floor watched over by Jamie.
‘Excellent work, James,’ Kingsley congratulated. ‘When Tonks and I reached the collector, he told us Ollivander was keeping the wand until he had thoroughly verified its authenticity. And then Ollivander appeared and warned us what was happening…’
‘How is he?’
‘He’s shaken, but he’ll recover. He managed to escape through the back door, thanks to you showing up. Tonks is with him right now, taking his statement.’ Kingsley looked at the counter and picked up the strange wand box. ‘I’ll make sure this is sent to a secure vault. As for him…’ He glanced at the immobilised wizard. ‘We’ll take him in for custody to await trial… Most likely, he will spend the rest of his days in Azkaban.’