Contrary to popular belief the International Confederation of Wizards was not incompetent. To be able to monitor and govern the entirety of the wizarding world and the millions who inhabited it was no small order and thus, some things tended to fall through the pipes. Occasionally, issues arose that were either too minor for the Confederation to deal with, or were simply the product of an overworked bureaucracy. This was not one of those times.

About two months ago there was an incident in Britain, during the Triwizard Tournament two of the participants were teleported away from the final task. They were gone for nearly an hour and when they finally returned, one boy, a seventeen year old by the name of Cedric Diggory, was dead. As tragic and potentially preventable as his death was, what happened next was much more important. The other participant, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter, claimed that the dark wizard Voldemort, a man who has been believed to be dead for fourteen years, had killed him.

The response was…lackluster. The Prime Minister of magical Britain, Cornelius Fudge, immediately ignored Potters assertion, and began attempting to minimize the damage done to his administrations already ruined reputation. He discredited Potter, labeling him little more than a pampered brat wishing to maintain his diminishing fame and status. No investigation was launched, and the only man who could have leant any information, Barty Crouch Jr., was dead. Administered the kiss by Azkaban's dementors on Hogwarts' grounds.

Wizards, like all people, have an annoying habit of ignoring realities when it inconveniences them. Whether Potter is telling the truth or not, we haven't decided yet. But, that's where the ICW comes in. After the last war, the ICW decided that it could no longer have a "hands off" approach to potential world conquering assholes. The wizarding world was too small and too frail to allow itself to be fractured by civil wars. So, back in '86 the heads of the ICW took advantage of the growing world consciousness for dragon conservation, and slipped in a neat little addition to a bill-outlawing dragon poaching. The addition stated that the ICW held the authority to launch investigations into matters potentially dealing with megalomaniacs bent on world domination. Furthermore, it allowed for the investigations to be conducted by a neutral third party of the ICW's choosing. Should sufficient evidence be found that proved the existence of a new dark lord, the ICW held the right to intervene and put down the bastard with extreme prejudice.

So, when word about Potter's claim of the resurgence of Voldemort reached the ICW, wheels began to turn. While the Fudge administration as doing its best impersonation of an ostrich, the ICW was busy collecting information and resources and determining who would be sent to investigate. The burden fell to us here at the Department of Special Investigations or DSI, in the United States. As one of the most modern, well funded, and well equipped police agencies on the planet, I guess I can't be too surprised that we were the ones picked. I was, however, surprised when it was me, who was picked to lead the investigation.

Don't get me wrong, it was flattering, but I'm still pretty new at this. I'll only be twenty-four in a few weeks and I've only worked with the department for a few years. That's not to say that I'm not good at my job, because I am, it just that this was a pretty big deal and seemed like something better suited for a senior agent. Did that come off as arrogant or cocky? Well ok maybe it was a bit, but hey, I take pride in my work and I know that I'm good at it. When you're great at a lot of things, it's important to take pride in the things that you are. For me, it's soldiering and investigating. So what was I thinking? I was thinking that they weren't putting a whole lot of stock into what the kid was claiming, but weren't leaving it up to chance regardless.

That's how I found myself wonder the streets of Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey at about eight o'clock on August 2nd. My first step in the investigation was to interview Potter and get his view of the events that happened that night. With a little truth potion and maybe some memories this whole thing could be wrapped up nice and tight in a neat little bow and I could be stateside in time to catch the Yankees game the following night. At least that was what I kept telling myself. If I was honest, the odd sense of foreboding in the pit of my stomach should have been the first indication that things were about to go cock-eyed very quickly.

However, I was tired, and cranky and ignored the feeling. I had been on the clock for nearly forty-eight hours prior to leaving the States and had the good fortune of having this dropped on me as I was preparing to go home for some much needed rest and relaxation. So my dumb ass ignored my gut feelings and plowed ahead without thinking. A rather bad habit given my past experiences but I'm only human. Well, ok half-human but still, you get the idea.

Privet Drive was a very boring and unassuming neighborhood. A product of the postwar boom that saw massive outward expansion with the influx of foreign investment and the sudden return of hundreds of thousands of soldiers who needed new homes for their new growing families. The results were neighborhoods like Privet Drive, massive suburban development products that were thrown together very quickly, and cheaply. In short, everything looked the godsdamned same.

I finally stopped when I saw the large number four on the house in front of me, I pulled out my notepad and double checked that this was the correct address before I walked up the extremely well kept, if slightly parched looking front lawn and up towards the door. As I crossed over onto the grass I was suddenly hit with a wave of extremely powerful protective magic. I stumbled slightly, caught completely unawares by the sensation as a warm buzz emanated across my skin. The feeling passed almost as quickly as it came though, I guessed that that meant I was deemed not to be a threat. I paused and glanced around suspiciously, there had been nothing in the reports I had been given about any sort of protective warding around Potter's residence. I filed it away as something to consider later and began walking again towards the door, but now my hand was sitting a little closer to my beltline, next to a small holster that held a tiny black pen. The feeling of foreboding came back and I was on edge.

I took a deep breath and squashed the feeling, trying to think a little more logically. The kid was something of a celebrity, and was bound to have some old enemies, especially now that he was seemingly trying to stir the pot and cause his government trouble. It made sense that his home was going to be more protected than initially thought. Do I seem slightly, read very, paranoid? It's because I am, people like me don't get passed the age of seventeen without being wary of anything seemingly out of the ordinary. Unfortunately where magic was concerned, out of the ordinary was annoyingly ordinary. Still, I kept my hand at my hip ad raised my fist to knock on the door.

I had been just about to knock when several things happened in very rapid succession. First, the skin on the back of my neck stood on end and goose pimples erupted down my arms. It was a natural reaction my body had when it realized that it was in danger. Then, an unnatural cold and fog descended on the neighborhood. It was out of nowhere and thoroughly unnatural for Britain in August to suddenly drop twenty degrees in temperature. Third, all at once, every streetlight in the entire neighborhood shut off at once and the sky was covered. It was as though someone had hit a kill switch and just turned off all of the light. Not even the glow of the moon was shining through. Then, I felt them. I was too far away at that point for any of the more drastic effects but you can feel the effects of dementors for up to five miles. It was an overwhelming sense of dread and desperation, as though all hope and happiness in the world had suddenly vanished. It was a feeling I was depressingly familiar with.

I turned on my heel and concentrated, reaching out and trying to feel where the feelings were originating. I didn't have to look too long before a sudden blast of magical energy erupted from a few blocks away from me and the sky was suddenly lit by a brilliant white light. I smiled broadly as I realized what it was, Given that Potter was the only registered magical in the area the source of light had to be him.

I took off at a dead sprint towards the source of the light, cutting through front lawns and backyards and hopping fencing in order to minimize the distance to the dementors. I hurtled myself over a large white fence and ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I rounded the corner and saw them. Two large, floating, figures. Drabbed in flowing black cloaks with gray skeletal hands sticking out of the sleeves. A figure, which I assumed was Potter, was standing several yards further down the street, wand outstretched and a brilliant white, ethereal buck was positioned in front of him. There had been rumors that the kid could produce a patronus, it looked like those rumors were well founded. One of the dementors was bearing down on him but movement out of the corner of my eye caused me to shift my gaze. My eyes narrowed as I saw a second dementor floating towards a large, unmoving mass on the concrete.

I tried to ran towards the body with the intent of stopping the monster before it could do any more harm but I was stopped before I could take even a few more steps. The second my foot entered the street both dementors stopped what they were doing and turned to me. My breath left my body as a shaky breathe escaped my lips. There was a sudden whooshing sound in my ears as a series of visions played before my eyes. A tall, blonde haired boy telling me to give him my sword. A beautiful, blonde haired girl with shining grey eyes falling into a dark horrendous pit and large dark ominous doors. The scene shifts again, it was a another woman, long red hair and bright brown eyes, pleading with me as she bleeds from a horrendous wound at her chest. I hear screaming in my ears and I screw my eyes shut as tightly as I possibly can. With a shaky hand I managed to grasp the pen in my holster and pop the cap off the top. A stunning bronze sword takes the place in my hand where the pen used to be. Positioning the blade against the side of my left arm I slash, making a large painful gash. A warm liquid runs down my arm as the tortured yelling subsides and screaming pain takes its place.

My trick did the job. The visions cleared and the fog over my thoughts left. There are not many tricks to dealing with dementors when you don't have immediate access to wand and are as susceptible to their effects as I am. The best and safest is to consume chocolate. Why? I honestly couldn't tell you, I never bothered to learn but after my first run in with the foul creatures I made a note to keep a bar with me at all times. Except this time where I had left them, along with all of my other equipment in my car several blocks away. Because of course the one time I wasn't prepared for them they show their ugly mugs. As has been my life. The other method is the one I used. Inflecting enough pain ones person that they are able to snap themselves out of the effects of dementors is the oldest known technique to combat their effects. As should be obvious, given the amount of blood flowing down my arm and harshness of the wound, this was the less advisable of the two.

I turned my attention back towards the monsters that were now coming my way with considerable speed. Deciding my best course of action, which was really the only one I had considered, was to take the initiative. I charged. In three large strides I closed the distance between the closest dementor and myself. My right hand on the hilt of my blade held down and away on my right side with my left hand on the pommel. I ducked under the outstretched hand of the monster slashed diagonally upwards across my body. I caught it clean across what might have been its chest. A bright light erupted from the point my blade made contact with its skin and foul black smoke began pouring out of the wound.

I didn't hesitate and followed my momentum through from the previous strike with a horizontal slash across my midsection. Starting from the left side of my body and cutting in an east-west fashion I cut into the monstrosity a second time. A similar wound opened up on top of the first and more black smoke pour out of the creature. The dementor let out the most terrifying, blood-curdling screech I had ever heard. It grasped at where I had struck it, a disturbingly human motion, before turning on its proverbial heel and fleeing upwards into the night sky, screeching and crying the whole way.

The sudden disappearance of its comrade caused the second dementor to pause in its pursuit, giving me the opening I needed to close the distance and deal with it in a similar manner. I didn't have to though, because just as I was about to step off the remaining dementor was sent sprawling through the air as Potter's patronus rammed into the creatures back. I could barely make out Potter's shout of "Get it!" before the buck gave chase and slammed into the dementor once more. Recognizing a lost cause, the dementor turned where it was and flew off in the same direction as its companion.

An eerie calm fell over the street. The fog and cold lifted and the street lamps along the sidewalks suddenly came to life. The whooshing in my ears completely cleared, and was instead replaced with the panting and heavy breathing of Potter and myself. I idly noted that my shirt under my jacket was soaked with sweat and was sticking to my back. A warm summer breeze blew through the street and I closed my eyes and took in a few deep breaths trying to calm myself down. When I opened them I saw Potter staring at me. It was my first real look at the kid outside of the photos in his profile and I was rather unimpressed. He was rather average in height, roughly five foot six or so but seemed to be in the middle of a growth spurt so that may change relatively soon. He was pale, but no more so than your typical Anglo-Saxon. The only thing really noteworthy about his appearance was how thin he seemed. He was exactly malnourished but he was definitely smaller than someone his age and height should have been. His clothes didn't help much. They were old and ratty, and clearly belonged to someone who was much larger than he was because they hung off of his proportionally smaller frame like child in a bed sheet.

He kept glancing between me, the sword in my hand, as well as the large wound on my left arm. His mouth was working slightly as though he was trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. Luckily he was saved from trying to figure out what to say but a loud, pathetic whimper from over his shoulder. I felt myself relax slightly as we both remembered the figure prone on the street. Since he was making noise he clearly still had his soul. Whether or not he would retain any sort of permanent psychological damage was yet to be determined. Dementors have been considered some of the most dangerous creatures in the planet for a reason. Not only could they leave a person without his or her soul but the psychological and emotional damage dealt to a person after prolonged exposure could drive them to utter insanity.

I took a step toward the prone boy, who I could now make out in the light was roughly the size of a baby humpback, when Potter abruptly barred my path, his wand pointed directly at my chest.

"Who are you?" he said, his voice was quiet but assured. The tip of his wand glowing slightly with magic, prepared to answer the call of its master should the need arise. I slowly raised my hands in the air, wincing slightly as the effect of my self-mutilation was taking effect and with my sword still secured tightly in my right hand. I pointed with my left at said weapon.

"I am going to slowly put this away and reach into my pocket for my identification. Is that ok?" I spoke slowly and softly, trying to let my honesty flow into my words. Potter considered it for a moment and then nodded his wand never once leaving my chest. I slowly reached my left hand down into my holster and withdrew the cap to my pen. I put the cap on top of the weapon and stored it safely and securely back in its place, clasping the security strap over its top. Then, I raised my left hand back into the air again, and reached with my right into my jacket pocket. Potter tensed but relaxed slightly when I withdrew a black wallet. I opened it, letting my identification card, photo, and badge be seen clearly and openly.

"My name is Percy Jackson, I'm with the United States' Department of Special Investigations. I'm in England on behalf of the International Confederation of Wizards investigating the events of last June. I was on my way to your home to interview you when I noticed the telltale signs of dementor activity. I came running here as quickly as I could." I nodded at Potter's wand and let a lopsided smile plant itself on my lips, "But I guess shouldn't have worried about it huh? You're pretty good with that patronus charm, not many fully-grown wizards have a shaped spell. It's impressive."

Potter shifted uncomfortably, clearly unaccustomed to praise. Relatable. His eyes then widened as he fully processed what I had said. "Does that mean you believe me?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful, "Does that mean you're here to help us fight Voldemort?" His voice was excited and he was speaking fast. I didn't respond at first, instead I gestured to my hands, a silent request to put them down. He looked confused for a moment, and then sheepish as he realized he was still pointing his wand at me. He nodded and lowered it, and I gratefully lowered my own.

"I don't know if I believe you or not just yet, that's what I'm here to do. With your permission I was hoping to ask you questions about what happened and based off of what we discuss we can determine what can be done." The hope in his eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared and he scowled darkly, anger written clearly on his features.

"Of course you don't believe me." He said bitterly, "No one does" I sighed quietly,

"Look kid-Harry" I amended when it looked like he was about to interject, "look at it from their perspective for a second, you claim that one of the most dangerous men to live in the last several decades is seemingly back from the grave. It seems a little far fetched and more than a little worrying. This is something that has to be handled with care all right? There's a process. But-" I said before he could interrupt, "From what I've seen here tonight, it certainly looks like someone is trying to shut you up, and given what little I've seen of you here tonight, you don't strike me as the type to just say stuff that isn't true. So let's get out of here, could your buddy-"

"Cousin" he interjected hotly, "Just my cousin"

"Alright" I said slowly "then lets get your cousin back to your place and we can talk. I want to help you Harry but you need to hear me out and let me do my job. If you're telling the truth then we can start working towards something but until then my hands are tied by the powers that be."

Harry thought for a long moment. Biting his lip as he thought about what I had said. He finally nodded again and said,

"Ok. Let's get Dudley out of here and then we can talk." He paused for a moment and grim look came onto his face. "If my Aunt and Uncle let you anyways. There aren't exactly fond of magic."

"You let me worry about that" I smiled, "Now c'mon, let's get out of here." I walked over to the baby beluga and grabbed an arm and hoisted him up and over my shoulder rather effortlessly. I turned around and saw Harry gaping at me.

"What?" I asked confused. I turned around and looked to see if there was anything hiding behind me in the shadows, or coming up the street but when I didn't see anything I just turned back to Harry, thoroughly confused.

He clamped his mouth shut, and just said, "Nothing, don't worry about it."

I shrugged but ignored it. I turned and began walking back toward Potter's house as Harry went to put his wand back into his pants pocket. He stopped however when a voice called out,

"Don't put it away silly boy! What if there are more of them. Dementors! In Little Whinging! Oh, I am going to KILL Mundungus Fletcher! And who the devil are you?"

AN: To my readers old and new I hope you enjoyed my newest little pet project. This idea has been sitting in my brain for forever and when you have something like this taking up all your creative juices you, or at least I, literally could not concentrate on my other projects. I'm excited about it because I don't think anyone has really done what I'm trying to do here so I think ya'll will enjoy it. To my old readers who are patiently awaiting updates for Sentinel and The Sea I promise they are on their way! The last several months have been just so busy I barely have time to sleep between work and classes and my own research let alone time write. It didn't help that in Sentinel's case I hit a pretty absurd writers block that I've only just overcome. Regardless I hope you take this as a little peace offering and the promise that there is more to come. Thanks for the patience and lemme know what ya think!

Love,

LilDB