Brett had a little spring in her step as she headed down the sidewalk toward the Leaky Cauldron. It had been a very long couple of months being restricted to office duties after her melt down in her training exercise back in November. When Harry Potter had approached her about checking out some reports about dying hippogriffs. Boring stuff, but it was something other than pushing paper and filling inkwells and running errands for he other aurors.

The investigation out at the farm in the countryside had been a quick one. Some quick poking around by someone in scarlet robes had prompted the youngest son of the family to admit he had accidentally poisoned the hippogriffs. He'd been playing with his father's potions, caused one of them to start spewing green smoke, so he'd dumped the cauldron out in the pond... The pond the hippogriffs liked to drink from. No real criminal activity, but she'd managed to get to the bottom of things quickly... Though she had to admit that she was at least a little sad it had been so mundane and no arrests were to be made.

She was set to check in with the assigning auror at the Leaky Cauldron that evening before heading back home. Brett was a little nervous about it. She vividly remembered when she had gotten her lightning bolt tattoo on her lower back, and the very cruel prank that Mr. Gorgeous had played on her. Every time someone said Harry Potter's name for the first two and a half weeks after she got her tattoo it would crash, bang, and boom like a thunder storm. It had become a game for the older aurors, and she had been slightly mortified by the whole situation. And now Harry Potter knew that she had a tattoo of his forehead scar on her lower back.

Pushing open the door, she spotted her supervising auror sitting at a small table in the corner. Brett stopped at the bar to order a warm drink before moving toward his table. Brett absent mindedly tugging at the back of her robes and shirt to be totally positive that there was no glimpse of her tattoo showing. She slid into the empty chair, careful to keep her distance. "Auror Potter," she greeted. It still felt odd for her to address the senior aurors so formally, but it was all a part of trying to save face and improve her performance. "The hippogriff thing turned out to be nothing. Good thing you didn't waste your time heading out. Got to the bottom of things in under an hour. I'll have the report ready in the morning."

There was one eternal truth in life: Harry Potter would rather his name not constantly be pursued by the sound of thunder or lightning striking. It also wasn’t every day that this happened –thank Merlin-, but on one particular occasion, some months ago, an Auror Trainee had decided to have her lightning tattoo do exactly that. The next three weeks had been an utter torture of not only the sound effect of the drawing on the girl’s skin, but also the incessant jests from his fellow Aurors. Brett Abraham had been the trainee in question, and she’d been on the receiving end of many dirty looks from the Auror during some time. But she’d also been something of a mess of catastrophic proportions: eager as she was to do her job, there were some issues with her attitude, and after some fiasco or another, she’d been desked for months now.

But Harry Potter also believed in second chances.

The Leaky Cauldron was bustling with activity this evening, as people either prepared to leave for home, or arrived to evade doing just that. Sitting at a table in the corner, Harry decided he rather be far from the action as he sipped his glass of beer and waited for Abraham to arrive. He’d sent the girl off on a simple task: a few hippogriffs had been found dead, and for some strange reason the case had been delegated to the Corps instead of the Beast Division. Abraham was simply to pay the farm a visit, and see if there was anything fishy at work. And Harry simply hoped she’d manage the task, or Raynor might come down on him for creating yet another disaster.

He spotted her through the crowd, and watched as she ordered a drink before approaching. She sat, and greeted him, and it was pleasant to hear her treat him with respect –considering she’d been prone to lapses previously. “Abraham,” He said with a nod, folding his hands around his pint, as she spoke. When she finished, his eyebrows curled together, face slightly annoyed. “Waste my time?” He corked an eyebrow, chin folding slightly inwards as he inspected her. She had some type of potential, but she still had a long ways to go. What she’d said hadn’t actually been wrong, but it also wasn’t a great idea to treat any type of job was worthless. “Nothing is a waste of time while in our profession, Abraham,” He chided her, before sighing and shaking his head. “But I’m glad it was nothing major, and that you were able to handle it.”

Sitting back in his chair, Harry checked the time, balancing the need to get home to his wife and the importance of sharing a conversation with the girl. But it was still relatively early, and Harry was exhausted enough to excuse himself from Ginny for at least one other drink. “Still have that tattoo, Abraham?” The question would hopefully mortify her –his one bit of vengeance for the fact that she’d even gotten it in the first place. “Harry Potter,” He said outloud, waited a second, and the nodded in appreciation. “At least it has indeed learnt to shut the hell up.”

Brett grunted a little when he stated nothing was a waste of time in their line of work. She disagreed with that sentiment, but wasn't about to tell him as such. Some kid doing something stupid and not having the guts to tell his parents he'd done it was a waste of an auror's time when there was serious business to take care of in greater wizarding Britain. If a real auror had been sent out on the case he probably would have complained about the assignment later on in the break room, Brett had heard them before, but as a trainee her job was just to do what she was told and try not to make anymore waves than she already had. She opted not to comment on his critical statement. No reason to ruffle anymore feathers that she didn't have to ruffle.

"It was the kid," she explained. "One of the parents left a potion unattended, their son mucked it up, panicked, and dumped it in the pond out in the field. The hippogriffs drank it up and fell over dead. That's why it looked like a poisoning. Poor kid was scared out of his wits when he saw me, though I was coming to send him to Azkaban." Brett chuckled and shook her head. It had been hilarious to see the kid cowering in front of her. She'd considered telling the kid she was indeed dragging him off to serve his time, but figured the kids parents wouldn't appreciate it and that she might get in trouble with her superiors for toying with some little kid. Brett was trying to stay out of trouble, not find new types of it. "Even so, it was nice to get out of the office."

She'd just taken a sip of her drink when he brought up her tattoo. She coughed, spluttered, and sprayed hot liquor on her face. Had he really just said that? Grimacing, face red, she wiped her face with a napkin and cleaned up the mess on the table. Brett slid down in her chair and covered her face with one hand. Brett groaned loudly and peeked at Harry Potter through her fingers. Was bringing that up really necessary? She couldn't blame him, she supposed. If she was in his shoes, she'd probably spend all of her time ribbing the auror dumb enough to do something like that.

"Have it, yes," she mumbled through her fingers. "Regret it? Entirely. I didn't know the tattoo artist was going to enchant it to do that, you know," she told him. Brett wasn't sure if the older auror was at all aware that it had been some cruel, practical joke orchestrated by Mr. Gorgeous- not by herself. "Soon as I had the free time I went back and had him get rid of the enchantment on it. I... I'm sorry, you know, you for all the trouble it caused." That was what she got for getting tattoos while intoxicated. The next one she got was going to be while sober and hopefully not end up making sounds at the most inopportune moments. "Won't be doing anything that stupid again if I can help it." She'd been doing a good job recently of avoiding stupid mistakes, hopefully she could continue on with that trend.

"I wanted to thank you for giving me the chance to get back out in the field and do something. I know I really mucked up before, but I'm really trying to do better. I mean, you were a Gryffindor. I'm sure you know what it's like to young and a little reckless. I'm just, you know, a little behind on the learning curve is all. But I'll get there." At least, she thought she would. Auror Trevelyan had been pretty encouraging, and even Auror Roh hadn't seemed to think of her as totally helpless. That was something. If she could get Harry Potter on her side somehow, that would probably go leaps and bounds to helping repair her reputation at the ministry.

Her reaction was quite priceless, as she spluttered; face turning a deep shade of red and body sliding down in her chair. Harry found himself quite tempted to laugh as she covered her face with one hand and looked at him through two spread fingers, yet somehow he managed to keep his face serious –and his pint of beer against his lips to cover up any twitching of his lips. He was happy he had mortified her, but that was enough with that: Harry wasn’t a cruel natured person in general, and having faced her with the fact that he knew about the tattoo –not that there was any way he might not have- was vengeance enough. As she spoke, he nodded slowly, not certain if he should inform the woman that he’d already been told it’d all been a prank played on her rather than actually on him, or to just let her continue to think he didn’t believe a word he was saying. But, though the idea made his tired self chuckle through yawns on the inside, he couldn’t bring himself to put her through that much torture.

“I know, Abraham,” He said with a sly smile, as he lowered his glass against the scared table. “Someone or another told me way back when it started,” he shrugged, smirk growing wider as he stared at the obviously mortified woman. “I just needed to see your face if I mentioned it,” The wicked smile on his face was far enough, so he withheld from laughing, but it was quite a bloody task to manage. He turned a bit serious, however, at her next bit of words. “It’s fine, no need to apologize, just make sure to really not do anything that stupid ever again,” As he curled his digits once again around his pint, he held a finger pointed towards her, and his voice was full of meaning. Stop being the silly trainee everyone is afraid to work with! It seemed to shout, but perhaps she’d be oblivious to its meaning. Or maybe not.

When she spoke next, however, Harry gathered there was a slight possibility she had read the message on his face. Shrugging, the Auror pressed his glass to his collarbone and dragged his tongue against his bottom teeth. “You have potential, Abraham, just need to learn a bit more,” Which was what they said to all trainees, even those who ended up not making it into the force. But Brett Abraham was someone he could, indeed, understand and he actually thought the girl did have some type of potential that just had yet to be tapped into. “And remember,” He smirked slyly, and perhaps the beer was getting to his head, or his exhaustion was, but he was beginning to feel quite silly. “I’m the guy who walked straight into trouble each and every year at school.”

M’ SOOOON! M’ SON ‘S DEAD! H-HE STOLEN M’ PURSE A-A-AND KILT HIM!

And all of the sudden the light banter was over as the shrill scream rang through the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry snapped into a sitting position, head whirling around to find the woman who stood at the door, her hair a mess, sobbing as tears streaked down her face. With no hesitation, Harry was standing up, jerking a hand at Abrahams to indicate she should follow before stalking towards the woman himself. A hand placed on his wand, with the other he pulled out his badge, flashing it at the woman and calmly putting a hand on her shoulder. Recognition flashed in her eyes and she seemed to calm, but when he asked her to tell him exactly what had happened, she simply pointed out the doors.

Stepping out of the Leaky, and into Diagon Alley, Harry quickly saw the small group forming and pressed through them, kneeling down towards the boy who lay on the ground: no older than ten, his eyes were cold and his skin pale, but a quick flick of Harry’s wand informed him that the kid was still alive. He wasn’t sure if Abraham had followed, but he spoke to her anyways –and if she wasn’t there, he’d personally make sure she was fired. “Brett, we need a healer –he’s alive, but pulse is weak.”

She was slightly relieved when he said he knew it was a joke, and that he'd known the whole time. Oh, thank goodness. She sighed and gave half a smile as she sat up a bit in her chair. She couldn't blame his urge to see her expression for bringing it up- Brett was the sort of person to do that herself. She was a prankster and enjoyed a good laugh. Of course, most Gryffindors were. And she was fresh out of Hogwarts, so all of that Gryffindor vibe and habit was still a big part of who she was. "I really won't do anything so awful," she told him. When he pointed at her, her smile faltered slightly. "And I don't just mean in reference to the tattoo. I mean in general." Because she'd done some stupid things on the clock, too. Like getting caught snogging in the closet and ending up under Radley's thumb for it.

But at least Harry Potter had faith in him. That fact alone helped her to keep some faith in her ability to make it through training. "You walked into trouble because somebody had to do it, not necessarily because you wanted to do it. That's the difference there." Brett seemed to be pretty good at getting herself into trouble, and seemed to enjoy it about seventy-five percent of the time.

Her ears perked at the screaming. Like Harry, she turned and looked toward the door. When he got up and motioned for her to follow, Brett was on her feet as quickly as possible. The woman looked terrified. She follow him, pushing through the crowd right behind him. She took a step back as he bent down to check on the health of the kid, eyes wide. Who could kill a little kid? The breath she'd been holding came out slowly when he stated the child was still alive. "A healer?" she repeated- this was not something she'd done before.

"Do I need to apparate to Mungo's and fetch one, or apparate the kid to Mungo's?" she asked Harry. "I'm afraid to move him, we don't know what happened to him," she said. But if Harry instructed her to pick up the boy and take him to Mungo's, she'd do it in a heartbeat. Anything that might possibly save the little boy's life. Might not be the best time to be asking questions like that, but the only way to learn was to ask questions and it wasn't like she'd encountered this before. Standard first aid she could do- stop bleeding, fix bones, etc. But this looked like a spell, and she didn't know what kind of spell it was, which made a definite difference. Broken bones versus a gone astray killing spell were two totally different things.

And here he was, walking into trouble all over again.

He was exhausted enough that he needed back-up, and a trainee might not be enough if they were dealing with a thief cold enough to attempt to kill such a young boy. But his hands were too busy checking the boy for any signs of trauma to be able to pull out his wand and send a Patronus to the Ministry. There was no sign of blood, which was a good sign, but as he pulled the boy’s eyelids open with thumb and index finger, there was no sign of reaction. Deciding magic was too slow, Harry pressed both fingers against the boy’s aorta. It took an agonizing second, but he felt the pulse below his digits, still present yet still just as weak. Abraham was going on about how to get a healer, and, though her questions made some type of sense, he was too tired and distracted to make sense of it –other than for a desire to hex her silly.

Apparently walking into trouble was a habit of his.

“Is anyone here a healer?” He bellowed, deciding it was his best shot, but nobody stepped forwards and he’d lost the boy’s pulse. For a frantic instant, he pressed his fingers more tightly into the boy’s neck, but it was gone. “Shit,” He growled, tossing his wand towards the ground without even considering a magical way of revival –he was too tired, too exhausted, to think through the mirage of spells in his mind to find the one a healer would use. “Abraham, get the bloody mother!” They’d have to risk moving the boy by having his mum take him to Mungo’s, and quick –if they wanted any chance of catching the bloke who’d done this, time was of the essence.  Not even checking to see if Brett had moved, Harry tilted the boy’s head back to clear his airway –not practice enough in muggle techniques to quite remember if that was necessary-, and then pressed both hands –one palm over the other, fingers linking- on the kid’s chest and beginning to move. His thumps were rushed and strong, as he counted to ten before stopping and leaning forwards. Pinching the boy’s nose, he breathed in through spread lips a few times, before resuming the compressions. He could feel the eyes of many wizards on him, some not understanding what he was doing, and others wondering why he was acting as if he’d forgotten magic. But he didn’t give a damn.

After two series of compressions, he checked for a pulse –and it was there. “Thank Merlin,” He breathed, his own heart beating erratically as he glanced up. He needed the Mother, and he needed Abraham, and perhaps she would have been smart enough to send notice to the Ministry. “Did anyone see what happened or where the son of a bitch went?” He asked, green eyes searching the crowd. “Abraham, where the bloody hell are you with the mother?” He yelled.

Harry was in a panic, and understandably so. He yelled out for a healer and nobody stepped forward. When he snapped at Brett to go and find the mother, she nodded and pushed her way back out of the crowd. The woman was on the outskirts, trying to find her way in to check on her son. Brett grabbed the lady by the upper arm and parted the crowd again, bringing the woman to the forefront. Brett explained quickly that the child wasn't dead- not yet. When they broke back through the crowd, Harry was leaning over the boy giving him CPR. In the wizarding world that kind of action seemed a little out of place. She held the lady back until Harry finished, and then he started yelling about what happened and where she was.

"I'm here!" she exclaimed, stepping forward now that Harry was done. "Right here, with the mother." The woman rushed over to son, and hovered over him. Brett was a step behind. "You need to get him to St. Mungo's," Brett said. "And we'll look for the guy who did this. He needs a healer straight away." The woman bent down, carefully scooping her son up into her arms. "What's your name, ma'am, so we can be sure to find you?" Brett nodded as the woman slowly stuttered out her name, clinging her son to her chest, still crying. There was no way they'd get any sense out of her right now, and frankly the life of the boy was more important than apprehending the criminal at the moment. Criminal would be there, if they didn't act quick enough that boy might not.

Brett yelled out at the crowd to part, to make room for the woman. The authoritative tone in her voice surprised even her. Brett wasn't very good at being commanding or taking control of the situations- not in a respectful, serious manner at any rate. The people gathered slowly reacted, letting the woman through so that she could get her son to Mungo's. Two of the crowd flanked her on either side to escort her to the hospital, and Brett felt proud of people at that moment. That woman was about to lose it. Of course, seeing your son dying on the street would make anybody lose their wits.

With the woman and child out of the way and on their way to safety, she resumed a position by Harry's side. He'd asked if anybody saw anything, and as a late reaction the crowd began to talk at once. A lot of people were telling a lot of stories, and it was hard to sort them out. "ONE AT A TIME!" Brett yelled out. "You- come here and tell me what you saw. You-" she pointed at another person, "you talk to Auror Potter. If you saw something, stay put and tell us. If you didn't see anything, go about your business. Get inside and off the street, that person is still out there somewhere and you need to inside."

She looked to Harry then, to make sure the orders she was barking out made sense and were appropriate for the situation. He could correct her or override the instructions she'd given, and Brett wouldn't question it. She just felt like it was better to get control over everything before the crowd became overwhelming.

If, when a tattoo in the form of lighting bolt that went as far as making noise had been walking around the Auror Department, someone would have whispered into Harry’s ear that he’d one day be grateful for the presence of the woman who wore the charmed drawing, the Auror would have laughed and laughed until he couldn’t laugh anymore. It was, therefore, with something of a sense of shock that he glanced up and actually felt relieved when he heard Brett Abraham’s voice, and the mother of the child on the ground brushed past him and looked down at her son. “He’s okay for now,” He managed to say, as he rubbed his hands against his knees and reached for his wand –hoping there wouldn’t end up being a report about how he’d let it out of his grip for even a second while in the midst of this.

It was with further awe that he watched as Brett explained that the kid needed to get to Mungo’s –and there was no other way to explain his emotions but utter shock as she pushed a trail through the crowd to allow the mother to leave with her son. Brett Abraham was actually stepping up –which was a good thing, considering Harry felt like doing nothing but sleeping. To say he was exhausted was an understatement: his eyes were bloody trying to close of their own accord. He was just pushing into a standing position, when Abraham returned to his side –and managed to take control over the babbling of a crowd that had suddenly erupted in many voices. Harry, for his side, could barely manage to do anything but gap at her with his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water.

He had just managed to control his exhaustion and his shock, and actually pay attention to the bloke who Abraham had assigned to speak to him –one part of him wondering why the hell he was allowing Abraham to take charge, and the other wondering whether the guy actually believed his bull about a giant dragon having stepped on the child’s chest. But just as soon as his attention had returned, it was directed towards the sound of clattering footsteps, screaming and exploding pavement as a small bit of cobblestoned street blew into the air. Eyes widening, he turned his gaze and tugged on Abraham’s elbow. “I think he might be that way,” He pointed with his wand, before taking off on a run towards the corner he still heard sound around.

Brett's attention was diverted at the sound of shattering stone, and she watched bits of the street raise into the air and then fall to the ground. She nodded when Harry stated that he must be in that direction. "If you really saw something, report it to the ministry," she said loudly to those gathered around her as she took off after Harry, her wand in hand. This was definitely not the way she intended to spend her evening, but it was at least shaping up to be exciting. (Not that she would ever wish something so bad to happen to someone, but it was nice not to be behind a desk.)

She caught up to Harry quickly, keeping stride with him as they cased after the wizard. The cobblestone street kept splintering up in front of them as the wizard threw spells haphazard over his shoulder. Brett yelled at people to get inside as he passed them, worried that the criminal might end up getting violent again. It was one thing for him to throw spells at the aurors, it was another to hurt innocent bystanders in Diagon Alley.

Brett was worried about trying to subdue him with her own wand. She didn't want her spell to accidentally go rogue and hurt someone. Even so, she couldn't just let the guy get away because she was paranoid. As she ran, she leveled her wand at the wizard as best she could, and waited for a break in the crowds. The first clear shot she saw, she took it. "Stupefy!" she yelled out. Not the most complicated of spells, but the safest to use given the circumstances. Scarlet light sprang from the end of her wand, but it missed the guy- flying over his shoulder and slamming against the side of a building as he turned another corner. 

Full exhaustion became obvious by the way his limbs suddenly felt heavy as he began to run. His muscles were tempted to go into complete lockdown, and suddenly his brain seemed to be nothing more than a puddle of vomit. Still, Harry fought to keep his attention on the fact that there was a criminal exploding pieces of street in Diagon Alley, and a boy already hurt and on his way to Mungo’s.  His wand was tight in his hand, not to be let go of again, as he twisted around the corner and continued to be shocked at the fact that he was relieved to have Brett at his side. He ran, and she ran, but she also took care of getting the public safely inside shops –which was something Harry rather didn’t have the energy to do. Abraham was turning out to be a gift today.

Or, well, she was until she tried a spell and instead ended up shattering the wall of the side of a building. “Damn it, Abraham!” He yelled, positioning his head downwards in order to keep debris from getting into his eyes. “You’re supposed to hit the man, not the bloody wall!” When the Auror lifted his eyes again, it was to spot that something had gone horribly wrong: the criminal they were chasing was gone. Poof. Not there. But the fact that the man was gone was far from the worse of their troubles, him being gone was manageable. What Harry was looking at, however, was not.

There was a dragon standing in the middle of Diagon Alley.

Panic rose in him, a yell rising up his throat, and it was only at the last second that the vision faltered and he realized the issue: sleep depravation. Skidding to a halt, Harry turned and pushed Abraham into a wall, leaning close to her and speaking into her ear. “I’m exhausted, Abraham. I just saw a mother effing dragon that isn’t even there, and that’s not a good sign,” His hands gripped her shoulders as he fought to keep his eyes open. “We’re not going to stop, but you are going to have to take charge.” And, Merlin’s Sagging Y-Fronts, was he going to have quite a bit of explaining to do at the Ministry.