So, this is my second attempt at a YGO/HP fic, since my first one was rather well liked. It's not completely fleshed out, but I do have a good idea of where it's going, so I decided to go ahead and post the first chapter. It's set three years after Deathly Hallows and about a six months after the end of Yu-Gi-Oh (and ignores the other two YGO series completely since I haven't seen them and I have no plans to), and it features absolutely no pairings (so please don't ask). That being said, let me know if you like it or not.
I own neither Yu-Gi-Oh nor Harry Potter. If I did, I would be so rich that I would quit my job and school and just write fanfiction all day.
It was a scene of complete destruction. Furniture had been tossed in every direction; an upended coffee table lay against one wall with two legs torn off, and a sofa was flat on its back on the floor, ripped stuffing spilling from its cushions. Pictures had been torn from the walls and smashed. The floor was littered with debris from decorations and electronics: glass and ceramic shards, wood splinters, tangles wires, the husks of a television and stereo, ripped book and magazine and newspaper pages. All in all, it reminded Harry Potter of the first time he met Horace Slughorn.
Except this time, the blood spattered on the floor and wall wasn't dragon's blood. The body had been removed, but that blood remained, traces of it everywhere, but mostly concentrated into a huge puddle that soaked into the wood and choked the air with its scent. There were lumps in that puddle, but Harry tried hard not to think of what they were. His stomach was roiling bad enough as it was.
A warm hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing just behind him. "Not a pretty sight," he commented in his slow, deep voice.
"I've seen worse, sir," Harry replied. It was true; he would never forget the horror that was Hogwarts just three years ago. Still…that had been a battlefield. This seemed to be nothing more than random, wanton destruction.
"There are those in the Ministry who are not pleased that I've ordered this to be your first field training case," Kingsley said, walking past him. "They seem to think that you are not qualified to interview Muggles. They forget that you grew up with Muggles." He turned around and gave Harry a smile.
Harry tried to return it. He knew that Kingsley was trying to put him at ease, and he appreciated it, but it didn't help. "I'll just have to prove them wrong," he mumbled.
"You will," Kingsley agreed. "Now, look around and tell me what you see."
"A room in shambles."
Kingsley only looked at him, and Harry sighed and tried to dredge up all the investigation techniques he had learned in class. "Well, there doesn't seem to be a specific target to this madness. If the boy is cursed, then it's a kind that causes chaos and destruction. If he's not cursed…" He shrugged. "Something drove him into quite a rage."
"You think the boy wasn't cursed?"
Harry hesitated, and then he shook his head. "I don't know. There's definitely magic at work here, dark magic, but I think it's too early to say that it's a curse."
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "It was a Muggle who committed this murder, and yet as you say there are traces of dark magic here. What else could it be if not a curse?"
"I…I don't know, sir." Harry felt his cheeks burn. He was only five minutes into his first case, and already he was making mistakes.
"Harry, I'm not reprimanding you," Kingsley said, losing his skeptical look. "On the contrary, I'm impressed. Even the most experienced Aurors would assume that they're dealing with a curse, and they wouldn't consider that there might be something else. It's good to keep your mind open, even if the conclusion is obvious. Otherwise you might miss something crucial."
Harry cast a helpless look around. "I think there's a lot here I could miss, sir."
"But that's the grand thing about magic," Kingsley said. "It can aid us so we miss less. Now, what do you think is the first thing we should do?"
That was an easy one. "Sweep the room with Dark Detection spells," Harry replied.
"Correct." Kingsley drew his wand. "If it is a cursed object, it may still be here. Be careful where you step, Harry, and remember: don't touch anything you find with your bare hands."
As it turned out, there was nothing to find. Traces of dark magic lingered everywhere, but none of it was attached to a specific item. They moved from room to room, sweeping over the entire house until Kingsley announced that there was nothing more they could do there, and that they should get out of the way and let the Muggle police take over. Harry was more than glad to do so; he had had to check the bloody corner, and he was sure he was going to throw up soon. They slipped out the back door and released the muddling spell that had kept the Muggle crime unit from intruding on them.
"So, here we come up empty," Kingsley said as they made their way to the next street over. "What do you suggest we do next?"
"Talk to the witness," Harry replied. Again, it was an easy question.
Kingsley gave one slow nod. "You really were born for this job, Harry."
"I've been doing this sort of thing since my first year at Hogwarts," Harry said with a slight grin.
"I have heard the stories," Kingsley replied, chuckling. "Now, I believe our witness is still at the police station, so let's be on our way."
The two ducked behind a particularly high hedge and, after checking to make sure no one else was around, Disapparated with a pair of loud cracks.
They appeared in an alley down the street from the police station, noticed only by three terrified stray cats that streaked away. Kingsley adjusted his three-piece suit and strolled out to the street like nothing was amiss. "Do you remember the name of our Scotland Yard liaison?" he asked Harry, who followed a step behind.
Harry searched his memory. "Harriet…Montague?"
"Monaghan. I doubt you will ever find a Montague working with Muggles."
"Right." Harry swallowed as Kingsley stopped on the station's steps to allow him to take the lead. Since this was his case, Harry was supposed to do the bulk of the work. Kingsley was only there to supervise, and he seemed to have every confidence in the young Auror-in-training. That didn't stop the butterflies from beating against the lining of his stomach, though. Harry tried to ignore them and pushed his way through the doors and into the lobby.
There were a couple of people sitting nearby and filling out paperwork, but no one was at the reception window. Harry walked up and cleared his throat nervously. "Erm…"
"May I help you?" The lady behind the window looked at him coolly, and he resisted the urge to look to Kingsley for help.
"I need to speak to Harriet Monaghan, please," he said.
The woman picked up her phone and dialed an inter-office number. Harry smiled; it was nice to say his name without everyone doing a double-take and staring at his forehead. She spoke into her phone, waited a moment, and then raised her eyebrows and hung up. "She will be out in just a minute," she informed the duo.
"Thank you," Harry told her. He and Kingsley stepped away from the window, and before long the door to the back opened, revealing a short, pretty woman with curly red hair pulled back into a ponytail.
"Harry Potter, I presume?" she asked, looking at his scar.
She grinned and shook his hand. "Harriet Monaghan. It's a real honor to meet you, Mr. Potter." She looked past him to Kingsley. "And how are you, Minister? I see you've found a way to escape the circus for a while."
"I'm not officially Minister yet, Harriet," Kingsley said. "And not many people are happy about my decision to oversee Harry's first case personally. They believe that I'm shirking my duties."
Harriet laughed at that. "Sir, you've done more for the Wizarding World than the past four Ministers combined. Even I can see that, and I'm a Squib. But come on, we can talk in the back where there are less ears." She gave a significant glance at the reception woman, who hurriedly turned to her task planner, and then turned to buzz through the door.
They followed her through it and down a hall to a large, busy room. It was full of desks, most with uniformed officers sitting behind them and talking on phones, looking over paperwork, or leaning over to converse with neighbors. Harry was reminded strongly of the Auror office in the Ministry. At the back, Harriet led them into an office with a silver plate on the door that read Harriet Monaghan, District Supervisor. She sat down and motioned for her guests to do the same. "So, which case is going to give a jurisdictional headache this time?"
"The Harwell murder," Harry said.
"That's one that hasn't crossed my desk yet. You must have gotten to the scene early."
"Such violent and blatant displays of Dark Magic tend to draw the Ministry's attention quickly," Kingsley said.
Harriet raised her eyebrows. "That bad?"
"Dark Magic always is," Harry said quietly.
"I'll give you that one. Have you already been to the scene?"
Harry nodded. "The body was already gone, but we swept house with Dark Detection spells. We didn't touch or take anything, though."
"Wow, Minister, are you sure he's just a trainee?" Harriet asked.
Kingsley only smiled.
Harry continued. "So what we need to do now is interview the witness. The murderer is still at large, and she may have some clue to his whereabouts. It would be best if we found him before the Muggles do."
"What's the name of the witness?" Harriet asked. "I can get you access in no time."
Harriet stood up and strode around the desk to the door. "Wait here for a moment," she said, and she stepped out.
"You've managed to impress her," Kingsley commented. "Not an easy feat for a trainee."
"It could just be because I'm the Boy Who Lived…twice," Harry said, feeling his face flush.
"Or because she didn't have to prod you for every detail she needed," Kingsley stated. "Don't sell yourself short, Harry."
Harry blushed deeper, but he was saved the bother of thinking up a reply when Harriet came back to the office door and motioned for them to follow her. "What do you know about this witness?" she asked in a low voice as they started across the office again.
"She's the wife of the victim and mother of the suspect," Harry replied in kind. "She's also a Muggle—the whole family is—so I can expect her to be in an extreme state of shock and denial about what she saw."
Harriet nodded. "She's being interviewed by the investigating officer, but he told me that her story doesn't make much sense. Perhaps you'll have better luck." They went down a side hall, and she stopped at a door and knocked before pulling it open.
Inside was a small room, bare except for a rectangular table in the middle with six seats around it. At one end sat a small, mousy woman with disheveled hair and large, frightened eyes. She shrank back in her seat as the trio entered. Beside her was a large cop with a thick mustache. He stood up and nodded to Harriet, giving Harry and Kingsley a cold look. "I'll be at my desk," he said, and he shouldered his way out.
Harry turned his head to stare after him in puzzlement, but Kingsley bent over to whisper in his ear, "Don't mind him. The Muggles don't like it when we take over their investigations with no explanations."
"Right," he murmured back.
"Mrs. Harwell, I'm Harriet Monaghan, supervisor for this district," Harriet said gently, seating herself beside the woman at the table. "After looking over your case, I've decided to refer it to a couple of special investigators. They will be better able to help you and your son."
Darla Harwell gave her a reproachful look. "Special investigators. Doctors, more likely. They won't believe me any more than you lot did."
"They're not doctors, Mrs. Harwell," Harriet replied. "And we do believe you." She gave Harry and Kingsley a nod and stood up to leave.
Harry sat down in the seat she had vacated, Kingsley on the other side of him. "I'm Harry Potter, Mrs. Harwell," he said. "And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt. I'm sorry, I know this is difficult for you, but we need you to tell us what happened earlier today."
"So you can lock me away afterward?" she said with a sniff.
"No, so we can find out what happened to your son," Harry countered.
Mrs. Harwell blinked in surprise. She still looked suspicious, but after a minute of staring at him, she nodded. "You're a little too young to be a doctor," she said. "And a little young for a special investigator, at that."
"Yes, but I'm well qualified."
She smiled a little at that. "Well, I'm still not sure you'll believe me, but…" She trailed off, staring into space as her red-rimmed eyes watered.
"Just start at the beginning," Harry prompted.
"Yes, but where is the beginning at?" she whispered. "Is it when I returned from the store, or before that? When I noticed that Isaac was acting strangely, or even when he awoke from his coma two years ago? Or before that even? Is the beginning when he fell asleep in the first place?"
Harry couldn't resist; he looked around at Kingsley. The older Auror's face was impassive, though, and he bit back a sigh as he returned his gaze to the distraught woman. "Why don't we start with what happened when you got home today?" he said.
Mrs. Harwell nodded. "Okay. Okay. Well…I had to go to the store for eggs, you see. I was planning to make a cake for Isaac's birthday on Thursday…it's been so long since we've been able to properly celebrate his birthday. Even if he's been acting strangely, I wanted it to be a happy day. So I went to the store, and James stayed at home. We have to keep a constant eye on Isaac now. He didn't act so strange at first, but over the last six months…"
She trailed off, and after a moment Harry prodded, "Go on."
"Well, I went to the store. I got my eggs, but when I came home James and Isaac were in the middle of a terrible argument. I don't think they even heard me come in. Isaac wanted to leave, but James was holding him back. Physically holding him back, and James has never been so rough with either of us before. I saw it from the entrance hall. The door to the living room was open, just a little, and they didn't notice me, but I could see them. Isaac looked…he looked crazy. I've…I've never seen a look like that someone's face before. He was…cursing at James. Calling him such filthy names, and not all of it was in English. I'm not sure what other language he was speaking; it's one I've never heard before. But James held on to him, and said he couldn't go anywhere until I got home, and then…" Her voice dropped. "He said then we were going to take him to the hospital. And that's when it happened." Her lips trembled, and she pulled a tissue from her purse.
"Do you want to take a break?" Harry asked.
She shook her head. "No. No, I want to get this over with. See if you really believe me. What happened next…I don't really know if I can describe it. The room got…darker. But it wasn't as if a cloud had covered the sun, or the power went out. The lights stayed on, and they even stayed bright, but their light…it didn't seem to go as far. It was like it was being blocked from the middle of the room, where Isaac and James were. And then…and then…" Mrs. Harwell let out a small sob. "Isaac turned around. He…he slashed at James with his hand, like this." She cut her hand through the air, miming a karate chop. "And every time he did, James would make this horrible noise, like he was choking and trying to cry out. The look on Isaac's face…it was happy. Gleeful. Over…overjoyed." Tears began trickling down her cheeks. "And then I noticed that James's shirt was darker, and that it was dripping. He was bleeding horribly. Finally, Isaac pushed him back, and he just…just fell. Then Isaac began slashing at the rest of the room. I don't…I don't think he even really touched anything, but it all…flew away like he had thrown it. And I…I just ran away." She broke into sobs.
Harry looked around at Kingsley, who looked very grave indeed. "If this is a curse," he said quietly. "It's not one I have ever heard of."
"Nor I," Kingsley said. "We must find out more."
"Mrs. Harwell?" Harry said, but the woman didn't seem to hear him. She rocked back and forth in the chair, crying into her tissue. The young Auror reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, but he recoiled when she jumped. "I'm sorry. Maybe we should leave."
Mrs. Harwell shook her head. "Just…tell me you believe me," she choked out.
Harry looked straight into her bloodshot eyes. "We believe you."
She stared at him, and slowly she began to calm down. After a minute, she lowered her shaking hands and folded them tightly around the tissue in her lap. "Is there anything else you need to know?" she asked. "Anything at all?"
"Maybe you can tell me if Isaac has had any strange visitors lately," Harry said. "Or maybe he has received something, a package in the mail, or something he recently bought or picked up that seems out of place."
Mrs. Harwell considered the question, and then shook her head. "No. No one visits Isaac. He doesn't have any friends due to his condition, and he hasn't gotten anything new that I know of."
"Okay…you said that he has been acting strange for a while. When did you start noticing that?"
"About six months ago."
"How was he acting strange?"
"Well…" She stared to the right as she considered the question. "He got moodier. He would ignore James and me when we would ask him to do something, and he started spending a lot of time shut up in his room. He bought a lot of books about Egypt, but he always seemed frustrated with them. It was like he was searching for some kind of information that they didn't have. Sometimes, when I would clean his room, I would find drawings he had done of the hieroglyphics. He's never shown such an interest in Egypt before. He also started buying cards for that American game Duel Monsters. That's especially strange, since he abhorred games before that."
"I see." Harry filed the information away in his mind. Books were a common type of cursed object, and it was possible that Isaac Harwell had inadvertently picked one up six months ago. Of course it wasn't in the house anymore—he and Kingsley had made sure of that—but he could still have it with him. Wherever he was. "Do you have any idea where he might be now, Mrs. Harwell?"
She shook her head.
"Okay…" Harry was at a loss for any more questions. Mrs. Harwell had given them good information, but they wouldn't be able to put it into the right context until they found Isaac, and that trail was getting colder with every extra second they spent here. He started to get up, but Kingsley's hand landed on his shoulder, forcing him to stay in his seat.
"Ma'am, you spoke of your son having a condition," he said, leaning forward. "Can you tell us what kind?"
"Well…I'm not really sure," Mrs. Harwell said. "I only know that he was in a coma for six years."
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "And you do not know what caused it?"
"The doctors never figured it out. Only…"
"Yes?" Harry prompted.
She looked at them uncertainly. "I'm not sure if this will help your investigation at all."
"Anything that's out of the ordinary might help us," Harry told her. "We need to know it."
"Well…this is going to sound strange, but Isaac thought it was a game that put him in that coma." She gave a small laugh that died quickly. "That's why he hated games so much, and why it was so strange that he started buying those cards."
Kingsley frowned. "What do you know about this game?"
"Nothing. All I remember is that one day, nearly eight years ago now, Isaac went to a friend's house to play a game. I got a call later from the hospital, saying that he had passed out during the game and wouldn't wake up. He didn't wake up again until six years later." She shivered. "At first I felt sorry for that poor little boy he was playing with. It must have been traumatizing for a friend to go into a coma like that. But then the same thing happened to a girl at the same school, and soon after, the boy got transferred."
"Is that girl still in a coma?" Harry asked.
"No. No, she awoke about the same time as Isaac," Mrs. Harwell said with a shaky smile. "The local papers were calling it a double miracle."
"Has she been acting strange lately as well?"
She frowned. "I don't know. Our families haven't kept in touch. You don't think…what happened to us…"
"I don't know," Harry said. "But I would like the girl's name, if you don't mind."
"Thank you. And what about the boy they were playing with? Do you remember his name?"
"Of course. It was a strange name, but easy to remember, especially after being connected to such an incident. The boy was half-Asian. I'm not sure which country."
Harry nodded patiently. "And what was his name?"
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