Professor Iye
Chapter One
Draco Malfoy swung the black Jaguar XJ off the access road and onto the concrete apron, the paused for a moment, the engine idling, to take good look at his new 'office'. The muggle aircraft was huge, bigger than any he had seen before, and he allowed himself a low whistle -a vuglarity he would not have indulged in unless alone.
Draco was no longer the insular Pureblood wizard who had taken every chance to express his contempt for all thing muggle. His wife, Astoria Greengrass Malfoy, was every bit as Pureblooded as he was, but the Greengrass family had long had a different attitude to muggles. A Greengrass, in a moment of enthusiasm, had volunteered in what soon became known as the Great War. In the trenches, he had come to know and understand muggles, to respect the things in them he also respected in wizards. Courage, compassion, a sense of duty, love of family, friendship, and much else. After the War, he had kept in touch with those muggle friends who had survived – pitifully few – and had seen them go through the Influenza pandemic of 1918, the Great Depression, the Second World War, the massive social changes of the 1950s and '60s, and more recently the technological revolution of the '80s and '90s.
"We wizards have it too easy, sometimes." The old man had told Draco on the day Astoria introduced him to her family. "We just have to wave a wand, and our troubles vanish. Muggles have to work at it, young Draco! They have to get tired and dirty just to get what they need, never mind what they want or deserve!"
Through Astorias' influence – and she was a woman who stood no nonsense – Draco had learned much more about muggles. He had plumbed the mysteries of Michelin star cuisine, fine wine, real ale, classical music, muggle art (he particularly admired LS Lowry) and DisneyWorld, Florida (a place where muggles came close enough to magic to totally enchant little Scorpius). So he had seen planes up close before. But never a brute like this! Or one with a smaller plane perched on top!
But enough reflection. Draco put the car into drive and continued. He liked the big Jag – his 'company car'. Sensibly, he and Astoria had agreed on a seven-seater Nissan Note as their family vehicle. Sufficent capacity for parents, child, assorted in-laws and luggage, plus a popular and thus unnoticed model. When SHIELD had told him he had a choice of field vehicle, however, he had let himself go a bit! The chunky SUVs were insufficiently elegant for his taste, the Aston Martin too much the cliché, and Draco doubted his ability to fold his six-foot, two-inch frame comfortably into the ludicrously small cockpit of a Ferrari or MG. So the XJ it was, and this model had all the SHIELD extras, which Draco had customised with a little judicious magic.
He brought the car up to the loading ramp, swung it around and reversed up, neatly into the space left for it between the two hulking SHIELD SUVs. He felt the locks engage, securing the wheels, as he switched off the engine and got out.
The group gathered near the inner door watched him as he approached them. A tall, slender man in a grey suit with a Mandarin-style jacket. Blond hair, slightly receding at the front, ponytail at the back. A thin face, handsome in a classic kind of way, grey eyes that, at this moment, showed not a hint of warmth. He moved with a long, rangy stride, indicative of more than ordinary fitness.
Draco halted at the top of the steps as a tall, black man stepped forward.
"Permission to come aboard, sir?" He hazarded.
The man grinned. "That's Navy protocol, Agent Malfoy. Besides, you don't call me 'sir', I work for a living!"
He put out a large hand, and the men exchanged a firm, measuring grip.
"Agent James Rhodes – call me Rhodey. I'm your XO, Chief Pilot and Heavy Assault specialist."
Draco nodded. "Formerly Lt-Col Rhodes, USAF?" He clarified. "Also known, I believe, as War Machine? I take it you have your working clothes to hand?"
Rhodes jerked his head toward a large, cyclindrical unit at the rear of the cargo bay. "Charged up and ready to go. Latest model, equipped with six different modular loadouts. Good to meet you, Agent Malfoy!
"These are your other team members. Agent Bruce Wayne," a tall, dark-haired man with the build of a dancer and intense blue eyes, "Tech Support, Secondary Pilot and Weapons Specialist. If we don't have it, Bruce can build it.
"Agent Clark Kent," also dark, slightly below the middle height, but with remarkable breadth of shoulder, thick muscular arms and legs like tree-trunks, he was olive-skinned and wore dark, wraparound sunglasses, "specialist in infiltration, close combat and demolitions.
"Finally, our tame nerd, Agent Doug Ramsay," medium height, thin, blond, but with a determined face, his brown eyes studied Draco with caution, but no apprehension, "Doug is a hacker among hackers – if it's on a computer somewhere, he can get at it!
"The last two members, you probably know – at least by reputation – better than we do, so I'll let them introduce themselves."
They were both women, Draco noted, which was a relief. He had learned to value a womans' perspective on most things, and the idea of an all-male environment was not, in his view, a civilised one.
The first to step forward was tall, slender, elegantly dressed and white-blonde. She was very, very beautiful, and as she approached, Draco was aware of a more than natural allure that seemed to exude from her.
"Gabrielle Delacourt, as I live and breathe!" Draco said, bowing over her extended hand. "I know I asked for some magical team members, but this I did not expect!"
She gave a typically Gallic shrug. "One must blame my countrymen, M Malfoy. I 'ad wished to follow the example of 'Arry Pottair and become an Auror for many years. But the Bureau des Sorcieres does not approve of my Veela blood. The European Union 'as not thus far extended its tentacles into our world, so zat to work in Britain or Germany would require much time wasted in obtaining citizenship."
Draco nodded. "They are rather behind the times in the Rue de Lotte." He acknowledged. "I'm so glad – no offence – that my family decided to come over with Duke William!"
Gabrielle chuckled, then shrugged again. "Enfin, I was forced to consider following my brother-in-law into Curse-breaking. But then I was approached by UNIT, who knew of my expertise in combat magic and other Auror skills. I was accepted and trained by them, only to find myself seconded to SHIELD and assigned to your team."
"Well, I'm delighted to have you." Draco told her. "We will talk more later, I am sure."
He turned to the other witch. The was a rather short, curvaceous woman with red hair and a sweet, sad face.
"Professor Rosenberg?" He said. "I thought you were putting down roots at Hogwarts? Or is the DADA post still cursed?"
Willow Rosenberg shook his hand and smiled. "Not as far as I know, Agent Malfoy. That said, everybody knows that the job is just marking time until Harry Potter quits the Aurors and takes it on!
"But as for me, I spent too many years in the field with Buffy to settle into teaching for long. So when SHIELD offered to get this work done for me," she touched the now-flawless skin of her face where a Dalek had once left a terrible scar, "and to replace that clumsy magical arm with a new-generation bionic one, I jumped at it!"
"Reasonable, given your background." Draco allowed. "But I would have thought you'd have wanted to help train up the new Slayer?"
"No need." She shook her head. "The new Slayer lives in Vie de Marlie, you know. Dante Sparda and the Brotherhood of the Sword have taken over where the Watcher Council left off. They'll train her a lot better than I could. So, here I am!"
"Our gain." Draco acknowledged, then addressed the group as a whole. "I dare say over the next few months, we'll all get to know each other pretty well. For now, however, we have matters to attend to. A situation has arisen. I suggest we all adjourn to the Briefing Room and begin."
The Briefing Room was equipped with what muggles referred to as 'all mod cons', including a large plasma screen, a table which was also an LCD unit capable of being used as a display or workstation. All rather beyond Dracos' current grasp, but he was sure he'd get used to it – eventually.
"I had hoped," he began without preamble, "to have more time to orient you all on our broader remit, but it seems a summary must suffice.
"Last year – 2014 – as a result of a joint UNIT, SHIELD and White Council operation against the so-called Scholomance, certain information came to light. Naturally, this was not made public. However, it has now become quite general knowledge among the military, inteligence and law enforcement communities that organisations such as HYDRA and SPECTRE are now employing wizards and wesen in their nefarious schemes. Ostensibly, this unit was put together to pursue such criminally-inclined wizards and bring them to justice -one way or another."
"If there are wesen involved, should we not 'ave a Grimm on the team?" Asked Gabrielle. There was a touch of nervousness in her tone. Veelas were the only purely-magical wesen known to exist, and their status as Magical Creatures had thus far kept them safe from Grimms, who could not be wizards. The downside was that the powers and sinister nature of Grimms had been highly exaggerated among them.
"Grimms are hard to come by." Draco pointed out. "Only two are known to be active – Detective Nicholas Burkhardt and his mother – neither of whom could be removed from their current situations without serious repercussions. That said, as you know, wesen are legally defined as muggles and as such fall outside our remit.
"However, our real mission is much more complex and dangerous. You will find full confirmation in your briefing packs, but for now, let this suffice. The intelligence we received has led certain people to believe that the wizard world has been infiltrated by HYDRA. We have been assigned to ascertain the accuracy of this intelligence, and if accurate, the degree to which this infiltration extends. We are to find evidence and where possible take direct action to root out HYDRA agents and cells in the magical community.
"Apart from the people in this room, this information is known to very few people. Suffice to say that, if necessary, we will have full support and cover from SHIELD, UNIT, the White Council and the Brotherhood of the Sword. The resources of Stark International are also at our disposal if required.
"As I said, I had hoped you would have more time to absorb this, but it appears events march with rather more alacrity than we had expected. We have a more immediate mission to undertake.
"Agent Rhodes?"
Rhodey activated the big plasma screen. The image it showed was of a rather fat, very cheerful-looking black wizard, wearing extremely colourful robes and grinning happily out of what had clearly been a wizard photograph – the digitisation of such photos produced a marked 3-D effect that people new to the experience found disconcerting.
"This is – or was – Josiah Marcus Aurelius Manahal." Rhodey announced. "Until yesterday, he was Head of the Auror Department at the Jamaican Ministry of Magic. Then this morning his secretary, Miss Annabelle Trueblood, came into the office at her usual time – earlier than her boss – and found his office door open. This was unusual, because Manahal was very careful about closing and locking his office at night – he kept confidential documents in there.
"Miss Trueblood, suspecting a break-in, called for back-up and waited until two security wizards arrived before going through the door. They found Mr Manahal in his office chair, like this!"
The next picture caused a stir, even the field-experienced and hardened Kent winced. Manahal was not sitting in his chair as much as he was pinned to it by a long shaft that went through the centre of his chest. As Rhodey rotated the view, they saw that the shaft belonged to some kind of spear whose viciously barbed point had ripped through the victim and the thick wood of the chair-back to protrude at least a foot out behind.
"That's gotta smart!" Willow murmured.
"Not a spear." Wayne remarked. "That's a harpoon. Nineteenth century, by the design, but unusual configuration."
"Somebody is strong!" Kent rumbled in his unusually deep tones. "He was a big guy and you don't shove a harpoon clean through a body and a chair like that without a lot of power! Either that, or it came from a gun."
"Zat is where there is a problem." Gabrielle told them. "Like all such buildings, ze Ministry in Kingston is 'eavily protected by Charms and Spells. It is not possible to cast a curse or hex in such buildings wizout setting off many alarms. Also, for some years now, there 'ave been spells in place that prevent the firing of many kinds of muggle weapon."
"Well, there's another problem right there!" Wayne commented. "For one thing, there are so many kinds of muggle weapon. For another, somebody develops a new one every time you turn around! We're a warlike bunch, Agent Delacourt, we love finding new ways to delete each other!"
"This is disturbing." Draco said grimly. "It takes a number of very clear and transparent procedures to permit a muggle into any official wizard building during business hours. Outside those hours, it cannot be done unless a very powerful wizard – one capable of evading complex protective and detection spells – smuggles them in.
"It must also be noted that Mr Manahal was known for his skills as an Auror. He was an expert in both defensive and offensive magic. Admittedly, he had not been in the field for some years, but there is no reason to suppose him incapable of defending himself."
"Which implies," Ramsays' voice was quiet, but firm and steady, "that he knew, or at least recognised, his killer. Enough to be taken by surprise, anyway.
"Was anything taken from the office?"
"Some private files." Draco confirmed. "Concerning, as far as Miss Trueblood could tell us, an investigation Mr Manahal was directing personally. Which leads on to the next problem. Agent Rhodes, continue, please."
Another photo came up on the plasma. A tall, wiry young black man in casual muggle clothing.
"Dean Thomas, an Auror working for the British Ministry of Magic. Earlier this year, he was part of an officer exchange with the Jamaican Ministry. The exchange scheme is a regular one, begun in the 1980's, one of several which the Ministry sponsors with a number of countries. The idea being for the participants to experience the methods and style of different forces. Similar exchanges take place in muggle police and military forces.
"Mr Thomas failed to report for work this morning, and has not been seen or heard from since. According to his diary, he was meeting the previous afternoon with this man."
The man was white, but deeply tanned, despite his fair hair. He had a hard face, etched with bitter lines, and a rugged-looking, muscular body clothed in khaki shirt and shorts.
"Piet van Roek, expatriate South African wizard. Graduated from the Transvaal College of Magic in 1975. Followed his father into farming, and into conservative Afrikaaner politics. The release of Nelson Mandela and the abolition of white rule destroyed his parents. They sold up everything and moved to the US, Alabama in fact. Presumably they wanted somewhere where they could still look down on black people.
"It didn't work out so well, because a couple years later they were arrested by the FBS for giving magical assistance to a white supremacist group down there.
"Piet came out of it squeaky clean. He worked for Gringotts and was out of the country a lot. Claimed he didn't know what his folks were into, and the FBS couldn't prove otherwise. The report says they didn't have enough probable cause to get a warrant to Soulgaze. Anybody tell me what that means?"
"The Soulgaze," Willow told him, "is a magical technique that allows the user to know everything about a person just by looking into their eyes. It's a difficult one to master, and it's dangerous to use on another wizard because of potential magical feedback.
"I'm pretty good at it, but I wouldn't want to use it unless I really had to!"
"OK." Rhodey nodded. "Well, a couple years back, Piet resigned from Gringotts. About the same time, their accounts turned up short around four million Galleons."
"Good grief!" Draco commented. "That's a Hell of a lot of Galleons. I take it Mr van Roek was suspected?"
"Suspected and investigated." Rhodey confirmed. "They knew there was something hinky, but again, not enough to go for any kind of warrant or arrest. Where the Hell the money went, nobody knows."
"Wizard currency ees still made of the pure metal." Gabrielle pointed out. "Eet would be simple for a clever wizard with the right contacts to recast the coins as bullion, or work zem into jewellery and sell zem on ze muggle market. Muggles would pay per'aps seventy per cent of the Galleon value for ze metal alone, more for well-made jewellery. With magic eet is easy to make such baubles."
"Better deal than standard laundering." Ramsay noted.
"Makes sense, kinda." Rhodey allowed. "Anyway, Piet has been globe-trotting since. Business consultant, he calls himself. Basically, a troubleshooter. You got problems with your business, he makes them go away, for a fee. Scuttlebutt is, his methods ain't always ethical but his clients are ready to look the other way, as long as the profits start flowing.
"Whether he met with Auror Thomas, we don't know. We do know he checked out of his hotel the night Manahal was murdered and dropped right off the grid."
Draco considered. "I would imagine, given the mindset of law-enforcement the world over," he pondered, "that the Jamaican Aurors suspect an inside job and are implicating Mr Thomas. Now, I went to school with Dean Thomas. He was a Gryffindor, and as such possessed, from the Slytherin viewpoint, a depressingly high degree of integrity and honesty. I do not see him as a corrupt official, much less a murderer. The worst I could say of the man is that he shares the same unfortunate taste in women as Harry Potter!"
"By which M Malfoy means," Gabriell clarified, "that Dean dated Ginevra Weasley at school. Ginny, of course, earned my undying enmity by marrying 'Arry Pottair before I 'ad my chance at 'im! Rest assured, I will kill 'er in due course!"
The last remark was clearly anything but serious, and even Draco permitted himself a slight smile, adding drily. "I believe there is a substantial queue of witches you will need to join!"
"OK," Rhodey said, "we'll add that to the future mission schedule, Gabrielle. In the meantime, the Jamaican Aurors have agreed to seal all the relevant locations for us. Our orders are cut and the flight plan registered. We can leave for Kingston as soon as you give the word, Agent Malfoy."
"Make it so." Draco said, and his first mission was underway.
An hour into the flight, Draco made his way to the flight deck and slid into the co-pilots' seat.
"Hey, Draco." Rhodey greeted him from the pilot position.
"Am I disturbing you?" Draco asked. "Only I wanted a private word, if I may."
Rhodey grinned. "Heck, Boss, this baby practically flies herself. I'm only here in case something goes wrong. Shoot."
"Thank you." Draco said, then took a breath. "Agent Rhodes, you are my Executive Officer, to all intents and purposes, my second in command. You are also the onlyother member who knows the full extent and source of our remit, thus far. Is that a fair summation?"
"About covers it." Rhodey agreed. "And call me Rhodey, huh?"
Draco sighed. "There, you have inadvertently put your finger on the nub of the issue, Agent Rhodes.
"I do not know how aware you are of my background?"
"Your folks were Death-Eaters." Rhodey told him. "They made you take that Dark Mark thing when you were sixteen or so. But Voldemort set you a suicide mission -to kill your Headmaster – that you didn't manage to complete. No surprise there, I don't know many teenagers who can do cold-blooded murder unless they're psychos or on drugs. You don't strike me as crazy, and you ain't no druggie, or you wouldn't be here.
"But your Dark Lord, he treated you and your folks like shit, then expected them to stay loyal. In the end, your Mom lied to Voldemort to save Harry Potter's life, and yours. That got you all a pardon. You joined the Ministry in the Foreign Office after that, and you did OK. You got married, had a kid, respectable citizen.
"But a couple years after the war, Harry Potter contacted you on the QT and started to train you up. He figured that one day he might need a covert operative, and that nobody would ever think you might be working with him.
"I get that right?"
"Factually correct, certainly." Draco agreed. "But not exactly what I meant.
"The Malfoys are not only a Pureblood family, but also an aristocratic one, Agent Rhodes. Armand Malfoy was a person of consequence in the retinue of William the Conqueror, and was given substantial estates as a reward for his services and loyalty. Those estates, despite a certain profligacy among some of my ancestors, still provide the bulk of the family income. I am in fact the first Malfoy in the direct line to undertake remunerative employment of any kind, and I do so more out of a sense of societal obligation than any need of funds.
"But my upbringing was an old-fashioned one, and it has left me sadly lacking in what are termed 'soft skills'. I do not handle people well. At least, not in the manner of modern expectations. I am unlikely, for instance, ever to be comfortable addressing you by your given name, or nickname. I might, in due course, address you simply as 'Rhodes', without title or honorific, but that is the closest I will probably come to informality. The same applies to the other members of the team.
"By the same token, I am very uncomfortable being addressed by my given name by anyone who is not family. Harry Potter is aware of this, and takes every opportunity to call me Draco. It seems his sister-in-law has told him that this will be beneficial in relieving what she so elegantly refers to as my 'emotional constipation'.
"However, I am, for my sins, in charge of this particular situation and group. I would prefer to, and indeed will insist on, running matters with a degree of formality I consider consistent with proper discipline. But I am also aware that a more 'human' touch is needed. You are clearly what is termed a 'people person', Agent Rhodes, and I will therefore be relying on you to supply the emotional support to the team which I cannot. Will this be possible for you?"
"Possible? Sure." Rhodey allowed. "Advisable? Maybe not so much. Most of this team are Americans, Agent Malfoy. The whole American democratic experiment is about equality, and we don't take so well to a leader who ain't prepared to be one of the guys when he's not on duty. Could lead to trust issues."
"Entirely understandable." Daron replied. "And I am aware of my shortcomings in that area. Which is why I am hoping that you will convey to our colleagues an understanding of my psychology. I am a British aristocrat, Agent Rhodes. We are never 'on duty' or 'off duty', we are duty. Noblesse oblige -with high birth comes high obligation -is at the core of our being. I will never fail to do my utmost – even to giving my life – for a member of this team, because that is my duty, it is who I am. My father forgot that when he became a Death-Eater, and only remembered it when he came face-to-face with the Daleks and redeemed himself in death. In his memory, I will never forget it.
"But the crux of the matter is less lofty, and I also hope you will explain to them that I am lacking in the social and people skills they expect, and that if I am remote, it is not through dislike, but merely through a wish not to occasion any awkwardness."
"I'll try." Rhodey promised. "but you have to know some of the team – especially the ladies -are gonna take that as a challenge. They're gonna want to draw you out and draw you in."
"And their attempts will succeed or fail on their merits." Draco replied. "Of more immediate concern, I need to know of any emotional or romantic entanglements which might affect the teams' cohesion and efficiency. I am aware that both you and I are happily married – though some cynics would consider that phrase oxymoronic. I know that Mlle Delacourt, though aware of the effect her Veela nature has on the opposite sex, is uncommitted at this time, possibly for that very reason. Miss Rosenberg openly prefers the company of other ladies -to put it delicately – and is also currently not in a relationship.
"What, if anything, do you know of the others?"
Rhodey shrugged. "Clark – Agent Kent – has a thing going with a lady journalist. She specialises in wildlife and environmental stories, works for some magazine or other. They both travel a lot, only get together a few times a year, but it seems to suit them both.
"Wayne's seeing one of SHIELDs' covert ops agents. Selina Kyle was one really succesful burglar, safecracker and thief, but in a Robin Hood kinda way. She stole from drug barons and gave the loot to rehab charities -that kinda thing. Made a lot of serious enemies, so when SHIELD offered her somewhere to go, she jumped at it. She and Bruce clicked at first sight, and it's a long-term thing, far as I can see.
"Doug? Doug's a nerd to the core. Doesn't know what a womans' for, I reckon. I've seen him drive chicks crazy 'cause he treats them just like he treats everyone else. Good kid, but if it don't have a couple hundred terabytes of RAM and a superfast processor, it don't turn him on!"
"What," Draco asked in genuine bafflement, "is a terabyte?"