Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It's a shame, really… a spare million or two would come in handy sometimes…
September 22nd, 2053
After Sabina's marriage to Delphinus Black late in 2052, Phillip found that she returned, somewhat, to the temperament she had had before the loss of her family. Her eagerness flourished anew, and even though the death of her father earlier in the year had saddened her, she never revisited that previously broken-hearted state.
The intervening years had wrought further amazing advancements. The announcement, early last week, that computers with human-like intelligence had approached the technological singularity, left Phillip gob smacked. This technological singularity was characterized by the technological creation of self-improving intelligence after the previous ten years of unprecedented rapid progress. A computer, designated Horizon13, had demonstrated both super-human intelligence and awareness. Over fears of the machine's capabilities, Muggles had segregated it from any network in a custom-built environment. Fused with robotics, it could function similar to a human - its creators allowing it to modify its immediate environment, as well as select input variants and mode of output.
He and Sabina were to meet in London proper. Taking into account the proximity of the location that he had chosen to Magical London, Phillip had decided to risk a walk past The Leaky Cauldron. As he turned into the street, a mass of emotions flooded through him. It was just over fifty years since he had been within spitting-distance to the Magical World, and even though the Muggle buildings in the street had changed, the Magical establishment was as world-weary as he remembered it to be. He was glad the Muggles never noticed it; and now, more than ever before. The taupe building sat incongruently squashed between two sleek metal and glass structures, its old-world charm adamantly refusing assimilation into the ultra-modern environment surrounding it.
He continued on his journey, but soon found himself drawn, inextricably, to a halt directly outside the pub. Ever since he accepted the assignment, he was prohibited to re-enter the Magical World under any circumstances. Nonetheless, Phillip hoped that one day he would return; though after so many years away, perhaps he
wouldn't. Now at eighty-two, he had spent nearly two-thirds of his life away from that world, and the mere thought of leaving his adopted world, and being repatriated with the Magical World, left him feeling apprehensive. In somewhat the same manner he had felt upon the prospect of leaving the Magical World, his feelings were synonymous now with the thought of leaving this world.
While he may have mourned the loss of his house-elf and everyday use of magic for the first few years of his estrangement from the Magical World, nevertheless he had adapted. Now the thought of leaving behind his robotic appliances, quantum computer (with its massive database of facts and figures), and Muggle friends, Phillip could feel a hollow dread start to form. The bad taste life's unfairness rolled bitterly in his mouth. In retrospect, it had been relatively easy the first time to rip himself away from a life he loved, but as he aged, he would prefer not to repeat those actions – for he was comfortable in the life he had built himself here, in the Muggle World.
Still, his current situation – him being motionless outside of the Leaky Cauldron – left him with a dilemma. Curious to see what, if any, changes had been wrought on the Magical World, he was tempted to peek. On the other hand, if he enticed fate and anyone saw or recognized him, it could be detrimental to him, the mission, or both. Reasoning to himself that a quick foray through the Leaky Cauldron, and into Diagon Alley to grab a Daily Prophet, wouldn't compromise to any extent his mission. Not to mention that he doubted that, after fifty years, anyone would recognise him. Having reached this significant decision, Phillip let his feet lead him to the front door of the pub.
Entering the establishment, he breathed the distilled air of reminiscence – within the pub itself, nothing, except the bartend, had surrendered to change. Phillip shook his head; it was as if he had stepped back in time - the same quaint wooden furniture, pewter flagons, and copper-bound casks populated the room as when he last passed through.
He ambled discretely towards the back and the handful of patrons in the pub never gave him a second glance. Extricating his barely-used wand from the inner pocket of his sports coat, he tapped on the bricks; the sequence dredged up from the depths of his memory and replicated without a moments hesitation.
As the bricks rolled back revealing Diagon Alley, Phillip's breath caught in the back of his throat. Unlike the Leaky Cauldron, this centre of Magical commerce was vastly different from when he last remembered it. Where Madam Malkin's used to preside, another bustling establishment had replaced it. An acid-etched grey metal sign proclaimed "Ivan's InnerWeb Teahouse", and Wizarding folk both young and old hunched over bizarre metal contraptions. Most of the patrons sipped tea from lurid egg-yolk yellow and cerulean blue porcelain teacups bearing the shop's logo.
Curious, Phillip edged towards the wide-paned windows to investigate. Mouth agape, he stared as he caught sight of what the metal devices were. Similar in size to the early Muggle computer monitors, the chunky metal box-like items were scattered throughout the room at regular intervals. As one wizard leaned back from the front of one, Phillip realised that these strange items were, in fact, the magical equivalent of Muggle computers.
He stumbled in shock, as he finally comprehended that this Magical advancement was largely due to his investigative work within the Muggle World. The door to the establishment opened, and he braced himself against it as two young witches exited. He was glad he did so when he overhead their conversation.
"…did you see that I-owl I got?" one said.
The other witch responded with tinkling laughter. "Who'd have thought a wizard could do that…"
Phillip could only imagine what they were referring to when they mentioned an 'I-owl'. With his interest further heightened, he entered the store, only to have his hearing assailed by further unfamiliar references. Through the chatter, he could discern such words and phrases as; 'QuillPerfect', 'Weasley's Theurgical Gadget's latest Port-A-Floo', 'third level runic programming', 'your system's being attacked by a Peeves', and 'Parchment3.0'. He nearly broke out into a gale of undignified laughter when he heard the 'Port-A-Floo' reference – evidently the Wizarding World were ignorant of a certain Muggle invention of a similar name, which had a rather different connotation.
To have said that the place was busy would have been a gross understatement. The interior teemed with Wizarding folk that conversed and hammered tablets with upraised letters. A young wizard approached Phillip as he lingered in the doorway – wearing tailored robes bearing the motif of the establishment.
"May I be of assistance?" he enquired. "We can book you in for the next session."
He peered at an apparatus not unlike Phillip's Muggle communication device, nodded to himself, before peering at Phillip through tinted lenses. "I can schedule you for fifteen minutes at terminal omega-three, and only for I-owl and InnerWeb."
As Phillip had remained speechless, the wizard continued, after tapping a short, wand-like stylus on the apparatus. "You have to book to use the parchment processing terminals – rather popular at the moment." He paused, and glanced at Phillip expectantly.
"Ahh…" Phillip stuttered.
The assistant frowned, then smiled as if he had just realised something. "Are you new at this?" he enquired.
Phillip nodded – purely for lack of any other appropriate response.
The assistant – a gaudy name badge pinned to his chest declared him to be 'Blair' – clapped his hands excitedly. "Excellent – first session is free for beginners," he emphasized before continuing. "And I'll give you a run-down on how they work – you'll need to know the basics before I let you loose on the Web," he smirked knowingly.
Phillip nodded his head more eagerly the second time – if these magical devices worked in similar fashion to the early Muggle ones, he would be adapt to these quickly. As Blair led him past the machines, Phillip noticed that, unlike the corresponding Muggle computers, these had no discernable power source. He halted and turned to Blair. "What powers these?"
Blair regarded him peculiarly. "Don't meet many people these days that are as… unenlightened…" he trailed off; slightly embarrassed that he had voiced his opinion.
Phillip smiled benevolently, and waved his hand to dismiss the assistant's discomfort. "I have been away for some time – in a remote location," he said neutrally.
Blair accepted the half-truth and smiled nervously. "Well…let's start from the beginning," he murmured, gesturing that Phillip should take his place in front of one of the terminals. He pointed to the 'monitor'. "This is a temporal imaging interface – it will display a graphical representation of the information generated by the computer."
Phillip smiled encouragingly. He was somewhat surprised that the Department of Mysteries had retained a Muggle terminology. Feigning ignorance, he queried. "Computer?"
Blair shrugged. "That's what they been called ever since they were introduced – I suppose because they compute or calculate things."
Phillip gave a look to convey contemplation, but internally he cheered.
Blair continued. "The computers and other similar devices are powered by thaumaturgical energy – or thaums – as we've been calling them for the last twenty years. Each computer is shielded against outside magical influence. Makers of the systems use both multilayered runic warding, and the metal, which contains the inner workings, is goblin-wrought titanium imbued with anti-transfiguration charms, as well as containment wards, and these form the physical representation of the these protections."
Phillip listened enthusiastically. After living in the Muggle World – with its constant discoveries and advancements - for so long, he cherished learning how the Wizarding World had applied this knowledge.
"The intelligent processor utilises the trinary system – as pioneered by Marcus Belby in 2026 – within the processor. Thaum ions exist as a positive charge, a negative charge, or a neutral charge, depending how they are arranged. Eighteen ions form an iona, nearly three-thousand and five hundred form a miliona, and the same number again of milionas form a teriona," Blair explained.
Phillip bobbed his head. Instead of utilising the binary system, that the Muggles had perfected, they used another system; obviously research had branched off. He wondered how Muggleborns coped with having to learn a dual system.
"Now, here at Ivan's, we offer the InnerWeb – a series of computers connected through the sub-dimensional theurgical network, I-owl – internal 'virtual' owls that utilise this network to send and deliver messages instantaneously , and parchment processing," Blair concluded.
Phillip considered the information. "What can you do with the InnerWeb?" he quizzed with phoney innocence.
Blair rubbed his hands together with glee. "Everything!" he exclaimed. "It is akin to a library, marketplace, a place to converse, and a million other things – all rolled into one. You want to find something – you just send a query through WTGExplore – and before you could wave your wand and summon a book…" he snapped his fingers, "…the answer is right there."
He reached over Phillip's shoulder and tapped something on the keyed tablet, and the temporal imaging interface flickered to multidimensional life. Hammering the keys, he entered a sequence of symbols, and the interface dissolved, then reformed into another configuration. "The Online Prophet," Blair lilted. "…Today's edition." He pointed to a section on the tablet. "Brush your finger down to scroll down, up, to the side etcetera – tap twice to select options." He demonstrated, and the focus of the paper slid to a new article. He leaned back. "I'll leave you to inspect the remainder of the paper – call me if you need further assistance."
As Blair retreated, Phillip leant forward to examine the particular article that the assistant had left glimmering on the interface. A familiar name caught his eye.
DRACO MALFOY LUCKY TO BE ALIVE!
Founder of L.A.M.P. found in Siberian Wilderness;
Near death and grievously injured.
Today, the European Magical Union released a statement from its Siberia Bureau of Magic - detailing how a massive search for the illustrious Founder was launched five days previously - after Draco Malfoy failed to return from a scheduled Hippogriff flight along the western edge of the Ural Mountains.
The alarm was raised by his wife, Astoria Malfoy, 71, from their estate in Wiltshire, England. Mrs. Malfoy was not available for comment, but her granddaughter, Seraphina, released the following statement:
"These are difficult times for our family, and even I though I thank everyone for their kind offers of support, I ask that the media respect our wishes regarding the dreadful accident which nearly claimed our patriarch's life."
When questioned further about the nature of this 'accident', the recently wed Seraphina Bletchley, refused to furnish us with anything more than sketchy details.
However, according to contacts maintained within the Siberia Bureau of Magic, reports indicate that Mr. Malfoy fell from his Hippogriff after experiencing severe turbulence. The offending beast has yet to return, though many believe it to have fled into the wilderness.
His traumatized form was discovered yesterday, and world famous Healer Persephone Johnston, who was first on the scene, made this statement:
"He survived by sheer magical will – it is surprising that he is alive at all. Mr. Malfoy is frail, and likely to be severely disabled for the remainder of his life. He fell over a mile, managed to cast sufficient levitation charms for some time, but plummeted the last eighty feet. Unfortunately, for Mr. Malfoy, he landed on rocks, shattering his spine, pelvis, and both his legs. With only enough energy to cast simple charms, he was only able to keep himself warm and minimally nourished until help came nearly a week later."
This publication offers the condolences, of both the owners and the readers, to the Malfoy family in their time of adversity.
Phillip blinked. Five days was a long time to remain untreated in harsh conditions, and, evidently, the L.A.M.P. Founder had sustained permanent injury. Thoughts of the Association brought to mind his real reason for being in London that day. He glanced at his watch and groaned – in his eagerness to rediscover the Wizarding World, he had near forgotten about his rendezvous with Sabina.
Leaving the computer without a backwards glance, Phillip hurried from the Teahouse, checking his watch again as he rushed down Diagon Alley. He cursed the brick wall when, in his haste, he tapped the wrong bricks, delaying his departure. When the passageway finally opened, he bustled through the Leaky Cauldron - this time raising a few eyebrows. Flustered, he exited the pub and hit the pavement running, his open coat flapping about him as he dashed down the street.
Rounding his second corner, his communication device chirped. Slowing only enough to wrestle the device from a pocket, he picked up pace again as he lifted the gadget to glance at the tiny screen. 'Where are u?' – A message from Sabina flashed across the screen. Without pausing, he keyed in a reply with the tip of his thumb; 'L8 – be there in 5' A confirmation bell tinkled to indicate a successful transfer of the communiqué.
Just under five minutes later, Phillip arrived at the location both out of breath and flustered. Sabina shook her head in astonishment, before laughing at his poor state.
"I see that, despite the anti-aging treatments you've been receiving to attain a younger appearance, you still have the stamina of an eighty-three year old," she muttered, to his dismay.
Phillip dropped to a chair opposite her. "I'm only as old as I feel, Sabina."
Sabina snorted. "Deluded – are you certain you aren't senile?" she teased. She pursed her lips in thought. "So, why are you late?"
He shuffled uncomfortably and refused to meet her gaze. "I was preoccupied and lost track of time," he stated simply.
Sabina narrowed her eyes. "Oh? The only thing that can distract you sufficiently is a significant scientific breakthrough – was it for an addendum on your report?" she queried.
"Nothing like that." Phillip tried to distract her by flipping open his leather portfolio, and rustling the paperwork.
Seeing through the transparency of this ruse, she leant forward and slapped her palm facedown on the report he had been in the process of lifting up.
Phillip jolted, startled. He stared down at her hand, contemplating its appearance. He exhaled slowly, before relinquishing the real reason for his tardy arrival. "I strolled by the Leaky Cauldron on the route here. I had some time…"
Sabina interrupted. "You deliberately compromised this mission, didn't you?" she grilled him, her voice raising at least an octave. "You bloody idiot!" she exclaimed brusquely. "I hope you savoured that drink," she spat, presuming that he'd stopped by merely to quench his thirst.
"Drink?" Phillip stuttered.
Sabina glared at him intensely. "Merlin – don't tell me you went further than the pub…" She paused as she saw his visage flush with guilt. She cradled her forehead between thumb and fingers as she cursed.
"You had better hope that no one recognized you, Phillip – or it will be more than our jobs on the line," she fumed.
Stricken, he muttered apologetically. "I only went into a place called 'Ivan's InnerWeb Teahouse'"
"Couldn't help yourself I bet," Sabina seethed - her words brittle. "Too inquisitive for your own good - you probably stuck out like a wart on a hag's face."
Phillip scowled. "Why did you never tell me that the Wizarding World had adopted these technologies?" he quizzed, dismayed.
"It is not your business to know," she snapped. "The only thing you need to concern yourself with is ensuring that the information on these Muggle technologies is accurate."
Their heated conversation fell into silence for several minutes as each contemplated everything discussed. Phillip interjected to offer his report as an olive branch. Sabina seized it from him with a hiss. "To remind you of the operational constraints, just in case you are senile…" She threw the barbed word at him, and unlike her jest previously, it stung. "Contact with the Wizarding World is strictly forbidden in any circumstances, Phillip. Breach this imperative again, and I will report you to the Section Chief." As she spoke the last, she turned on her heel and marched haughtily from his presence.
November 18th, 2054
Life Association of Magical Purity Headquarters
Londonderry, Ireland
Sabina breezed into the turreted building, nodding politely at the witch staffing the reception, a black dragon-hide satchel clasped discreetly against her side. Entering the elevator, she keyed her password into the security wards, and the cage rose silently to the administrative floor.
Stepping out of the elevator, she stopped at a mandatory checkpoint. It was standard procedure for all authorised personnel to have their identity verified before proceeding further, irrespective of who they were. Even the Founder, when he his delicate constitution allowed it, was required to pause at this location.
"Wand, any WTGs, or other magical objects in the tray provided," the wizard completing the day's checks, intoned.
Sabina surrendered her wand, followed by her Muggle communicator, a Weasley's Theurgical Gadgets(WTG) PAF32, and her personal secrecy sensor. The wizard logged the devices. "Name and L.A.M.P. member number?" he asked.
"Sabina Black, AD166589," she replied, as the wizard checked her wand against her records.
He indicated that she stand in an alcove; one she knew contained everything from Probity Probes to Muggle-adapted electronics detectors.
"Cleared," he stated, and ushered her out of the recess, and through the checkpoint. The tray of devices was also slid through to the other side, and he handed her wand back to her.
Sabina left the checkpoint and proceeded through a series of hallways and doors until she reached a similar checkpoint. Her face hard, she offered her arm through an opening in the front. No one knew exactly who were employed in this secretive
security centre, nonetheless, everyone complied with their direction. This was the very last point she had to pass before she reached the heart of L.A.M.P. –the enigmatic staff of Operations.
A sting to her wrist indicated that the test had commenced – blood from an artery would be used to verify that she had not consumed any potions, chemical substances, or other foreign bodies such as Muggle tracking nanobots. A positive reading would mean a lengthy veritaserum interview and quarantine. Finally, her arm was nudged from the opening, and a heavy warded door clicked open.
Rubbing her healed wrist absently, Sabina entered the domain of the Chief of Operations, Gerhart Dolohov-Avery. Several analysts glanced up at her as she strode purposely toward his office, though many remained occupied with their various assignments. The door swung open just before she arrived – it was not often that she had to knock or wait. She entered the plush office, murmuring a greeting to the wizard behind the desk, before sinking into her favourite wingback; the dragon-hide portfolio on her lap.
"How is the Muggle-loving blood traitor?" Dolohov-Avery snidely inquired.
Sabina smirked. "The old fool becomes more deluded as each month passes him by. I look forward to the day when I can finally wash my hands of this Muggle business – hearing Mr. Braithewaite harp on about how grand Muggles are really tests the limits of my patience."
Dolohov-Avery nodded sympathetically. "Anything of interest to us in the report?" he queried.
Sabina opened the portfolio gracefully. "Another Special Report, this time regarding the Intelligence Singularity that he has referenced in previous monthly reports over the last year. From what I have skimmed, it appears to be an in-depth analysis of their current capabilities."
Dolohov-Avery scowled with consternation. "Explain," he demanded.
"If you just read the report…" Sabina stated, but he cut her off abruptly.
"Your job is to read the report and give me a summary," he snapped. "I have no desire to fill my mind with that garbage. All I require from you are the specifics." He folded his arms and glared at her arrogantly. "A simple explanation would be best – I would prefer you leave out the onerous phrases and verbosity that wizard peppers his reports with."
Sabina flushed with indignation. "I will try my best, Sir."
Dolohov-Avery signalled that she should continue; raising an eyebrow delicately and gesturing by lifting one palm off his opposing forearm.
Sabina thumbed through the report. "Basically the Muggles have created self-improving artificial intelligence. They applied this in their computing environment, and now have what the fool terms as 'second-generation' intelligence. As a quotient of human intelligence and cognitive process, these 'second-generation' machines are superior in intelligence to humans by a ratio of two to one. As such, these machines are replacing humans in employment requiring high-level intelligence such as building intergalactic space shuttles, large engineering feats and control of the financial markets. He also notes that these 'second-generation' machines are self-aware, or conscious."
Dolohov-Avery narrowed his eyes as Sabina dictated the last sentence. "You mean to say they think like humans, and think they are humans?"
Sabina nodded. "Yes, though without the fallibility that Muggles are prone to – in a sense they are perfect. His report also mentions that in the AANZ Federation, these 'second-generation' machines were put charge of their legal systems – 'true impartial thinking' is quoted as the reason. The machines are not able to be bribed or swayed by other humans."
He grimaced. "This is a threat – not just to our own way of life, but to our very existence. The Muggles may just have created to tools they need to uncover the Magical World."
Sabina gasped. "The Department of Mysteries is only going to consider this as another wonderful Muggle technology they can adopt – and not see the true danger."
"My point exactly; it is time we take action ourselves, Sabina. We cannot allow the Ministry to have access to this information. If they were to develop a parallel technology, many of the positions in the Ministry would be re-assigned to these – unnatural – entities. Much of the Association's leverage would be lost if the Ministry were to go through such a massive overhaul of its staff."
"What shall you have me do?" Sabina asked.
"Alter the report – downgrade the threat. Make no mention of these 'second-generation' machines, but rather give the Report a pessimistic tone – that the Muggle's advancement has failed, and they have chosen to abandon any further research."
"As you wish," Sabina replied.
"I need you to be especially careful to ensure that any future reports contain no reference to this," he commanded.
For the next eight years, Sabina received the reports from Phillip – disseminated the information contained to L.A.M.P. – before altering them and lodging them with the Section Chief of K1 in the Department of Mysteries.
Ever since the Intelligence Singularity, second and third generation intelligence assisted Muggles in discovering more and more about the universe. Several physics laws were rewritten, and others uncovered. Muggles found a way to manipulate the sub-dimensional continuum, resulting in their first tentative experiments into instantaneous intergalactic travel.
Muggles had also uncovered a way to live almost indefinitely – just before death; a copy of their consciousness was uploaded to a server, and cells harvested from their body. Upon death, the cells formed the base to generate a clone, which once birthed, and cultivated to the age of five, their consciousness downloaded to it. Sabina found it to be unnatural.
Her altered reports were progressively disparate to the ones she received. In fact, she had fun writing the counterfeit reports and setting her face into the visage of disappointment every time she lodged the report with the Section Chief at the Department of Mysteries. The genuine reports were analysed and archived at Operations in a securely warded room, accessible only by herself and Dolohov-Avery.
Finally, on the 3rd April, 2062, she was summoned to the office of the Section Chief, and handed a missive.
"Operation Griffon is officially decommissioned. You are to notify Unspeakable Braithewaite that he is relieved of his duties – his pension starts today and will be transferred to him once a month through a nominated Gringott's account. You will be re-assigned to Section R1, where your unique knowledge can be best utilised."
Sabina glanced at the communiqué. "Why?"
Her Section Chief glanced at her superciliously. "Due to a marked decline in significant Muggle advancement, this Department no longer feels that it should waste tax-payer's funds investigating an area which has failed to yield a discovery of any importance for some time now."
Sabina trembled inwardly. It was of vital importance to L.A.M.P. that the reports continue. The Section Chief noticed her hesitance. "You are dismissed, Unspeakable Black," he said facetiously as he returned to his own work. "The Section Chief of R1, Walter Charlesworth, is eagerly awaiting your arrival. I would suggest not disappointing him with your tardiness. I would hate to mar your perfect service record with such a mark."
Sabina turned and bustled from his office huffily, her mind whirling from the implications of the announcement. She would carry on as if unaffected and report to her new assignment, but it was imperative that she speak with Gerhart Dolohov-Avery as soon as she left the Ministry later in the day.
Evening of April 4th, 2062
Residence of Delphinus and Sabina Black
After Sabina's notification the day before, Gerhart Dolohov-Avery had reassured her that they could continue, and he was to come to her and her husband's estate in Lancashire to discuss their options. Just after nine that evening, one of the house-elves ushered Dolohov-Avery into the study where she and her husband waited.
Sabina rose. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice."
Dolohov-Avery inclined his head in acceptance. "That is quite alright – I have a vested interest in having your work continue, Sabina. To have you cease purely on the Ministry's instructions would jeopardise many things we have worked towards."
Delphinus indicated that the other wizard should take a seat. As he sat, so did Sabina. "If my wife is discovered in this unauthorized venture, the Ministry may treat her harshly," Delphinus noted.
"For the last eight years your wife has been falsifying the reports, this is little different. In fact, I believe this presents a lesser risk of discovery," Dolohov-Avery responded unflinchingly. "As for her contact, she has been requested to arrange his
pension payments. To ensure that he does not become suspicious, Sabina should inform him that the Ministry will now pay him by the month."
"How long can we sustain this, Sir?" Sabina asked. "He is now in his nineties, and will become suspicious that the Ministry has either forgotten about him or intends for him to remain in the Muggle World for the rest of his life."
"You are to notify him later in the year that the Ministry means for you to replace him within…say…five years. I am of the understanding that due to Muggle security measures he would need some time to establish your identity. That alone would buy us at least a few more years of reports," he responded.
"Now that the Ministry has no input into what her contact should focus on, can we use this to our advantage?" Delphinus interjected.
"Of course," Dolohov-Avery replied, the words rolling slickly from his tongue. "Muggle offensive and defensive technologies are what I am most concerned about, especially any capabilities that may give them superior advantage over us."
"Mr. Braithewaite can be easily convinced. An appropriately falsified document from the Ministry is all will be needed for him to accept this new tangent," Sabina added. "He has wanted to investigate 'military' technologies for some time, and has felt that the Ministry has previously restricted his own research."
"Excellent," he murmured, pleased with her constructive contribution. "You should maintain the same schedule to retrieve the reports, it would be best to preserve at least some normality, to allay any suspicions he may have."
Sabina concurred. "As long as he suspects nothing, he will be easy to handle."
Delphinus frowned. "What happens if he does become apprehensive?"
Dolohov-Avery considered the question briefly. "He can be disposed of, I'm sure no one within our world would miss him," he replied icily.
Delphinus scowl deepened. "You talk as if life means nothing, Gerhart."
"He is merely a tool, with which we can accomplish what we desire; his life does mean nothing." This time coldness radiated from his glare to match his tone.
October 29th, 2062
Residence of Phillip Braithewaite.
Phillip stirred the milk into Sabina's tea with five precise clockwise movements. He had a Domestic Robot, but some things tasted better when he made them himself. He set the teaspoon down on the countertop, before picking up both beverages and transferring them to a century-old tea service with a small plate of biscuits. He shuffled into the sitting room; the tray balanced perfectly, and lowered it to a small side table.
At nearly forty, in his opinion, Sabina had grown into an impressive witch. Only his understanding surpassed her grasp of the varying concepts presented throughout the years. For the last six months, what had begun as a one-off, had become a firm tradition. Instead of meeting in parks, Phillip had suggested that he teach her the subdued elegance of high tea.
He had been pleased when, earlier in the year, she had handed him another directive from the Ministry detailing a specialist focus for his research. For years, he had argued that the Department of Mysteries should examine Muggle military technologies closely, and it would appear that someone had taken note of his recommendations.
Today, Sabina had greeted him with a wry grin and a whisper that she had exciting news. Eager to learn what this was, Phillip had peppered her with questions until she had refused to answer them until she had her 'tea'. Phillip watched as she raised her cup to her lips and sipped daintily.
"Perfect." She smiled after lowering the cup and returning it to its place on the modest side table.
Phillip grinned. "What is this wonderful news you have for me?"
"You won't leave me be until I tell you, will you?" She reached for a biscuit. "The Ministry has decided that I shall replace you by 2070 at the latest." She delivered the fallacy with all the emotion of the truth.
Phillip heart leaped – he would finally go home. He jumped up and kissed her on the cheek, surprising her. "Fabulous," he whispered enthusiastically. "Bloody brilliant!"
"Don't thank me yet. It could take a while – and I'll need you to assist me with setting everything up."
It sunk in to Phillip what she was trying to say. "I see. You will also need the appropriate identification and documentation to live in this world, which will take time to organise – it will not be as easy for you as it was for me, especially not with the changes the Government has made to the EU Citizen Card. You'll also need a place of residence and finances."
Sabina nodded. "How long do you think it will take?"
"At least a couple of years – I have to track down the exact batch of biometric nanobots to match your age group. Additionally, I will need time to get around the security algorithms used on the card itself…" He trailed off as he realised the sheer complexity of what he needed to accomplish.
"Long-term project?" Sabina queried.
Phillip grunted. "I get to go home, but I have to wait until I can get you prepared. I am beginning to think this is some colossal joke."
A/N:Thanks again to my beta. Many thanks to any readers who did review for the previous chapters.
If you haven't reviewed yet, now is a good time to start…