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CIA Director Ezra Kramer scanned the report and his heart sank. He had scarcely believed the news that Jason Bourne was still alive but the evidence seemed clear.

A bus driver on the New York to Montreal run had reported that two passengers had jumped out of the emergency exit just before the Canadian border. The driver had identified the older passenger as Bourne. Every available agent had been sent north. A tracking dog picked up a scent from the bus seat and followed it to an empty cabin. There were signs of recent occupation. Two apple cores were on the table and footprints led to a clearing. All of this seemed like incredible luck. Then the trail went cold. Bourne had simply vanished into thin air.

Nothing made sense. There were two sets of footprints leaving the cabin but only one coming in. A third set of prints appeared in the clearing and then disappeared. The fireplace was still warm but there were no ashes in the grate. Then there was the question of the other passenger. The driver had recognized him as a boy who worked part time at the bus depot in Albany. The local police questioned the boy but he insisted that he had been working a late shift and had gone straight home. His story was confirmed by his parents and several co-workers.

The only explanation he could see was black magic.

In another part of Washington, two men in robes sat and sipped fire whiskey.

"Tiberius, have you found your man? "

"Yes, Gauis. He's in Montreal but we can't move in yet."

"Why not? He might get away."

"Potter is watching him night and day. We need to create a diversion before the Muggles can take him."

"Tiberius, I don't understand why you are using the CIA for this. Wouldn't it be safer to have the Regie de Magique wizards pick him up? You have friends in the Gouvernour's office."

"Gaius, I've told you before. My friends would want an explanation. The fewer wizards who are involved in this the better. The Muggles will assume that he has taken leave of his senses and send him to a psychiatric prison. Then we can modify his memory and all will be well again."

"The CIA has been trying to catch him for three years. Why do you expect hem to succeed now?"

"Potter put a block on his magic. He is no different from any other Muggle."

“But he still disarmed you.”

“Thank you for reminding me. Let me remind you that I am not trained in Muggle fighting.”

“And you were full of yourself because you had caught the famous Harry Potter. You stood there gloating while Bones got the better of you.”

“Yes, I admit that I was careless. “

“And that carelessness costs you your wand. What if Potter does a priori incantem test on it?”

“I have cast only one spell that is in any way out of the ordinary and no one will recognize it.”

“What if the Muggles kill him?”

“We collect the body and move on to the next phase of our experiment.”

“Very well, call your contact in the CIA, but be careful.”

In Montreal, Harry shook himself awake and looked around. He had checked into a small hotel on Rue St. Denis. He was looking forward to having a leisurely breakfast and arranging for transport back to London. Jason had other plans.

"Come on, get dressed, we're going for a run."

Harry blinked. "What about breakfast?" he asked groggily.

"Not good to run on a full stomach."

They retraced their steps to the top of Mount Royal. Harry's lungs nearly burst as he struggled to keep up. At the top of the mountain, Harry lay gasping while Jason did push-ups. Eventually, Jason seemed satisfied and they went in search of a café.

Over breakfast, Jason asked Harry about learning to use his wand. Harry thought for a moment. Teaching magic to the world's most skillful assassin might not be a good idea. On the other hand, he needed to gain Bourne's trust. Besides, he might need backup if they met the strange wizard again.

They found an isolated spot in a cemetery on the mountain and began work. Harry started with the Expelliarmus spell. It was his personal favourite, having saved his life at least twice. Harry also thought it was the spell Bourne would find most useful. Once he had disarmed his opponent, Jason Bourne would not need magic to finish him off.

At night, Harry tried to get Jason to talk but Jason was more interested in watching American football on television. Harry found the game totally baffling. As a wizard, he couldn’t get excited about a sport where there was only one ball and the players stayed on the ground. As a Englishman, football meant a sport where the players kicked the ball with their feet.

Bourne worried about being followed. He knew that the CIA had conducted brainwashing experiments in Montreal in the sixties and they still might have a presence there. Harry placed Muggle repelling charm on Jason when they were on the streets and took it off when they were indoors. He demonstrated the effectiveness of the charm by leaving it on while they were in a restaurant. Even when Jason shouted at the top of his lungs, no one seemed to notice him.

Bourne had trouble figuring Harry out. He knew that the boy was lying about his job. He was not just some junior civil servant. He was some sort of secret agent and he would become a very good one, if he survived. Harry was clever and resourceful and his reflexes and reaction times were first rate. Jason had no way of judging Harry's ability with a wand but when Harry had giving him a flying demonstration, he had been astounded. One the other hand, his physical fitness was well below minimal military standards and his eyesight was hopeless.

Still, Harry had seen action, Bourne was sure of that. Harry said very little about himself during the day, but at night Bourne could hear him talking in his sleep. He couldn't make sense of much Harry said but the voice of a combat haunted veteran was unmistakable.

After about two weeks, Harry could almost keep up with Jason on his morning run and Jason had mastered a few simple spells. The problem was that Bourne showed no signs of wanting to leave for England and Harry was finding it hard to watch him night and day. He needed help, but he was afraid that if another Auror showed up, Bourne would bolt. What he needed was someone capable but non-threatening, someone with combat experience but without the secret agent smell about him, someone like ....

“Hello, mate,” Ron Weasley was waiting for him in the hotel lobby. Hermione was with him.

“Ron, Hermione this is ...,” Harry began.

“Jason,” Bourne said. He had trouble thinking of himself as David Webb or Edmund Bones. Even though he hated the name Jason Bourne and everything he had done under that name he could not let it go.

“Anyway, we were just in town for a few days and we thought we’d look you up,” Ron said.“By the way, Hermione is insisting on separate bedrooms and money is a little tight right now so I was wondering if I could ...?”

“Okay, but you sleep on the floor.”

Jason started to protest but thought better of it. After all, Harry was paying the tab.

Harry and Jason took a break from their training regime and spent the day showing Ron and Hermione around town. Hermione was acting strangely. She had said little all day. Then in the evening, she made them all go to Crescent Street and found the bar with the loudest music and the best looking women. This was definitely not her style. As soon as they were all settled with their drinks, she dragged Harry onto the dance floor.

Jason nursed his drink and watched the dance floor. Something was not right. Harry did not strike him as the kind of guy who would flirt with his best friend's girl and the girl herself was definitely not the flirtatious type. She was serious, official, rather like a younger version of Pamela Landy. She wasn’t a bad dancer, but Harry was terrible. They were talking. This was just the sort of ploy that would occur to a junior agent who wanted to have a private conversation. The girl was keeping her back to him so he couldn't read her lips. Then he saw Harry's mouth open in an expression of horror. It was time to get out. He waited until the red-headed boy was distracted and made for the door.

Bourne walked through the crowded streets. He moved quickly but not fast enough to call attention to himself. His plan was to find the railway station and take the next train out of town. Then he would cross back into the United States and begin his search.

A call came into CIA headquarters. Bourne had been sighted. A few days ago, Director Kramer had received a tip from an anonymous source that Bourne was in Montreal. He sent a team there immediately, but they could find nothing.

Bourne had left the nightclub area and was in a deserted street when he heard the car. He drew his wand. Two armed men got out.

“Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!”

The men gaped as their guns flew out of their hands. Bourne ran. As he reached the end of the street, another car stopped and two more men got out. He hit them both with an Impedimenta jinx and ran past.

Bourne realized quickly that he would have to rely on his speed and skill rather than his wand. The spells Harry had taught him were mostly defensive. When Bourne had asked about the more powerful offensive spells, Harry had put him off and claimed they were too advanced. Bourne could slow down an attacker but not stop him. Harry, Bourne admitted, was not as naive as he seemed.

Bourne was hiding in a doorway as he heard two men approaching. What he needed was a good spell to take out one of them. Then he remembered the words the strange wizard had said, “Petrificatus Totalis.”

That did for one agent. He dealt with the other with his fists. Then Bourne felt the chill of the wind from the St. Lawrence River. Montreal had not been a good choice for a hiding place. It was an island. He had reached a deserted dock and two cars we approaching fast..

Bourne climbed down the side of the pier until he was just above the frigid water. He heard voices above him. They were searching the dock. Sooner or later they would come down here and there was no place else to go except into the water. Without the protection of his spontaneous magic, he would not get out alive. If only he knew a spell to freeze the river solid. He thought for a minute. The spells he had learned from Harry were mostly simple Latin. He remembered studying Latin in parochial school. What was the Latin word for ice?

He drew a circle with his wand and said, "Glacius."

A chunk of ice formed in the water below him. He tried again, speaking more firmly and drawing a larger circle. A larger and thicker piece of ice formed. He stepped down on it gingerly and found that it would take his weight. Moving quickly, he conjured another piece of ice and stepped out onto the river and disappeared into the darkness. As he finally reached the other bank, he laughed. Sister Clothilde had always insisted that studying Latin would be useful. He had never believed her until now.