One week later — 7:18 AM — Mid-Wilshire Police Station
The station was awake, but not yet bustling.
The morning shift always had its own rhythm: coffee too fresh, voices too low, footsteps that weren’t yet hurried.
Harry Potter walked through the glass door with his usual straight, controlled posture, but something about him had changed.
It wasn’t visible to anyone who didn’t know how to look.
It was the kind of difference only someone who had been through fire could recognize in another.
He was wearing his full uniform again.
The holster was in place.
The gun too.
The weight was familiar… and different.
“Good morning,” someone said at the counter.
“Good morning,” Harry replied automatically.
He walked to his desk, put his backpack on the floor, and sat down.
For a few seconds, he just observed his surroundings.
The sound of keyboards.
The distant radio.
A brief laugh coming from the break room.
Normal life.
“That’s how it starts,” he thought.
“As if nothing had happened.”
“Potter.”
The voice came from the left.
Harry looked up.
Tim Bradford was standing, leaning slightly on the table, his left arm still in a simple sling, his administrative uniform replacing his patrol uniform.
He looked… thinner.
Quieter.
“Officer Bradford,” Harry said, standing up immediately.
“Relax,” Tim replied.
“If you stand up every time, I’ll think I’ve become a captain.”
Harry sat down again.
“How’s your shoulder?” he asked.
Tim grimaced briefly.
“It hurts when the weather changes,” he replied.
“And when I remember I owe my life to a stubborn recruit.”
Harry held his gaze.
“I’d do it again.”
Tim nodded once, seriously.
“I know,” he said.
“And that’s why I’m here.”
He pulled up a chair and sat facing Harry.
“The internal affairs department officially cleared you last night,” he said.
“No irregularities.
Use of force within protocol.
Exemplary medical care.”
Harry absorbed that in silence.
“Your weapon is clean.
Your name too,” Tim continued.
“That doesn’t happen often.”
“I know,” Harry replied.
Tim observed him for a moment.
“Today you’re patrolling with Bishop,” he said.
“I’m stuck here with reports and physical therapy.”
“I imagine that irritates you,” Harry commented.
Tim gave a crooked half-smile.
“You have no idea.”
They were silent for a moment.
“Tim…” Harry began.
“No,” Tim interrupted.
“We’re not going to make a speech.
I’ll just say one thing.”
He leaned slightly forward.
“When I fell,” he said, “the only thing I saw was you moving.
Without hesitation.
Without panic.
That…” he took a deep breath, “that’s something you can’t teach.”
Harry maintained a neutral expression.
“Thank you for trusting me in that patrol car,” Tim finished.
Harry nodded.
“Always.”
Tim stood up carefully.
“Go to work,” he said.
“And don’t make Bishop call me complaining.”
“I’ll try,” Harry replied.
Tim walked away slowly, his arm still limited.
Harry watched until he disappeared down the corridor.
Then he took a deep breath.
The garage was busier than usual.
Shift changes, patrol cars leaving, others arriving.
Talia Bishop was leaning against the side of a 7-Adam-12, arms crossed, sunglasses, impeccable posture.
When she saw Harry approaching, she uncrossed her arms.
“So…” she said, “the man of the week is back.”
Harry stopped in front of her.
“Officer Bishop.”
“Stop that,” she said.
“We’re not in a hearing.”
She opened the car door.
“Get in.”
Harry got into the passenger seat.
Talia started the car and drove out of the garage smoothly.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, directly, without beating around the bush.
Harry took a second longer to answer.
“Functional,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow.
“That’s not a feeling.”
“It’s the most honest one I have right now,” he replied.
Talia nodded, pleased with his frankness.
“Good,” she said.
“Because I’m not Angela.
I’m not going to take you under my wing.”
“I don’t expect that,” Harry replied.
“Great,” she said.
“Because with me, you’re going to be tested.”
The radio crackled with initial calls.
“Let’s establish one thing,” Talia continued.
“I know exactly what happened in that incident.”
Harry remained silent.
“I know you saved Bradford,” she said.
“I know you neutralized the threat single-handedly.
I know internal affairs cleared you.”
She paused.
“But today,” she said, “you’re not the guy from the shooting.”
Harry turned slightly to her.
“Today I’m a recruit.”
“Exactly,” Talia replied.
“And recruits follow orders.”
“Always,” Harry agreed.
The patrol car pulled onto a busy avenue.
“You realize that now everyone will look at you differently,” Talia commented.
“Some will admire you.
Others will fear you.
Some will expect you to fail.”
“I can’t control that,” Harry replied.
“No,” she agreed.
“But you can control how you react.”
A brief silence.
“Tell me something,” Talia said.
“You’ve killed before.”
It wasn’t a question.
Harry took a deep breath.
“Yes.”
“And how does this compare to what happened here?” she asked.
Harry looked at the street ahead.
“Here,” he said, “there’s no emotional distance.
No abstract mission.
Here, you see the impact immediately.”
“Does this affect you more?” Talia asked.
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.
She nodded slowly.
“Good,” she said.
“If it didn’t, I’d be worried.”
The radio interrupted.
“7-Adam-12, routine call, possible trespassing, no weapons reported.”
“Received,” Talia replied.
She looked at Harry.
“Your observation shift is over,” she said.
“Now you talk to me.
Assess.
Suggest.
Only act when I tell you to.”
“Understood.”
They arrived at the scene.
A yard, a broken fence, an agitated man yelling at his neighbor.
Talia took the lead.
Harry observed.
Every gesture.
Every word.
“Sir, lower your voice,” Talia said.
“Let’s talk.”
Harry noticed the clenched fists, the defensive posture, the erratic gaze.
“He’s more scared than aggressive,” Harry murmured softly.
Talia adjusted her tone immediately.
“I know you’re nervous,” she said to the man.
“But shouting won’t solve anything.”
The situation dissolved in minutes.
They returned to the patrol car.
“Enjoy your reading,” Talia commented.
“You didn’t interfere.”
“It wasn’t necessary,” Harry replied.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye.
“You’re holding something back.”
Harry remained silent.
“It’s not an accusation,” she said.
“It’s an observation.”
“I’m relearning not to act alone,” he replied.
“That’s harder than it looks,” Talia said.
“Yes.”
The patrol continued on its way.
Minor calls.
Conversations.
No weapons.
No shots fired.
At the end of their shift, the sun was already beginning to set.
“Last question of the day,” Talia said as they parked.
Harry turned around.
“Are you afraid to pull the trigger again?”
Harry thought for a long moment.
“I’m afraid I won’t pull it when it’s necessary,” he replied.
Talia nodded, satisfied.
“Then you’re exactly where you should be.”
They got out of the patrol car.
Harry looked at the police station.
A week ago, he had left that place unarmed, under investigation, with blood on his hands.
Now, he was returning with everything returned.
But not intact.
And he knew it never would be again.
pat/SHADOWGHOST07
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