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Work in Progress. If you like this story, check out my other stories on the Fanfiction Net, Twisting the Hellmouth, and Fonts of Wisdom websites.
I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it.
"Let's take a break," said Willow, "it's about time we ate, and I think we all need a little time to think over what we've seen. Meet in the conference room afterwards, talk things over?"
"Sounds like a plan," said Angel.
Nearly everyone went back to the lobby to eat; Fred remained, working at one of the computers until Gunn came back carrying Alonna, a plate of tacos and salad, and a feeding bottle.
"You got something?" asked Gunn, giving her the tacos and a kiss.
"Maybe. Let me have Alonna. Can you pop upstairs and get a couple of books from our room?"
"Sure, which ones?"
"The Journal of Theoretical Physics for November last year and Arthmancy Today for the first quarter this year."
"Those issues sound familiar. Your paper?"
"That's right. Need to check something."
"Back in a few minutes." Fred began to feed Alonna and nibble a taco while Gunn went upstairs.
"You know," said Harry, "we're still missing a lot here. We're pretty sure that Death Eaters hijacked our raid, what we don't know is what the original plan was, or why they chose to attack Durmstrang. Why the heck would Voldemort want to wipe out Europe's leading source of dark Wizards?"
"Taking out the competition?" suggested Angel. The others stared at him. "Think about it. At that point in the war he was running out of allies and some of those he had must have been thinking about taking his place. Maybe he knew something about one of the people at Durmstrung, a prophecy or something. Or maybe he needed a death sacrifice to boost his power."
"Or maybe their plan was to blame the raid on the Ministry of Magic and get the Baba Yaga to take out Britain's magical leadership," suggested Kennedy.
"Maybe," said Harry. "The other thing I can't understand is why we have two non-magical attacks going on. The Durmstrung attack makes sense, if you assume it was originally targeted at somewhere important to Voldemort, the raid on Dracula's castle makes no sense at all."
"I would have thought that was obvious," said Kennedy. "The Durmstrung raid must have originally been targeted on Dracula's castle, maybe Voldemort really was there at the time."
"He was, but he left a few days earlier," said Krum.
"Proves my point. Voldemort must have had a spy keeping tabs on the operation, had his guys take out the raiding party at the last minute. When everything went wrong someone decided to cover it up by pretending that there had been an entirely separate operation that failed. The first bodies in the Dragon Reserve were the team originally intended to fly the raid, killed by Death Eaters before they took off. The ones that were added later came from the gas refinery."
"That makes sense," said Krum, "but there is no proof, it is all supposition."
"And it still doesn't tell us who planned things," said Harry, "how we came to be using a muggle weapon. Against Voldemort, for Merlin's sake."
"It has to be someone senior," said Hermione. "Someone who could take a muggle idea and put it to use in the magical world. Arthur Weasley?"
"Not a chance. He's interested in muggle artifacts, but he hardly ever goes into the muggle world and he knows less about how they're used than any bright kid with muggle parents."
"I think you're on the wrong track," said Fred. "As Viktor said, anyone outside the wizarding community, and some in it, might know about propane and fuel-air explosions. What we need to find is something that pins it down to a smaller number of people."
"And you've got something, haven't you?" Gunn said fondly.
"I think so. The symbols on the frame of the portal looked familiar, so I ran an enhancement program. They're the ones I developed for my second thesis on dimensional portals, the one that went to the Journal of Theoretical Physics and to Practical Arthmancy."
"But that wasn't published until well after Durmstrung was destroyed. You think that someone read an early draft?"
"It seems a possibility."
"How many people would have seen it?" asked Angel.
"The editors of the magazines and whoever they sent it to for peer review. Eventually the printers, I suppose, but that would have been much later."
"Peer review sounds most likely. Can you find out who did it? Do you still have copies of the journals?"
"Here, I've already checked them. The Journal sent it to Hawking in Britain and Otsuka in Japan. No links to the wizarding world there, as far as I know. Arithmancy Today had it checked by Doctor Abcissa at the Salem Witches Institute and Professor Vector at Hogwarts. Don't know much about either of them, what about the rest of you?"
"Not Abcissa," Willow said immediately, "she's a pure theoretician, can't see her doing anything practical with it in a hurry. Don't think she's got much imagination anyway, when I met her she asked me why I didn't take notes when we were closing the Hellmouth. Hello, fighting vampires here. Well, kinda trying to avoid getting killed, but you know what I mean."
"I concur," said Professor Gödel, "she is undoubtedly brilliant, but her brilliance is all in theory. It would never cross her mind to try to use your work practically."
"What about Professor Vector?" asked Angel.
"I've never met her," said Willow, "Fred's theory girl, I'm more interested in results."
"And I really don't know her work at all," Fred said apologetically.
Gödel shrugged and said "Past her best work. Twenty or so years ago she was one of the leaders in the field, but the quality of her papers declined. There was a tragedy..."
"Tragedy?" asked Willow.
"Her husband was a muggle, a mathematician who was killed by Voldemort shortly before his first defeat."
"What was she like when she was at her best?"
"Remarkable. She was one of the first to realise the significance of transfinite numbers in transfiguration and the first to apply set theory to apportation."
"I never realised," said Hermione, "she was a really good teacher, but she never talked about her own work."
"Was?" asked Cordelia. "Did she die?"
"No, but she retired this summer."
"Transfinite numbers and set theory are both pretty important in my portal work," said Fred. "It's why they sent the paper to her, of course. Wait a minute, was she using a different name when she published?"
"Yes, her married name, Cooper. Until his death her husband co-authored most of the papers."
"'Cooper and Cooper on Set Theory in Apportation'. Okay, yes, that rings a lot of bells. You're right, she was brilliant in her time."
"It sounds like she was well up on maths theory, not just arithmancy," said Willow. "She must have been reading our journals as well as the ones published in the wizarding world."
"It sounds like she's the person we need to talk to," said Angel. "She's intelligent, has the background we're looking for including links to the muggle world, and a good reason to want to hurt Voldemort. The trouble is that she's in Britain and I have a feeling that Percy Weasley will lock us up and throw away the key if we go back there."
"She isn't, you know," said Harry, "She's at the conference. Or was before all this started, anyway."
"Is the conference still on?" asked Gunn.
"Until the end of the week."
"Okay," said Angel, "If all of us go there we'll start a riot. Who has a pass?"
"Dawn," said Harry, "Hermione, me, Willow, Kennedy and Fred."
"It's still daylight so I can't go, but maybe Cordy, Viktor and Gunn could tag along, it should be easy enough for you to take them in as guests. Find her and invite her back here. If she doesn't want to come don't push it, but find out where she's staying and see if she'll talk about this. Above all, stay with her and watch her back."
"Why the sudden urgency?" asked Cordelia.
"Just a feeling. We've been turning over a lot of rocks, making a lot of waves, by now people may be worrying about what we're going to find out, and they've probably guessed we're back in LA. If anyone's watching the Hyperion they'll know. It's just possible that someone will decide that they don't want us talking to her."
"Okay," Gunn said as they crossed one of UCLA's car parks towards the convention site, "let's split into smaller groups. Me with Fred and Willow, Harry with Dawn and Kennedy, Hermione with Viktor and Cordy. That gives us at some muscle and at least one wizard or witch per group. Everyone happy with that?" There were nods of agreement from the others. "Let's try to keep things casual. We'll meet at the cars at five, if anyone has to go earlier leave voicemail, we can pick it up outside the convention. Everyone wearing clockwork or magic watches, and got your PDAs and phones switched off or screened against magical damage?" More nods of agreement. "Okay, let's check in."
"Swords!" Cordelia said enthusiastically as she, Hermione, and Viktor walked through the market section and stopped at the stall where Dawn had bought Angel's present. "I could do with a new rapier."
"Is everyone in Los Angeles in love with weapons?" Hermione asked, exasperated, as Cordelia and Viktor began to discuss the merits of the blades on display.
"It's kinda an acquired taste," said Cordelia, reluctantly turning from the display, "but maybe you've got a point. We're supposed to be looking for the professor. Where would someone with her interests be right now?"
"There's nothing in her field listed in the programme at the moment," said Hermione, "but her name is glowing on the membership list so she's here somewhere."
"Is there any way to contact her?" asked Cordelia.
"Maybe the voodoo board, but it's really only supposed to be for emergencies."
"Why?"
"Well, you stick a pin in her name to get her attention of course, obviously it's going to hurt her a little."
"I think we had better find her quickly," Viktor said quietly. "We're not the only ones looking for her."
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.
"Do you see those two wizards in grey robes, about twenty metres ahead of us? When they passed us I noticed that one of them was looking at a photograph of her."
"Then we'd better follow them," said Cordelia. "With luck they'll lead us right to her."
"You realise that none of us actually know what the professor looks like?" asked Fred.
"Damn," said Gunn, "knew I'd forgotten something. I should have set the groups up differently."
"Don't worry," said Willow, "everyone's wearing name badges. We just need to keep looking for women in their sixties, then check the badge."
"Couldn't we use some sort of spell to find her?"
"There's so much magic around here it'd be difficult, since I don't even know her."
"I hope we can find her soon," said Fred, "I'm worried that Angel will forget Alonna's evening feed if we're late."
"Don't worry," said Willow, "I set up an alarm clock spell. He'll remember."
"That ought to do it," said Fred. "If we can't find the professor, could we find her badge instead?"
"Maybe. Yeah, that might work. Give me a couple of minutes..." She began to rummage around in her bag, pulled out some modelling clay, and deftly moulded it into a replica of a blank badge, then began to talk to it. The name "Prof. Hilda Vector" appeared on the badge. She said "Lepidoptera" and it glowed gold for a second then transformed into a golden butterfly, poised on Willow's finger. She said a few more words then gently blew on it. It flapped its wings and flitted off over the crowd. "Okay," said Willow, "follow that butterfly!"
"You just had to say that, didn't you," said Gunn, and they set off in pursuit.
As Harry and Dawn ran from their pursuers he said "How was I to know that the Prophet had reporters waiting for me?"
"It's that bastard Malfoy's fault," panted Dawn, "he started the rumours, as far as I could make out half of them think I'm a disguised Veela, the others think I'm carrying your love-child."
Kennedy appeared in a narrow alley between two tents ahead and stood to one side to let them pass, saying "Keep going." Behind them they heard a series of loud thumps and crashes, and looked back to see the two tents collapse into the alley, a heaving mass of canvas burying the reporters. Kennedy slid out from under the wreck on the far side, pushed two stakes into the edge of the canvas with Slayer strength, jumped more than twenty feet to land on their side and repeated the process, then strolled back to them. "That ought to keep them pinned down for a few minutes."
"That big lump's Rita Skeeter," said Harry, briefly thinking of throwing something large and heavy at her then deciding that a hasty retreat might be a better idea.
"Okay," said Dawn, "let's get out of sight and see if we can disguise ourselves somehow."
"In there," said Harry, gesturing at a tent with a sign reading
a division of
Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes Ltd.
"Any idea who they are?" asked Hermione, gesturing towards the wizards Victor had spotted.
"They could be aurors," said Viktor, "they have that look about them. And don't point, they might notice."
"Sorry, I'm not used to this sort of thing."
"There's something about them," said Cordelia, "I'm getting an odd feeling... whoever they are, they're up to no good."
"You're a seer?" asked Viktor.
"Used to be, but I lost that part of my power."
"What's left? Nobody really explained what you do."
"Occasional levitation episodes which would be more useful if I got more than six inches off the ground and could actually control it, I can sometimes heal and purify things, and more often than not my instincts turn out to be right."
"I think they are," said Viktor, "One of them is carrying two wands, one in his belt and one in a sleeve. I can see the end when he moves his hand."
"So?" asked Hermione.
"It is possible that he's simply carrying a spare, but assassins have been known to carry an untraceable second wand, use it once, then discard it."
"Any sign of Vector?" asked Cordelia.
"No," said Hermione, "but those wizards are heading towards the American Arithmancy Association tent. Maybe they think she's there."
"It went between those tents," said Gunn.
"I think it went more to the right," said Fred.
"Are you looking for this?" asked an attractive dark-haired witch in her twenties wearing a cabaret magician's outfit with top hat, tails, fishnet tights and stiletto heels. The butterfly was poised on her finger, inert, its wings drooping.
"Yeah," said Gunn, "and somehow I doubt that you're the person it was trying to find."
"Down boy," muttered Fred.
"I'm sorry, it flew into my hair," said the witch. "Who were you after?"
"Professor Vector," said Willow, trying hard not to stare at her legs.
"Don't know her, but... rotcev rosseforp dnif." As she spoke she tapped the butterfly with a shiny black wand. It came back to life, lifted from her fingers, circled her head, and flew down one of the aisles of tents.
"Thanks," said Gunn, turning to follow.
"My pleasure."
"Haven't I seen her on TV?" Fred asked as they walked on.
"She's been on Letterman a few times," said Willow. "Wow, I've got to get one of those outfits."
"I can't see you wearing that in public," teased Fred.
"Who said anything about public? I was thinking more, well, bedroomy. To.. um.. amuse Kennedy. She really liked the pointy hat I got for Fairest of them All."
"If Charles' reaction is anything to go by you might be on to a winner there."
"This way," Gunn said hastily, "or we'll lose it again."
"Your friends have an odd sense of humour," said Dawn, adjusting the caricature Harry Potter mask and giant spectacles Fred and George had given her. "I look like Elton John."
"I don't think it's that bad," said Harry, disguised as Dumbledore, "but this beard tickles."
"Between the mask, the day-glo robes and the balloons no-one will look at you twice."
"Ha bloody ha." The balloons were bright orange, about a foot across, played a tune Dawn didn't recognise in a slightly flat key, and were labelled 'ZONKO' in large animated letters. Occasionally one exploded, turned into a pigeon, rained confetti on Harry and Dawn, or otherwise misbehaved. Somehow the bunch never got smaller.
"Any idea where we should go?" Kennedy asked, unrecognisable behind a troll mask, "I'm beginning to get a bad feeling about this, I think Angel may have been right."
"Slayer instinct?" asked Dawn.
"That and I think I recognised someone just now, one of the wizards that was following you two in Diagon Alley."
"Do you think he knows where Professor Vector is?"
"No, he was looking around like we were. He went off that way, lost him in the crowd."
"That way?" asked Dawn, looking at the map in her programme. "The American Arithmancy Association has a tent over there, next to the big refreshment tent. Got to be where he's headed."
"Show me," said Kennedy, took a quick look at the map, then ran off towards the tent.
Harry and Dawn began to follow, then Harry did a double-take and said "Wait a minute, it's five past four. Come on, this way..."
Alice Abcissa was signing copies of her new book "Arithmancy And You" when the trouble began. The interior of the AAA tent was set up as a replica of Escher's Relativity, and the queue stretched across the floor, up the stairs and onto one of the walls, and half-way across the ceiling.
"...and this one's for my nephew Hocus," said the grey-haired old witch who had presented her with seven copies of the slim volume, and Alice groaned inwardly as she tried to think of something new to write for each book.
Two wizards came in through one of the floor level doors and started to look round, ignoring the books and instruments on display and staring rudely at the staff and visitors. Both of them seemed to glance at Alice at the same time, and she was sure that there was something malignant in the way that they were looking at her. They began to push past the customers towards her, and one of them produced a wand from his sleeve, the other threw a black glass sphere to the floor. It burst, and the tent began to fill with dense grey smoke.
A wizard, a young witch, and a woman in muggle clothes ran in at the door in the ceiling and sprinted across the wall towards the stairs, the witch shouting "Stop them! Assassins!" Someone screamed "Death Eaters!" and the crowd began to mill around in a panic. Alice ducked under the table, trying to remember what she'd done with her wand. There was a blinding white light and the smoke vanished; as the light faded a little she saw the muggle, or whatever she was, floating in mid-air, her eyes and mouth glowing brilliant white. A man and two women ran in across the ceiling and looked around. One of the women floated down (or up) into the air, her hair changing from red to white, and threw a bolt of purple lightning at one of the assassins. She missed but he dived for cover under another table, the other grabbed the old witch and began to bring his wand towards her head. The other two newcomers dashed towards another flight of stairs. Alice belatedly recognised the second airborne woman as Professor Rosenberg and desperately scrambled under the most solid cover she could find, a display cabinet containing a model of the proposed new Arithmancy wing at the Massechussets Institute of Thaumaturgy on Nantucket. Another woman in muggle clothes dashed across the rear wall and leaped an impossible distance into the air, her trajectory curving as she left the gravity of the wall and fell towards the floor. She landed in a crouch just behind the standing assassin and Alice saw she was wearing a troll mask. She chopped the wand from the assassins hand, and he fell back, dropping another ball. More smoke erupted; after that things became a little confused.
Somewhere in the smoke at least a dozen people were firing off spells, although what they thought they were doing was beyond Alice's comprehension. There was pandemonium, and she could only distinguish occasional voices:
"Stupefy!"
"Help!"
"Aveda Ka..urgh!"
"Accio Kalashnikov!"
"Oblivi..yaargh!"
"Ouch!"
"Sorry, thought it was one of them."
Gradually the noise ended and the smoke cleared. Both of the assassins were lying on the floor in full body binds, one of the wizards who had run to help was mopping a bleeding nose with one hand and holding an odd metal thing in the other - could that really be Viktor Krum? - and Professor Rosenberg was comforting the old witch and saying "I hope you're all right, Professor Vector."
The old lady looked at her dazedly and said "Professor Vector? I'm not Professor Vector!"
"You're not?" said Professor Rosenberg, doubt evident in her voice.
"Certainly I'm not. What do you think, I don't know who I am?" and pointed at her name badge, which read "Mimsy Cottlethorpe - Curse Research Organisation of Nebraska (CRONE)."
"Then where the heck is Professor Vector?"
"Here," said a young wizard with a British accent wearing an improbable-looking false beard, accompanied by a girl in muggle clothing and another elderly witch who looked vaguely like Mimsy Cottlethorpe. "I suddenly realised it was tea time, we found her in the refreshment tent."
"Okay," said the other floating woman, landing on the tent floor, her glow slowly disappearing. "We'll go and get the aurors, everyone else stay here and stop these two assassins from escaping."
There was a stunned silence as they hustled Professor Vector out of the tent. It took several minutes for anyone else to think of going for help.
TBC
