Espionage

Chapter One: The Very Fine Art of Espionage

"Knowledge is power." Sir Francis Bacon

It was indeed a thrilling pleasure to obtain, seek, and gain intelligence. It is simply thrilling to harbor secrets and information about another individual living on the face of this planet. Governments, secret organizations, and other intel-seeking groups hunt, hunt, and hunt for this. They slave, kill, and are addicted to finding out information. Nothing can erase the valuable data that you have now gained, of course, unless they decide be done with it all and just kill you. That is the only way information truly is deleted... killing off the damn person.

All sorts of people I have known have been killed, just because they've mistakenly stumbled unto very well-kept secrets. The fact that a person even knew the coveted information was infuriating to the other side, so they just killed the person. Death is not racist, sexist, ageist, or prejudiced. It accepts anybody to nobody. Colleagues, friends, enemies, lovers, the mailman... various sorts of people that I have had the pleasure of knowing have been gutted down, stabbed, and beaten to death. It's horrifying to live with. Ernie Flackmann, the doorman, who I've smiled to and greeted with a simple 'hello' daily, had been shot in the heart for arbitration to this office.

This world, this 'field', if you could call it that, was cruel.

But doing what I do... you certainly had to remain a level of composure.

I had been recruited right when I graduated Hogwarts as Head Girl. At first, I was to work in the lab with Charms at the Ministry of Magic. My Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, had told me I had a special gift with Charms and I should take advantage of it. He was the one that recommended me for the job. Of course, I took it! An itty bitty girl like me being offered such a great job? I wasn't stupid.

Anyways, working in the lab was alright. Strange objects like pianos, boxes, hairbrushes, and other random things were sent in with weird spells cast unto them. My job was to uncast the spell and make it a normal object again. I had mastered that perfect flicking of the wrist in Charms class, so no spell was too hard for my wand and I.

Discovering and noticing this fact, they moved me up in the hierarchy of the agency. I couldn't say I wasn't too pleased.

And now, I am a spy. An international spy of espionage. I work for the Wizard's Bureau of Investigation, making sure that Muggles all around the world are eluded from the fact that, yes, magic really does, in fact, exist. And to steal intelligence from other nations, if necessary.

Why?

Why did the Ministry of Magic move me to this new WBI?

Simple. It was because the Ministry of Magic has a hard time covering up their mistakes. Past ministers have often made mistakes, treaties gone astray, Muggles suspicious...

We are the ones covering up the footprints for them, yet we get no credit, while the Ministry shines with glory and absorbs every single ounce of credit.

Incompetent assholes.

So, you may ask, why do I even do my job if I there if I get no recognition?

That is very simple, dear friend.

Spies are always well-trained, smart, articulate, and sometimes even witty. I, Lily, have come in this full package with all sorts of extra features and other knick-knacks.

Also, the pay is very good.

The Ministry pays the WBI secretly, so that nothing will get 'leaked' out and so that the Ministry still has full authority over all Wizard-kind. They need the authority because it gives them that feeling of power. We do the 'dirty' work, per se... trading intelligence, keeping Muggles out of our business... the works.

I can say with exuberant confidence that I think I am a fairly talented agent. After being recruited, I trained about for about a year or two to be in the field. Last spring, I celebrated my twenty-first birthday. With vodka and whiskey, naturally. It does sound rather cliché, celebrating your twenty-first with alcohol, but, believe me... it was not my first taste.

So even an agent of my status and composure would probably faint after seeing the room I just saw.

Cluttered, piled, and in a huge mess -- the complete works of all the great artists of the world.

'Why,' I asked myself, 'Why... why would anyone steal the complete works of Da Vinci, Rembrandt, or Michelangelo! Especially from the Louvre?'

The Louvre had about the tightest security in the world. To steal these beautiful works gone undetected would've been next to impossible. But the Louvre is under the guard of Muggles... and let's face it, Muggles make mistakes. Wizards do not.

In disbelief, I walked forward and fell on my knees, feeling worthless compared to these masterpieces.

These beautiful, priceless works of art... scattered on the floor like everyday garbage.

The Mona Lisa smiled at me, as if she was waiting for me to work out the intricate puzzle. I smiled sadly back at her; instantaneously convinced that I could not. I stared at Michelangelo's Caravaggio, unable to believe that was real. How was I, Lily Evans, standing here in a room with all these beautiful paintings?

Coming to my senses, I soon realized why I was here: to collect evidence.

I took out the tiny micro camera and took as many snapshots as I could of the room.

Grasping reality and following instinct, I became aware exactly why I was on this mission in the first place. I touched my earpiece and took a deep breath.

"I'm done. Phoenix out."

- - - -

Safely returning to reality, it was confirmed when I stepped inside the glass doors of WBI headquarters, a front company called Aquade which made a soft drink called "Aquade". It was quite delicious, actually.

I smiled at all the familiar faces, waved a little 'hi' to the janitor, and slammed my briefcase on my desk.

The whole office looked back.

"I'm, er... back," I said awkwardly, hoping they'd shy away.

They did.

I started writing down my case notes... this was a requirement; writing down exactly the list of events in chronological order being as specific as possible.

Not soon after I sat down, Lanning called me toward his desk.

I groaned in annoyance; Lanning was my boss and also the biggest pain in my ass. It also bothered me that his office was twice as big as mine.

I opened the doors to his office and was about to shoot him an annoyed look when I saw the back of his chair facing me. This was an odd occurrence; he always seemed to take pleasure in annoying me the way he did.

"Lanning?" I asked tentatively, wondering if I should've spoken at all. "Lanning?"

I heard him exhale, giving me a sign that he was indeed in the room.

"What's wrong?" I asked, careful to show any sympathy; after all, this could be a potential joke, waiting to explode in my face.

"He's back."

"Who's back?" I asked.

"You know."

The two words I utterly feared of hearing in all my years of working.

"N-no," I gasped. "No fucking way."

"Yes fucking way," Lanning replied firmly. A vein on his left temple began to throb. "He's fucking back."

"No... fucking... way..." I whispered, unable to believe. "I thought we killed him in Guadalajara!"

"No, we didn't and believe it, Evans," Lanning said quietly, so quiet that I felt like screaming. Where the fuck was my charismatic, energetic, and always-annoying boss? When Lanning was quiet, you knew he was serious... and when he was quiet, I got scared. And I never get scared. And I mean never.

"And s-stealing those priceless works of art... he was just showing us... he was... back?" I faltered.

Lanning nodded brusquely. "Now, I won't lie to you; this has taken the whole bureau by surprise... but that's just his style. Fucking crook."

I swallowed. "What does this mean? Besides that he's back?"

Lanning closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands in stress. "It's fucking worse than ever."

I could not describe at all the disbelief that plagued me. "H-how..?"

"Well, first of all we have to get him before he causes anything serious. I haven't told that fucking Millicent Bagnold yet because she's going to have a fucking heart attack over this. And we have got to catch him quick because if he starts doing anything serious, and knowing him he probably will, all of wizard kind will find out, leaving the Ministry to blame, which they will blame on us. And Lily?"

"Yes?" I chirped, hoping it would be at least some bit of good news.

"We are so god damned fucked!"

- - - -

"Lanning, calm the fuck down," I responded, irritated by his constant use of his favorite word. It was contagious, now he got me saying it, too. That little fucker.

Robert J. Lanning was the director of my division at WBI. He likes to say 'fuck' a lot. Don't ask me what the J stands for; my guess is as good as yours. I work in the International Intelligence (II) branch of the WBI, figuring out what other nations were doing that could perpetually harm the United States while also working to protect the secrecy of wizards. I was born in England, but shortly moved to the States after I was recruited as an agent. I was then taught and trained about the secret world of being an operative and was expected to perform after a year or two.

I am now a proud United States citizen. And my British friends hate it. Even though they have no idea why I moved to the States in the first place.

I was, of course, educated on the background of all the top secret organizations that have ever existed. The RSC was on top of them, and until today, I thought I would never see them active again

The RSC stood for "Recurring Salem Conspiracy". It was basically a group of Muggles who had found out about the secret society of Wizardry back in the 1600s or so. High government officials who were devout Christians were the main chairs of this uber-elite foundation. They have only one goal: to bring down witches and wizards or to have us serve as slaves to the mortals.

Of course, this was the very last thing the Ministry (and the rest of the Wizarding World, WBI included) desired to happen. That was one of the major reasons the WBI was founded - to prevent the RSC from achieving their sadistic goal.

In the Christian faith, witches and wizards were the spawn of Satan, God was to be worshipped daily and praised to, and Satan was the ultimate villain, to be hated and despised by all who were true to God.

Of course, magic existed back in those days. But the people who were put on trial then eventually hung weren't witches, of course... they were just victims of the Unforgivable Curses and who knows what other spells. People are still trying to figure this missing link. The main point of the Salem Witch trials was that... people truly began to notice that witches existed, along with magic. They interpreted everything completely wrong, of course, thinking witches were evil and whatnot... but soon the magic community had to draw back. Spells had stopped. The whole wizardry community had never experienced a slump like this. But it was indeed necessary. There could be no suspicions that pointed fingers to them, everyone and everything had to be secret and lucrative and executed perfectly. There could be no mess ups.

And I'm glad to say, there wasn't. Late in the 1800s, there was evidence pointing toward the RSC as the ones who had started spreading rumors about witches and magic and whatnot, starting the whole thing in the first place. Eventually, everything died down and magic was deemed as something that simply did not exist.

The RSC has made other attempts to exploit the Wizarding World, but the most successful was the Salem Witch Trials to date, thank god. But every day, week, and month, it seems we're getting new intel that the RSC has somehow gotten hold of more evidence to present to the Muggles that magic really does exist. Thank goodness for the automatic denial that the Muggles exude each time they are shown this information.

The saddest fact of all: we aren't even close to finding out who the chairs of the RSC are. All we know is that there are six top seats from different locations on the globe. The closest we've ever got to them was through our best agent, Joseph Larsen. They knew he was a wizard and working in intelligence... the field that wanted and so desperately needed to affirm, so they had him killed.

That was what the RSC did. They tortured, squeezed out necessary information, and killed wizards of all genders, races, nationalities, etc. Harsh, it may seem, but that's the way they do. Out there, it's a dog-eat-dog world.

So, the RSC was currently our biggest threat. And more than enough for the WBI to even handle at this point.

Keyword: was.

Now that he's back, he's the even bigger threat.

Who was this 'he'?

It's actually quite simple.

I'm sure you've heard of him.

Voldemort.