Night came especially early in London in October.
Before six, the sky had already gone completely dark. The shops lining Diagon Alley lit their magical lamps one after another, their dim yellow glow casting patches of mottled shadow across the flagstones.
Lin Ze stood outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, holding a tub of freshly bought chocolate nut ice cream, eating as he waited.
He was on the night shift.
Under the normal patrol routine, he was supposed to set off from the southern end of Diagon Alley at seven sharp, follow the main street all the way to Gringotts at the northern end, then turn back. Two round trips, and he would finish at eleven.
But today, he had arrived an hour early.
"This ice cream really is good." He spooned some into his mouth and muttered indistinctly to himself, "If things go smoothly tonight, I'll come back and buy another tub to celebrate."
Smoothly?
He barely believed that himself.
Crabbe and his lot had chosen tonight to make their move, and Malcolm had spent twenty minutes in Warehouse Three that afternoon. Harper was still looking into exactly what he had taken.
But judging by Warehouse Three's inventory, everything stored there was confiscated contraband. Any single item would be enough to land him in serious trouble.
"Contraband, patrol route, framing..."
Lin Ze kept rearranging those three terms in his head, trying to piece together Crabbe's complete plan.
The most conventional approach would be to hide contraband along his patrol route, then anonymously report him for possessing it. Once the search team arrived, they would catch him red-handed.
But there was a problem with that.
How would placing contraband along his patrol route prove it was his? What if he just happened to be passing by?
So Crabbe had to have something else up his sleeve.
An eyewitness, for instance.
Or evidence on the contraband that he had touched it.
"Interesting."
He tossed the empty ice cream tub into a bin and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
Whatever Crabbe planned to throw at him, he was ready for it.
At seven sharp, Lin Ze began his patrol on time.
Diagon Alley was quieter at night than during the day. Most shops had already closed, and only the windows of the Leaky Cauldron still glowed with warm yellow light. Faint sounds of laughter and merriment drifted out.
Lin Ze walked unhurriedly along the flagstones, his wand in his hand but its tip pointing down, his posture looking very relaxed.
In reality, his ears were constantly picking up every movement around him.
As he rounded the corner by Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, he stopped.
There was something on the ground.
A palm-sized wooden box sat right in the middle of the road. Crooked runes were carved into its lid, giving off a faint, dark green glow under the magical lamps.
Lin Ze crouched down. Rather than reaching out to touch it, he gently nudged the lid with his wand.
The box was unlocked and opened at a touch.
Inside lay a badge-a Dark Mark badge.
The symbol of the Death Eaters.
"That's it?"
Lin Ze almost laughed aloud.
He had thought Crabbe would use something sophisticated, but it turned out to be this thing.
It certainly qualified as "contraband." Ever since Voldemort had appeared publicly, anything bearing the Dark Mark had been classified as contraband of the highest level. Possessing something like this meant dismissal from public office at best, or being sent straight to Azkaban at worst.
But the question was, could leaving something like this along his patrol route prove it belonged to him?
Wasn't that seriously underestimating the Ministry of Magic's investigative procedures?
Then he heard footsteps.
Hurried footsteps, from many people, converging on him from both ends of Diagon Alley at once.
Here they come.
Lin Ze stood up and brushed the dust off his knees, his expression as calm as if he had just picked up a Knut.
The first to rush up to him was Bodo Crabbe.
The broad, burly Auror wore a formal law-enforcement uniform today, with a search-warrant badge pinned to his chest. Two Hit Wizards, also in uniform, followed behind him.
"Lin Ze!" Crabbe's voice held an irrepressible excitement, like a man who had gone hungry for three days finally catching sight of dinner.
"Someone has reported you for possessing Dark Magic items. Please cooperate with our investigation."
As he spoke, his gaze had already fallen on the wooden box on the ground, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"What is that?"
Lin Ze looked down at the box, then back up at Crabbe, his face blank with confusion.
"I don't know. I was just passing by, saw a box on the ground, and stopped to take a look. Why, Senior Crabbe, do you know what it is?"
"Stop playing dumb!" Crabbe's voice abruptly rose, the heavy flesh on his face trembling slightly with excessive excitement.
"Someone saw you hide contraband along your patrol route with their own eyes. Now we've caught you red-handed, and you're still trying to talk your way out of it?"
"Caught me red-handed?" Lin Ze blinked.
"Senior, I haven't even touched this box. Are my fingerprints on it? Oh, right, you people in the Wizarding World don't check fingerprints. You check wand residue, don't you? Even better. My wand has only cast Lumos just now. Check all you like."
Crabbe's smile stiffened slightly, but quickly recovered.
"You expect us to believe you haven't touched it just because you say so? We have a witness!"
He stepped aside, revealing a small, thin man behind him.
Malcolm Crabbe.
A low-ranking clerk in the logistics department, and Crabbe's distant younger cousin.
Malcolm's face was frighteningly pale, his forehead covered in sweat. His eyes darted about, not daring to meet Lin Ze's.
"M-Malcolm Crabbe." His voice shook; he was clearly extremely nervous.
"I work in the logistics department... I came to Diagon Alley on an errand this evening and saw... saw Mr. Lin Ze hide this box in the corner outside Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and then... then he walked away."
Lin Ze tilted his head as he looked at Malcolm, a faint, ambiguous smile curling his lips.
This cousin's acting was truly terrible.
Not only did his eyes wander as he lied, but both his legs were trembling, and his voice shook like a leaf about to fall in the autumn wind.
No wonder he was nervous. After all, what lay behind this affair could turn out to be minor or serious. If it succeeded, Crabbe and his faction could use the opportunity to kick Lin Ze out; but if it was exposed, perjury was no light charge.
"Are you sure it was me?"
"Y-yes."
"When did you see me?"
"This evening... a little after five, probably..."
"After five?" Lin Ze raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. "Are you sure? It wasn't dark yet then. What was I wearing?"
"Wearing..." Malcolm's eyes instinctively flicked toward Crabbe, seemingly seeking a hint.
"A uniform," Crabbe answered for him. "You were wearing your Auror uniform. Malcolm remembers it very clearly."
"Oh, a uniform." Lin Ze nodded, then spread his hands toward the surrounding onlookers.
"Everyone, have any of you noticed what I'm wearing on patrol today?"
The shopkeepers and passersby watching exchanged glances.
The old man from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour poked his head out of the crowd and said loudly, "Mr. Lin is wearing a gray coat today. I was just telling him how nice his new clothes looked."
Crabbe's smile froze.
Malcolm's face went from white to ashen.