Disclaimer: See Prologue.

A/N: To ratcreature, all I can say is that there are some obscure regulations getting in the way here. The Las Vegas Aurors Department will indeed be showing up, but LVPD was too quick to respond and the security cameras were still running. Other than that, you'll just have to wait and see.

To Laughing Cat, thank you. And I kind of understand that. My mom's an RN, and she get's just as fussy about that kind of thing. Believe me gloves will be used. But I still might need your help. After all, the CSU are going to have to solve a magical crime with non-magical forensics techniques. They're going to have quite a bit of trouble, I'm sure.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed this. Chapter 12 of As A Bat is almost finished, I just have to work out a few last minute kinks. You might even see it before this chapter, but I don't know.

Grissom and Brass followed the ambulance to the hospital, leaving Homicide and Catherine in charge of the crime scene. The doctors did what they could do to stabilize the young man, but in the end it was going to be up to him. The attending spoke to the two cops. "He's sustained severe electrical trauma to his nervous system, basically short circuiting the whole thing. His brain wasn't as affected as the rest of the system, why we're not sure, but that allowed it to survive and basically reboot the system. He's stabilized and he's functioning without life support, but he's comatose, and there's no telling how long that will last. It could be anywhere from a day to never."

Grissom nodded. "Did he have any ID on him?"

The doctor shrugged. "There was a wallet, but that's all I know. His clothes and glasses are in a bag with his wallet and keys. We'll get them to you." He paused. "There was something else. There's a lot of scars on this kid, but one in particular is very significant. It's right in the middle of his forehead and it's shaped like a lightning bolt. It's also very old. But there was a wound in the middle of his chest that's shaped the same way, and it's cauterized. It was likely the entry point for whatever did this to him. He's been through this before."

Grissom raised an eyebrow at the doctor. "You took a picture, I presume? Good. Put that with the kid's effects. Can we see him?"

"As soon as we get him settled into ICU."

Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown looked at the ten minutes of surveilance tape that had captured the fight. There was no doubt that the tapes were authentic, but there was also no way to tell what the hell was going on. What were these lights? The only thing they could be certain of was that the blast marks and discolorations corresponded with a light that one of the two men had fired.

Then they got to the end of the fight, the third party's sudden appearance off camera and his murder of one and attempted murder of the other. Nick said, "That's wild man. What the hell is that stuff?"

Warrick shrugged. "Don't know." Then his eyes narrowed. "Hey, isn't there a utility closet right there?" He pointed to where the third man had to be standing.

Slowly, Nick nodded. "I think you're right. Let's go see if he left anything behind."

The closet was full of brooms and cleaning materials, but there was also a short foot stool, likely placed there by the killer. Warrick spotted a straight blonde hair on the carpet. He picked it up with tweezers and looked at it closely before placing it in an evidence baggie. "It's got a folicle. We'll see what DNA can get off of it."

The wallet contained 2500 dollars and 1700 British pounds, a roughly equal amount, a passport, a Brittish driver's liscence and two photos. The passport and liscence both proclaimed the comatose young man to be Mr. Harry Potter, aged 25 as of two weeks ago, and a wealthy British national. One of the photos showed a younger Potter with his arms around two similarly aged people, a man with flaming red hair and a woman with bushy brown hair. The two appeared to be a couple, and Potter their friend. The other was of another couple. At first glance you'd have thought that it was Potter and his girlfriend or wife, the girl with dark auburn hair and deep green eyes, and very pregnant, but the man in the photo had blue eyes, and thus couldn't be Potter. Grissom flipped the photo over. James and Lily Potter, June 5, 1980. The parents, then.

Grissom was standing outside Potter's room in the ICU, just examining what evidence the kid had on him at the time of the attack. He looked through the glass at the patient, at all the various tubes an machines that were keeping him alive, and wondered just what the hell was going on. The wands that he and Phantom had been carrying were ornately carved, made from different woods. They didn't look like weapons, but obviously that's what they were. How they worked, though, was another question all together.

Grissom's cell phone rang in his pocket. He turned away from the glass and went down the hall to a lounge to answer it so that he wouldn't be in violation of hospital regulations. "Grissom."

"It's Nick."

"What have you got?"

"The killer was sitting on a stool in that utility closet at the end of the hall. He left behind a hair. I've sent it to DNA."

"Good. Victim #2 is named Harry Potter. Check the hotel desk, see when he checked in, what room he's in, whatever you can find out. Keep me informed." He closed his phone with a snap and went back to staring at Potter. "Who are you, Mr. Potter?" The comatose man, of course, didn't answer him.

The hotel manager was eagerly cooperating with police on this. One of his high rollers had been axed in his hotel. It certainly wasn't good for business, and he wanted this thing solved quickly before rumors started to spread. "Mr. Potter was on vacation from Scotland, said he just wanted to experience Vegas once before he took over the family business."

Warrick asked, "What business is that?"

"He said something about security systems upgrades for older structures. He was talking about castles and manor houses and how easy it would be for the right thief to break in."

Nick said, "How much did he bring with him to blow on this vacation?"

"Three million pounds. I had to have it converted, it came to about $4.4 million US. He didn't dress like it, but he's loaded."

"So, why Vegas?"

"Someone gave him tickets for his birthday, said he thought, what the hell. He has to take over from the family in just two weeks, so might as well live it up while he can, right?"

They had reached the Presidential Suite and the manager opened the room for them. It required a card key and a password of the client's choice. Potter's password was "Sirius". The manager left the two CSIs to themselves as they began to search the room, gloves on hands and evidence bags readily available. It was full of acoutrements, as one would expect the Presidential Suite to be, but what it wasn't full of was Potter's belongings. Nick said, "Where's this guy's stuff? There's nothing out, not even in the bathroom. The shower's been used, but everything in there is from the hotel."

Warrick nodded. "Nothing in the drawers, either. Bed was slept in, but the maid hasn't been by yet. Woah."

Nick looked up from where he was looking in the bare closet. Warrick was holding up a pair of throwing knives. "Under the pillow." The knives were simple and elegant, single pieces of steel. "Why does a guy on vacation keep throwing knives under his pillow?"

Nick tripped as he headed over to look at the knives. He looked down, but he didn't see what it was. Warrick snorted. "Graceful."

Nick frowned. "No, there's something here." He started moving his foot around until it struck something with a wooden sound. But still he saw nothing. He reached down with his hands slowly until he hit a surface at about two and a half feet above the floor.

Moving his hands, he discovered that there was a cover over the object. The substance rippled as he moved it, so he gripped it and pulled it off. Underneath was an old style wooden trunk with the initials "HP" engraved on the latch. Nick stood up, bringing the cover with him. Out of the invisibility came a shimmering fabric that still played with the light as it was moved about. It was lightweight and smooth as silk and appeared to be a cloak of some kind. It wasn't invisible if it was bunched up, but if it hung straight or was laid flat, nothing could be seen.

Nick and Warrick's eyes both bugged out. Neither had ever heard of such a material. There was no power source, no wires, no way for it to be a stage magician's trick, even a highly sophisticated one. Nick looked at his partner. "What the hell is going on here?"

Warrick shook his head. "I don't know. Only one way to find out."

They bagged the cloak and then turned to the trunk. The lock seemed to be simple, but they didn't want to break it open without first seeing if there was a key lying around. Their search, however, turned up nothing. Nick said, "Let's get this stuff back to the lab. Something really strange is going on, and there's no way we're going to find out what here."

They brought everything back to the crime lab and started sifting through what evidence they could access.

The cloak was made from a completely unknown kind of animal fur that litterally bent light away on one side. It could still be seen through if you were underneath it, however, because of the spaces in the weave. No one understood how this was possible, and the properties of the fibers made examining them under the microscope problematic at best.

The lock on the chest couldn't be broken into, and when Warrick tried to actually break the lock, he recieved a shock, litterally. "I'll swear in court that it wasn't electricity, though. It felt weird, like ice."

By this time, Grissom had returned to the lab, and he was listening to the less than conclusive results with frustration. "What about the hair you found in the closet? That at least is something we're used to dealing with."

Nick nodded. "DNA came back. Male, but he's not in our database. Comparison to our Phantom came back. Six out of thirteen alleles match."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "His killer was his son."

Now, we know who the killer is, but there's a lot more to deal with here. Means, motive and opportunity, ladies and gentlemen.

Sorry about the lateness of this update. I don't have a computer at my house and all of my files are on Geocities, so I have to work when I can get back into town and hijack my Dad's computer. All of my stories are going to be taking longer than normal. It's rather unavoidable. Reviews are, as always, apreciated.