St. Petersburg Nights
By Natasha Shaitanova
Chapter 1: Job Plight
Harry Potter was not a very happy man. He imagined it must have had something to do with the various disappointments life threw at him. Seven years ago, he began his full-time search for Horcruxes. Thankfully, with the aid of the Order of the Phoenix and of course Ron and Hermione, the quest was complete in a little under three years—much sooner than anyone had hoped. And yet, after Lord Voldemort crumbled into a pile of fuming ashes on the newly-made ruins of Godric's Hollow, any satisfaction Harry might have felt upon the death of his nemesis soon ended.
The war had cost many lives—including the ones of those most dearest to him. Mrs. Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, Charlie Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Padma and Parvati Patil…the list went on. The trauma of losing his mother and brother, as well as his left eye, rendered Ron mute and no one had yet succeeded in coaxing him to say even a word. The Dursleys, "Unfortunately" Harry sometimes thought, remained unscathed, although Hermione lost her parents to a Death Eater raid just days before Voldemort's defeat. All in all, the oft-envisioned triumphant defeat had not come—the world was already grieving for hundreds of war's casualties.
The world was cruel, Harry decided, and one never got a break. He hoped for reprise after the war had ended, a bit of time for tears to fall, and maybe the new promise of happiness sometime in the distant future, but for the time none seemed apparent. He had hoped that Ginny would accept him back and maybe create a real relationship, but the redhead fled to America the moment she knew her brothers were safe—she loved them above all else, but the constant horror and reminder of her ruined family was too much. Harry had hoped that maybe Hogwarts would be restored and things could go back to the way they were, but no such luck—the building was destroyed beyond even the capabilities of magic to restore it, forcing the school to be permanently shut down and declared a National Memorial.
A new institution was still in construction, with any willing students being relocated to Beauxbatons Academy in France. Harry had hoped, though a bit less ardently, that the ministry would be reformed and corruption toned down, but it seemed like their new leader was by no means a Reconstructionist – perhaps electing the CEO of MagiComp Incorporated was not the best idea. Capitalism was certainly given free reign.
More than anything, however, Harry had hoped for a calm life with a low-profile, stable, safe job. He may as well have wished to work on the Moon—not likely. No, instead Harry had been recruited by the new minister, Liam Montgomery, into joining the MIA—Ministry of Magic International Intelligence Agency—as a field agent.
The International Magical Cooperation Board had declared immediately upon the fall of the latest "Dark Lord" that increased international security was in order to maintain stability in the magical world and increase foreign cooperation on the matter. Sensing a business venture in starting MIA, Montgomery had warmed up to the idea with his typical enthusiasm and commenced with recruiting the veterans of the Second War as the organization's elite.
Naturally, Harry Potter was on the top of the list—the Boy Who Lived, The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, The Savior of England, or basically, The Hero. Although Harry feel the distinct tinge of nausea at the mere mention of any of those "titles", he allowed himself to be dragged into the latest nightmare, resigned that life would not let him stop fighting until his deathbed. He could only be thankful that he was made one of the top field agents, but not an officer or a division leader—he diligently overlooked the fact that he was still a pawn for the selfish (he thought) benefit of not having to be responsible for the inevitable deaths of common agents.
Four years on the job had sent Harry traveling over the globe, from the deserts and jungles of Africa, to the steel monoliths of New York, to the silent temples of Kyoto, and even to the slopes of Mount Everest. As a rule, Harry did not have a choice of what mission he was on or where he was meant to go and he did not complain. As long as he could avoid England for months at a time, he did not much care to what godforsaken location he was directed to. As months and years passed, Harry's work was gradually narrowed to specialize in high-profile disappearances and kidnappings. He rather liked to see himself as a private investigator searching for missing persons, had it not been for the slight fact that every few months he had to return to base for his new orders.
Such was his situation on February 5th, 2012, as he was called into the office of his divisional director, Rosalind Cox, to discuss his latest assignment.
Harry rushed through the hall to Rosalind's office, as he attempted to straighten his tie, flatten his hair, and keep a tight hold on his papers at the same time. He had woken up late, having gotten back from a mission just the previous night. Dog-tired from airplanes, apparition, and a generally convoluted mission, he had not bothered to check his phone before dropping into a deep, potion-induced sleep. Having woken up at ten o'clock in the morning, he took his time with showering and eating breakfast, before noticing the insistently blinking light of his answering machine. The tittering voice of Angela North, Rosalind's head secretary, flitted cheerfully through the phone, with no regard to Harry's increasing horror as he was informed of his nine o'clock appointment with his boss to discuss his new assignment.
Rushing to his closet and out of the door in a flurry of clothes and curses, Harry ran into an alley behind his apartment building before apparating directly into the main lobby of the MIA department at the Ministry of Magic. He skidded to a stop at Angela's desk before continuing on at her sardonic smile and wave. At the door to Rosalind's office, he paused and took a deep breath to calm his erratic nerves and heart, before opening the door and steeling himself against the expectant glare.
"Four years and you still have not learned the virtues of being on time, Potter."
"Yes ma'am," Harry was tempted to say 'more like twenty-two, actually', but held his tongue.
"Keep that mess, I want a full report emailed no later than Friday," Rosalind nodded at the papers Harry had clutched on his way to her office, before taking out a thick, black folder, "This is your debriefing information for the next case. Feel free to look through them as I explain."
Harry took the proffered folder and opened it, raising his eyebrows as he stared at the topmost file. The name "Draco Malfoy" stood out conspicuously in bold font.
"You may have heard that MagiComp was having a spot of trouble with lawyers lately," Rosalind started without preamble, sparing just a fleeting smirk at Harry's expression, "Although, being stuck in the middle of Afghanistan may have prevented you from keeping in touch with current events here. I'll lay out the issue. MagiComp is getting heavily sued for what is basically embezzlement—they aren't paying back to their original investors. Now, to hush up the trial, Montgomery had agreed to pay reimbursements to all the bypassed investors save for one. That one happens to be owed the most money, considering that his investment owns a good part of the company. That one investor also happens to be very dead."
"So what's the problem?" Harry abandoned the file for the moment to stare at his boss, "You can't expect me to recover a dead person. Who is he, anyway?"
"Lucius Malfoy, obviously."
Harry frowned, "Malfoy? Why the hell would Malfoy invest in MagiComp? It's well known that the company deals in modified muggle technology, and have we forgotten he was a Death Eater?"
Rosalind waved her hand in an annoyed fashion, "Who cares if Malfoy was a Death Eater? He certainly didn't. No, Malfoy would have dealt with anything that promised a profit and MagiComp most definitely promised a profit, even nine years ago."
"I still don't understand, what does this have to do with my mission?"
"When I said MagiComp was getting sued, I meant specifically that the lawyers from both sides were at a standstill when the investigations dug up the Malfoy investment. By the contract, MagiComp is bound to pay up or hand over part of the corporation itself to the Malfoys, unless the proper representative signs a negotiations agreement for a renewal of the contract or a termination, which would result in MagiComp getting sued even worse. Now, it is pretty clear who the representative is—Draco Malfoy. He went missing seven years ago, as everyone knows, and now we want you to procure him."
"And why, exactly, is some corporate scandal so important to us? Couldn't we just leave MagiComp to its own devices and leave Malfoy in whatever hole he hid in?"
Rosalind sighed in frustration, "No, we can't. The problem is this—if MagiComp goes out of business, which is what the malpractice suit is threatening, then the English economy collapses. And I am not talking just about our economy, I am talking about muggle England as well. If this country goes into a serious depression, then the problems we would face at that point are best not even imagined. The point is, MagiComp is too important and since we specialize in protecting the welfare of this country and you in finding missing persons, we are taking this job. Clear?"
Harry fiddled with the file, "Did Montgomery call you? Is he forcing us to take the case?"
Rosalind simply pursed her lips, "Let me put it this way. If we don't take the case, the Ministry is cutting funding and jobs would have to be cut. The Minister was very clear on this point."
"Yeah, I got it," Harry let the air out through his clenched teeth as he seethed. Of course the Minister would coerce them into the job. He was surprised it only took this long for him to prove that the election was a grave mistake. "When do I leave and where to?"
"Moscow, Russia," Rosalind replied without hesitation, glad that the subject was off the matter of corruption, "The Russia agents sent us information a week and a half ago, saying that they may have picked up Malfoy's trail by accident. At that point, no one was even looking yet. In any case, they think they have a solid lead and you are going to check it out. It's as good a place to start as any. Details are in the folder, dismissed."
With a quick nod and a fast step, Harry hurried out of the office and made his way back to the lobby, before Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron. He may be leaving in six hours, but he sure wasn't leaving without a good drink. Draco Malfoy. He had hoped he could leave at least that part of his past buried, but it seemed like fate was never kind enough.
Leaning casually against the soft arm of his sofa, Alexei Gorozin stared with a fair amount of amusement at his television, listening to the English reporter drone on about the MagiComp scandal. The screen showed a large close-up of Montgomery, apparently speaking loudly and gesturing at the prosecuting attorney, with a flashy caption: "Minister accuses the prosecution of crimes against the nation in that they are endangering the assets of the largest corporation in England, threatening economic collapse." Gorozin huffed. Honestly, those Englishmen were so transparent. Crimes against the nation? 'Idiot,' he thought, 'If you are going to damn well embezzle a couple of millions, you damn well better do it right!'
Scowling, the Russian businessman stood up and stretched, before turning his head to yell in the direction of the bar, "Misha, get me something on the rocks, now!" Waiting patiently for his personal bartender to bring him a thoroughly too strong liquor, Gorozin mulled over the new development. So. They wanted to procure Draco Malfoy, his spy had said. 'A little too late for that, tovarishi,' he thought with a lazy smile on his face. The English were always too late, in his opinion. What moron had decided to call the nation so very punctual? "Pah!"
Gorozin was fully prepared to express his indignation to the bartender when his jacket's pocket vibrated violently. Pulling out the cell phone, he took a moment to check the caller ID, only to be confronted with a blank screen.
"Speaking."
"We have a complication."
"You mean you have a complication."
"No, we do. She already left the country."
"To what country?"
"That's the complication."
"You don't know or it's bad?"
"The first. But I don't think its France or England."
"She could be fooling you. Have you checked Moscow?"
"Tomorrow. That's from where my contact says she boarded a plane to Yalta."
"Yalta is Georgia. That doesn't count as outside the country. No, listen. The contract holds. Follow her to Georgia."
"The sum goes up."
Gorozin frowned as his phone beeped the dial tone, signaling that the other had already hung up.
"The sum has to go up, the damn sum always has to go up…Georgia is not even outside the country, right Misha? That prick!"
A/N: Voila! Please review :)
And tell me if you want any pairings.
