Chapter Text
"Sit down, mister Potter."
Buzzing. Buzzing. Buzzing in his ears.
"I believe you know why you're sitting in front of me today."
Buzzing. Buzzing. Rage.
"What you did tonight was in complete disregard of the law, of the security of everyone and clearly, of any morals as well. What do you have to say for your defense ?"
Rage. It's rage flooding through his veins. Not even anger, anger is too small of a word to describe what he's feeling.
Harry Potter is fuming with rage. It invades every inch of his body. His core, his hands, his head, his whole circulatory system. He breathes air, expires rage.
"Mister Potter."
Harry does not answer. The changing air around him is enough. He can see it on the inspector's face, he can see the way his expression changes, the slight worry in his eyes, which becomes not so slight anymore.
"I must ask you to calm down. It really is in your best interest."
Harry has always felt magic quite strongly. It took him a while to realize it even though people have told him before, but now he does. He knows that magic is more accessible to him than it is to some others. He can almost grasp it, and shape it, and weaponize it. And right now, he can feel it all around him, going around in circles, faster and faster, like a whirlpool.
He can feel the electricity crackle around him, the particles in the air becoming heavier, identical to the way it is before a storm, except for the fact that this storm around Harry is approximately one thousand times bigger and wilder than a normal one.
The table shakes. So do the chairs.
Harry can see the inspector rising from his chair from the corner of his eye, hurrying to the door. Trying the handle. The handle does not move. It should, it would if Harry's magic was not stopping it.
"I need help in here !" the inspector screams. "Help !"
Harry exhales. The magic in the room slows down for a second, becoming less heavy, less aggressive. Though not less dangerous.
Harry closes his eyes.
And then,
then,
the whole room explodes.
⸻
"Harry mate, come on ! We're going to be late again !" Ron screamed from downstairs.
Harry was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He didn't mind being late, and besides, it would only be a few minutes. They could apparate to the ministry straight from 12 Grimmauld Place, as Harry had adapted the floo network.
"Almost done !" Harry screamed back.
Ron and him had been auror partners since they finished their training, and worked pretty well together, although that was to be expected after spending years of their life fighting together for survival. Ron made the job nice, fun.
If he had to be honest, being an auror wasn't at all what Harry had expected it to be. It was mostly boring tasks, hours of patrolling, and Harry's least favourite : paperwork. Tons and tons of paperwork, consisting of mission reports and other horribly boring stuff. When he was seventeen and signing up for the auror training, Harry did not have this in mind, far from it.
He spat the toothpaste in the sink, quickly rinsing his mouth and then hurried down the stairs, where Ron was waiting for him.
"It's the third time this week, mate. And we're Wednesday ! You never used to be like this."
"You do realize that you sound like Hermione, right ? I have problems with my alarm."
This was a lame excuse, and they both knew it. The real reason for Harry's lateness was his own boredom and tiredness. He no longer felt the rush of adrenaline going to work, no longer wanted to go. He went because he had to, because even being Harry Potter did not mean he couldn't lose his job, and because he felt obligated to go. Morally obligated.
He was Harry Potter. He was practically born to protect the wizarding world, and what better way to do it than becoming an auror ?
"Just try to be on time next time. You may be forgiven immediately for being five minutes late, but I'm not."
"That's moderately true. You're very well liked at the bureau," Harry said.
"People well liked get fired all the time."
"Not Ron Weasley though, hero of the war."
Ron smiled. They hurried through the fireplace where green flames were moving, waiting for them. Ron went first and Harry followed, appreciating the extra seconds in the comfort of his own home, already wishing the day was over.
"What's up with you, mate ?" Ron asked.
Harry had not told him any of what he had been feeling these past few weeks, perhaps months. In part because he didn't want to hurt Ron, to crush the idea of them being work partners forever, and also because the mere task of accepting the truth to himself was painful. He had put his whole heart into being an auror, had dreamt of it since he was fifteen, if not for even before, had fantasized about the good that he could do to the world, only for it to mean nothing in the end.
And besides, he hadn't made any decision yet. Perhaps it was just something that would pass, a phase. Everyone gets bored at their job sometimes, right ?
Today, they were tasked with what Harry called the showing up where people complain when there is clearly nothing to complain about, except for the neighbors being loud, which can be fixed with a simple spell (not Avada, of course. A sound isolating spell) part of the job, which Harry found particularly uninteresting, and despised quite a bit, since his presence at the front door of people usually only brought gatherings and endless acknowledgements of what he had done for the wizarding world, killing Voldemort and blah blah blah.
The truth was, there was not a part of the auror job which made Harry truly happy. What he liked, what he was made to do, was running after criminals, fighting for the good, and actually doing something that required more moving and fighting than politics and paperwork. In fact, Harry thought that he would have quite liked being an auror during the war, when things were tense and he could see with his own eyes the difference he made in the world.
Eight years after the war, almost every death eater was in Azkaban, and those who weren't were hidden in various countries all over the world, posing absolutely no threat at all. Everyone lived peacefully, and the biggest problems in the wizarding world were the differences of opinions in terms of Quidditch.
So no, Harry did not like his job. It was unentertaining and it threatened to let his mind rot from boredom.
"Reports of weird lights, sounds, and a smell on Thornwick Street," Ron said from behind him, a file in his hands. "Might as well go now."
Harry nodded. They walked to the apparition site from within the ministry, reserved to aurors and exclusive ministry members only. It was the only apparition site in the building, meant to optimize safety. Visitors and the public were only allowed through the main entrance. Even with the years passing, Harry still did not like the feel of apparition, the way he could feel his organs twist inside of him, his body changing form and then shaping back to normal.
They arrived on Thornwick Street, where only a few houses stood. They were typical London periphery houses, usually occupied by families or elderly people. As soon as his eyes scanned the street, Harry knew which house seemed to be the problem. It wasn't even that he could see it, it was that he could feel it.
Heavy magic, powerful magic.
Dark magic.
"Ron. It's not just any other house call."
Ron had his brows furrowed. "What do you mean ? How do you know ?"
Harry didn't respond, he was being drawn to the house. He was moving without meaning to, and his eyes were fixed on the house. It was a classical house, although maybe a bit smaller than the other ones. There was a garden, with some plantations, but not too much. The driveway was clear, the shutters closed.
Harry grabbed his wand in his hand, still moving forward.
Now that he was closer to the house, he was even more certain of it. There was something unusual in the house, something that he couldn't quite comprehend yet.
"Eww, what is that smell ?"
Harry hadn't even noticed the smell, couldn't smell it. All that he scented was magic, magic and magic. " Homenum Revelio ."
One person. One person only, handling all this magic. Harry stepped forward. The door was unlocked.
"Auror department, reveal yourself !"
He entered the house, taking slow steps and the time to appreciate his surroundings. There was nothing interesting in the entry, which led to the living room, which led to the kitchen and to a corridor, which Harry guessed led to the bathroom, and chambers.
They did a quick tour of the house, but everything was quiet. No one in sight. Harry cast the Homenum Revelio once again. No one in the house.
"It's empty. How come it is empty ?"
"Maybe they left," Ron answered. "Apparition, or floo. I'm going to check the chimney."
While Ron went for the fireplace where small flames were dancing, Harry did a tour of the living room. There was something different about this house. Harry couldn't feel the powerful magic anymore, which confirmed their suspicions that the person had fled, but there was still a trace that lingered.
It was delicate, very subtle, but it was there. It was a magical signature. And Harry could swear he knew it.
"Ron, someone was definitely here. And not just anyone. I don't know exactly, but this seems familiar."
Ron got up from the chimney.
"Chimney is clear. No one went through it recently. What do you mean, it seems familiar ?"
"The feel of it. Of everything."
Ron nodded. He knew that sometimes, Harry seemed to know some things without being able to explain how, or why. And since the first time it had happened, he hadn't been wrong a single time, and so Ron knew not to ask many questions and to simply trust him.
"How is the feeling ? Violent, peaceful ?"
"A bit of both, I think. It's... it's complicated."
They stayed in the house for a few more minutes, Harry being a bit shaken by the remnants of the magic. It was something he had never seen before, yet it seemed so familiar. The answer was right under his nose. The magical signature, it was from someone he knew, or used to know at least.
The problem was, the signature was very powerful, and Harry didn't know many very powerful wizards or witches. Sure, he had some powerful friends, but far from this, and all the powerful wizards he used to know were dead. Dumbledore, Voldemort.
"Harry. There's a note."
Harry's gaze immediately shifted to Ron, who was standing behind the kitchen counter. He walked towards him, a strange feeling in his gut. There, on the white counter, laid a piece of parchment with beautiful cursive writing.
Too late, I've already left. You should be faster next time. I look forward to seeing you someday.
Best regards, D.
⸻
"What the actual hell ?"
Harry sighed. "I don't know."
"This is so weird !" Ron exclaimed. "What kind of criminal leaves a note ? And a polite one, at last !"
"A refined one ?" Harry suggests. "I agree with you, this doesn't make much sense."
"And we couldn't find any trace of them. What kind of criminal cleans up after himself, really ?"
The house had been perfectly clean, but also very empty. No personal belongings, no pictures, nothing. Usually, houses where no one lived were abandoned, and therefore dusty, somber, cold. This house had been absolutely normal. Nothing out of the ordinary, slight decorations, but nothing more. A few plants here and there with magical water supplies, some paintings, things that could belong to anybody. It had all been so impersonal.
But someone clearly had been in there. Harry didn't even need the testimonies of neighbors, he knew it with absolute certainty. Still, hours later, the feel of the magic lingered with him. It was faint but if he concentrated a bit, he could sense the particles shifting around him, following him where he went.
"Whatever they were doing in the house, it was strong," Harry said. "I could feel it from the end of the street. I think they were trying to do something, some kind of experiment maybe ?"
"What kind of experiment uses as much magic as what you describe ?"
"I don't know. But if we interrupted them, they're likely to try again."
Ron flipped the file on the desk. "So we just wait and see if something like this comes up again. We stay tuned with this."
When Harry had told Ron what he could feel in the house, he had purposely left out the part of the magic being dark magic. He’d known what it was right away, of course. Harry could recognize dark magic anywhere, he’d had so much experience with it during the war. The way he could feel Voldemort in his head, or the way the horcruxes responded to him, the hissing, the bond connecting it all, Harry knew it all too well.
This magic though, in the house, had been different from Voldemort's. It was less violent, less threatening. With Voldemort, Harry had felt like he was suffocating every time he was around it, and had felt it actively trying to attack him. At the house, it was different. The two magics still had some similarities of course, the obvious one being the sheer force of it, the pure power it held. They both also changed the feel of the air, but that was it.
Past these similarities, they were quite different. The magic of the house didn't mean to hurt. It was very powerful, and could obviously kill several people at once, but killing wasn't the purpose of it. It had a very specific purpose, something Harry couldn't understand.
"Yes, I guess we just wait," Harry sighed, weary.
The rest of the day was long, and Harry couldn't quite take his mind off the visit to the house earlier. They had filed their mission report, and there wasn't much they could do anymore, and it drove Harry on edge. Waiting definitely wasn't his strong suit, and neither was letting go of things that troubled him.
They went on multiple house calls during the day, people complaining about noises in the neighborhood, or needing help with something. Ron took care of most of them, which Harry was very thankful for.
At the end of the day, when their shift was over, Harry decided to walk back home, instead of apparating. It would be longer, maybe half an hour, but he needed the fresh air and time to organize his thoughts. Although he had been thinking about the same thing since the beginning of the day, his thoughts were still very confusing and he couldn't make sense of the situation.
He bid Ron goodbye and started walking. The night was beginning to set, few people were in the streets, and the number diminished as he walked further away from the ministry, all the way to Islington, where 12 Grimmauld Place was.
He walked slowly, breathing in the cool air. He didn't feel the presence of the magic now, hadn't for several hours. Even though it had been quite strong, it couldn't last forever, and Harry felt in his core the absence of it.
It wasn't often that a case monopolized his entire mind, in fact he didn't think it had ever happened. Perhaps at the very beginning of his career, when he was incredibly excited about his job, but it hadn't happened for at least a very long time.
He wasn't really thinking of anything when he felt it. The exact same magic as earlier.
It was calling for him.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks. It was immensely subtle, nothing at all like the hurricane it had been in the morning, but it was definitely the same. And it was coming from a small alleyway, behind a children's park.
Harry's feet moved on their own, not even thinking about anything other than the fact that this trace of magic was here again, right next to him, waiting for him to arrive. He stepped in the small street, and the lights suddenly went off, a gush of cold wind hitting Harry's cheeks.
He grasped his wand, though not really intending to use it. He could sense that the thing waiting for him wasn't dangerous, at least not to him. There were no harsh intentions, just magic.
"I knew I hadn't underestimated you," a voice said from within the dark.
Harry felt goosebumps. "Who is this ?"
"Does it matter who I am ?"
This was a man talking, not too young yet not too old, perhaps Harry's age, and his voice seemed familiar. Maybe someone he knew very little, or someone he used to know ?
"What do you mean, you knew you hadn't underestimated me ?"
"You found me, didn't you ?"
The voice was coming from behind Harry, yet he did not turn around. He simply didn't feel the need to. "And what do you want ? Why did you bring me here ?"
"So many questions, auror Potter ." Harry could practically hear the smirk in his voice, the way he'd said ' auror Potter' , like the title was just that, a title. "First of all, I did not bring you here. You found me all on your own."
Harry turned around, only to be met with darkness. "Well, you were pretty easy to find. You were there in that house this morning, weren't you ?"
"I was, indeed."
Harry's heartbeat fastened. "Why do you hide in the dark ? Is your face a secret ?"
"It is only if you wish it to be."
Harry could feel the magic of the man growing stronger, like an aura around him, moving in waves, getting closer and closer to Harry.
"I know you," Harry said. "I just can't quite remember where from."
"Now you hurt me, Potter."
The more they talked, the more Harry was certain that he knew this man. And not in the sense that he had met him once or twice, in the sense that they knew each other , more profoundly. "Do you think it was smart to leave a note, D ?"
"I don't know, what do you think ? Did it lead you and your red haired partner somewhere ?" And once again, the smirk was audible, if it was possible for a smirk to be audible in the first place. It was a bit infuriating, Harry had to admit, to have the person they wanted right in front of him and being made fun of.
"I should take you back to the ministry with me, you know ?"
"Then why don't you ? Why is the famous Harry Potter not doing his job, which is in fact, protecting the peace of the wizarding world."
Harry did in fact not know. There was just something in him telling him not to, that this was more important than ministry business, that he needed to know more on his own.
"I'm off duty."
"You have impressive ethical concerns about your job, Potter, truly."
"This doesn't matter,"Harry said. "You clearly wanted me to find you, why is that ?"
"I wanted to have a little chat. See for myself what stood against me."
Harry laughed. "Is this some kind of joke ?"
"Maybe. Where would be the fun in knowing ?"
"You know, I could have just cast Lumos from the beginning."
"Yes, you could have. Why didn't you ?"
This was a very good question. Maybe because he simply did not feel threatened, and so seeing the man's face didn't really make a difference. It was also kind of exciting, talking to someone in the dark, knowing close to nothing about them.
Harry could feel that the man was close to him, closer than at the beginning of the conversation anyway. When had he moved ? Harry hadn't heard him.
"You have a strong aura", Harry said. "Very peculiar."
"Thank you. Yours is not so bad as well."
So, the man understood the same things that Harry understood, the things that others did not. He could most likely feel magic too, that meant. And thus being the only person Harry knew other than himself capable of this.
"Do you often hang out in dark, cold streets like this ?"
The man let out a small laugh. "I'll admit that it does happen to me, from time to time. What about you ?"
"Definitely not."
They were silent for a bit.
"What happened to the unstoppable, curious Harry Potter ? Where did all the questions go ?"
"Maybe he's just tired. And if I did ask questions, would you answer them ?" Harry asked, turning his face towards the man, at least where he could assume it was. He had grown even closer.
"Probably not. Not all of them, at least. What would happen to my mysterious character ?"
Harry laughed once again. "Merlin, what even is happening ? Can you at least confirm my suspicions ?"
"Which suspicions ?"
"I feel like I know you. From before, maybe."
"Suspicions confirmed," the man said, his voice soft, yet firm. "We went to school together. And that's all I'm going to tell you. At least for tonight."
"This means that I'll see you again ?"
"You sound like a teenager, Potter, you do realize that, right ?"
"Shut up, you git."
"That's not a very nice thing to say to someone whose identity you don't even know."
"You're D. That's enough for me," Harry said.
The man was silent for a few seconds, which Harry couldn't explain.
"Well then. Have a nice night, Harry."
"You too, D."
And Harry walked home, his curiosity unsatisfied, but with the certainty that he would know more, and soon.