Albus Dumbledore
(Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)
(Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards)
(Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot)
(Order of Merlin, First class)
(Chocolate Frog Wizard Card Status)
Deep into the countryside of Scotland, there sat a colossal castle surrounded by lush green grounds, and trimmed to with a dense forest to the north, a large lake to the north east, and a town called Hogsmeade down the long driveway flowing out the large gates at the end of the property to the south east.
Somewhere inside this castle, among the long corridors and many rooms, there paced a tall man in a deep burgundy cloak, stroking his long silver beard as he read a letter. After his eyes took the last word on the parchment, he sat down tiredly into the highchair behind his large desk. Rubbing his eyes, he spoke into the silent, entirely empty but from himself and his exotic looking pet bird, perched a little while away from him, "Everard?"
There was silence for a long moment, though Albus Dumbledore did not make any indication that he had spoken at all, instead gazing across the room at one of the many oil portraits, this one incasing a pallid man with black hair falling across his forehead, sitting in a chair much like the one Dumbledore sat in now. "Yes?" the man in the portrait responded.
Albus did not look at all surprised that a two-dimensional figure was moving and talking to him, instead, he continued to speak to the peculiar looking man. "Could you please travel to your other painting and find someone trustworthy and connected enough to be able to do a tad bit of research in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and head into the Bureau of Information on Magical Persons. I would then like you to look up all documents relating to one Dorcas Meadowes."
The man got up, mouth hung slightly ajar as if his mind had not caught up with the amount of information that had been given to him, and then- amazingly enough- walked right out of the portrait, disappearing under the large, intricate frame.
Albus Dumbledore now looked around, taking in the large office he sat in, complete with shelves of curious looking objects, a slightly open cabinet omitting a faint glow from a stone basin inside. All the walls of the office held portraits like the one from which the man called Everard had disappeared from, each with names carved underneath, such as Dilys Derwent: Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1741-1768, or Phineas Nigellus: Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1883-1899. The people portrayed in them were all sleeping quietly, once in a while, one would let out a small snore, destroying the deathly quiet of the room, while the current headmaster of aforementioned school sat in his chair, waiting patiently.
A while later, Everard reentered the portrait, looking across the room with a somewhat befuddled air, and suggested, "Albus, you should probably take a look at this. It's remarkable that the Ministry never realized this mystery before."
Albus calmly replied, with no hint of surprise at a perplexing situation in his twinkling eyes, "The Ministry has overlooked many mysteries more serious than this, Everard."
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Cornelious Fudge
(Minister Of Magic)
Albus Dumbledore was causing the Minister of Magic a lot of grief. Back in June, when the whole tragedy that commenced the pickle the Minister was now in, Cornelious knew there was hard times ahead. But the people couldn't handle the worries of old men. It was definitely better to keep the spirits up, even if Dumbledore thought otherwise.
It was times like this that Cornelious Fudge was reminded of the beginning of his campaign, when the public wanted Dumbledore in power. He had always hoped he would be able to prove them wrong- get back the popular vote. And up until now, he had, remaining cheerful always, and keeping the structure and magic of Britain's branch of the wizarding world.
But now Albus was messing with the plan, the balance, the happiness of the same world. If it wasn't enough for him to turn the tragic death of Cedric Diggory at Hogwarts' very own Triwizard Tournament into a murder involving one of the darkest wizards to walk this earth, he just had to go continuing to smear the Ministry's name by saying they were choosing to ignore that Lord Voldemort, who had disappeared fourteen years ago, had returned last June.
Fudge refused to believe it. No matter how much mysterious behavior went on last year, from Barty Crouch Sr. going mad (the headmaster and Harry claimed he was under You-Know-Who's control) and then disappearing (he was murdered by his son, obviously) and then the same son of Crouch who was presumed dead, once imprisoned, posing as the Auror Mad-eye Moody all year (as well as acting as a professor in Dumbledore's own school), well that was quite enough on his plate, without a return of the feared He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Well, he was going to show Dumbledore, and his precious hero and pet student, Harry Potter. Just because Potter had been the one to make You-Know-Who disappear (at the age of one, no less) did not make him able to keep spewing out these cock-and-bull stories. The Minister had already been working on discrediting this story to the masses, with the help of the Daily Prophet printing many not so benign articles about the attention-seeking of the famous Harry Potter or the eccentric Dumbledore, who was most likely getting on in age and not capable of holding court at his school for much longer.
If that didn't quiet Dumbledore, well, they were already working on voting him out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards, not to mention demoting him from the Wizengamot, the Wizard High Court, and he was sure he could convince the people who counted that he didn't deserve the Order of Merlin anymore.
The Boy-Who-Lived had obviously had the attention of the public for too long, and it was getting to him. He could not remain the source of hope for the world- he was after all, only a boy. Leave the world saving to the able ones.
If Cornelius Fudge was sure about anything, he knew that the Dark Lord had not returned. Well, he thought so, anyways.
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Tom Marvolo Riddle
(Lord Voldemort)
(You-Know-Who)
(He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named)
The most feared man of Europe sat down the paper with a smirk. That toad Fudge was helping him much more than he could ever dream. While he was making cracks about Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, not to mention keeping an eye on any mail heading towards Number 4, Privet Drive, Lord Voldemort could cook up a plan with Potter safely grieving and isolated out of the picture. While Harry was stuck with his not so congenial Muggle relatives, the family of his dirty mudblood mother's sister, he was entirely alone, cut off from his beloved world, and the only company the mocking memories of his mistakes.
The fact was, Harry Potter had never been more alone in his life. He had witnessed the murder of the boy Cedric Diggory when the Dark Lord, as well as Barty Crouch Jr. posing as a innocent teacher in the school, kidnapped Harry to behold the return of Lord Voldemort. And when he got back, to inform that Headmaster of his that the feared sorcerer of the wizarding world was back, the wizarding world had scoffed in return of the hero. And now, Dumbledore had kept the light side's hero imprisoned in his cruel childhood home, afraid of the secrets he had not shared with the Boy-Who-Lived.
All in all, the plan of his return had gone quite well. He was stronger than ever, his enemies battling themselves, and the world unawares of his eminent take over.
Of course, the boy- the only one who had ever vanquished him- still being alive did pose a problem.
But the Dark Lord was not worried. For once, Voldemort was able to scheme in peace. He had a plan, he knew what he needed. He needed to get the one thing he didn't have last time. What a disastrous mistake not having it led to fourteen years ago. But this time, oh this time, we would successfully purge the idiot righteous Potter from this earth, as well as all the Mudbloods and traitors. But that was for later.
Right now, he just had to deal with the girl.
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Melidi Ridare
(Employee of Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands)�
Tossing her dark hair behind her, Melidi Ridare stepped out of the orphanage, in search of a music store. After spending months working for Mr. Ollivander, the fourteen year old was finally ready for a much needed music shopping spree. Her employer had found her that day curiosity got the better of her and she ventured back into Diagon Alley via the Leaky Cauldron, offering her a job in exchange for the thing she had sought most since catching wind of this magic inside of her- a wand.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Conner boy that kept coming into the library ever time she was there. He never spoke to her, just sat a few tables away, his eyes straying to her. She wondered if he thought she was below him- but she knew he couldn't keep away. This wasn't vainness telling her this- but after months of him watching her, eventually, curiosity and her need for honesty made her test out a spell so that she found out exactly what went through his brain when he watched her.
Flattery was all well and good, but he needed to get off his high horse and speak to the commoners- not just admire from afar, the great git.
Hurrying across the dark pavement street, and glancing to the left before turning in the opposite direction, she noticed Conner grinning to himself before following her. She could feel his eyes on her back, and she groaned to herself. He was a son of some wealthy business man, well known throughout London. Once a year, the orphanage would even get a small amount of that fortune, due to the tradition of "giving back to the city." That's all that stopped Melidi from bursting and giving her stalker a piece of her mind.
Glancing behind her again, she turned a corner quickly and then started to jog, darting down an alleyway. Leaning against the stone wall of an apartment building, she gazed at the opening of the alleyway, waiting until she saw him pass her hideaway before breathing regularly again. Sometimes she allowed herself to wonder at the thought that Connor Odgen could take her away from this, that he could only be shy, his arrogance be only taught, and she could break through into his heart with the magic she possessed. She dreamed of his wealth helping her to go to Hogwarts- the school she dreamed of, so that she did not need to learn only the trade of wand lure from Mr. Ollivander and the rest from books.
But alas, she knew destiny had a different path for her, keeping her forever a working class girl trapped between the two worlds. But then, fate could change, and as she sighed and turned to track back to the road, she was stopped by a stranger.
The blond man was smirking, dressed expensively in a long black cloak, shiny boats made out of the finest dragon skin, and his hair slicked back into a ponytail. He stood elegantly, as if royalty, and gracefully drew a dark stick out of his robes. Melidi drew in a gasp and the realization of his wizardry, and instinctively searched through her jacket for her own wand.
"You have no defense," he drawled, brandishing the wand, "Muggle," and suddenly, Melidi's world went black.