Hello, dear readers! If you've read Operation Wandless, welcome back. If you didn't, the most important thing you have to know that two aspiring Aurors made a career switch three years prior to this story, and are now working with MI-5.

Enjoy!

Prologue

There was nothing at all unusual about the small restaurant in the heart of London. It was lunchtime and therefore it was crowded. The young woman in a crisp business suit was hardly remarkable in the crowds of people making their way through the City. That was just the way she liked it. She had no ambition to stand out in a crowd at all.

But she wished they would just get out of her way, because she was running late and she only had an hour before she needed to be back at work, or her boss would have her hide. And since his temper had been close to explosion for weeks, the woman had no wish to get her ears blistered when she got on his bad side, especially when that was so easily achieved these days.

She pushed the door open and came into the restaurant itself. It was warmer in here than it was outside and she sighed contently. Everything was better than the chilly air that had been plaguing London for the last week.

'Excuse me,' she called to a waiter. 'I wondered if you could help me? I'm supposed to meet a friend here.'

The waiter met that with the cool polite expression that seemed to be his kind's default setting. 'Do you have his name?' If he was trying to convey the message of you're-the-umpteenth-difficult-customer-I've-seen-today, then he was doing a tremendous job of it.

The woman ignored that. 'Harris,' she told him. 'John Harris. My name is Eliza McKenzie. I was supposed to meet him here ten minutes ago, but I was late and now I'm not sure where he is, so I'm hoping…'

The waiter cut her rambling short. It was clear that he didn't have the patience for it in his current mood. 'Table twelve,' he reported. 'I'll take you there, Miss…' He caught sight of her wedding ring and corrected himself. 'Mrs McKenzie.'

The woman who had introduced herself as Eliza McKenzie shot him a relieved smile. 'Thank you,' she said. Unlike most of the customers, she genuinely seemed to mean it.

The waiter brought her to a table where a young man was waiting. He seemed very ill at ease; he gave every impression of sitting on a hedgehog instead of a comfortable chair and, to the other guests of the restaurant, he was looking a little strange. At first glance there was nothing at all wrong with him, but once one started to look at him longer, one couldn't help but wonder if that was a woman's shirt he was wearing underneath that jacket of his. And really, his coat was perhaps a bit overdone. But well, one saw all kinds of people on the streets today, so they did not spare him too much thought.

'John, good to see you!' Eliza McKenzie exclaimed when she caught sight of him, causing the waiter to inwardly cringe at the volume that caused the people around them to look disapprovingly.

The man seemed to relax somewhat when he in turn recognised her. 'Eliza, it's good to see you.' He met her with an affectionate hug. 'I'm glad you could make it on such a short notice.'

She smiled. 'No problem,' she assured him. 'But I can't stay long. My boss will kill me if I'm not back at my desk at one pm.' She turned to the waiter. 'Can we order right away?'

The waiter told her that she could, even though he really had other customers he should see to first. That last sentiment he kept to himself though and he left with their orders, wondering why today of all days he would be bothered with so many obnoxious customers.

Having said that though he wouldn't think there was anything at all strange about them. They were just two friends meeting up for lunch, as so many people did. They hardly stood out, even if the man's dress sense was a tad bit strange. And there was nothing at all unusual about them when he brought them their meals. They seemed to be discussing the good old days when the man had driven one of his teachers to despair by predicting the questions that teacher was going to ask.

Had he stayed for longer though, he may not have found them that ordinary at all.

'Poor man,' the woman commented when the man finished his story. 'I do feel sorry for him.'

'You never liked him either,' the man pointed out as he took an enthusiastic bite of salad. 'Neither did the rest of the student body.' He sipped his wine. 'I heard you got married?'

Given the wedding ring on her finger, that was hardly a difficult deduction. 'I did,' she confirmed. 'Although I'm surprised you heard about it. It was just a small celebration. We didn't make much of a fuss.'

Her lunch partner laughed humourlessly. 'Your charming father-in-law made quite a fuss about it at the Ministry,' he informed her. 'He would have forbidden it if only he could.'

She grimaced. 'I bet. Julius told me he was being "difficult," but I wasn't aware it was that bad.' She saw his confused look and added: 'There's not a lot of contact between them these days. Trust me, you don't want to know.' She swallowed a bite of her own. 'But enough about me. Why am I here?'

The nervousness that had subsided in the man now made a spectacular return and he glanced over his shoulder as if he were afraid that someone would either listen in or attack him the moment he opened his mouth. 'Can we talk here? Safely?'

The woman frowned. 'I think so.'

'Are you sure?' he insisted.

He got a shrug in response. 'There are ways of making sure.'

If the other guests of the restaurant would have looked at them a second later, they might have choked on their food, because the woman retrieved a wooden stick from her handbag and made a few discreet moves with it. Furthermore they would have realised that they could no longer hear what was being discussed at table twelve. But since no one was paying attention to that at all, the act of magic went completely unnoticed.

'Now, what is going on?' The tone of voice suddenly was rather business-like. 'Why are we here, with false names, in a Muggle restaurant, not to mention the fact that you sent me a magical note on my desk this morning. What's going on?' There was wariness and a touch of nervousness in her voice now too.

The man stared at his plate. 'I'd hardly know where to start.'

'The beginning?' the woman suggested.

'There's a movement in our world,' he suddenly said. He was still looking at his food instead of her. 'They call themselves the Source of Light.'

She frowned. 'I've never heard of them.'

'That's because it's a secret movement.' The man grimaced.

The frown on her face deepened. 'What are their goals?' It was clear that she had a lot of questions and was trying to determine which one was the most important.

'The short version? To overthrow the Statute of Secrecy and take over the Muggle world.' He sounded utterly miserable.

The witch almost choked on her drink. 'What?'

That seemed to do the trick of starting off an explanation. 'It's clever,' he said. 'Really clever. And it's already started. The idea is that they show magic to as much Muggles as they can without alerting the Ministry, until there are so many that it will be impossible to Obliviate them all. They think that if that happens, the Ministry will have no choice but to let them get away with it. They are hoping that the Ministry might even repeal the Statute of Secrecy of their own volition. And after that, they will try to take over the Muggle government by the Muggle ways. Getting into Parliament and all that. Their reasoning is that Muggles will be so impressed by the superiority of the wizards with their magic, that they will see the wisdom of letting them rule Britain. And if that doesn't work, there's always bribes, blackmail and brute force. As a last resort, of course, but still.'

All the colour had drained from his friend's face. 'Surely that cannot happen!' she exclaimed, a little too loud, but none of that really mattered because her own spell prevented others from hearing her outburst. Still, she lowered her voice when she realised her mistake. 'Surely the Ministry would not allow that to happen? Surely the magical population themselves would not want it?'

The wizard shook his head. 'You've been away for too long. Aren't you still subscribed to the Daily Prophet?'

The witch's stare was suddenly rather icy. 'I stopped reading that waste of ink three years ago. I think my boss still reads it though. Why? What does that have to do with this plot?'

By way of a reply he pushed the newspaper at her. 'Read that.'

She did. Why the Statute of Secrecy Should Be Abandoned, read the headline. She looked up in shock. 'This has got to be some kind of joke!'

'If only,' was the wry answer to that. 'Read on.'

She did, skimming the article more than reading it. Not that she needed more. The article stated that there were no longer witch hunts in the Muggle worlds and that meant that there was no real danger anymore, which had been the reason for going into hiding in the first place. According to the author this meant that wizards and Muggles should be able to live in one society again, with one government. Already there were good examples of cooperation between the two worlds, like the joined operation of the Auror Department and the Muggle security service MI-5 three years ago. Wasn't that all the proof they needed that it was possible?

She looked up. 'This doesn't sound so radical,' she pointed out.

'Well, they're hardly going to announce their intentions of taking over both wizarding and Muggle Britain in the best-read newspaper in the country, are they?' He was jumpy now, on edge. 'Can't you see what they're doing? Can't you see how clever this is? They get the public's good opinion on side acting like this and no one even realises it's them or that they even exist.' He shook his head. 'And they're everywhere. I think they even infiltrated the Ministry itself.'

'Is that why you've gone to me instead of Mr Potter?' she inquired sharply.

'Where should I have gone if not you?' he threw back at her. 'Most of the wizarding world, even if they aren't members, sympathises with the sentiment. People are tired of hiding and I am not even sure I can blame them. But to dominate Muggles? I don't think that's the way. But who's going to believe me, eh?' He sounded undeniably bitter.

As a result he found himself on the receiving end of a sympathetic and almost pitying smile. 'I'm sorry.' She bit her lip. 'You've got a point of course.' She shook her head in disgust. 'Forgive me for asking, but how do you know so much? According to you most of the wizarding world doesn't even know, so how do you?'

The wizard avoided her eyes when he replied. 'You know, don't you?'

'Merlin's beard,' the young witch whispered, which was all the answer that was needed. 'Lorcan, you didn't.' It was a plea for denial.

But if she was hoping she got it, she was sorely disappointed. 'You know I did.' All of a sudden he was rather defensive. 'And you can't really blame me for it, can you? You would have done the same if they'd have asked you. Aren't you tired of keeping our world separate from the Muggle one all the time? Aren't you ever tired of hiding?'

The ice was back in the woman's eyes, but it was laced with disappointment. 'Hiding is my job these days,' she reminded him.

He grimaced. 'I know. Listen, I am sorry. You know how it is for me these days. I can't even hold a decent job because of my background and they…'

'… Promised you the world,' the witch finished. It was more weariness that ruled her voice now than anything else. 'Believe me, I understand. But Merlin's pants, Lorcan, you're a Ravenclaw. Should you not have known better than to get involved with such a shady organisation?'

The man that was addressed as Lorcan arched an eyebrow at her. 'This is coming from the mouth of the Ravenclaw witch who abandoned the magical society to work for MI-5, the shadiest organisation in the British Muggle society?' He shook his head. 'I suppose that none of us are very wise when it comes to making decisions like that. It's just… Source of Light makes a valid point.'

The witch bit her lip, which could be taken as a sign that she at least agreed with that, even if she disagreed with all the rest. 'But this is not the way,' she said eventually. 'Dominating the Muggle world with magic? It sounds like Lord Voldemort all over again.'

Lorcan took that for the barely concealed accusation it was. 'Do you really think I would have accepted if I had known that? Surely you know me better than that!' he protested. 'I came straight to you the moment I realised what their real agenda was.'

She gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. 'I know. Do you at least have names?'

'Two only,' Lorcan replied. 'John Woods, the Daily Prophet reporter. You know him?'

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. 'Heard of him. They say he's Rita Skeeter's successor in all but name, with his unsavoury taste for dragging important names through the mud.' She rolled her eyes at the wizard opposite her when he shot her an incredulous look. 'I'm not completely out of the loop, you know. He recruited you?'

Lorcan looked utterly ashamed.

'And the other?' she insisted. 'Who's the other?'

The other took a deep breath. 'Marcus Burke.'

She all but choked on her drink. 'Are you certain?'

'As certain as I can be,' he confirmed. 'Unless someone stole one of his hairs and drank Polyjuice Potion to steal his appearance, it was him. I've seen enough of him to know.'

The woman wrung her hands in clear distress. She bit her lip again, but eventually she took a deep breath to calm herself. 'I need to go to my boss with this,' she said. 'I can't keep this to myself and I'm not authorised to make decisions this important on my own.' She smiled apologetically. 'I'm sorry to ask, but can you stay with them for a little longer? At the moment you're our only way inside Source of Light. We may need you.'

Lorcan looked as if he had already expected a request like that. 'I suppose I could.' The lack of enthusiasm would have been audible even to a deaf man.

His lunch partner however pretended she had not noticed it. 'I'll deal with this right away,' she announced. 'I'll contact you when I know more.' She shoved her chair back and, after a last smile in his direction ended the Muffliato. 'It was good to see you again, John. We really ought to do this more often.'

Eliza McKenzie offered another smile to the nearest waiter and exited the restaurant at a brisk pace. If the number of people on the street would have allowed it and her boss wouldn't have torn into her for attraction attention in public, she would have run the distance to the nearest alley.

As it was, Eliza walked calmly, pretending to be just as interested in her mobile phone as the people she was surrounded by. The moment however she stepped foot inside the abandoned and dark alley, Amy Apparated straight back to Thames House.

I can't promise any regular updates for this story, but I'm aiming for at least updating once every two weeks, most likely on Thursdays.

Source of Light is placed in the timeline of Spooks, series 8, between 8x02 and 8x03, in case any of you were wondering.

Next time: Amy tells the happy news to her colleagues. Please review? It would mean a lot.