Chapter Five – The Calls
Lady Aydin was enjoying a rare Saturday morning with her daughter.
"Don't try to focus on anything specific right now Becca," she coached. "Just let yourself float for a while. Tell me what you see."
"I see an ocean. Only it's not blue. It's every color. It seems alive. Oh, I see rivers of color dancing on the surface, red, green, it's beautiful."
"Good. You're seeing just the surface now. I want you look beneath that surface. Try to see deeper."
"OK, its hard, so much happening. Its just," she struggled to find the words, "chaotic?"
"The surface is always chaos. That's why we look beneath to find where the currents truly flow," Lady Aydin spoke in a calming voice. "You need to focus a little now. Don't let yourself be distracted."
"I see something. It's just beneath the waves. Great rivers of color. They're not jumping around like the surface. It feels calmer. No wait. Something's different." Becca's forehead crinkled as she tried to see. "Some of the water is, I don't know how to describe it, funneling? It's swirling, a different color. I think it's trying to break away from the main current. It shouldn't do that!" Becca's voice grew a little panicked. "It's, it's hurting the flow."
"Relax Becca," Lady Aydin's calming voice filled the room. "Rise up above the surface. Float free again." She was pleased. Her daughter saw beneath the surface. She even saw the disruptions around the enclaves. She had yet to connect those currents to specific types of magic but Becca progressed even further then Lady Aydin had at this point in her training. At this rate Becca might even surpass Uncle Micah's gifts. "Ok, now let out your breath. Come back now."
Becca slowly breathed out and a smile brightened her face. "That was amazing. I could feel the currents flowing around me. I've never felt anything like that before."
"You still need to work on your technique. You allowed to many distractions." Lady Aydin gently scolded her daughter.
"I read that Stanford now offers advanced courses in meditation."
Her daughter was nothing if not persistent. "Your father and I agreed to let you apply to universities in the States Becca. We won't make any further decisions until after the responses come back." A delaying tactic. Her daughter's grades and background virtually guaranteed acceptance to any school she applied to.
"Alright, I'll wait. But it's not like I'm asking to," Becca stopped short and her head whipped around looking towards the front of the house.
Lady Aydin sensed it as well. Someone with magic just passed the estates outer wards. She tensed for a few seconds. Then relaxed as she recognized the presence. "It's ok Becca. I know who it is. We've done enough for today. Go ahead and call your friends." With that Lady rose from her seat and began making her way down to the first floor.
She reached the atrium in time to see Montgomery answering the door. An elderly man stood in the entrance. He was tall and thin. Deep lines cut across his face. His white hair was cut short and his beard was neatly trimmed. His suit was a little out of fashion but he wore it well. He looked directly at Lady Aydin. She saw barely contained rage in his eyes. When he spoke she heard the fury in his voice.
"Voldemort's returned."
----
Sir Ian Buford was in the office trying to catch up on his paperwork.
Although Special Projects might be one the smallest departments in MI5, from the Director's perspective, it generated far more paperwork. Of course trying to justify requisitions for newt eyes required creative use of the bureaucracy.
It took nearly three weeks but he managed to send out tasking orders to MI5's moles in the Wizarding world. Unfortunately, he couldn't just send agents into the enclaves. Without magic, they'd stick out as badly as wizards tended to stick out in the regular world. Which meant MI5 had to recruit wizards willing to work with 'muggles' and share their world's deepest secrets. Micah found a solution to that problem. Or, more precisely, the solution found him.
MI5 now had four moles in the Ministry of Magic. Two worked in the Auror division. One was a field operative and didn't provide much intelligence beyond her own assignments. The other, however, was a genuine gold mine. He worked as a mid-level clerk in charge of filing. Virtually every official piece of paper generated by the Aurors crossed his desk. Sir Ian mused on a comment a colleague from Six once said to him over three decades earlier. "No one in the world truly appreciates the value clerks and secretaries except spies."
Five's third mole held a minor position in the International Relations department and provided decent intel on happenings in the European and North African enclaves. The fourth was in Magical Creatures. Not much useful information there. But he was a rising star who might get promoted to a more valuable position.
MI5 also kept contact other wizards who acted as go betweens and provided general information on happenings in the Wizarding world. This included complete copies of the Daily Prophet and Sir Ian's secret vice, The Quibbler.
Sir Ian was just trying to figure out the best way to write up Talerie's purchase of various herb and medicinal plants when his private line rang. Only Lady Aydin and the Prime Minister had access to that line and neither used it for anything trivial. He picked up the phone.
"Director Buford."
"Sir Ian," Lady Aydin's voice came over the line, "I'm on way into the office. Call a meeting of senior staff in one hour and make sure Ms Sinclair is present as well."
"Of course My Lady," Sir Ian replied. "May I ask why?
"Apparently Riddle is back."
---
Jerry Cromwell spent his Saturday morning at the pub watching a football game with his friends.
A cheer went up from the crowd as the goalie made a spectacular block.
"After that, your tabs torn up for the day Jerry," the bartender said. "Your brother's going to lead us all the way this year."
"He might at that, he just might at that," came Jerry's reply. He felt the vibration from his cell phone and quickly answered. "Jerry here."
"Agent Cromwell, you're needed back at the office immediately. Lady Aydin just called a meeting of senior staff in one hour."
"I understand, I'm on my way now," Jerry replied then hung up the phone. He knew this wasn't going to be good. "Sorry Mates, duty to the Queen comes before even football."
As Jerry rose to leave one of his friends shouted, "Blasphemy!!!"
---
Talerie tended the garden on the roof of his London flat.
He always found working with plants relaxing. The prospect of penetrating the Wizarding enclaves disturbed him. Wand magic felt wrong. For all its refinement and precision, wand magic was forced. It seemed to push everything else aside. Most magic blended with the world. Even dark magic had its place. Magic flowed with the world. Wand wielders did not seem to understand that basic truth.
Life would be much simpler if the wizards would just learn to control their own people he mused.
He heard the phone in his flat ringing and frowned. He made his way down to answer but the machine had already picked up by the time he arrived. He played the message. The voice of Director Buford's secretary came over the speaker. "Talerie, a meeting of the senior staff has been called for one hour from now. Please report to the office. Thank you."
He got so few peaceful weekends to putter about the garden since joining MI5.
---
Dr. Marshall was working at home. His team had long ago figured out a way to make electronic devices work in the enclaves. But he was still struggling with reliable communication.
He figured he could get line of site working for most of the radios and wireless gear. But any obstructions seemed to just kill the signal. He theorized that long-term exposure (in most cases centuries) to high levels of magic caused some kind of change in the quantum structure of matter in the Wizarding world. Powering through wasn't the answer. Perhaps varying the frequency.
He heard the phone in the other room. His wife answered.
"Honey, it's someone from your office."
"I'll take it in here." He picked up the extension in his office, "Dr. Marshall."
"I'm sorry to disturb you at home Dr. Marshall but you're needed at the office in an hour. Lady Aydin wants to meet with senior staff as soon as possible."
"I'll be right in."
---
Major Harry Chisholm was running his team though another training session.
He prayed his men would not be called upon, but it was his duty to ensure they were prepared for any eventuality. Major Chisholm had been a newly assigned Lieutenant to the SAS when his team had been tapped to go into enclaves for some very nasty wetwork thirteen years earlier.
After Riddle had disappeared the Wizarding world tried to imprison as many of his followers as they could. But too many of the trials had turned into jokes; obvious Death Eaters had been freed on the flimsy excuse that they had been under Imperious curses. Lady Aydin's Uncle had developed new sources of intelligence into the Wizarding world and managed to develop a lead on a group of Death Eaters that was trying to locate and restore Riddle.
The Prime Minister had personally authorized the assassination of the seven wizards believed to be part of the plot. Lt Chisholm's team managed to locate three of them and Chisholm had personally fire the bullet that killed one of them. Their disappearance had been written off in the Wizarding world as one of the many acts of revenge carried out after Riddle vanished. Unfortunately, they failed to find the other four before they captured and tortured two young Aurors. Those four were later captured by the Aurors and sent to Azkaban.
Major Chisholm broke from his reflections to address his men.
"Alright lads, gather round. If that last go around had been for real, half of you'd be dead now. So I'm going to explain this one more time. This is a wand," he said holding up a thinly carved stick. "When you see one these I want you to think 'loaded gun' because that's what these are in the hands of a wizard."
"When a wizard starts to speak, that's the same as pulling a trigger," he continued. "So whenever a wizard points a wand at you and starts talking that means he's pointing a loaded gun at you and pulling the trigger. And what do you do when someone points a loaded weapon in your direction?"
"Put a bullet through his head sir," came the reply from one of his men.
"Exactly. Our advantage is speed and surprise. They don't think us 'muggles' are dangerous. So don't give a wizard time to think of a spell and never give him a chance to speak."
Major Chisholm's lecture was interrupted when a staff sergeant entered the room. "I'm sorry to intrude sir, but we just received a message from MI5. They need you at the Special Projects office immediately."
"Very well. Lt Cranston run the lads through the simulation again until they get it right. And then run them through it again until they get it perfect."
"Yes sir!"
---
Jennifer Sinclair was surfing the internet. She loved learning about the world. It was so much bigger than anyone had ever told her while she was growing up. The diversity of people, cultures and most amazingly magic.
For most of her life everyone said magic only existed only in the Wizarding world. Discovering magic existed outside the enclaves was her biggest surprise upon joining MI5 seven years earlier. Of course that was why her Grandfather had sent her out into the world (she no longer really thought of it as the 'muggle' world). He needed allies and they needed information. It was mutually beneficial relationship.
With the possibility that Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters was preparing a new assault upon the Wizarding world Jennifer's chief goal was too convince Lady Aydin to intervene directly into the enclaves. But that was a concern for another day. For now she was reading about the history of Russia.
The phone rang and Jennifer answered, "Hello."
"Ms Sinclair. It's Director Buford."
"Good morning Director Buford," the warning bells in head starting going off. "I assume something big just happened?"
"Lady Aydin calling a meeting of senior staff in one hour. She wants you there. Your Grandfather went to her house. He says Riddle's back."
Lady Aydin was enjoying a rare Saturday morning with her daughter.
"Don't try to focus on anything specific right now Becca," she coached. "Just let yourself float for a while. Tell me what you see."
"I see an ocean. Only it's not blue. It's every color. It seems alive. Oh, I see rivers of color dancing on the surface, red, green, it's beautiful."
"Good. You're seeing just the surface now. I want you look beneath that surface. Try to see deeper."
"OK, its hard, so much happening. Its just," she struggled to find the words, "chaotic?"
"The surface is always chaos. That's why we look beneath to find where the currents truly flow," Lady Aydin spoke in a calming voice. "You need to focus a little now. Don't let yourself be distracted."
"I see something. It's just beneath the waves. Great rivers of color. They're not jumping around like the surface. It feels calmer. No wait. Something's different." Becca's forehead crinkled as she tried to see. "Some of the water is, I don't know how to describe it, funneling? It's swirling, a different color. I think it's trying to break away from the main current. It shouldn't do that!" Becca's voice grew a little panicked. "It's, it's hurting the flow."
"Relax Becca," Lady Aydin's calming voice filled the room. "Rise up above the surface. Float free again." She was pleased. Her daughter saw beneath the surface. She even saw the disruptions around the enclaves. She had yet to connect those currents to specific types of magic but Becca progressed even further then Lady Aydin had at this point in her training. At this rate Becca might even surpass Uncle Micah's gifts. "Ok, now let out your breath. Come back now."
Becca slowly breathed out and a smile brightened her face. "That was amazing. I could feel the currents flowing around me. I've never felt anything like that before."
"You still need to work on your technique. You allowed to many distractions." Lady Aydin gently scolded her daughter.
"I read that Stanford now offers advanced courses in meditation."
Her daughter was nothing if not persistent. "Your father and I agreed to let you apply to universities in the States Becca. We won't make any further decisions until after the responses come back." A delaying tactic. Her daughter's grades and background virtually guaranteed acceptance to any school she applied to.
"Alright, I'll wait. But it's not like I'm asking to," Becca stopped short and her head whipped around looking towards the front of the house.
Lady Aydin sensed it as well. Someone with magic just passed the estates outer wards. She tensed for a few seconds. Then relaxed as she recognized the presence. "It's ok Becca. I know who it is. We've done enough for today. Go ahead and call your friends." With that Lady rose from her seat and began making her way down to the first floor.
She reached the atrium in time to see Montgomery answering the door. An elderly man stood in the entrance. He was tall and thin. Deep lines cut across his face. His white hair was cut short and his beard was neatly trimmed. His suit was a little out of fashion but he wore it well. He looked directly at Lady Aydin. She saw barely contained rage in his eyes. When he spoke she heard the fury in his voice.
"Voldemort's returned."
----
Sir Ian Buford was in the office trying to catch up on his paperwork.
Although Special Projects might be one the smallest departments in MI5, from the Director's perspective, it generated far more paperwork. Of course trying to justify requisitions for newt eyes required creative use of the bureaucracy.
It took nearly three weeks but he managed to send out tasking orders to MI5's moles in the Wizarding world. Unfortunately, he couldn't just send agents into the enclaves. Without magic, they'd stick out as badly as wizards tended to stick out in the regular world. Which meant MI5 had to recruit wizards willing to work with 'muggles' and share their world's deepest secrets. Micah found a solution to that problem. Or, more precisely, the solution found him.
MI5 now had four moles in the Ministry of Magic. Two worked in the Auror division. One was a field operative and didn't provide much intelligence beyond her own assignments. The other, however, was a genuine gold mine. He worked as a mid-level clerk in charge of filing. Virtually every official piece of paper generated by the Aurors crossed his desk. Sir Ian mused on a comment a colleague from Six once said to him over three decades earlier. "No one in the world truly appreciates the value clerks and secretaries except spies."
Five's third mole held a minor position in the International Relations department and provided decent intel on happenings in the European and North African enclaves. The fourth was in Magical Creatures. Not much useful information there. But he was a rising star who might get promoted to a more valuable position.
MI5 also kept contact other wizards who acted as go betweens and provided general information on happenings in the Wizarding world. This included complete copies of the Daily Prophet and Sir Ian's secret vice, The Quibbler.
Sir Ian was just trying to figure out the best way to write up Talerie's purchase of various herb and medicinal plants when his private line rang. Only Lady Aydin and the Prime Minister had access to that line and neither used it for anything trivial. He picked up the phone.
"Director Buford."
"Sir Ian," Lady Aydin's voice came over the line, "I'm on way into the office. Call a meeting of senior staff in one hour and make sure Ms Sinclair is present as well."
"Of course My Lady," Sir Ian replied. "May I ask why?
"Apparently Riddle is back."
---
Jerry Cromwell spent his Saturday morning at the pub watching a football game with his friends.
A cheer went up from the crowd as the goalie made a spectacular block.
"After that, your tabs torn up for the day Jerry," the bartender said. "Your brother's going to lead us all the way this year."
"He might at that, he just might at that," came Jerry's reply. He felt the vibration from his cell phone and quickly answered. "Jerry here."
"Agent Cromwell, you're needed back at the office immediately. Lady Aydin just called a meeting of senior staff in one hour."
"I understand, I'm on my way now," Jerry replied then hung up the phone. He knew this wasn't going to be good. "Sorry Mates, duty to the Queen comes before even football."
As Jerry rose to leave one of his friends shouted, "Blasphemy!!!"
---
Talerie tended the garden on the roof of his London flat.
He always found working with plants relaxing. The prospect of penetrating the Wizarding enclaves disturbed him. Wand magic felt wrong. For all its refinement and precision, wand magic was forced. It seemed to push everything else aside. Most magic blended with the world. Even dark magic had its place. Magic flowed with the world. Wand wielders did not seem to understand that basic truth.
Life would be much simpler if the wizards would just learn to control their own people he mused.
He heard the phone in his flat ringing and frowned. He made his way down to answer but the machine had already picked up by the time he arrived. He played the message. The voice of Director Buford's secretary came over the speaker. "Talerie, a meeting of the senior staff has been called for one hour from now. Please report to the office. Thank you."
He got so few peaceful weekends to putter about the garden since joining MI5.
---
Dr. Marshall was working at home. His team had long ago figured out a way to make electronic devices work in the enclaves. But he was still struggling with reliable communication.
He figured he could get line of site working for most of the radios and wireless gear. But any obstructions seemed to just kill the signal. He theorized that long-term exposure (in most cases centuries) to high levels of magic caused some kind of change in the quantum structure of matter in the Wizarding world. Powering through wasn't the answer. Perhaps varying the frequency.
He heard the phone in the other room. His wife answered.
"Honey, it's someone from your office."
"I'll take it in here." He picked up the extension in his office, "Dr. Marshall."
"I'm sorry to disturb you at home Dr. Marshall but you're needed at the office in an hour. Lady Aydin wants to meet with senior staff as soon as possible."
"I'll be right in."
---
Major Harry Chisholm was running his team though another training session.
He prayed his men would not be called upon, but it was his duty to ensure they were prepared for any eventuality. Major Chisholm had been a newly assigned Lieutenant to the SAS when his team had been tapped to go into enclaves for some very nasty wetwork thirteen years earlier.
After Riddle had disappeared the Wizarding world tried to imprison as many of his followers as they could. But too many of the trials had turned into jokes; obvious Death Eaters had been freed on the flimsy excuse that they had been under Imperious curses. Lady Aydin's Uncle had developed new sources of intelligence into the Wizarding world and managed to develop a lead on a group of Death Eaters that was trying to locate and restore Riddle.
The Prime Minister had personally authorized the assassination of the seven wizards believed to be part of the plot. Lt Chisholm's team managed to locate three of them and Chisholm had personally fire the bullet that killed one of them. Their disappearance had been written off in the Wizarding world as one of the many acts of revenge carried out after Riddle vanished. Unfortunately, they failed to find the other four before they captured and tortured two young Aurors. Those four were later captured by the Aurors and sent to Azkaban.
Major Chisholm broke from his reflections to address his men.
"Alright lads, gather round. If that last go around had been for real, half of you'd be dead now. So I'm going to explain this one more time. This is a wand," he said holding up a thinly carved stick. "When you see one these I want you to think 'loaded gun' because that's what these are in the hands of a wizard."
"When a wizard starts to speak, that's the same as pulling a trigger," he continued. "So whenever a wizard points a wand at you and starts talking that means he's pointing a loaded gun at you and pulling the trigger. And what do you do when someone points a loaded weapon in your direction?"
"Put a bullet through his head sir," came the reply from one of his men.
"Exactly. Our advantage is speed and surprise. They don't think us 'muggles' are dangerous. So don't give a wizard time to think of a spell and never give him a chance to speak."
Major Chisholm's lecture was interrupted when a staff sergeant entered the room. "I'm sorry to intrude sir, but we just received a message from MI5. They need you at the Special Projects office immediately."
"Very well. Lt Cranston run the lads through the simulation again until they get it right. And then run them through it again until they get it perfect."
"Yes sir!"
---
Jennifer Sinclair was surfing the internet. She loved learning about the world. It was so much bigger than anyone had ever told her while she was growing up. The diversity of people, cultures and most amazingly magic.
For most of her life everyone said magic only existed only in the Wizarding world. Discovering magic existed outside the enclaves was her biggest surprise upon joining MI5 seven years earlier. Of course that was why her Grandfather had sent her out into the world (she no longer really thought of it as the 'muggle' world). He needed allies and they needed information. It was mutually beneficial relationship.
With the possibility that Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters was preparing a new assault upon the Wizarding world Jennifer's chief goal was too convince Lady Aydin to intervene directly into the enclaves. But that was a concern for another day. For now she was reading about the history of Russia.
The phone rang and Jennifer answered, "Hello."
"Ms Sinclair. It's Director Buford."
"Good morning Director Buford," the warning bells in head starting going off. "I assume something big just happened?"
"Lady Aydin calling a meeting of senior staff in one hour. She wants you there. Your Grandfather went to her house. He says Riddle's back."