A bad omen

The man strides swiftly through the crowd. Most of the wizards and witches who see him recognise him instantly; that fluttering hair, still unruly, brown, with those round spectacles and that unmistakable symbol resting on his forehead that has been painless for so many years, as if the thread that once bound him to that prophecy had remained just as severed as it was that time in the Forbidden Forest. The last time he set foot on those dark and barren lands next to the school he knew as his home.

He barely pauses to respond to greetings, he doesn't like to be curt, but with that last news from the Ministry he himself had given the order to send up to two patrols of aurors to cover the vicinity and interior of Diagon Alley.

His worried expression and nervous gaze scanned every group of teenagers he came across. They were all supposed to be together but although he had found his wife and daughter, the two boys had decided to go elsewhere on their own. "Are they in their uncles' shop?" he thinks to himself before entering the noisy tent. There he is greeted by a few guffawing bombs in a cloud of colours that take the shape of a laughing mouth.

The interior is as close to a war zone as you can get; fireworks flashing, candy dyed completely red, and people crowding around ready to try out whatever novelties the great inventor Weasley has to offer. After a visual scan he can't find either of them so he backs up to the exit, apologising to those he bumps into before moving down the main street. "If he's with James they definitely won't have gone to Flourish & Blotts" he moves a little further until he passes the Fortescue Ice Cream Parlour and that's when he spots them.

She spots them with someone she doesn't recognise, are they saying goodbye? He thinks about interrupting but doesn't have time to do so by the time he approaches.

-Well, well, if it looks like little Albus has some blood in his veins. -The older boy says before his expression changes to confusion. -And I thought that... Dad? -They both turn to look at him.

-What are you doing here? -James adds, again. -Shouldn't you be at the Ministry?

And his son was right; otherwise he could have slipped away to accompany them to finalise the details of the list of equipment they needed, but he'd been called at the crack of dawn by the Minister of Magic and dearest friend, Hermione, "Or maybe I should call her Granger?" at least at work, but it was something that even at nearly forty years old he still struggled with.

-Is everything all right? -Albus asks.

-Yes, and no. Two Auror patrols will be stationed here, it's the last day before term starts, and we'll be stationing another one in King's Cross. -He quickly rests his hands on the boys' shoulders and points in the opposite direction to that street. -Your mother and sister are waiting outside the Alley, so if you have anything left to buy, let me know and I'll buy it for you.

They both shake their heads.

-Is it serious?

-Enough.

Both brothers look at each other and he returns an evidently worried look through the glass. He notes that they can read him perfectly well, and although Ministry business should stay in the Ministry. -I'll take you to your mother first, we'll talk at home later.

And so it happens. Harry leaves his children at the other end of the alley with his wife and youngest daughter, where a small group of aurors await him and he kisses his wife's lips briefly goodbye before looking at his three children.

-I'll be back as soon as I can. -"At least the scar still doesn't hurt," but perhaps he was a fool to rejoice in a new unknown danger.

When he sees his family leaving among the crowds of people walking the streets of London without paying any attention to that magical side entrance that functioned like any other square. The Muggles weren't even paying attention, a hundred people could come and go, and they would just be so reluctant and quickly get back to their own business.

-Thank you for coming so quickly, - he said to the small group of wizards. -The orders are simple: we are to patrol and guard the vicinity of Diagon Alley. You have already been informed about what happened last night

, but for now, Her...- Harry clears his throat, -Minister Granger has ordered us to maintain the security of the alley on the eve of the start of the school year. We will split into pairs; any incidents you detect, intervene with care, and if you discover anything really suspicious, act with caution. -He repeats before signalling for Rufus to follow him. -Our primary mission is to maintain order. -He says to all present before separating.

Finally, dusk falls on that unassuming house in Godric's Hollow. The cause had been restored to its former glory more than fifteen years ago, now those once faded white pillars stood bright and shining. The red clay bricks gave an elegant touch to a building that had stood, as far as he knew, for over a hundred and ten years.

Finally, dusk falls on that unassuming house in Godric's Hollow. The cause had been restored to its former glory more than fifteen years ago, now those once faded white pillars stood bright and shining. The red clay bricks gave an elegant touch to a building that had stood, as far as he knew, for over a hundred and ten years.

The chief auror passes the small wooden gate that surrounds the garden at the entrance to his home. He walks inside, re-fitting his clothes after that silent apparition, and finally knocks on the door. His little girl greets him, they embrace warmly, he kisses her red hair and then closes the door behind him. Harry takes off his shoes and leaves his mackintosh in one of the coat racks at the entrance.

The interior of that home would have made his aunt and uncle envious, he could almost imagine them, after all those years of mistreatment, living under a staircase cupboard, but he felt no real resentment if he was totally honest, only the bitterness of knowing that things could have gone differently. The interior is minimalist and has all the things a muggle family could want, he still remembers his father-in-law used to ask him for details of the world he grew up in and now that house, though he didn't reject magic at all he wouldn't do so with those it was vital to live with either.

The kitchen and the living room are open and airy, and there he finds his wife. He approaches her back, silently embraces her and kisses her neck gently. They speak briefly, he tries not to think of those problems that plague the monotony and weariness of marriage, "inevitable things that happen when you've been with someone for more than half your life" and gently pulls away from her. -I'll go and check on Albus and James, I hope they haven't been pestering you with questions.

The head of the family arrives in the Drawing Room, a large room that reflects the success of a lifetime. It is there that his two first-borns lie engaged in conversation, James always used to get on Albus' nerves, and he almost understands what a nuisance it must be to have that attitude permanently hanging over him. "Still, it's been a while since we've, um, cooled down? It almost seems like yesterday when you came to me, scared, wondering what would happen if you were in Slytherin."

-Hi guys.

They both turn in unison and leave that Quidditch conversation midway through.

-How did it go? -James asks. -Any dark wizards that got caught? -he jokes with a grin.

-No, but that wasn't the point. -Harry takes a seat across from them and looks at them. -I imagine you'll want to know what happened, I suppose it's not a secret if it's in the press. -Harry had never been one for secrets and had always implored members of the Order, those he considered his own family, never to keep information from them, but sometimes it was necessary. He takes a seat and leans forward.

-A murder took place three, or four, streets away from Diagon Alley last night. -He breathes in softly and looks in the direction of the corridor leading to the kitchen, watching silently almost as a way of saying to his children -don't worry Mum about this, or Lily- they both reminded him more of him in part than Ginny when he was their age so he knew very well what they could be like.

-And do you know who it was? -asked the middle Potter.

-It's usually very difficult, unless you have access to the wand, and especially if the wizard decides to leave the scene of the crime. -The magical security team was more about that: determining a wizard's involvement in a possible criminal act, the aurors were more like the magical special forces to prevent danger or stop it, not investigate it, though cooperation sometimes took place. -The problem, -he continued, -is that it took place on a very foggy night. And yet he was caught.

-Did they catch him? -It's James now who has dropped his alert attitude and is sitting properly on the sofa he shares with his brother. -Didn't you say that catching a wizard is difficult?

-It is, but this one wasn't a wizard.

-A Muggle? -James snorts, frowning. -And how did he...?

-From the amount of blood found, we think it was a stabbing weapon, a knife, a dagger perhaps. -he tries not to be explicit, that's not what this is about. -That's not what's worrying. The important thing, -he stresses, -and the reason Hermione called me yesterday and had us patrolling Diagon Alley, is because that Muggle has a witch daughter, hence he knows about our community, and he was arrested by the British police moments after the killing, which is convinient. Hermione has done her best to communicate with the Prime Minister, but it's a very delicate matter. And that's not even the worst thing.

Albus frowns as he looks at his brother and then back at his father directly.

-Not only do we have a member of the magical community turning against a wizard he didn't even know, but someone has taken a video of it happening. And now it's circulating on the internet - many wizards wouldn't see it as a threat, wouldn't even know what it was, but for Hermione and Harry, who had grown up among Muggles, they knew exactly what it meant. Their children had been raised like any other children, and at a very young age technology was as familiar to them as magic would be. -Anthon, who was arrested, kept shouting over and over 'Death to wizards, death to them all'. He also wrote those words in the victim's blood on one of the nearby walls.

For the first time, his children seem completely silent and quiet.

-We don't know what implications this will have, but right now the Minister is most concerned about the International Statute of Magical Secrecy; Muggles must not know that magic is as real as technology is to them, and this is clearly a very bad sign, especially if it spreads to our neighbouring countries. -Harry leans his back against the back of the sofa, and slips his fingertips behind his glasses, squeezing his eyelids shut with some force. -I can't tell if it's pure insanity or if he's under some curse because we cannot contact him.

"And what's worse; that his hatred is justified or that this is a piece of something else that my scar can no longer help me with?"

-And the worst thing is, from what I saw at the beginning of the video, Anthon wasn't alone when he committed the crime. -perhaps that's why Harry's version of something more than a transient psychosis theory seemed more and more adequate. -It didn't look good, too much fog, but when they start filming, a voice, a female voice, is discernible, and although from the angle it's barely discernible, everything tells me that she appeared away after the murder.

-Wait, Dad, are you saying that someone helped this murderer? -James asks. -And it was a witch?

-No. -Albus corrects him, looking at his brother before looking at his father. -You think someone wants to break the Statute of Magical Secrecy.

But that elicits a snort from his eldest brother. -Why would they choose a place like that in the middle of the night? -he asks. -Since there are thousands of cameras everywhere, even I can think of better ways than killing someone, however gruesome the image of writing in blood might be if you want to send a message. What they will do is make him look like a madman.

-The article will be published in the Prophet tomorrow. We've been trying to drag this out until term starts and everyone have agreed that it will ease tensions. -How would the magical community respond to the cold-blooded murder of a prized wizard by a Muggle? The article was not a good one, and it was going to raise more than a few hackles in the Ministry.

-Everything will be fine. -He says after a few moments. -But don't panic if you see the aurors hanging around King's Cross tomorrow, and don't read the Prophet, you know what they're like.

-Not for all the galleons in the world will I touch that paper. -James swears, holding up his right hand.

-You don't have to swear, we all know you won't touch any book that isn't eighty percent pictures. -The blond jokes before receiving a gentle tap on his shoulder with his heel.

Harry smiles, he needed to talk to someone about it, Ginny had long preferred to stay out of a job where problems and worries could invade you and it was a good tactic; if you feared your husband would die every time he walked out that door you could never live and it didn't matter if Harry was the-child-who-lived as he had long since that child turned into an adult.

-Can I ask you something? -He takes off his glasses and rubs them against that shirt. -What were you doing at the Magical Pet Shop? Your owls are fine, right?

It is that question that forges a big smile around his eldest son, and he washes his hands of the matter. -In the Pet Shop? I have no idea, but I think Albus does, don't you? What was it that had you so engrossed, Albie? Can you tell us? -Harry knows his sons well enough to know that it's something that should embarrass his youngest but he really had no idea about what exactly.

-Shut up, James. -he let out a snort. -It was nothing.

-Oh no, you liar. Here our dear, unsociable, favourite teenage boy - "James..." -has fallen hard for a girl.

This provokes two simultaneous and opposite reactions, Albus rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and is almost about to kick his brother even as he sits upright and not facing him. Harry, on the other hand, is caught almost by surprise and his eyes widen before he places his glasses back on his septum. -Oh yeah? Wow. What about her...?

-Dad, no. -he orders sternly. -Don't you dare go that way. I'm not twelve.

-No, of course you're not, it's just...

-What? When you were my age you were already with mum, did they give you the talk too? That's just it. -He answers dryly. -Besides, I already had a girlfriend.

-Yes, you did. -says James- How long did it last? Oh, yeah. Three months? Four?

Now even Harry senses that the atmosphere has heated up and tries to clear his throat to gain control of a situation that is escalating too quickly.

-What about you, huh? Do you even remember the names of the last five? The last three? -he accuses directly. -No, of course you don't. You're the king of the house and the castle, James, enjoy it, but ignore me.

-Brother, -says James, he doesn't even look annoyed, but rather proud of her, -Say what you want about me, but they love it. -"James, I don't think that's how things..." -And I assure you that girl is WAY out of your league. -He puts his hand on the other's shoulder and pats it before receiving a slap on that hand from the younger boy.

James walks away, leaving father and son alone for the first time in a long time. It is at these moments that Harry wonders if he is a bad father for not knowing exactly what to say. In the last year almost every interaction with his middle son alone has been reduced to an attempt to defuse a bomb threatening to explode, and yet he still makes the effort to try to talk and advise him.

-Don't listen to him. -he says, looking him in the eyes. -And I don't want to give you the lecture, it's just that... well, I know what your brother's like, and I'm just worried about...

-I know. -He cuts him off sharply. -But I don't need you to worry about me, you or anyone else.

Albus leaves the room and Harry simply watches him, the pressure that has built up in his chest deflating and he squeezes his eyelids together again in a tired gesture, slumping against the back of the sofa and taking a deep breath before breathing in softly.