It's a night like any other. A street like any other. Now, here I am. Freshly apparated and searching for some other schmuck they sent me after. The Ministry doesn't always tell everything to the likes of old Jonathan Towerborne here. It always makes me nervous when they don't. What do they know that they don't want me to know? Is there something about me they don't trust? Or maybe it's something about this schmuck, whoever he is? But then, if this guy is so important, why send an old wizard like me? Why not someone younger? Someone they trust? Potter perhaps.

It's dark. Some of the lights lining the street are broken. The moon is covered by cloud up above. I think it's full tonight, if memory serves right. Mental note: Be wary of werewolves. Oh well... it's not like I need the light. I remove my alder wand with its core of dragon heartstring from my robes and with simple slide of it across my eyes the street seems to light up like a clear day. A clever, little-known charm I picked up my fifth year at Hogwarts while studying for O.W.L.'s. Despite not being Ministry approved, it's quite useful aside from the inability to discern colors. Everything appears in naught but an array of shades of grey. Yet it does help in keeping people like myself from turning into a large, glowing beacon for any would-be attackers. Shortly thereafter, I touch my overcoat and, with a rush of warm air, the night's chill vanishes just like the darkness.

The neighborhood looks nice for Muggles. Perfect place for a dark witch or wizard to hide. Of course, that'll make it harder to bring the guy in. Won't be able to cast any charms or such if too many Muggles are around. I might not be able to get to all of them to perform memory charms depending on how many there are. Luckily for now the street is clear except for some dog nearby, barking at me. I was never good around animals. Best I could do for an animal in school was a toad. I can tell you, it wasn't a popular a choice in my day either.

Suddenly, I hear a small bang from between two of the homes across the street. Spend enough time as an Auror and you learn to recognize the sound of someone apparating. Here's hoping it's my suspect. But just as I get my hopes going, I see one of them things Muggles like to ride in coming up the street. If memory serves right, they call them "carts" or something. Looks to be about four of them in that thing. Four potential witnesses when that schmuck comes out of his hiding place. It's times like these I sympathize with that old bat, Carlotta Pinkstone, and her crazy campaign ideas about lifting the Statute of Secrecy.

Sure enough, it looks like this is what the boggart was waiting on. Out from the exact spot I'd heard that apparating pop comes a man in dark colored robes, his scraggly hair framing his face. He sees me and seems to know instinctively that I'm here for him. A ratty-toothed grin stretches across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between me and the Muggle transport. He knows I'm not supposed to expose us wizards in front of them. Likely, he's counting on it.

I could tail him from here to wherever he goes. But he's doing all he can to keep pace with those Muggles. Besides, he's likely got something planned for wherever he's going in case of a guy like me. Call me nuts, but I don't feel like being stuck in a trap tonight. I fall in step with the grinning schmuck on the opposite sidewalk. His wide eyes are staring at me with that toothy smile seemingly growing wider with each step. It even looks like his chest is moving with the laughter he's keeping under his breath.

That does it! If it's one thing I can't stand, it's being mocked by some cretin who thinks he's gotten one over on me. As the Muggles pass, I quickly draw my wand. "Confundo!" The spell hits the driver and the cart-thing goes wild off the road, narrowly missing the schmuck, until it crashes into a tree. With any luck, the Muggles inside won't be in any condition to know what went on. Certainly not the driver.

As quick as I can, and certainly quicker than you'd expect for an Auror of my age, I hustle across the street to where the schmuck had landed after jumping for dear life. Just in time, I hear him yelling those notorious words, "Avada Kedavra!" and catch a flash of dark light jetting towards me. For the second time tonight, I amaze myself with my aging agility in dodging his Killing Curse. Clearly he cares little for his freedom if he's using Unforgivable Curses.

As quickly as I land, I send my own incapacitating spell at him with a shout of, "Stupefy!" With that, he's knocked to the ground unconscious. Slowly, I walk toward the unmoving body. Sure, I hit him with my spell... but why take chances? I've been fooled before... along with lots of other better wizards than I. After closing the distance, I send his wand well out of his reach. As I stand over the body, I give him a good swift kick to make sure it's not a trick. He doesn't move but still I put him in a full body-binding curse... just to be sure. Afterwards, I search through his pockets finding one on the underside of his cloak hiding a small, dark velvet pouch.

A small touch of the wand directly between my eyes nullifies my night-vision spell. Confident that I'm out of any immediate danger, I whisper "Lumos," lighting the tip of my wand. A tug at the drawstring of the pouch loosens its mouth and I pull from within it a small orb, about the size of an egg or a rememberall, glowing with a strange, pearl iridescence. Returning it to its pouch, I pocket it to be deposited as evidence against the scum.

With a swish and flick of my wand, the crook is floating unfortunately gently at my side. I then take a firm hold of his arm before turning on the spot to disapparate. That damned familiar feeling of suffocation closes in around me. I've always despised this part of apparating. Before long, I find myself in Hogsmeade Village outside the Three Broomsticks, my usual haunt. I step into the bright, flickering candle-light of the pub. I briefly notice that my catch is wearing robes of black with a red fiery trim and wonder for a moment if there's some meaning to the color scheme.

I pass Madam Rosmerta with her rags magically self-wiping down the bar. "Oy, Jon," she said, barely acknowledging the unconscious body levitating at my side. I suppose she's used to me. She doesn't even bother asking if I need a drink. Sure, I would've turned it down... but the offer of one would be nice. No denying I certainly could use one.

Still I nod, "Rose," and proceed toward the blazing fireplace grabbing a handful of floo powder from the rust red pot upon the mantle. I toss the powder into the flames and they instantly turn that reminiscent shade of green. Then, stepping into the mouth of the fireplace and its pleasantly warm, fiery tendrils, I announce my destination, "Ministry of Magic." The green flames swallow me into the network and soon spit me out in the lobby of the Ministry building.

A busy day, as usual. Several people move briskly about the large chamber, in and out of the many fire places that seem to belch emerald fire that appears as though it should char any normal human. Heading for the lifts, I pass by many familiar faces. Then, as I’m standing among the crowd in the lift, just before it departs I see another familiar and unwelcome face.

Kingsley Shacklebolt steps in and immediately seems to lock eyes with me. "Towerborne," he says with his low, no-nonsense voice in something between a greeting and a reprimand.

With a slight sneer, I reply, "Minister."

He looks long at the floating body beside me. "I see you succeeded in your assignment."

I merely grunt in the affirmative, hoping to spend the rest of my ride to the Auror Department in silence. I'm granted my wish, but as the doors open and I step out I'm followed by two from the lift along with Shacklebolt. A slight groan escapes under my breath and I desperately try to get away from him. With that, I'm unsuccessful.

"Towerborne!" This time there's no mistaking the sub-text. I turn and look without a word. "Look... you did your job and I cannot deny you that. But tell me why I'm receiving reports of you attacking Muggles in the streets."

I've no idea how he could've heard about that this soon after the fact, but it didn't matter. He knew and I had to accept the consequences of my actions. "If I hadn't, I'd be tracking this creep half-way across London to Merlin knows where, Kingsley."

"That's 'Minister' to you, Towerborne."

I let out a sigh. "I did what I had to do to get the job done... and it got done... Minister. Now if you'll excuse me... it’s been a long night and I have work to do." Without a word, I begin walking toward the doors to the Auror Department.

"You know, Towerborne, you and I have never really got along very well."

I stop in mid-step and turn on my heels to face him once again. "Yes. Mainly because I refused to join your ridiculous Order and follow the word of an attention-hounding teenager."

"One who just happened to be right."

A long sigh this time. "It was years ago, Shacklebolt. Lots of people made lots of mistakes in those days. I've always claimed to be a good Auror. I never claimed to be perfect."

Shacklebolt glares at me for a moment as if trying to think of what to say. Finally, "Just watch your back, Towerborne." He strides back toward the lift and hollers over his shoulder, "... and try not to attack any more Muggles."

Finally, I get to the Auror Department and head to a desk behind which sits a rather ugly looking Goblin, as far as Goblins go. A pair of Aurors flank the desk, standing in a rigid pose of attention. A plaque on the desk reads, "Undesirable Administrations." The Goblin writes on a bit of parchment and without looking up asks with his frog-like voice, "State your business."

"Dropping off an Undesirable," I say, nodding to the floating body at my side.

The Goblin finally looks up momentarily at me and the creep then returns to his parchment. "Very well. Leave him here."

I release him from my wand's charm and he violently falls into the seat in front of the Goblin's desk. With that he wakes and I walk away barely hearing the Goblin croak, "Name?" The schmuck merely spits. After that, all I hear is the loud thud of a body hitting the ceiling and what I guess is the Goblin repeating his raspy request, "Name?"

My next stop is the Auror Evidence Office. Through that door sits a long corridor behind a counter where stands a young witch with bright green hair. I recognize her from previous visits. Suzie Gaile, if memory serves right. A nice girl and avid Quidditch fan. It must be near time for the Finals as her hair is dyed that of her favorite team's colors. Just don't ask me what team that is exactly. I never did care much for the sport. She looks up at me, "Auror Towerborne. Been a long time."

"Aye, it has." I reach in my pocket and remove the maroon velvet pouch I got off my latest achievement.

"What is it?" she asks as I set it on the counter in front of her.

"Not sure. Orb of some kind. Kind of nice to look at, if you ask me."

She takes the orb from the pouch and stares at it for a moment. "I see what you mean. How should I file it?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I turn to leave saying, "That's up to you. Not me." Then with a glance over my shoulder and a brief, "Ms. Gaile," I'm off toward my cubicle.

It had been a long night. All that's left is to write out my report, file it, and I can finally go home to get some rest. Soon, I find myself at my cubicle, setting my Quick Quote Quill to the parchment on the desk and dictating the events of the evening. The quill gracefully whirls across the parchment, writing word-for-word the earlier happenings as I state them.

About a minute later, I look up from checking my work to see two younger Aurors walking purposefully around the corner to my cubicle. I don't recognize them off-hand, but it doesn't appear that their business with me is going to be pleasant. As they arrive, the tall one draws his wand and takes aim at me. I have to fight off a reflex to draw my own. Instead, I shout, "What do you think you're doing?"

The shorter one answers, "Jonathan Towerborne, you are hereby ordered to surrender your wand and accompany us."

"On whose authority?"

"Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Damn Shacklebolt! I know we've never been on the best of terms, but sending these children to arrest me over a few Confunded Muggles...

Visibly irritated, I stand up and ask, "What's he want with me?"

"Theft of magical evidence."

Magical evidence, I ask myself. What evidence could they possibly think I stole? "This is ridiculous. I'll come, but don't expect me to give up my wand."

Clearly reluctant, they look to each other and then the taller one nods an agreement. I stand and follow them to the Minister's Office. Inside upon the far wall, portraits of prior ministers stare down at us, save for that of Pius Thicknesse (since he was never truly Minister). A fire blazes in its place in the wall to my left. Kingsley sits straight-backed behind his desk, upon which are a stack of scrolls, three different quills writing upon stretched out parchment, and a pot of floo powder for the fireplace. The two Aurors that brought me stand at my flanks, not saying a word. In fact, they hardly even seem to move... drones. Reminds me of Inferi.

Shacklebolt finally speaks, "What was it, Towerborne?"

"What was what, Minister?"

"The item you stole from the Evidence Office."

"I didn't steal anything!"

"You didn't attack Ms. Gaile and leave with the same pouch you'd come there to deposit?"

"Why in the name of Merlin's beard would I do that?"

Shacklebolt stands, drawing his wand, but not yet aiming it... although he's obviously prepared to use it if need be. "Hold out your wand." I oblige him, at which time he touches his own wand to mine, whispering, "Prior Incantato." From my wand, a blue-grey image of Suzie Gaile being Stupefied emerged.

A thousand different questions went through my mind simultaneously with a thousand different thoughts. Of them, the one that escapes my lips is, "Impossible!"

"Prior Incantato doesn't lie, Towerborne!" Shacklebolt held out his hand. "Give back whatever it was, and I won't send you to Azkaban. I may even let you keep your wand."

I turned in that damn thing that they think I took. How was I supposed to give back what I never took? Sure, Azkaban was a lot friendlier now without the dementors. It's still no picnic, but friendlier than it used to be. But never was I about to let some trumped up accusation like this get me put away in that cursed hole! Without thinking, I drop to a crouch and take aim for Shacklebolt, "Everte statum!"

The Minister is sent flying back against the wall with a force that stuns him for a moment. I'm acting solely on instinct, without any rational thought. It's how I work best, after all. Before the two drones can even draw their wands, I turn on them twice shouting, "Incarcerous," sending snake-like ropes coiling about them. As they collapse with their legs bound, I grab a handful of floo powder and throw it into the fireplace.

"Diagon Alley," is the first place I can think of. Not like I plan on staying there. Even as the emerald flames swallow me, I can see Shacklebolt getting to his feet. A moment slower and he might have had time to send some curse flying at me. That's three times tonight my speed has impressed me. I'm just waiting until the ability to amaze myself is exhausted. Once I step out from the fireplace at Diagon Alley, I focus on Hogsmeade Village and turn on the spot.

A moment later, there's the Three Broomsticks again. I can't stay here either. Everyone knows it's my pub of choice. But my good standing with Madam Rosmerta might at least buy me a night to rest.

I walk in, trying desperately to remain calm. Not easy when you just blasted the Minister of Magic across his own office. I casually make my way to a table and sit down. Rosmerta shouts, "Oy, Jon. Bit of Firewhisky for ya?"

"Aye Rose. Thanks." The place is quiet tonight. More thanks be to Merlin than ever. Only a couple of poor sods drinking away some cares, much like myself. One's done passed out in the corner.

Good old Rose brings me my drink. "You're in pretty late tonight. Everything good?"

I need a story quick. First thing in my head comes out, "Poltergeist in my place."

"Well... that shouldn't be much trouble for you. You're an Auror, ain't you?"

"Aye, but it's been a long night and I figure I'll just deal with it in the morning. Mind if I lay my head in one of your rooms?"

"No problem, Jon."

I rub the burning exhaustion from my eyes. "And would you mind, if anyone asks, telling them I'm not here. It's been a long night, you can understand."

She gives me a quick smile I take for a yes and tells me, "Upstairs, room 214."

I smile back and return to my drink, thinking as I slowly empty the tankard. Yet, no matter how much I analyze, nothing explains why the Ministry would think I stole that orb... whatever it was. When the Firewhisky is finally gone, I stand slowly and head upstairs to room 214. Inside, I barely take note of its contents save for the bed. It calls to me and when I find myself standing over it, I soon after find myself collapsed onto it.

A moment later, I've fallen into a nightmarish sleep. Visions of Shacklebolt expelling light from his wand shouting, "Crucio!" inflicting that horrific pain I’ve felt so long ago. His booming voice demanding, "Give it back, Towerborne! Give it BACK!" All despite my cries of denial. Swarms of Aurors closing menacingly around me. Their spells rendering my limbs useless. Dragging my seemingly lifeless body to that notorious, monolithic prison now absent of dementors, yet still somehow ominously gloomy and terrifying. A sense of anger toward the Ministry at the knowledge that they may never trust me again.

Somewhere in there I hear a single word... "Narrick." At that moment, I sit up wide awake.

They will never trust me again, I think to myself. Not unless I find out what really happened to that orb. I think over the events as they happened from the time I caught that son of a basilisk to that of my escape from Shacklebolt's office. The Muggles in their cart... the schmuck... the orb in his pocket... the trip into the Ministry... Shacklebolt's lecture... dropping off the orb with Ms. Gaile...

Ms. Gaile! Could it possibly have been... she's the only one who seemed to have the opportunity. What if she took this thing, then Stupefied herself to frame me? But then, how did my wand show her being Stupefied when Shacklebolt cast Prior Incantato? After all, he was right in that Prior Incantato doesn't lie. The only way I can remotely consider something like that possible is if... if Shacklebolt were in on it with Ms. Gaile. How could that be?

Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly turning into some kind of thief along-side some girl filing away evidence? It doesn't make sense. Yet, it's the only way it could've been done. Getting to Shacklebolt would be impossible. But Suzie Gaile... perhaps I can catch her on her way to the Ministry today.

With purpose, I head downstairs. As I pass through the main common area, Rosmerta yells, "So long, Jon. Good luck with that poltergeist, eh?"

"Polter- oh! Right! Thanks Rose!" I hope she didn't catch that slip. Instead of waiting to see one way or the other, I simply continue out the door as if nothing were wrong. I'd always tell any Aurors under my wing, "When you know you're doing wrong, always act like everything you're doing is right." Perhaps it's that sort of advice that's kept the Ministry from letting me have many Aurors under my wing.

Once I leave the Three Broomsticks, I focus on the street outside Suzie Gaile's home in southern Nottinghamshire. With a turn on the toe, I'm momentarily compressed by my disapparation and arrive at my destination. I see Ms. Gaile's home with its bright green door among the others of plain white. It stands out not only by the color, but by the strange address of "42, 3/5" hanging over its frame. Standing by the door, but away from the windows, I cast, "Homenum revelio."

She's inside. I have to get in there before she travels via the Floo Network straight to the Ministry. I tap on the doorknob, "Alohomora." The lock un-latches with a soft clack... I gently open the door. Inside, I catch the scent of the burning fireplace. It's times like these that I regret having never mastered the disillusionment charm. I've had that on a long to-do list for quite some time. Down the hall, I find the den. Within, I see the fireplace ablaze. Standing at its mouth is Ms. Gaile with a hand full of floo powder.

A shout of, "Expelliarmus," and the dust goes flying from her hand in an ashy cloud. She turns on her heels and immediately recognizes her attacker. The look on her face is that of sheer terror. I've got the drop on her and she knows it. No way could she draw her wand before I let my next spell loose on her.

So instead of defense, she opts for begging. "Please don't. I didn’t... I..."

I never liked beggars. So I simply begin my interrogation. "Where is it?"

"I don't... please..." Tears stream down her face. I give her the credit of a worthy performance for such a lying scum.

Still I am unfazed in my motives and simply ask again, "Where is it?” With a demand this time, “Tell me!"

"Where's what?"

"The orb that I gave to you yesterday!"

"I don't... you took it... right after you attacked me."

I step closer, threateningly. She cowers away. "Don't insult me! I know what happened! I turned that thing in and then you ran off with it for yourself and that idiot, Shacklebolt!"

"What? No! You took it -"

"Liar!" I want to hurt her. An urge to fire the Cruciatus Curse is burning in my arms. This woman set me up and now was straight-faced lying about it. What could possibly make her think lying to me was going to save her? I knew what happened in that office yesterday.

"I'm not lying! I swear!"

What I wouldn't give for a few drops of Veritaserum right now. Still, it doesn't make sense. My mind can't comprehend this woman's reasoning. Something isn't right. I go over everything time and again until sweat drips from my brow. Finally, I release a blast of energy from my wand, "Expulso!"

Ms. Gaile looks up from her curled pose of fear to find a cloud of smoke that was once a pot full of floo powder. She gives herself a quick examination as if to make sure she's still in one piece. She's startled when I turn my wand back on her. "I still think you're lying. But for the length of Merlin's beard, I can't figure out why. I'm only going to delay you getting to the Ministry for now."

She stumbles, "You're... you're..."

"Yes, I'm going to leave you for the time being. But as soon as I figure out what's going on... if it has anything to do with you... I'll find you." As I leave, I set a slight jinx over her place. Easily removed, if you know what you're doing. But, to the untrained, prevents any sort of apparating or disapparating in that area. Kind of like Hogwarts, only on a smaller scale. Of course, I can't keep her away from the Ministry forever. I only do what I can to make it as difficult as possible.

Now, with that issue sorted out for the moment, once again I'm at a loss. Where do I go from here? It's as if going after Ms. Gaile was nothing more than a wild Crumple-Horned Snorkack hunt. Seems like the only other thing I could possibly go on was nothing more than a word. "Narrick." A word... or a name. It's a long shot, but it's worth a try. After all, what else have I to lose?

Maybe it'll ring some bells down in Knockturn Alley. The Spiny Serpent always seems to have a few witches or wizards that know more than they should about things of this nature. I can only hope that the bells it rings don't upset too many of the patrons. I don't often go to that dump unless need dictates, and that, unfortunately, seems to be the case at this point in time.

I've found that it tends not to be a good idea to apparate directly into Knockturn Alley. Lots of people may get the wrong idea about your intentions. Then you're left having to defend yourself against any number of witch or wizard with evil on the brain. Instead, it's best to plan your arrival outside it somewhere. Yet since I don't want any number of familiar faces in Diagon Alley possibly recognizing me, I focus my attention just outside Madam Malkin's and disapparate appearing right where I need to be. No one really shopping for dress robes this morning, just as I expected. Madam Malkin's does the majority of her business right before the new school term begins.

Off to the left is the wide arch cloaked in shadow leading to Knockturn Alley. Casually, I make a straight line to the entrance and pass into the shady pass. The air seems to chill as I enter. It's devoid of most of its light. Even the windows to the shops are all but blacked out to keep what little illumination there is inside. I pass Borgin and Burkes. Finally, I come to a small door bearing a large black knocker resembling that of a viper's head holding a large ring in its open jaws. I tap the knocker against its base. A moment later, the viper's eyes seem to come to life and stare at me with menace.

It hisses, "What'sss your busssinessss?" Strangely articulate for one speaking with its mouth full of door-knocker.

I shrug my shoulders at the serpentine greeter. "A drink and perhaps some pleasurable company."

The snake suddenly becomes petulant and jeers, "Take your company elsssewhere, worm!"

I shake my head in frustration and reach into my robes to pull out a handful of galleons, holding them up to the suspended snake's sneering snout. Its eyes flitting between me and the gold in my hands, it seems to contemplate my fate. Finally, "Very well," and I hear the multiple locks on the door snap open. As the door swings toward me, I can see inside. It's as dismal in this place as it is in the alley it inhabits.

The candles lining the walls burn low keeping everyone draped in shadow. The central tables seem to be the least occupied, as they are the most illuminated. Most of the patrons appear content to simply sit on the edges of the light, some with the hoods of their cloaks pulled over their heads to hide their faces. I take a table close to the outskirts of the light, attempting to appear at least somewhat apathetic to the local crowd.

The dark-haired bar maid walks up wearing a rust red dress with some black frill to it. "What's your poison, deary?"

I answer, "A Bloody Brandy, if you please," and hand her a galleon. She starts to walk off and I reach out grabbing her arm. "Wait!" The look she fires at me when she turns back seem to burn with rage, as if touching her could've been the gravest insult imaginable. Yet she knows I can pay and so hesitates. "You know anyone by the name of Narrick?"

Her eyes narrow. "What's it worth?"

I drop two galleons on the table. "And there's two more if the information turns out good."

There's a pause before she slyly palms the coins. Then she nods to a figure in the corner behind me towards the back of the pub. One of the customers hidden under their cloak. "Try that one over there. I'll be back with your drink."

I nod and she walks off through what I can only imagine is the kitchen doors. As casually as possible, I stand from my table and walk to the stranger she'd pointed out. The figure in the black and red cloak barely moves as I approach. I speak up, "Mind if I sit?"

The hooded one looks up revealing a woman's face framed in the red lining of her cloak. Long strands of shiny black hair partially cover her eyes of the same dark hue. A fiery tattoo stretches from beneath her left eye half-way down her cheek. She slowly eyes me from my ragged, greying, brown hair down to my worn, black, leather boots. Her mouth then twists into an odd sort of smile and she answers, "Certainly... back at your own stinking table." There’s a hint of Scottish in her accent.

A response like that is expected when dealing with witches and wizards of this nature. Perhaps she just thinks I'm putting a move on her. Typically, such an unpleasant attitude calls for a calm bed-side manner. But such manners take time and that is a luxury I don't have. So without a word, I sit across from her. As always, I'm prepared for the need to draw my wand if she attacks.

She glares with disbelief at my presumptuousness. "Did I not make myself clear?"

"Absolutely. I just thought you'd like to hear what I had to say before I return to my own table."

"I've got no interest in nothing you've got to say, you old geezer."

She makes a move for her wand, but instead of trying to out-draw her I say only one word. "Narrick."

"You ain't one of us! How do you know my name? That blasted maid give it to you?"

It's always annoying how more answers always seem to come with more questions. Now I know she's not the only one connected to this thing. Perhaps a cult, but what sort? "The maid just told me to talk to you. That name came to me from someplace even I don't know. I'm not one of whom exactly?"

Her face suddenly seems to light up with a smile I can't possibly imagine coming from someone like her. "You'd love to know that wouldn't you, limey old geezer. What are you? Ministry? Probably an Auror, aren't you?"

I can tell her with full truthfulness, "No. I'm on my own."

"Is that right? Well, if you ain't one of us and somehow know that name... there's only one reason I can imagine that you'd come asking them sorts of questions." Without a word, she sends a burst of light at me from her wand.

It hits hard and knocks me out of the chair. Before I can get to my feet, she's kneeling beside me. With one hand she keeps her wand trained on me while she extends the other toward me with an open palm. In a place like this, it's not uncommon to see people getting attacked or robbed... or even killed... and no one does anything. Then, barely above a whisper to avoid anyone hearing, she says something I never expected. "Give me the orb!"

"What?" It was more a question of disbelief than misunderstanding.

"You are in possession of an orb about the size of an egg. Give it to me."

One: I can't stand taking orders from such arrogant, young freaks like this. Two: I don't have the blasted orb, nor would I give it to her if I did. Three: How in the name of Merlin does she know about the damn thing besides? The woman doesn't even know who I am! How could she?

"Give me the orb, now!"

"I'm telling you, I don't have it! Why does everyone think I do?"

"You wouldn't know the name of Narrick else-wise. As I said, you're not one of us."

"One of-"

"Stupefy!" A sudden bright flash of light and I feel my body jolt as I slide across the floor before slamming against the wall. I desperately fight the urge to close my eyes. It feels like all the energy within me has been drained. Yet no matter what, my fighting is in vain. A moment later, my mind slips into a deep, black abyss of unconsciousness.

When I'm finally able to open my eyes, the Spiny Serpent is gone. Instead, I'm in what appears to be an old, abandoned building. There is a strange stone alter adorned with the clear likeness of a basilisk near the far wall. I couldn't have been out that long. She must have apparated with me to wherever we are. Now this witch, Narrick, is kneeling over me with a great smile across her face and a horrifying gleam in her eyes as if that tattoo of flame wished to come alive. I can feel her hands going in and out of the pockets of my robes.

Suddenly, she stops. She slowly removes her hand and in it sits the maroon velvet pouch. A sinking feeling of disbelief comes over me. She loosens the draw-string and opens the pouch revealing the familiar, small, glowing orb. The thing responsible for all this chaos in my life for the last two days. As she stares at it with amorous eyes, the swirling pearl light from within it seems to pulsate.

How could I have had this thing in my pocket and not know about it? It's something I would've thought impossible and yet I'd just witnessed her take it from me. Why is it more answers always seem to come with more questions? All the answers seem completely out of my grasp, but somehow I'm sure she knows exactly what's going on. Unfortunately, I'd never expect someone like her to simply explain everything.

I shift my weight only slightly, desperate not to attract her attention from the hypnotic trance the orb's luminescence seems to have her in. Doing so, I can feel my wand still tucked into my robes. She must have forgotten to take it from me in her frantic desire to get that cursed ball of light. Her eyes barely react to my movement. I can see she still has her own wand out and, even if she were not expecting an attack, she could easily curse me long before I draw my own. Oh, if only to be young once more.

What to do against this arrogant young witch? On occasion, arrogance can be a weakness to be exploited. Yes… I too am arrogant, but I try to never let it cause my guard to drop. She's not as experienced as I. It’s my stand that experience can out-duel youth any day of the year. I suppose it's time to test that theory once again.

As arrogantly as possible, I shout, "There! You have your trinket!"

Deliberately, she turns toward me. "Yes. On behalf of the Foul One, I thank you."

The Foul One? Information to remember. Feigning exhaustion, I successfully get to one knee without arousing her suspicions. "So what need have you for me?"

"Did you think once I took my prize you could go free?"

"You got what you wanted! What more could I possibly benefit you?"

"It would seem that your purpose is served, wouldn't it?"

I've got her talking. Just have to remember not to let my guard down. "Oh, I see... you plan to kill me now. Is that it? You simply can't stand that someone on the outside knows your name?"

"No, I have no plans to kill you. I need you alive. The Foul One needs your blood."

"My blood? Never!"

She snaps her wand at me and I don't even hear the shout of the spell. The torturous pain coursing through me tells me all I need to know. Now's my chance, I tell myself. Keep your wits, Towerborne! I know my life depends on executing this move flawlessly. Otherwise, she'll see through the ruse. I collapse and as soon as my body hits the ground, I turn onto my side with my back to the witch. Quickly, I roll into a fetal pose as I scream. When the suffering finally passes, I remain curled up in agony. I don't let the pain control me. Careful to move as little as possible, I slip my wand from beneath my robes and wait.

I can hear approaching footsteps. My muscles twitch with the urge to attack. Not yet, I say in my head. Let her get closer. Faintly, I can feel the vibration of the floor with each drop of her boots. Almost...

Finally, true to her arrogant nature, likely raising the wand slowly into the air, I hear her dramatically forming words to unleash the Cruciatus Curse on me again. The moment has come and I'm granted my wish. I feel like I'm seventeen again. I've just graduated from Hogwarts and my blood is boiling for the chance to prove myself. For this moment, nothing can stop me! Were He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to face me, he would lose!

I roll towards her and the weight of me takes her feet out from under her. Narrick hits the floor with a dull thud and the faint sound of a breaking nose. Her head turns to me, blood flowing over her lips and dripping from her chin. For a brief stint, I wonder what she's thinking now that the smile has disappeared from her face and re-appeared on mine. After that moment, not even needing to aim at this distance, I shout, "Stupefy!" The witch tumbles across the floor, flinging the orb into the air.

"Accio orb!" The gleaming egg soars directly at me and, with the last bit of my reflexes, I catch it like one of those Muggle athletes playing that game... Paceball, if memory serves right.

I get to my feet and walk to Narrick's body. My wand never stops aiming at her. Why take chances? I've been fooled before. Then, as I get closer I feel a sudden surge of fury. This witch abducted me and planned to use me to Merlin knows what end.

You know the words...

Yes... Avada Kedavra. Those two infamous words and that would be one less dark witch in the world.

Go on... do it!

Wait! Something isn't right. These thoughts aren’t mine. They come from somewhere else.

Do it, Towerborne! Then once she is gone, you may take her place.

A strange voice in my head, alien and unfamiliar. As if another were trying to think for me. Then the realization comes to me. "This is the Foul One she spoke of, isn't it?"

It is. And with your help, I will return and rise to power... breeding an army of the great serpents to overtake the whole of the Wizarding World! And for you help I will make you one of my Lieutenants!

Great serpents? Basilisks! Merlin's beard! The orb is a Horcrux! And not just any, but that of Herpo the Foul! He was a notorious wizard centuries ago. He was the first breeder of basilisks and the first to create a Horcrux. Yet the fate of the historical Horcrux was never known for certain. Assumed to have been destroyed at the fangs of one of Herpo’s own serpents. That is, until now and by some incalculable odds that schmuck back in the Muggle town came to possess it. That explains why I didn't know it was in my robes. Horcuxes have been infamous for partially possessing their possessors. Now, here I am... holding that of Herpo the Foul in my hand in what is likely some sort of temple dedicated to him.

"How am I supposed to help you?"

Simple... use the Horcrux to bring me back. Then together, we will bring the Wizarding World to its knees! And why stop there, when the Muggles’ world would be just as easy to conquer? The whole of civilization would be ours to rule as we see fit!

Your blood. Use it to resurrect me! Then my power of parseltongue will also be imbued upon you!

I don't know what it is... but somehow it feels right. Like part of me thinks I'm destined to return this legend to our world. And to be a Lieutenant in his quest to overtake the Wizarding World... it would be the ultimate power. Yet... agreeing to this would be submitting to a part of me that I cannot allow to gain power. A part of me that long ago I allowed to go too far and swore I never would again.

"Why don't I just use Fiendfyre to burn this whole place down with you in it?"

Because you know that I am your only chance to have a life again! You know that they will never trust you again!

He's right. It's true that the Ministry could never trust me again and it's true that he's the only chance I have for a life. But his way is not the only way. I walk to the alter of the temple and set the orb upon its surface.

My hand still rests upon it, faintly dimming the radiance it emits, as the voice cries out, No,in my mind. You can't go back to them!

"I don't plan to. They're going to take me back... after I give them you."

They’ll never trust you again!

Shrugging my shoulders I admit, with a smirk, “It’s not like they ever trusted me before.”

It takes a long time. Minutes... maybe hours. Finally, and with the greatest of efforts I've had to exert throughout the whole of this adventure, both physically and mentally, I let it go. Despite the echoing screams and promises of power in my head... I let it go.

An hour later, after sending word to Kingsley Shacklebolt by my Patronus, a wolf, I find myself greeting the great Minister along with four of his finest Aurors, including the famous Potter and Weasley, all with wands at the ready. It doesn't intimidate me, as they likely expected. I simply sigh and continue to lean casually against the outer wall of the decaying temple. Shacklebolt steps forward.

I smile smugly, gesturing to the Aurors, "Didn't trust me, Shacklebolt?"

"That's Minister to-"

"Yes, yes... I've heard it before. Several times, if memory serves right."

"You have it then?"

"No." Shacklebolt tilts his head confused. I nod to the archway. "It's inside. Follow me."

I lead them into the temple and across the room to the alter where sits the pulsing sphere. "Gentlemen, I give you the Horcrux of the famous Herpo the Foul."

"Is this a trap?" asks Shacklebolt.

"No trap. At least not one I set. It’s a Horcrux. I’m sure Potter can tell you all about those… given his experience. Touch it. See for yourself."

Shacklebolt begins to reach for it and Potter steps forward to stop him. "Kingsley, perhaps I should..." I don’t even try to point out the clear favoritism shown by Shacklebolt at Potter’s more than casual addressing of the Minister. Then Potter approaches the alter placing his hand over the orb, completely dousing its light. "He’s right. I can hear him. He's telling the truth."

"Glad to see you recognize that, Potter. Of course, you'd know all about being accused of lying, now wouldn't you?"

Potter glares at me, then looks to Shacklebolt as if to give him some form of confirmation about my honesty. Shacklebolt nods and Potter backs away. Then the Minister turns to me, "What do you recommend, Auror Towerborne?"

"Oh, I'm an Auror again, am I?" A roll of the eyes and he nods... reluctantly. "I say we leave it here, find a couple Curse Breakers to bring in, then light the whole place up with Fiendfyre."

Weasley shouts, "Fiendfyre?"

"It does the job,” I point out. “This place is fairly secluded. Shouldn't be that much collateral damage. Once the place is gone and the Horcrux destroyed, the Curse Breakers do what they can for the Fiendfyre to calm it."

Shacklebolt looks to Potter who shrugs his shoulders. He then returns his attention to me and, again, reluctantly nods before turning to leave. "Weasley, I'm sure you could find us a couple Curse Breakers easily enough."

"Right. My brother actually could..."

Potter steps past me and turns his wand toward the temple. I stretch my arm and grasp him by the shoulder. He hesitates, turning to look at me, quizzically. "Do you mind if I...? I mean, I’ve never and… well, I've always wanted to try this."

He examines my face for a moment. I note that he truly does resemble his father as everyone says. "I suppose it's only fitting," he conceits and steps aside.

Standing in the archway, I hesitate briefly before casting the spell. I wonder if Potter noticed the momentary procrastination. The fiery beasts burst forth from my wand and into the temple. Immediately they begin their work destroying everything in their path. Somewhere amidst that chaos, I faintly hear the echoing screams of a voice I once heard in my head. Only now, they are those of one in the throes of death. With that, I know the Horcrux is destroyed along with the last remnants of Herpo the Foul. Only his legend being taught in the classes of Hogwarts and Durmstrang remain.

I let out a final sigh of relief. It's all over and I can once again return to my life. Before turning to leave, I meet Potter's gaze and for a moment I think I see something like sympathy in that look. Sympathy for what, I wonder. He still strikes me as quite arrogant, but it's nice to think that maybe in some small way… he understands me. A kindred spirit, perhaps. Still, I don't expect he and I will ever be good mates. He's far too close to Minister Shacklebolt, after all.