If anyone were to look at the house at 111 King Meeting Street in London, as people often did, they would not guess there was anything abnormal about it or the person living there. Neighbors were curious as to why they didn't see the resident often, but they reasoned that there was always one solitary one on the block.

On this particular night though, anyone watching the house would've seen a strange sight. Two men, dressed in cloaks appeared quite suddenly on the front of the door. One was rather tall with flaming red hair, and the other was skinny with glasses and unruly black hair. Both were holding what anyone could only guess to be sticks.

The two men stood outside the door for a few seconds, then, in the air of police doing a raid, they burst through the door.

"Lumos," whispered the black-haired one. A bright light shone from the tip of his stick, it illuminated a room.

"Damn," said the tall ginger. "He must've seen us coming. I keep telling you, we need to change the laws in the Auror department about apparating directly into a suspect's home. It's not like he's going to let us in if we knock."

They both took a glance around the room. It was devoid of all papers, although the desk, chair, and bookshelf had not been unoccupied long. A pin board on the wall was empty, but the holes where the tacks held up diagrams remained.

"He took all his notes," said the ginger.

"Not all of them," said the black-haired one. He motioned toward a paper shredder on the far side of the room.

"What is it?"

"Paper shredder," replied black-hair. "He's trying to hide what he was planning on."

"Well, we already have an idea," said the ginger. "Some bizarre mix of dark magic and Muggle weapon, right? Well, I'll take it to Dad. Who knows more about Muggle stuff?"

"We can try," said black-hair. "But I have a feeling your dad has no idea of the destructive things Muggles have made."