Prologue – The Unseen War

Edwin Mallard

Aboard the MAV Relentless Advance

April 20th, 1994

08:07:06

"This is delusional, even for you." Honorius Tarquin growled, stunned senseless.

"Aren't we all?" Edwin Mallard replied dryly, his sharp features allowing a slight smirk. The two men were standing on an observation platform aboard the Relentless Advance, a massive airborne command center that served as the Department of Mysteries' top-secret headquarters. The Advance cruised lazily in the stratosphere, its wide surveillance window providing a spectacular vista of the Scottish landscape thousands of meters below, through the cloudless spring sky, giving the passengers on board a sense of omniscience and omnipresence – and being the Department of Mysteries, they probably were.

"They're staying one step ahead of us, Honorius," Mallard continued calmly, "and the more we waste time squabbling over the same nonsense, the less likely it will succeed. We need to implement it now, not when they've already got the sharper edge against us. Fudge, the old fool, and the rest of the mainliners refuse to see the truth. They deny the very obvious when it hovers before their noses - that the Dark Lord is back. Incorporeally, yes, but he is no doubt, sequestered out there, planning his rebirth. It's a matter of time before he-"

"But surely, even you wouldn't be fool enough to put all your faith in a mere boy?" Tarquin replied harshly, his face in a disbelieving scowl as he stepped in front of Mallard. "Why not entrust it to a Legionnaire? I'm sure they could manage the job far more than a teenager, and do it more quietly and efficiently – and moreover, why, then, would you entrust such a complicated job to a Muggle?"

"And I suppose it would not be both inconspicuous and extremely wasteful to have an agent doing something so low and mundane?" Mallard countered, losing his patience. "To have an trained and armed operative spending their time in a castle, when they could be putting their skills to good use, finding leads or suppressing Death Eater activity, especially when four – four! – schools of magic are congregating here for the Triwizard Tournament. It'll be irresistible for the foul scum to cause some mayhem and terrorise those present, and the Ministry is paranoid enough as it is without the Dark Mark appearing over Hogwarts – we've already got surveillance crews preparing for the Quidditch World Cup. Merlin knows there'll be so many of us from around the world attending the Cup that nothing less than all hell would break loose if they – and you damn well know who I mean – were to make themselves known there."

Tarquin considered this for a moment, glancing downwards at the glimmering speck of a lake far below, then turned to Mallard again. "But that's the problem – what makes you think a Muggle would be able to do the job, when Voldemort himself could not enter Hogwarts back when he was in his prime?"

"Obviously, that will be my work to handle." the other wizard dismissed. "I'll be giving and teaching him anything and everything he needs to make it in there, and I'll give him his real obligation in due time, if he's willing. None will harm him there – after all, Scrimgeour did personally ask us for heightened security. That is the other reason we are here in the first place - may I need to remind you that Harry Potter, a prime target for the enemy, attends the very school we are surveying now? It will be prudent to keep every single Legion on their guard during the event – as one of them will also be keeping close watch on the boy during the entire term."

And there – Mallard senses his victory as Tarquin's lips twitch ever so slightly, but moves no further. Checkmate.

"Alright. But if this fails…"

"It won't. That you can count on."

With a curt nod and a small, resigned sigh, Tarquin turned away from Mallard. He stopped momentarily and looked at the junior wizard over his shoulder, but shook his head and kept walking on, out of the observation deck. Mallard noticed this not; he was still brooding by the window.

You better do this right, Fontaine. A lot is about to be on your shoulders, yet you don't even know it.