73The sound of a muffled scream in the middle distance caught her sensitive hearing, making her look up from what she was doing, then tip her head slightly as she listened intently.
The sound came again, somewhere within around three hundred yards or so, she judged. Other sounds suggested there was violence going on, most likely from the criminals that still infested the city no matter what the authorities did. It was, unfortunately, a fact of life. With a slight degree of irritation, she decided that once again it was something she was going to have to get involved with personally, since those same authorities were not as efficient as some might wish. Even her own friends and acquaintances complained about it, ironic as at least a couple of them were those authorities.
However, by and large they were restricted to what they could do.
She was not.
She had numerous advantages which they didn't, including a far better ability at stealth honed by years of practice, and a certain ruthlessness which most of her local friends, as much as she liked and admired them, lacked. With one notable exception, of course. An exception who had helped her on more than one occasion, and one that would probably approve of what she did.
With an internal flicker of amusement, she wondered if that exception realized how much they were admired by her. Possibly not, she didn't make a habit of remarking on it, but she hoped that when she did, it was appreciated.
No matter. It wasn't important in the grand scheme of things. She had a job to do, and people to protect from those who would prey on them.
Making sure she had all her equipment ready, including her mask and weapons, she silently opened the window and made her exit, disappearing into the darkness of the London night.
A few minutes later, several muffled shots rang out. A scream at a quite different pitch was heard, accompanied by a harsh sound of glee, then staggering footsteps echoed through the streets, fading into the distance, until they terminated in a very faint thump.
One that sounded an awful lot like a body hitting the ground…
Then all was still and quiet once more.
"That's six in the last month!" Neville Longbottom, Director of the DMLE, waved a piece of paper at the other people in his office. "Every one of them a wanted and violent criminal, every one of them taken out by..." He examined the sheet for a moment, then carried on, "A hollow point .357 bullet fired from what our friends in the Met tell us is most likely a suppressed handgun, probably a Glock 33. Whatever that is."
"It's a polymer framed sub-compact pistol manufactured in Austria by the Glock firearms company. They make a large number of handguns which are very popular in both civilian and law enforcement circles around the world. They're reliable, accurate, and cost effective, and are simple to maintain and service. They also have a very neat trigger-operated safety mechanism which is…" Tonks trailed off as everyone in the room stared at her. Her hair flickered slightly darker than its normal cheery pink, showing she was a little embarrassed.
Neville, after a long moment, shook his head and resumed his diatribe. "Leaving Tonks's frankly disturbing enthusiasm for Mundane firearms out of it, the point is that someone is going around shooting random criminals in the face with a weapon that hardly anyone in our world knows anything about." He glanced at the woman, who shrugged slightly, with a small smirk. "Which is probably a good thing. Whoever's doing it is an appallingly good shot, too, since we've only found one of these bullet things that actually missed their target."
He poked the small collection of metal fragments that were in a plastic bag on his desk with one finger, shaking his head. "Not a drop of magic, but as lethal as anything I've ever seen," he added. "Even the ones who didn't get killed on the spot bled out only minutes later. The Met forensics people say the… ammunition, I believe?"
Tonks nodded.
"Is something called 'Ranger SXT' which according to their information is about as horrific a thing as I've ever come across. And completely illegal in the UK. As is the weapon. Or weapons." He held up the report, which had been produced very quietly by some people at the Metropolitan Police as a favor to their Wizarding colleagues. "From the recovered evidence there appear to be two pistols being used. Whether that means there are two assailants or only one with two guns, I have no idea."
Dropping the report next to the evidence bag, he leaned back in his chair and regarded his guests. "So what do we have? One, or possibly two, vigilantes, armed with a Mundane firearm loaded with ammunition designed specifically to cause maximum damage to a person, who are hunting down random muggers and other violent criminals and… dealing with them. Permanently. We don't know who they are, where they come from, where they go, why they're doing this, or any useful information at all. No one sees them come, no one sees them leave, no one sees them at all."
He fumed to himself for a moment as glances were exchanged, but no one else dared interrupt.
"The only description we've had, and it was from a single report by a victim of one Washton Oakes, professional murderer, who met a particularly grisly end at the hands of our friend or friends, was 'Glowing eyes in the darkness, seven feet off the ground.' Which is more than a little worrying if it's even vaguely accurate, as it implies something not entirely human is behind this." He gazed at another report, idly tapping it with one finger. "Although considering the state the poor woman was in when the Auror patrol found her, we can probably take that statement with a very large pinch of salt. I hope."
He paused, then finished, "We need to work out how to find them and stop them. I'm open to ideas."
There was silence for a minute or so after he stopped talking. Eventually, after clearing his throat, his old friend, a man who was definitely touched in the head but was even so, or possibly because of this, oddly good at his work, somewhat tentatively asked, "Do we actually need to do anything? I mean, this guy is taking out people who your lot would probably do the same thing to if they caught them, right?"
"The Auror force does not summarily execute people in the street, Potter," Neville sighed.
"Well, not all the time," Tonks helpfully added. "Sometimes they shoot first, we shoot back, and things sort of..." She trailed off again as he gave her a look. "Sorry, Boss."
"Don't call me boss, and try to keep your more bloodthirsty urges under control, Tonks," he sighed. She grinned as did Potter and the equally mad Weasley next to him.
"Harry's got a point, though, Nev," Ron put in. "Whoever this person is, they've only gone after proper bastards and have saved at least a dozen or so lives in the last few months. That last guy had killed at least three people we know of, all over the country."
"That is not, in fact, the point." Neville glared at him. "The point is that a lot of people in the Wizengamot are getting nervous about the way a 'muggle fireleg' to use the terms your own father would put it in is being used to very efficiently kill wizards. Yes, they're all fuckwits of the first order, and yes, they'd almost certainly meet a similar end sooner or later as a result of their chosen career, but at a very minimum this is politically a nightmare."
He glowered at them all. "The Minister isn't happy. You know how some elements of the government tend to get all funny about the Mundanes. On the one hand they're convinced that they're third class citizens at best, and amusing animals at worst, and on the other hand they're completely terrified of them. We're outnumbered thousands to one and anyone with the slightest inkling of intelligence already knows that if the Mundanes ever seriously decided that Wizards were a threat, we'd be completely fucked."
"Most of the Wizengamot doesn't have the slightest inkling of intelligence, though," Harry chuckled.
"You know that and I know that, but they're convinced they're the cream of the crop as you also know," Neville sighed. "And when they're scared they tend towards doing the stupidest thing they can come up with. The Minister is good at heading off their more excessive daft ideas but she's got her limits. Sooner or later someone who has no idea about… well, anything, really… is going to do something stupid in a way that the Mundane authorities or us can't hide and then the shit really will hit the fan."
"And you think that proving that a gun is at least as good as a wand at killing someone is too much provocation?" Tonks asked.
Neville nodded. "I do. I'm not all that familiar with firearms but I did some research, and to be honest the things terrify me. Even a handgun out-ranges any spell I've ever heard of by hundreds of feet at least, and you can't dodge a bullet. What a rifle would do…" He shuddered. "No, I'd prefer not having those around the place if we can avoid it."
"You know the world record distance for a sniper is currently something like one and a half miles?" Tonks asked, smiling a little.
He glared at her.
"No, I did not. Please stop helping."
After a moment when he was sure she wasn't going to add to her observations, although the small smile didn't go away, he carried on, "We have no idea if the vigilante is a Wizard, or a Squib, or heaven help us a Mundane who has somehow managed to work out how to access our world. Most people are sure that can't happen, but it wouldn't be the first time. Our defenses aren't perfect as we found out from Hermione's friendly priest." He thought back to the several conversations he'd had with the cheerful and appallingly intelligent and well informed Italian, who had access to a lot of information he himself didn't. Finding out that most if not all of the intelligence authorities on the planet were at least as well informed about the goings-on in the wizarding world as he was had come as something of a shock. Although it did explain a couple of the more puzzling cases in the archives…
"Neither do we know if they're using magic to hide themselves, or some form of technology. Or just good old fashioned skill. There's no trace of magic on the recovered evidence that we can detect, but that doesn't necessarily prove anything. It might be an invisibility cloak, or any number of other methods. And we don't even know if this person is human at all. Although that leads to some even worse possibilities." He folded his hands on the desk and inspected the three people.
"Basically, we know nothing useful at all. We need to stop this happening, and at this point I don't really care how. The Aurors are out of their depth, very few of them know anything about Mundane weaponry, and two months of investigation has turned up absolutely nothing useful. So, against my better judgment, and despite common sense shouting at me to find some other way, I'm going to let you two lunatics loose on this case."
Ron and Harry looked at each other, grinned slightly, then turned the smirks on him. He sighed heavily. "Please try not to start another small war. Once was enough. And stop blowing up buildings, it's getting tedious sorting out the aftermath of one of your little adventures."
Harry opened his mouth and Neville held up a finger. "No. You know full well what normally happens, Potter. Just don't do it. No Weasley Special Projects, no 'Oops, I missed,' no 'Hey, I have a cunning plan!,' and definitely no Brown Note Potion! Every time you insane people use that damn stuff things get out of hand. Just investigate quietly for once, will you? For me?" He looked beseechingly at the pair, who exchanged a look again before nodding.
"Thank you. Tonks, you're assigned to help them. Try to stop him pulling a Potter, please. I'm getting tired of explaining things to the Minister."
"I'll do my best," she replied, with a dubious glance at the two men. "But you know how they are."
"I do, all too well. And I know you're at least as mad. But I'm out of options, so get out there and find this person. Stop them, persuade them to go somewhere else, buy them off, shoot them, I genuinely don't care at this point. Just get them to stop leaving dead muggers all over my territory!"
"Sir!" Tonks said, jumping to her feet and giving him a picture perfect salute, which made him put his head in his hands and moan. Potter was rubbing off on her.
"Maybe we should ask Sirius to help out?" Harry mused out loud. Neville froze in horror. "He's back in the country and was complaining that he was bored. And he's always thought PWI was a good lark."
"For Merlin's sake, Harry, are you trying to give me a coronary?" Neville demanded, raising his head and fixing his old schoolmate with a basilisk stare. "DO NOT INVOLVE SIRIUS BLACK! He's like you, Tonks, and Weasley added together and turned up as far as it will go."
Harry grinned as Neville fumed. "We're still picking little pieces of glass out of strange places from the last time Sirius decided to 'help' so just leave him out of it."
"Oh, all right, but he's going to be really disappointed." Harry looked mildly upset.
"Do I look like someone who cares?" Neville retorted. "I can live with the disappointment. I'm not sure I could live with his help." He pushed the packet of information across the desk, Ron collecting it. "Get out of here, you're making me nervous just thinking about what might happen. Find this person and stop them. Hermione's back, isn't she?"
Harry nodded.
"Ask her for some ideas. She's smarter than both of you put together and is a lot less irresponsible. She at least won't think it's a brilliant idea to combine a portable hole with a sewage transfiguration spell in the middle of the street..."
"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ron sniggered.
"For certain values of 'worked,' possibly," Neville sighed. "Although as usual your 'solution' was probably worse than the actual problem." Wearily waving at the door, he added, "Go on. Leave me in peace to dread what happens next. Close the door on your way out."
All three of them got up and headed for the exit. "Sure you still want to work for him, Tonks?" Harry asked in a loud whisper. "He's awfully depressing sometimes. We're a lot more fun to work with, and we pay better."
Neville threw a coffee cup at him, making him duck, laugh like a lunatic, and dive out the door followed by the other two who were grinning. "STOP TRYING TO STEAL TONKS, POTTER!" he shouted after them.
All he got back was a snicker as the door closed.
Sighing again, he rested his forehead on the desk and wondered why he bothered.
"Any ideas?" Sirius asked as he put the last of the pages down, then picked up a glass of brandy and sipped it.
"Not really, no," Harry shrugged. "Not yet. We've gone around all the crime scenes and looked at everything, run all the diagnostic spells we could think of including some Hermione Specials, and nothing stands out. Nothing that's not already in the reports, at least. Definitely a Mundane firearm and the evidence from the Met checks out as far as we can tell."
"We're thinking it's probably only one shooter, though," Ron added thoughtfully as he inspected the plate of sandwiches he'd acquired from the table with a slight frown. "Tonks figured out the trajectory of the bullets in the last shooting and they seemed to come from only about a foot or so apart, which could be someone holding a gun in each hand. Probably not two people very close together either."
"The problem with that," Tonks said from the other side of the room where she was lying back in a very comfortable-looking chair and staring at the ceiling reflectively, "is that using two guns at once isn't easy. Sure, it's possible, but despite what the movies show it takes either quite a lot of practice or blind luck to consistently hit the same target with a gun in each hand. And whoever this is, they're really good with a pistol. So I doubt it's blind luck."
"A professional, then," Sirius suggested. She nodded.
"That's what I think. Which tends to eliminate most Wizards, since there aren't many who even know what a gun is, never mind would ever learn to use one at all. At least in this country. Might be different abroad."
"A Wizard hit-man would be fairly terrifying," the older man quipped. "Mundane ones are bad enough."
"How do you know?" Harry asked.
Sirius grinned deviously. "There was this girl I met when I was in Goa..." he replied. "Oh, the stories she had. Anyway, that's for another time. Maybe it isn't a Wizard at all, then?"
"We're leaning that way," Ron put in, having finished the sandwiches in short order. He put the empty plate down next to his chair, where it silently vanished moments later. "A Squib makes more sense. They'd be able to get into Diagon Alley easily, and if they live in the Mundane world like most of them do, would probably know about guns. And could well hold a grudge or something."
"Wouldn't blame them," Sirius muttered, rubbing his chin in thought. "But if that was the case, why go after criminals on the street? Why not start knocking off some rich bastard who's the sort of person who looks down on Squibs?"
All three of his guests shrugged. "No idea," Harry admitted.
"Hmm."
They sat in silence for a while. Sirius slowly drank his brandy. "The other problem is where did they get the guns and ammunition, I suppose," he finally said. "I know that the Mundane government has put a lot of effort into banning most firearms since that thing a few years back up in Scotland. Where does our helpfully violent vigilante get their equipment? That special stuff they're using comes from the States, although the guns are made in Austria. Some sort of connection with America?"
"That makes sense, but so far we can't find anything," Tonks nodded. "We've looked. No American wizards have turned up at just the right moment, or Squibs for that matter, not that we can locate. It was a bit much to hope for, I admit, but we did look. So whatever the source is, it's more indirect. Possibly some sort of link with the London criminal scene is one idea, but again we can't figure out why they're going after Wizarding criminals in that case."
"They don't want the competition?" Ron suggested half-facetiously.
"Not impossible," Sirius allowed after some reflection. "I've heard of weirder things. But it doesn't smell right to me."
"Me either," Harry nodded slowly. "All the evidence tells me that whoever is behind this is targeting violent criminals that should already be in prison and stopping them. Every single one of them has multiple assaults and often murders to their name, all of them were in the process of committing another assault, and only people like that have been attacked. It's like some sort of hard-core version of a Mundane superhero from those comic things Fred likes so much."
"Owlman, or something like that?" Sirius grinned.
"Batman, I think," Ron replied, frowning. "They've got weird imaginations, those Mundanes."
"Anyway, it's more like this is a personal vendetta against criminals in general, rather than someone looking for specific people," Tonks put in, nodding a little too. "I agree with Harry. And to be honest I'm not entirely sure we shouldn't be standing aside. I mean, yes, violence is bad and all that, but it's sure effective." She grinned briefly. "This method certainly stops repeat offenses."
Sirius laughed. "I doubt the Director sees it that way. Or the Minister."
"Not really," Harry chuckled. "But it's mostly the others, the old families who are getting all nervous about being attacked in their beds by ravening hordes of gun-wielding muggles."
With a smirk, Sirius said, "I suspect the Goblins are doing a roaring trade in anti-firearm wards."
"Probably." His godson shrugged with a smirk. "More power to them, if they want to suck some of those people dry it'll serve them right."
"Maybe it's actually a Goblin?" Ron said with a slight smile. "A lot of them really don't like Wizards, or anyone else. Perhaps they're doing something about that and going after people no one would really miss."
"Unless there's three of them standing on each other's shoulders I can't see how you get seven foot tall assailant with glowing eyes," Tonks snickered.
"Yeah, good point." Ron shrugged. "In that case I've got no idea."
"That's the problem, none of us do," Harry sighed. "And there was another one last night. Only about two hundred yards from my flat, actually. Dead as a door nail when the Aurors found him. One of the top ten wanted men in the UK, as it happens, wanted for six rapes, two murders, and more assaults than I can count."
"So no real loss to society," Sirius commented wryly.
"Not as such, no. I doubt anyone will mourn the bastard," Harry agreed. "But it's embarrassing the DMLE since the bugger had been in the area for over a month and no one noticed until our friend got him."
"Ouch." His godfather snickered. "That's going to cause red faces."
"Just a bit."
"What does Hermione think about it?" the older man asked curiously.
Harry scratched his upper lip, looking slightly embarrassed. "Um… I haven't asked her yet."
"Why not?" Sirius asked, staring at him like he was mad. "She's far smarter that you are."
"Oh, thanks very much," Harry retorted.
"I didn't mean it like that, Harry," Sirius soothed. "She's far smarter than anyone is. The girl's terrifying, I've never met anyone that brilliant. Even your mother would have been appalled, and she was a genius. What I meant is that if there's anyone who could probably just think it through and work it out, it's our Hermione. I'm surprised you haven't asked her, that's all."
"I wanted to see if we could do it without asking her for help," Harry sighed, looking despondent. "I love that woman, but sometimes she makes me feel like a trained chimp having a bad day."
Ron and Tonks both nodded.
Sirius chuckled. "I do know what you mean, lad. Crazy-smart women have that effect, and she'd the most impressive one I've ever met in that regard. Most other regards too. You should definitely marry her."
Harry glared at him as his friends burst out laughing. "Marry Hermione? Are you nuts? She'd end up strangling me because I was too stupid or something."
"That girl loves you, you idiot, she'd never hurt you. But I agree, you're not enough challenge for her." Looking thoughtful, Sirius tapped a finger on his nearly empty brandy glass. "She needs someone rich, probably older, witty, good with practical matters, rich did I mention that, devastatingly good looking, and rich."
Harry gave him a narrow look. "And I suppose you have someone in mind who happens to embody those characteristics?"
Sirius beamed at him, while Tonks was silently heaving with laughter and Ron was grinning. "I may well do, my boy. I may well do."
"Idiot. And don't call me my boy, you know I don't like it. Bad memories."
"Fair enough. Lad." The older man smirked as Harry sighed. "Joking aside, talk to the girl. She'll have some good ideas, she always does. And you've got nothing right now."
"True." Harry shook his head. "We're running in circles, without any real evidence for..."
He stopped talking as they all heard a muffled bang from somewhere fairly close through the open window, the sound carrying well in the early autumn night. "That sounded like..." he started to say, only to be interrupted by two more identical sounds and a yell of anguish.
"Quick, it's only about two streets over!" Tonks cried as she jumped to her feet and headed for the door. Both the younger men followed immediately, as did Sirius, all of them with their wands in their hands. They shot out of the front door of Sirius's house, looked around, then charged off to the right as she shouted, "That way!"
Moments later they rounded a corner into a wide alley and stopped dead, Sirius nearly running Harry down. "Ah," the older man said, as they studied the scene. "Two more, by the looks of it."
"Check him," Tonks snapped, pointing at a whimpering wizard who was cowering in the corner next to a drainpipe, while she cautiously approached the pair of motionless figures that were lying face down on the cobbles. Ron was carefully turning on the spot, his wand leading, as he inspected the entire scene, including the roof line three stories above them. Sirius moved to the living person, who smelled strongly of alcohol, and quickly ran some simple medical spells.
"He's fine, just drunk and terrified," he reported a few seconds later. "Shut up, they're dead," he added in a lower voice as the middle aged wizard kept making noises better suited for a frightened three year old. "Pull yourself together, man, this is embarrassing."
Harry checked one body while Tonks did the same to the other one. "Mine's done for," he said.
"Mine too," she grumbled. Rolling the man over, she shook her head after a quick inspection. "Two shots to the chest. Must have died almost instantly."
"This guy took one right in the throat," Harry commented, looking at the corpse. "Not a lot of it left."
"That's a real mess," Ron said over his shoulder, his face showing distaste. "Quick, though. Looks like a reducto got him, almost."
"Yep. There's almost nothing holding his head on, look." Harry prodded the head and watched as it rolled loosely from side to side, making Tonks sigh.
"Stop that. Playing with the dead bodies is just weird."
"Hey, I know that one," Sirius said as he came over and looked for himself. "Not a nice person at all. Um… Xavier something… Smitling? No, Smitely, that's it. Xavier Smitely. Nasty piece of work, he made a career of relieving people of their valuables and their lives in that order. Liked to see them twitch or something."
"How do you happen to know someone like that?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"Misspent youth," Sirius chuckled.
"You always say that," Harry complained.
"I had a very misspent youth," the older man shrugged. "Misspent it a lot. All over the place."
"So I heard from mum," Tonks muttered. "This one looks familiar too, pretty sure he's wanted for multiple rapes and general thievery. I'll have to check the records."
They looked up as two Aurors came panting into the alley, wands raised and faces severe. "Halt in the name of… Tonks, what the hell are you doing here?" one of them said.
"My job, idiot," she snapped back. "What kept you? Five minutes? That's terrible response time, we were here in under thirty seconds and I'm not even on duty."
Both of them looked annoyed and embarrassed in equal measure. "What about those three?" the other Auror asked, indicating Harry, Ron, and Sirius, all of whom had their wands in hand but discreetly out of sight, something the new arrivals appeared to miss. "Potter being mixed up in this is worrying."
"Nothing's on fire, though," his colleague said with a smirk. "Can't have been here long."
"Funny, very funny," Harry grumbled. "The Director has us consulting on this case."
"Man's mad," the first Auror muttered under his breath, but shut up when Tonks glared at him. "So what do we have?"
"Two dead muggers, one live victim who won't stop whimpering," Tonks replied with an icy glare directed at the so far unnamed wizard, "and nothing else. Except for that smell, which is characteristic of a firearm being used."
Both Aurors sniffed, then exchanged a look. "So it's definitely our man. Three neat little holes in these two just adds to that. No sign of him though. Sirius, see if you can get that idiot's name, and for Merlin's sake get him to shut up. You two, check that side of the alley, we'll take this one. Look for anything out of the ordinary, no matter how small it is. At this point we need whatever we can find."
The two Aurors nodded and began carefully scanning the ground and wall on the left side of the alley. Harry, Ron, and Tonks did the same on the other side. Sirius knelt down beside the now-silent but still quivering near-victim and started talking quietly to him.
Twenty minutes later, all of them grouped together again. "Nothing. No trace of footsteps, no residual magic, no marks on the walls, nothing to indicate anyone was ever here," Auror number one said in resignation. "We didn't pass anyone on the way here either and this alley is a dead end, so whoever it was is fast on their feet. Or used a broom. But we didn't see anyone flying either."
"Neither did we and we were here in under half a minute," Harry replied, looking up, then back at them. "Odd."
"Invisibility cloak, a fast broom, and someone who's really skilled?" Ron suggested.
"Maybe. But something doesn't quite add up with that..."
"We found these," Tonks put in, holding out her hand. Three brass casings glinted in the light from their wands. "Same as the other cases. But only three, so whoever it was didn't miss."
"We only heard three shots too," Ron noted, causing her to nod.
"They sounded much quieter than they should have been which also suggests a suppressor was used," she replied.
"A suppressor?" Auror Two queried, looking puzzled.
"Mundane firearms use a fast burning powder to propel a small chunk of metal at ferocious speeds," she explained, turning to him. "Much, much faster than any spell. It makes quite a lot of noise and a bright flash when it's fired. A suppressor is a device that can be added to certain weapons to reduce the noise and flash. It's not perfect so they're still quite loud, but it does cut down the sound a lot. We were close enough to hear it easily but if we'd been further away it might have been missed."
"Someone in one of these buildings reported hearing a strange sound, which is why we turned up," the Auror explained, waving his hand to the side. "We didn't hear anything ourselves, but the report was similar to the previous cases so we came as fast as we could."
"Which wasn't all that fast," she commented, causing them to give her a slightly annoyed look.
"We were nearly half a mile away, Tonks!"
"Run faster next time," she suggested with a smirk. Turning to Sirius as they spluttered, she went on, "Any luck?"
"His name is Jonathan Punt, he's an apothecary, and he wants to go home," the man said as he stood up. "And he claims he saw a flying giant with glowing gold eyes who spat fire at those men."
"A flying giant..." Harry repeated slowly.
"That's what he said."
"It were huge," the wizard, who was sitting on the ground with his knees clasped to his chest, muttered. "Great big thing, ten feet tall. All dark like, with these weird eyes that looked spooky and angry. It made a loud noise and spat out flames, then those men screamed and fell down. Then it flew away over the buildings. Didn't make a sound other than the bangs, like fireworks."
"Ten feet tall?" Ron queried.
"At least. Eyes were right up there, above a tall man's head by half or more."
"Did you see what it was holding?" Tonks asked carefully.
He shook his head. "No, too dark. Just BANG! And down they went." He shouted the word and made them all twitch.
"What was it wearing?" Harry asked. "And where did it stand?"
"Couldn't see clothes," the man replied nervously. "Maybe black robes? Makes sense, they'd be invisible in this dark. It were standing about two feet to your right and five back."
Harry moved to the position indicated. "Here?"
"That's it. Right there."
He looked down, brightening his wand, while Tonks and Ron came over and bent over, doing the same. "No footprints, not even a mark from the hem of a robe," he finally stated.
"Can't see anything either," Tonks sighed. She straightened up and turned to the wizard, who was slowly calming down although he was very pale still. "Are you sure it was here?"
"Sure as you're standing there. Eyes were right there, about… maybe three feet above his head?" He pointed to Harry, who looked up. "Fire came from about two feet lower down. I think." The man shrank back as all of them looked at him. "I were hiding then."
"Wonderful," Ron muttered very quietly. "Think any of that is even vaguely right?"
"It's more than we've got up to now, so I hope so," Harry replied equally quietly. "Not that it helps much." He turned back to Punt, who was gradually relaxing as he recovered. "You're certain it flew away?"
The man actually managed to look indignant. "I am that, yes. Flew right up and over that building there," he replied, pointing. They all followed his finger to the right. "Quick, too, it were gone in a second. Strangest thing I've seen in me life."
"Did it use a broom?"
"No, it had wings. I think… yeah, pretty sure it had wings." He stretched his arms widely. "More than that across."
They exchanged looks. "Wings?"
"Wings," he insisted. "All feathery."
"What color were the feathers?" Sirius asked, fascinated.
Punt opened his mouth, then stopped. After several seconds of puzzlement, he slowly shook his head. "Don't rightly remember. I know there were feathers, but damned if I can think what they looked like."
Everyone stared at him, then at each other, then as one looked upwards. "Confundus or something?" Ron said, sounding confused.
"Maybe… Not a version I'm familiar with though," Tonks finally replied. She sighed. "We're not going to find anything helpful here. Take this man to St Mungos and get him checked out, and have them check for any confundus or obliviation spells. Or anything at all."
The two Aurors nodded, one of them going over to Punt and heaving him to his feet. "Come on, Mr Punt, let's get you seen to," he said.
The still slightly shaking wizard nodded. "Guess I'm lucky, though," he commented, looking at the two bodies. "If it weren't for that thing, it would be me there on the floor."
That seemed to be likely, they all acknowledged as they shared a look. As the Aurors lead him off, then apparated away with a pop a few seconds later, Tonks shook her head. "This is getting ridiculous," she complained. "We nearly had him, and all we have to show for it is three shell casings, two dead criminals, and a tall story of a flying giant with feathers and glowing eyes, but the witness can't remember anything else that's useful. And there's still no evidence of magic. Which doesn't make any sense."
"It's a puzzler," Sirius agreed. "Come on, let's go back to my house and have something other than sandwiches to eat, and give it some more thought. And Harry, will you please consult Hermione? She's bound to have an idea or two."
"I'll do it first thing when I get back," his godson nodded.
"Good." They headed back in the direction they'd come from, much more slowly this time.
"Just as a matter of record, the Director did tell us not to involve Sirius, you realize," Tonks said calmly after about half a minute.
"Oh, he was only joking about that, I'm sure," Harry assured her, equally calmly. Behind them, Ron glanced at Sirius, who was smirking a little, and laughed under his breath. "But to be on the safe side, probably best not to tell him..."
Satisfied that once again she'd helped out, she carefully closed the window, put her equipment away in its place, and relaxed with a quick meal. Soon she was asleep, contented that things were progressing in the right direction.
Good people were safe.
Bad people were not.
All was as it should be.
"What did Hermione say?" Neville asked. Harry shook his head.
"She's thinking about it," he replied as he took the mug of coffee that Tonks handed him, the other one going to Ron, before she also sat. "I expect she'll have a fifty page report on it in a day or two telling us all the places we went wrong, how we went wrong, how we need to improve, and so on. You know, the usual."
Neville chuckled. "I have some idea," he replied. "Good, perhaps she'll be able to point us in the right direction."
"Any more from that Punt chap?" Ron asked curiously.
Their old friend picked up a familiar looking medical report, scanned it, shook his head, then handed it to the red-head who took it and started reading. "Nothing useful. He had too much alcohol in his blood for the doctor's liking, but otherwise was in good health. No real injuries, only some abrasions on his neck where it looks like Smitely grabbed him, and a mark on his chest where one of them pushed a wand into it as far as they can tell. That matches the statement he gave when he'd been sobered up a little. And they say there's no indication of any memory modification spells of any sort present."
"So why can't he remember what color the feathers of this mysterious flying giant's wings were?" Harry asked.
"Because it doesn't exist?" Neville suggested with a sigh. "He was pissed as a newt after all. He might have seen a pigeon or an owl or something and just made it all up in his head. Might not even realize it. That happens a lot with witnesses."
"Have you tried a pensieve?" Harry asked.
"Alcohol tends to make them very unreliable, unfortunately," Neville shrugged. "We did try but it was a mess. Nothing particularly helpful was found. Possibly some indication of a large figure, but it's difficult to separate a real memory from what he thought he saw in someone that inebriated. We can't use it."
"Damn." He sipped some coffee and thought. "That was the closest we've come to anything and we're no better off."
"Apparently not." Neville picked up his own coffee and stared into it, steam rising to surround his face. "All we can do is keep working on it, I suppose. We might get lucky."
"And at least two more extremely dangerous and unpleasant people who should already have been in prison are off the street," Tonks commented.
They looked at her, then each other, before nodding. "Not exactly the correct method, but there is that," Neville allowed. "Considering how small the Wizarding community is, we do seem to have a lot of criminals," he added a moment later, with another sigh. "Someone should work out why one day and see if there's a good solution to it. I'm sure the Mundanes don't have as many thugs per capita as we do."
"I don't think they possibly could have, or it would be total anarchy on the streets," Harry nodded. Ron finished reading the medical report and tossed it back onto Neville's desk before retrieving his mug and taking a long drink from it.
"At least we haven't had a death cult since those lunatics up in Scotland," the Weasley man pointed out with a smile. "Maybe we'll avoid that particular problem for a while."
"I certainly hope so," Neville replied, shaking his head. "Undoubtedly I'll be disappointed, though. There's something in the psyche of the average wizard that seems drawn to that sort of rubbish, I think. Considering how regularly they pop up."
"That's just being defeatist, Nev," Harry said cheerfully. "One day we'll figure out how to stop them completely."
"And until then, you and Ron can blow them up at the taxpayer's expense," Tonks snickered.
Harry laughed while Neville glared at all three of them.
"That is far too close to reality to be funny," he snapped. "Why I let you idiots out on the street I still have no idea. You should be buried in a mine somewhere where you can't do any damage and only let out at Christmas for a few hours."
Harry grinned at him. Finishing his coffee, he stood up and put the mug down on the desk. "We'd better get back to work. See you later, Nev."
As he followed the other two out the door, he said over his shoulder, "Sirius says hi, by the way."
He shut it just in time to hear ceramic shatter on the other side. "POTTER!" Neville shouted, making him snicker, then follow his friends out of the building.
Six days later, and three more aborted muggings which produced between them five more bodies of people who were generally considered bad news by everyone, Harry was beginning to wonder what the hell was going on. Many of their contacts in the criminal underworld, which was indeed far larger than one would expect considering how small the number of wizards really was, were starting to panic. Crime was rapidly dropping as the perpetrators of that crime decided that their fortunes lay elsewhere.
On the whole this was good, but it was still worrying, since they were no closer to working out who was behind the whole thing. Hermione had absorbed all their information and sat and thought about it for a while, but so far hadn't come up with any explanation. He was certain that sooner or later she would, she always did, but even his best friend had her limits. And whoever was responsible for the vigilante actions was extremely good at hiding their tracks. No spell anyone could come up with had found anything.
They'd even resorted to patrolling the likely areas the person they were after was active in on brooms, with invisibility cloaks of their own, but even though one of those attacks had happened while this was in progress, no perpetrator had been discovered. The shot had been heard, Aurors and Harry's small team had converged instantly on the site, and mere seconds after the incident arrived to find a still-warm body bleeding on the ground, a victim who was running like the devil was after her two streets away, having apparently forgotten she was a fully qualified witch and could apparate, and nothing else other than one shell casing.
Not a sign of the vigilante, no foot prints, no magical traces, no witnesses, nothing.
It was very, very annoying and equally puzzling.
Harry was beginning to suspect that someone had either some extremely advanced technology they'd never encountered before, which was certainly not something he'd dismiss out of hand bearing in mind the advances in the last few years, or magic beyond his experience. He couldn't see any other plausible explanation. The vigilante came and went seemingly at will, right through their patrols, without leaving a trace. The only witnesses were a few of the former victims, and although the 'glowing eyes' part was constant, nothing else was. One more such person had said their savior had flown away but couldn't remember if they had wings or not. So that was more or less a dead end.
The whole thing was most irritating.
Another week passed. Nine more would-be muggers and rapists met an abrupt end. Crime rates plummeted to levels not seen since the forties. Dyed in the wool hardened criminals retired to the country en masse, deciding that a life as a sheep farmer or something was preferable to being struck down by the mysterious vigilante who never missed.
Questions were asked in the Wizengamot. No real answers were to be had, and despite all the sound and fury, as usual very little actually happened. Minister Bones was able to keep a lid on the more reactionary elements of the Wizarding world, and the obvious detail that whoever it was only went after vicious criminals did prevent precipitous action. No one was actually happy about it, least of all those self-same criminals, but as usual wizards managed to get used to something bizarre in short order as it didn't directly affect them, which was a depressingly common thing.
More time passed. More bodies turned up, although in smaller and smaller quantities at longer intervals, mostly due to the smarter criminals leaving the area and the life style while those that remained tended to have a short shelf life.
Then, one day just over a month after the Punt case, it just stopped.
No more bodies were found. No shots were heard. The vigilante, whoever they were, had apparently disappeared as mysteriously as they'd arrived.
Most people heaved a sigh of relief when a couple more weeks passed with no cases of dead muggers, particularly those who plied that trade. Not that at the moment they did ply that trade, the ones being left generally being of the opinion that they weren't idiots.
Street crime had bottomed out at historically low levels, and showed no signs of being likely to rise in the near future.
No one ever worked out who had been behind it all. After a while, they stopped looking.
"It's absolutely bizarre," Harry sighed, picking at his food. He glanced up at his friend who was watching him with a faint smile over her plate, and shook his head. "We still don't know who did it, or why, or how they managed to get away so cleanly. I doubt we ever will unless you figure it out."
"I did my best, Harry, but I have my limits," Hermione replied with a fond look. "There was very little evidence. I would suggest that it was most likely some unusual magic, possibly a family spell of some sort very few people are aware of, that allowed the vigilante to hide so effectively from you all."
"We sort of worked that out ourselves, but it's good to have you confirm the idea," he admitted. "This is delicious, by the way."
"Thank you, it's one of my favorites." She took a forkful of the food and ate it, then swallowed. "Look on the bright side, though. You and Ron earned a lot of money, and did manage to track down half a dozen serious criminals as a side effect of the entire thing. Nearly two dozen of the worst sort of violent thug are permanently off the street, and the crime levels through the entire Wizarding world in London at least, and from what I've heard most of Britain, have fallen to levels no one's ever seen before."
"That's true," he nodded.
"On the whole, I think things worked out fairly well, if you ignore the bloodshed. And considering who the people who shed that blood are, it's not all bad. At least half of them would have spent the rest of their lives in Azkaban if they'd been caught, and that ghastly place is a prolonged death sentence no matter how you look at it. A bullet in the chest is probably merciful compared to that as far as some people are concerned. And four of them were headed for the veil, so they were dead anyway."
"Also true. Not quite the way Neville looks at it, but..." He shrugged. "Oh, well. With any luck that's the end of it."
"I suspect it is, yes," she smiled. "Now make sure you eat your peas."
"Yes, dear," he grinned, causing her to laugh.
When he went to bed that night, he was still smiling.
Two weeks earlier…
Entering the room through her normal route, she silently closed the window, turned around, and yipped in shock.
"You've had your fun. I think you should probably stop now," said the other person.
She sagged a little. What had given her away?
"Don't look like that," her unexpected visitor chuckled. "You had to know I'd work it out sooner or later. Your technique is… unique." The other person shrugged. "A bit more bloodthirsty than I'd prefer, but I can't deny it was efficiently done. I know someone who would agree although he'd find the method somewhat uncomfortable. It's certainly had a lasting effect. The authorities don't like it, but most of those people were ones they'd dropped the ball on time and time again, so something needed to be done one way or the other. You beat me to it."
Looking at the visitor, she brightened up a little. Perhaps she had made a difference after all. And she'd certainly saved a lot of lives, nearly as many as she'd somewhat reluctantly been forced to end. That was directly, of course, there was no knowing how many more those people would have gone on to kill, although past performance suggested the total was quite high.
"But Harry would be upset, so it's best if it stops. I won't take the guns away, but I want you to put them back and only use them if you really have to. All right?"
She nodded, a little sadly, but with understanding. Perhaps her friend was right. Certainly the hunting had become much harder recently, so the criminals had at least finally learned. All in all, it was a decent result. And she did have other hobbies to keep her going, after all…
"Thank you." Her visitor smiled, her tail twitching around in a manner that showed she was pleased. "Sleep well. I'll see you soon enough."
Lifting a hand, the other person nodded to her, then blinked out of existence as soundlessly as she'd arrived.
With an inner sigh, she took her mask off, carefully cleaned her weapons, put everything back into the secret storage area, then looked out the window at the night sky. It was becoming colder as winter drew in and on the whole she was glad she wouldn't need to wander around the city looking for idiots.
After a quick midnight meal, Hedwig settled down on her perch and closed her eyes.
