Ex-Auror Manannán and the Tear of Ra

-Chapter One- AN AUROR RECRUITED

Oliver Logan Manannán of Postbridge Manner never considered himself to be normal, he, as did many others, believed he was quite extraordinary. He took immense pride in his remarkable career, and now retired, he was judged by many, to be one of the most successful and famed Aurors to ever have enlisted in the service. In fact, he was regarded by many witches and wizards of the age, to be the most gifted and notable wizard to have left the profession with a pulse or with all their limbs intact. Oliver was an audacious wizard who enjoyed taking risks, often electing to take the dangerous and more unpredictable course, over the safer, less thrilling one. It was a trait he had long possessed, a part of him since his school days. In truth, it was the very characteristic that got him expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, at the start of his second year.

Oliver was now a young man, just turned twenty-eight; and the memory of his expulsion from Hogwarts had long since faded. That episode in his life had been completely eclipsed by nine years of an intrepid Auror career, one filled with almost unfathomable and hair-raising experiences. He was six foot one, with dark blond hair and deep brown eyes. He was built like a Beater, although he never really played Quidditch; he much preferred to be a spectator of games, as opposed to an actual player.

Having nearly everything he desired in his life, Oliver was the honoured owner of Postbridge Manner, a small holding of six acres with a modest but spacious cottage at the centre. The land was situated on the outer edge of Dartmoor, in Devon. It was a mixture of open fields and compact woodlands; perfect for a young wizard to conceal himself from the muggle world. It was home to just him and his three beagles, Galahad, Gawain and Gaheris.

Although Oliver was more than content with his current lot, there was a truth he concealed. One that was once just hidden from his mother, but now vehemently obscured from the world. For the wizarding community was currently in a most perilous place; so easily could times change for the worst. For what was once finally deemed acceptable, could, in a short period of time, become prohibited, criminal even.

It was not long after his twelfth birthday that things in the world appeared to change dramatically and quickly. For his childhood before then, was completely overshadowed by the ominous threat of the Dark Lord. Until that birthday, he had only ever known of the magical world being gripped by fear. Even as a small child he was profoundly aware of the dangers that Voldemort's movement posed. He was also very conscious that after that fateful night, when the Dark Lord attempted to murder, the now world-famous Harry Potter, that things greatly improved; the wizarding world changed for the better.

When Oliver set out on the clear blue-sky Monday morning, he did not know that an unexpected visitor would soon arrive. Walking through the woodland on his typical early sunrise stroll, with his canine knight's close by, his mind raced with the stories of what he had been told by his former colleagues at the Ministry of Magic. Thoughts of ending his private endeavours and returning to the Auror service, at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, plagued his thoughts and his dreams. A profound sense of duty permeated his consciousness, he could not eliminate the desire to return; although he had, to date, made no official efforts to reenlist.

Oliver continued with his dog walk, trying to clear his mind of those troubling thoughts. Wrapped up in his green Barbour jacket, which he wore, rain or shine, he whistled away, calming his mind. It approached just before eight, when Oliver flicked his right hand as a reddish-white wand fell into his grip. With a long swipe of his arm, he sent three large branches that rested on the ground hurtling through the air. All three hounds darted off to give chase.

'Little cavaliers,' he chortled to himself, as he concealed his wand into his jacket's sleeve just before he quickened his pace in their direction.

It was on a small steep verge where the woodland ended and an open flat field began, that he first sensed something unusual. Moments later, he saw the open air on the horizon distort. Squinting, Oliver focussed on the twisted sky, he intuitively knew what it meant. In his view he could see all three of his beagles returning, racing towards him, it was then a sense of urgency fell upon him. His wand quickly returned to his right hand, falling again from underneath his sleeve. He slashed the air in the direction of his dogs, which gave out a bright white flash, they all instantly froze on the spot. It was milliseconds after that that a loud thundering crack rang out. It was so deafening that it would have been heard miles away. His right leg jerked slightly, although uncontrollable, for Oliver it was expected; it was a sign of his heightened state. The involuntary shudder in his lower right limb, was a by-product of the only injury he had ever suffered whilst working as an Auror.