Author's Note:
I will attempt to have these chapters out by the end of every Friday (UTC+08:00). I do have a whole arc planned out, with a war between two factions of wizards, a clever little plot twist, the whole works, and I hope you'll stick around on this journey. Any and all feedback on the writing is welcome, given my rusty writing.
Hope you enjoy the tale, here we go!
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"What do you think they're calling us in for?" Ron whispered excitedly as we made our way through the corridor. The hall was a plain, light purple, lit by orbs of pure white that floated close to the ceiling, and was wide enough for a group of wizards to be gathered to one side having a quiet discussion. Our boots clacked professionally against the tiled floor, the capes of our Auror uniforms whispering lightly behind us as we made our way to the conference chambers.
"You think they have a reward prepared for us? Or maybe they'll show us a new spell? Oh, maybe..."
"Ron," I replied, "How long have we been training to be Aurors?"
"Three years?" Ron looked at me quizzically.
"Right, and in three years, has anyone ever been called to the conference room for anything less than a severe reprimand or a great reward?"
"That's my point! We're probably gonna get something amazing!" he replied excitedly, lights dancing in his eyes. They faded out for a moment as he considered the rest of what I had said, "Or... Did we do something, Harry?"
"I don't know, Ron," I said, "But I'm anxious to find out. Ginny will be expecting me home soon," Ron fell silent at those words, and we continued down the hallway in companionable silence.
My name is Harry Potter. I am "The Boy Who Lived", son of James and Lily Potter, mentored by the great Albus Dumbledore, and I killed the Dark Lord Voldermort when I was seventeen years old. I have faced down dragons, defeated trolls, argued with centaurs and flown on a thestral. Most of my biography covers these events, but much of it was greatly exaggerated, so I would not put too much stock in that, if I were you.
Ron and I strode into a small reception area, the doors to the conference room looming high over us, devoid of any designs and colour. I turned to look at Ron, who gazed absentmindedly at the doors. He was probably thinking about what I said about Ginny, and of his own Hermione who would be working late in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The doors began to open, swinging inward and away from us, the bright lights within washing out to the reception area.
"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley," a strident voice called from within the room, "Come in, come in! We have much to discuss!"
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"You know, most people talk when they call for a discussion," I complained before focusing my thoughts, flicking my hands out and sending another wave of energy through the field, causing the dead leaves and litter to fly into the air and compact themselves into a sphere. My master stood at the other end of the field, waiting patiently with a trash bag open, grinning openly at my reluctance at performing this menial task.
"The discussion can wait till after we have used our powers for the greater good!" he called back as I sent the ball of rubbish rocketing into the open trash bag, slowing its' momentum down such that it landed neatly in place. Satisfied he had caught it, and that the field was thoroughly clear of any rubbish, I vanished and reappeared next to him as he tied off the trash bag, dumping it on a trash can as we strolled the park.
"The Ministry of Magic have begun to move again," my master began without preamble, "The Aurors are beginning to mobilize and patrol the magical realm once again, seeking the Eldritch in hiding,"
"That's disgusting!" I spat, unable to keep the snarl out of my voice, "They didn't seem too quick to attack us when we were helping them against Voldemort! And now, only three years after his death, they're ready to turn on us?" Master sighed and eased himself on to a park bench, though his weariness seemed psychological rather than physical. The Eldritch were more in touch with nature than those wizards could ever hope to be, and our bodies often lived two, if not three of their life-spans.
"Do you know, Lok Rovaan, why they hunt us so?"
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"No, sir, I don't," I replied, searching my memories of these fugitives, "I have no trouble understanding why the Aurors are the ones hunting these fugitives, but as for why they are fugitives..."
"They must have committed a great crime of some sort," Ron offered, "Perhaps a generation curse upon a family? Or forcibly turning someone into a werewolf?"
"None of these things," responded Gawain Robards, head of the Auror Office, "These fugitives present a dangerous force which threatens the very nature of our society, and the essence of magic itself," I had to raise an eyebrow to that. Wizards loved their melodrama and coating everything in their lives with it, making even the most mundane task seem like the stuff of cosmic importance. I suppose when you have the ability to call fire and make it rain toads, that sort of power gets you feeling pretty good about what you can do.
Ron shot me an incredulous glance, "What's he on about?" He started when the Gawain coughed and scowled at him, and his face paled when he realized he had voiced his thoughts aloud.
"What he is on about," said the Auror, placing emphasis on the word, "Is the ancient war that began so many ages ago that most of our people have forgotten. I'm sure the both of you are familiar with Herpo the Foul?"
"I think I've seen his card somewhere," I replied, since Ron had his head down, ears turning bright red, "Ancient Greek, inventor of curses, the first to invent horcruxes and create basiliks,"
"All correct," Gawain nodded his approval, "But lacking one important factor: He was also the wizard who created foci,"
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"Foci?" I cocked my eyebrow at my master, incredulous, "One man invented foci? The staffs, the wands, the tools meant to help us channel the forces of magic? A dark wizard figured out how to bring man closer to the most primordial forces of creation, and we're still alive to talk about it?"
"Well, to be fair, he helped to discover the foci," my master conceded, taking a bite off his hotdog, "He had a brother, Aeros, ever heard of him? I didn't think so," my master eyed me as he spoke, as if daring me to say otherwise. I raised my hands in concession, smiling as I did so. Talking about magical history whilst strolling through a park is one thing; doing so while trading jabs with my master was another.
I didn't want to hurt his feelings, after all.
"Aeros and Herpo were the greatest wizards of their time, masters of all elements, able to bend the land and sky to their wills, and were even regarded as gods by the people around them. Emboldened by their powers, the brothers saw the potential for good in the world and set about trying to enable more of the people to wield it, to give them the chance to change their own lives,"
/*****************************/
"They found that certain materials can store and channel magical forces better than others, and proceeded to create transportable, useful items for their people to use: Staffs for travelling, and wands for simpler storage. Soon, the people around them were all happily wielding magic, even Muggles," Gawain continued, his eyes taking on a sad sheen, "Of course, when you hand children matchsticks, you can expect a few fires to erupt,"
"This newly found sect of magic-wielding Muggles did not sit well with all the other witches and wizards of the time. Some believed that magic was a privilege; a divine right bestowed to the chosen ones of the Earth, and thought these foci to be an abomination to their powers. Still others believed that the brothers had stumbled on to something marvellous, and began to use these foci to greatly enhance their own abilities,"
"Tension grew between the two factions: Wizards and Muggles using foci, and high-minded wizards and witches abstaining from foci. Worse, the Muggles who were using foci were unwittingly causing severe damage to the lands, their newly found powers uncontrolled and dangerous. To curb this, the wizards devised a system of magic to teach the Muggles to control their abilities. Magic can only be performed when three factors are in place: Wand movement, a specific word or phrase, and intention. It was an effective system, and with time, the Muggles had learned to contain their magic to specific spells, their abilities now in control,"
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"The problem, however, was that the wizards themselves began to believe in their own system. In their obsession to protect the Muggles from the backlash of magic, they soon forgot the heights of power that they were once capable of!" The master gave a weary sigh, "We tried to guide them back to the proper ways of magic, but by then a society had been built up, with the Magician's Guild at the center of it all. Over time, they became the Ministry of Magic, the global authority on all things magical,"
"So why would the Ministry hunt us?" I asked, puzzled. The look my master shot me could have curdled cheese. "Right, think it through. We are Eldritch, commanding the forces of earth and sky, fire and ice, and we never utilize foci, so we aren't restricted by spells. We command magic through our will, which would present a problem if we were ever distracted or emotional while using our magic: A spell to light a fire could turn into an inferno,"
"So while our magic is pure, unrestrained power, given to us to explore this world, they have twisted magic, limited it and given it rules to control witches and wizards like cattle in a farm! Of course they would oppose us, we would be taking away their control over the people!"
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"They command magic through their will, which is a shaky thing at best: How often have we been distracted in the midst of casting our spells? Our system gives us control, but in this respect, we would be magically limited compared to these fugitives," I deduced aloud while Gawain looked on, "But with freedom comes greater potential for chaos. What if they got angry while trying to light a fire, and burned a house down instead? This sort of magic requires a hefty amount of willpower and self-control,"
"Which many wizards would lack, and should they decide to adopt this style of magic, chaos would ensue throughout the world!" Gawain finished, "Think about it: Millions of wizards around the world, casting magic without a system to guide them! The chaos!"
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"The freedom!" I exclaimed, "If only they practiced magic as we did, without limits, without restraints! Those monsters!"
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"Those monsters," Ron whispered, images of chaos and war filling his mind, "They would throw the entire realm of magic into chaos just to prove a way of life?"
"Before the rise of the Dark Lord, it was the secret mission of the Aurors to curb the Eldritch and ensure that their influence did not spread," Gawain said, "In the reign of the Dark Lord, and through the times afterward, the Ministry simply did not have the resources to deal with them. Because of that, they have grown in number, and formed a community of sorts, and the task now falls back on the Aurors..."
/*****************************/
"To hunt us down, like the animals we are," the master spat, bitterness colouring his voice, "Gawain Robards, the current leader of the Aurors, has made it his personal goal to be rid of the Eldritch once and for all. I have gathered critical information about his movements: He has dispatched Harry James Potter, "The Boy Who Lived", and Ronald Weasley to find and exterminate the Eldritch here in New York,"
"Wait a minute!" I exclaimed, "We just teleported here from Egypt, how could they know we are here?" My master turned to look at me, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
"Because I have a plan!" he replied smugly.
/*****************************/
"Lok Rovaan, known to favour fire and telekinetic powers," Ron read aloud from the files Gawain gave to us, "Eighteen years old, born and raised all over the world, no known records found,"
"Giatro, master and mentor to Lok Rovaan," I read, "Unknown age, unknown origin, and nothing more than a poorly shot picture from miles away. Specializes in earth and... Wait a minute, time magic?" I glanced from the files to stare at Gawain, "We are battling a man who can manipulate time?!"
"So you begin to see the difficulties," Gawain smirked, "We aren't sure if he actually controls the flow of time, or if it is simply a trick of his that we have yet to ascertain. If he actually controls time, then this battle is all a moot point, and besides, if the fugitives controlled such an amazing power, there would be no war to fight,"
"So our task is to capture these fugitives?" Ron asked.
"Our sources tell us they were headed for Central Park in New York City, America, just an hour ago. Our agents were to report to us if they moved, and they have not. Your task, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, is to go there and kill the both of them,"
/*****************************/
"You let the Ministry know where we are?!" I yelled, "Are you crazy!"
"Goodness, boy," Master Giatro winced, "Do you have to shout?"
"Why not! What would be the point otherwise? We, no you, just painted a gigantic target on both our backs! Hell, we are the target boards right now, big stinking red lights, flashing and winking at the world! If you have a plan, you'd better tell me no-"
I sensed the shift in power in instant before the spells struck, turning to face the bolts and raising my hand to shield myself. I was a second too slow, and the red bolt struck my outstretched hand, the power rippling through my body and paralyzing me. Giatro twisted, and the spell aimed at him seemed to displace itself backwards in time for a second, giving him time to sidestep the spell, leaving it to slam into me. I tried opening my mouth to shout a complaint, but my body was well and truly paralyzed, held in place by both the stunning spells cast at me. Damnit.
"Blimey, Harry, they were right!" said an Auror, appearing out of nowhere in the field next to us, "He really can control time! How are we supposed to get these guys!" I stared at the man, with his fiery red hair and pale complexion. He wore a grey uniform, like a military formal suit, unadorned and unremarkable, save that the boots he wore seemed to shimmer slightly. A distant memory began to stir, something in the back of my head. Was it something he said? Harry...
"Focus, Ron," said another Auror who appeared next to him, stowing a cloak of some sort with a flick of his wand, causing it to disappear into nothingness, "These men are dangerous," I stared at the man, well, not like I had a choice, but I would have stared nonetheless. His hair was raven black and messy, falling to his shoulders, and his complexion was just as pale as his partner. His outfit was all black and leather, tight-fitted and economical, the sort of attire one would give to a warlock assassin or a really well-dressed rock star. But the thing that got me staring was the scar, that lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
"Ho," Giatro chuckled, "That the Ministry would send you two, it is truly an honor! Mr Potter, and Mr Weasley!"
It clicked in my head. Harry! Harry Potter! The man who had killed the Dark Lord, played in the Triwizard Tournaments, slew a Basilisk, and conquered thestrals! Oh, I'm sure his biography greatly exaggerated these feats, but everything sure had a grain of truth within it, and his many feats were far from mundane. I was a huge fan, at one point in time.
"Hi, Harry Potter!" I said, though with my paralyzed mouth it sort of came out, "Hnnrgh, Haarrrgg Purrerr,"
"Enough chatter," Harry Potter scowled, and both Aurors raised their wands at us, the tips glowing green, "Giatro and Rovaan, by order of the Auror Office and the Ministry of Magic, we hearby pronounce you guilty of practicing Dark Arts and attempting to disrupt the peace, and do sentence the both of you to death!"
Well, so much for meeting your heroes.