Keep Running

by Inkblot-Crisis

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Chapter One

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Magical Research and Development Department, Section 12, Cafeteria, the table with the slight wobble, December 14, 2009 A.D.

"Death-shrouds strike again!

Another gruesome and violent death had occured within the supposed safe-haven for criminals, seedy Knockturn Alley, this time it was Phillius Porf-Trent, a name well known for his association to a certain group that had escaped from Auror's grasps for several years now. Local residents (those brave enough to testify) had stated that heTrent had been coercing them for protection money, often taking more than what he had told them to prepare. It seemed that this had been going for far too long but as with all previous cases, slipped through the Auror's crystal ball."

I shook my head as I listened (not willingly, I might add) to the raven locked, bespectacled witch beside me at the lunch table. This had been the ritual of lunch since I started working in the moderately new Magical Research and Development Department of the Ministry's branching Auror Corps a few years ago.

The reading of the news was usually followed by...

"We're going to be investigating this, aren't we?" Reniel Lancaster asked me, Hermione Granger, her senior partner, in a mock teary-eyed expression.

I gave a sigh and softly shook my head "I don't think so." I answered plainly. If there was anything still in need of training in Lancaster, it was her wit...for someone who had almost rivalled her in booksmarts, wasn't all that bright in the common-sense department. I enjoy her uncomplicated view of things from time-to-time, but lately I've been a little bit irrate than usual for some reason...

"Why...?" she dragged the last part in a child-like demeanor that made me wince slightly, surely this twenty-six year-old witch knew how to act accordingly.

I gave up on repramanding her as soon as I tasted my coffee (Rachel was brewing again, much to my sorrow...she puts too much sugar for my tastes) I wiped my lips and raised my glasses with a finger to their proper position at the bridge of my nose as I answered "We took care of the investigation of the fourth incident, they would never let us handle the case again after we failed to come up with anything new..." I let out a sigh.

It was true, unfortunately. After weeks of investigating we turned up with the same reports as the those given by the previous investigators, down to the littlest of details.

"But you have to admit..." Lancaster stated before she took a sip of her coffee and smiled "...this person must be some sort of machine to kill again and again in such an identical manner."

I let out a small scoff "Machine?" I looked at her with an incredulous look and a raised eyebrow.

Lancaster leaned closer to the table her silk-soft raven locks tumbling down her face, shrouding from view "A half-wizard, half-machine roaming the streets of urban Kent, performing kill after kill because of some tyranical madman handling the control..." she gave a sudden smile as she turned to me and made a rather ridiculous waving motion with her hands "...just kidding."

Again, for what seemed to be the eigth time that day...I looked towards the heavens and asked silently "What...Merlin...what have I done to deserve such a partner."

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Quitting time...finally, I might add.

And as I walked towards the exit, I looked out the window and saw the entire courtyard embraced in a layer of snow that would send any child gleefully running out the door to play. I remember a day like this back in Hogwarts, the entire school was blanketed in two feet of freshly fallen snow. It was the epitome of the term 'winter picturesque'.

So why was I in the library at that time and not outside with Harry, Ron and the others?

Oh yeah.

Ron and I had a little squabble...about what, however, I can't remember anymore...must have been something trivial. We had so many little spats that we finally decided that it was best we didn't 'see' each other anymore. Come to think of it I haven't had a serious relationship since then...what have I been doing-

My usual inner monologue was interrupted by the voice of my 'insanity'.

"Miss Grangerrr!"

I cringed at the child-like echo that bounced off the elegantly carved marble walls of the M.R.D's Main Corridor. A second was all it took before I was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from Lancaster.

"H-hello, Lancaster." I managed to say before I pried her off of my person.

"Are you going home already? I thought you had that little coffee-date with Conrad?" she pried innocently.

I heaved a sigh and nodded "I left him a message stating I wasn't feeling well." which was technically true, I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks due to the Fourth Incident. Which led me to ask myself as to where in Merlin's beard does Lancaster keep her energy? I told her that I was feeling a bit drained, not being able to do my best in a job really does take a lot out of me.

We continued to walked and just before I reached for the rather large handle on an even more elegantly monsterous door (Wizarding architechture still boggles my mind 'til now) a booming voice echoed towards our direction.

"Granger! Lancaster! My office! NOW!"

At this we both winced. Lancaster gave an uneasy laugh, as if unsure if this was an appropriate time. I merely raised my glasses with a finger and sternly marched towards our 'beloved' boss.

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"New lead on the investigation." Fafnir Vole, a stout man well into his late sixties stated as he threw a thick folder unto his desk "From an anonymous source, though we surmised it's the same source that gave us our breaking leads on the Flint case as with the Glass Rose Incident." I remember those, the Flint case wasn't quite as exciting as I had hoped, but the Glass Rose Incident drew attention for more than a year before it died down.

Director Vole gave us an appraising look of contempt, I let out a quite snort of indignation as I knew exactly what he would say and do next:

"Your field performance in your last mission was pathetic." light cigar "Hopefully this time you'll at least have something worth reporting." drag and puff.

I held back a snicker as the Director did just what I had thought he'd say and do. I nodded, as did Lancaster. We stated our "Yes, sir."s and were dismissed. Yet again I found myself sighing as I walked towards the Department's exit/entrance...another load of work to sift through.

"Noo..." Lancaster whined behind me, I surmised that she opened the folder and found the source's methods all too complicated again "...it's Runic again."

I shook my head "That doesn't surprise me." I stated "This person wouldn't be innane enough to write it in the Queen's English for all to see." Honestly, does Lancaster ever think before she speaks?

"But it's such a bother to go through..." Lancaster whined "...I mean, just look these glyphs, they aren't even in the same string, there must be five different Runic Strings here." she held the paper up for me to see. To my surprise I found her count correct, there were indeed five different Runic Languages or 'Strings' written on the pristine white sheet of paper, three more than the usual encryption this 'Source' of ours used. Hermione Granger was now officially impressed by this 'Source'...no mind was flexible enough to shift from one Runic string to another in succession, handling five of them would drive that person mad.

I glanced at the runes and spotted a pattern "Spiral." I murmured absentmindedly. I was shocked to find that the answer was much simpler than I imagined...bah! My mind's overworking itself...I really need to get home.

"Hmm?" Lancaster asked.

I shook my head "I'll show you tomorrow..." I gave back the papers and gave a stretch and a yawn as we continued to walk "...I'm too tired for this today."

Lancaster again put on her 'sad'-face "So you're ditching me with the workload? You meanie."

I managed to let out a laugh this time, honestly, she's too child-like for her own sake "I may have something back in my flat that could break the Strings easily...I'll bring it tomorrow so you don't have to do all the work." she relaxed at this note "Can't let you have all the fun, now." We reached to door and took hold of the two handles, they were charmed as to make it more easier to open the overly large steel enforced double door so even someone as petite as Lancaster could open it with little effort.

Lancaster took a sour look as we walked out "Yes, deciphering a Five-String Encryption is very fun...just about as much fun as nails on chalkboard." she let out a shudder "You're weird." she stated honestly in her child-like tone.

"I know, dearie, it takes one to know one." I smiled before we parted ways, we had different Port-key stations...thankfully. All this talk of work even after hours was not helping with my irrate disposition.

I gave a poilte wave to Smithie, the Port-station attendant, before touching the fountain pen/Port Key.

After the nausiating sensation abated I made a tired smile and I walked into the familiar neighborhood.

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Hermione's Flat, Wizarding London, December 14, 2009 A.D.

"I'm home." I called out. No one answers though...I'm the only one living in this desolate flat I call 'home'. I spend so much time at work or on the field that I have little to do with it other than sleeping, bathing and a change of clothes. As for the keeping the place in check (read: clean) I am rather handy with cleaning spells and such, so there really very little to do.

I stepped out of my heavy shoes and slipped into a pair of fuzzy slippers. After placing all of my things in order, my body seemed to go into it's clockwork movement of getting myself ready for bed...and the soft, form hugging foam of the bed, along with the very 'snuggly' comforter and soft, fluffy pillows never looked so inviting as it did just now. I quickly went on ritualistically and was in my sleepwear in a matter of minutes.

With a yawn and a stretch, I managed to remember to put down my hair before I slipped into the bed with a very contented sigh. I never felt so relaxed as I slipped into a peaceful slumber.

I can only hope Lancaster hasn't started with the translations...she always gets her Danish Futhark and Anglo-Saxon Futhorc mixed up somehow.

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Chapter One End: Strings

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AN: Updated...lateness is my trademark...oh well, I'll live. Oh yeah...I have a very good reason as to my absence from updates...I can't type with a numb left arm. Oh well...here's a little somethin-somethin'.

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Chapter One Tag-along

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Loading Dock Number 12, Western Docks, Portvillage of Shoatgrit, December 15, 2009 A.D.

I pounded my hand on one of the crates being loaded out of the great barge. The thud indicated that there was indeed something inside it and that it was still intact "Well gov'ner, everything is in order...but I do have one question..." I, Thomas Michellein IV, wasn't really a curious type of person...but this particular load-list had been bothering me.

My client gave a me a look of bored contempt and raised his bowler hat, revealing a pair of cold amber eyes and a face marred with glorious scars "And what question would that be, my good man?" he asked in a gruff voice. I noticed that his cloak was tattered and torn, like it had been through a whirlwind and someone threw in a crate of nails.

"Well, as I've said: Everything seems to be in order..." I handed him the list and pointed my quill to the encircled bit "...but there seems to be a bit of a hiccup with your listing." I continued "As you can see there seems to be no sign of your crew's names in the passenger list, yet, here they are anyway..." I gestured to the three individuals wrapped up in dark material from the tip of their noses to their toes "I don't know how they got on since we checked it back at the other port...and we also have Anti-smuggling charms do deal with anything funny. We're in a bit of a barney if we let the Head Office hear of this." I stated in a fearful voice...I didn't want to get pink-slipped...especially not with the baby on the way.

My nameless client heaved a sigh and began shuffling the pages until he reached what seemed to be the itenirary of dry cargo. He pointed to the miscellanious section "Right there." he simply stated.

"Unit 0012 'Zmey'...Unit 0013 'Zmiy'...Unit 0024 'Zmaj'? What in Merlin's beard?" I asked, completely confused as to why they were listed in as cargo rather than passengers "Then there must have been a mistake with the listing, I'll be sure to make a note of this to my Chief as soon as-" I was cut off when a sudden chill ran through my spine, foretelling of a fatal threat from behind.

"I'm afraid we can't have anyone find out about this particular detail...we'd rather have it to ourselves, shall we?" my client grinned, revealing a set of sharp upper and lower canines that seemed to glint in the wandlight.

I had the sense of fear being thrust into my soul as I recognized the tell-tale signs of a Were...I immediately stumbled away from my client.

"Do you want to know the reason as to why they weren't on the passenger list, my dear boy?" he stated as he took out what looked like a flask of liquor, he took a swig and I grimaced as I realized the item was a blood-flask used by Vampires and Werewolves for a quick 'snack'. I didn't know how fast he was but he then grabbed me by the throat and raised me quicker than I could have gasped in surprise...it was then that the gibbous moon shown itself from behind the ominous clouds and lit the docks, it made my client's amber eyes shine brighter than before.

"It's because these 'Units' aren't human, not anymore, not for a long time now...they're little more than equipment." my client stated in a manic growl "Equipment that we send out whenever there's a need for high-grade weaponry...war is still ravaging overseas and people pay top Galleon for our living weapons." he increased his grip "But those that do survive, if even barely, we send out again...and again...and again...until we have no more use for them and dispose them."

"That is enough." a voice seemed to stab out of the darkness that the moon and the clouds made.

My eyes, bloodshot as they were, managed to move and looked at the tall man in a cloak the shifting clouds made visible for a second. Whoever he was stood casually as one would while waiting for a carraige.

"Vulpus Cane, Death-Merchant of Kent, Passedonia and Venice, you are hereby under arrest for crimes of terror." the voiced rang through the dark yet again. Whoever this was...he showed no fear to my client.

My client, Cane, as the hooded chap called him, let out a growl before he made a rather loud guffaw "Terror you say? I believe that the correct word would be 'wake-up call'." and at this he loosened his grip on my thoat and threw me to the ground. I managed to keep myself from blacking out as I seemingly coughed out a lung...I wasn't sure...but I didn't exactly want to find out at that moment.

As I turned back, eyes still unfocused, I saw my client pull off his robes as his visage eerily changed...the sickening sound of a Werewolf transforming was even more horrible than the foul stench of blood and decay emannating from the creature that was my client.

The shifting form of the werewolf named Cane bared his teeth at the hooded man "I don't know who you are, but I'll have your face in my belly before you could think of spells th-AWK!" a swift woosh and he was thrown into the air and into a stack of crates, shattering them and breaking the items inside with the were's large bodice. As the debris settled I saw the strange hooded man readjust the left sleeve of his cloak, but not before letting a glint of steel peek through the prestine black cloth.

"Secondary mark secured, status." this strange person stated into a small ball that hovered about him. His steps made from further away kept getting louder and louder in my ears. It was as if he was...

"Get up."

...coming at me.

I raised my head to see his face. Now, normally I would have handled the situation much better than I did...but I screamed nonetheless. I've seen a Were transform before my very eyes, I've had smugglers threaten me with the killing curse if I spoke a word of their cargo, I've even stood in the presence of a Death-Eater while they were still rampant...

...but nothing prepared me for this.

As the moon shone behind him it just gave the visible part of his face enough light to faintly be distiguishable. I screamed not because I was disgusted by what I saw...

...it was because I was looking into the eyes of a man who had already died.

He raised his right hand, there a wand was firmly gripped and pointed at my temple.

"Obliviate."

Tonight is definitely not my night...not my night at a-

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Chapter One Tag-along End: Dry goods

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