2
18th January, 2015. Somewhere in Northern Scotland.
"Nervous some?" Harry asked, glancing at the boy on his knees next to him, while he rummaged through the mokeskin pouch that Hagrid had given him all those years ago. Harry finally found what he was looking for and pulled out a Walther WA-2000 sniper rifle. He loaded it with a single bullet, cocked the gun, and looked through the scope.
Perfect.
"Slightly," replied the boy. "I'm not much of an 'action-man'."
"That's what your father thought, but he's one of the bravest people I know," Harry said, while carrying out final checks on the rifle. He stood up and breathed in the fresh, Scottish air. There was a light easterly wind cold enough to redden Harry's cheeks and he shivered involuntary. From his vantage point on top of a snow covered hill, Harry could see white fields stretching on all sides. All the way over on the horizon, Harry could make out a thick forest stretching for at least a mile. Although he couldn't see it, Harry knew his target's house was approximately one hundred meters from the fringe of the forest. He casually tossed the gun at the boy, who scrambled to his feet only just managing to catch the gun.
"I- I'm not doing it, am I?" asked the boy uncertainly. He looked frightened.
"No, no. I don't expect you to be killing on your internship," replied Harry while he raised his wand and pointed it towards where he believed the house to be. He began a series of complex wand movements, slashing and jabbing the air while muttering inaudible spells under his breath.
"Lestrange has some seriously good protection," Harry commented as he paused to shake his numb wand arm. When the feeling was back in his hand, Harry continued his spell casting while the boy watched with great interest. Five minutes later, there was a shimmer near the forest edge and a neat looking farmhouse materialised apparently out of thin air.
"Won't he know his protective enchantments have been removed?" asked the boy.
"Nope. I haven't removed any protective enchantments… I've just removed the invisibility charm he placed on the house. Removing that doesn't ring any alarms," Harry said with a smile. "You see, wizards are more concerned about actual attack, so if those protective spells go, then they'll know."
"Which is why you're using a muggle weapon...a wizard wouldn't think to put up defensive wards against a muggle weapon, right?"
"Exactly." Harry got back down on the snow covered ground and laid down on his front, training the rifle towards the now visible house. Since he'd killed Voldemort (or rather, since Voldemort's spell backfired and killed himself), Harry had qualified as an Auror and quickly rose through the ranks. Now, however, he was working with the Department of Mysteries' espionage unit, and had been for last five years. In that time, he'd been assigned to track down any remaining active Death Eaters around the world and terminate them. The new Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was working on a 'no-bullshit' policy. Kill the roots and the plant doesn't grow, he'd say to Harry. To date, Harry had tracked down thirteen Death Eaters (or Ditts, to the Aurors) in eight different countries, of which he killed nine. They were the roots of the plant and had to go, but the other four were pathetic and stupid Ditts who posed no serious threat. They were sent to Azkaban. Rodolphous Lestrange had been proving elusive, much to Harry's chagrin. He was responsible for coordinated, well planned attacks on muggles, and his speciality was managing to pass them off as the work of radical Islamists. The attacks on the World Trade Centre in 2001 and the London bombings in 2005 were just two of his many achievements. He definitely had to go.
The front door of the house opened and Rodolphous Lestrange walked out. He was dressed in a smart suit under dark blue wizard robes and had his wand in his left hand. nine hundred meters away on the hill, Harry followed Lestrange through the rifle's scope, keeping the Ditt's head exactly between the crosshairs.
Where do you think you're going, Lestrange.
Lestrange looked left then right, and, determining nobody was there, made to apparate.
The boy saw Lestrange drop to the ground before he heard the bang of the rifle. Even this far away, he could see the dark red blood being swallowed greedily by the white snow. The bullet had hit Lestrange in his left temple with such force, it was a surprise he still had his head on his shoulders. This was too much for the intern and he couldn't suppress the urge to throw up. Harry looked at the boy sympathetically and patted him on the back.
"There, there," he said comfortingly. "Just remember, he deserved it." Five minutes later, Harry had transfigured Lestrange's body to a bone and put it in his moleskin pouch. The sniper rifle followed and Harry stood, gesturing for the boy to do the same.
"Alright, Longbottom, let's go."
1st May, 2010. Boardroom, Department of Mysteries.
The room Harry was falling half asleep in was not unlike a metal box. Two long tubes of fluorescent light bulbs ran the length of the ceiling, emitting a blinding white light, and apart from the smoked glass table in the centre of the room and half a dozen chairs, the room was bare.
It's like a boardroom-cum-nuclear shelter.
Harry had been waiting in this underground box for almost an hour and his only companion was an unnamed Unspeakable, who, unsurprisingly, sat there unspeaking. The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was to meet Harry, along with the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones and the head of Department of Mysteries, Cadim Lore. The only logical assumption Harry could make of the imminent meeting was that he was being assigned another mission. But what that had to do with Lore, whom Harry had never heard of, the Boy Who Lived did not know. The opening of the metal door behind him caused Harry to stop his sleepy musings.
"Sorry to keep you waiting so long, Harry," came Kingsley's deep, rich voice. "You know how goblins can be in meetings."
"Not to worry, Kingsley," replied Harry. As the Minister took his place at the head of the table, Harry nodded slightly to Amelia Bones as she took a seat, but fixed his attention on the man who followed suit. Cadim Lore was unremarkable. He had a face that, when glanced at, was quickly forgotten and a stature that would avert attention from him. In short, he was the quintessential Department of Mysteries employee.
"Harry, this is Cadim Lore, head of the Department of Mysteries," began Kingsley. "Cadim, Harry Potter, Auror Captain." Both Harry and Cadim exchanged curt nods and turned to face Kingsley, clearly indicating they were ready to start the meeting.
"Right," said Kingsley. "Harry, we have a mission for you, but it is unlike any of the others you have undertaken." Kingsley paused to look at Harry before carrying on. "You will be given a team of two Aurors and two Department of Mysteries agents-"
"Wait, what?" interjected Harry, slightly sitting up in his chair and leaning forwards. "Agents? You mean like, agents?"
"Yes, agents, Mr. Potter," came Lore's unremarkable voice. "The Department of Mysteries deals with many things, two of which are home security and foreign intelligence. A bit like the muggles and their Military Intelligence organisation," continued Lore. Harry looked across at the DOM head, his expression unreadable, before turning back to Kingsley.
"Okay, so what do you want me to do?"
"Right, well, I think Amelia should take over," said Kingsley, indicating to Amelia who was silent up until now.
"Thank you Minister," answered Amelia's cool, assured voice. She turned slightly in her seat to face Harry and began.
"Harry, first of all, we need to fire you...wait, let me finish." Harry had shot to his feet in shock, and his face screamed of protest.
Fire me?! What the fu-
"We need to fire you so that, officially, you're not affiliated with us in anyway whatsoever. The same applies to the rest of your team. You will, however, receive help from us: more resources, intelligence, you name it. We've also set up a muggle bank account in Zurich, with exactly five hundred thousand dollars," Amelia said coolly. "If you need more, just let us know."
"Right. And what exactly do you want me to do?" asked Harry, although he thought he had a good idea of what his mission was.
"You're to go undercover as muggles, find the Death Eaters on this list," she said, producing a sheet of paper with a flick of her wand and giving it to Harry before continuing, "and terminate them." Harry looked at the names on the paper. There were fifteen Death Eater, most of whom Harry knew. It wasn't to say that since Voldemort's death only fifteen Death Eaters remained. No, these specific Death Eaters were the most active, causing mayhem in both the muggle and magic world. The need for their termination was obvious, especially if the world didn't want another Dark Lord roaming around.
"And you know where each of them are?"
"No. Apart from Julius Parkinson. We believe he's somewhere in Germany. You can start from there," replied Amelia.
"Which is why I'm to have two DOM agents…but why fire us first?" Harry asked interestedly.
"You'll be killing quite a few Ditts, around the world, and if you're comprised, we can't have you being traced back to us, especially when Veritaserum is used. It'll cause another uprising, and Kingsley would probably be sacked before he's assassinated," replied Amelia coolly. "The bank in Zurich is registered under a Sergey Ziplayov, a Russian oil magnate. Obviously, we invented him. You'll have a large supply of polyjuice potion, but other than that, you're to carry out your assignment with no magic, apart from the authorised portkeys we'll be giving you. If you must use magic, be careful." Amelia gestured to Kingsley who murmured his thanks, and the floor was given to Cadim.
"Mr. Potter, you'll be working with two of my agents, one of whom is an expert in muggle electronics and computing, and the other a muggle weapon's expert. They have considerable field experience, and I assure you, they are highly professional," said Cadim, in a bland voice which suited the boardroom perfectly.
"Right," said Harry. "So basically, the Ministry is now the CIA, and I'm off around the world tracking bad guys and assassinating them."
"Mr. Potter, you must understand that if we do not want a repeat of Voldemort, or indeed Grindelwald, these people must go. You of all people should know the pain that another uprising can cause." Harry glanced at Cadim before directing his gaze at Kingsley.
"Who am I getting?"
"Tonks and Higgins from the Aurors and Thomas and Gerard from the DOM. I believe you know Thomas. Dean Thomas, that is," said Kingsley.
"What?! Dean Thomas? You're kidding right?" Apart from Ron and Hermione, Harry had not kept in touch per se with his Hogwarts peers. He occasionally visited Neville and Luna, who were now married with a twelve year old son, Frank, and occasionally, Harry would bump into some of his former classmates in the Ministry. It came as a surprise, however, that Dean was working in the Department of Mysteries. The muggle born wizard had always showed an interested in art and had even thought of pursuing a career as a caricaturist for the Daily Prophet. This was a long cry from drawing embarrassing cartoons of politicians.
"Mr. Thomas is one of our best agents. And being muggle born, computers and electronics were second nature to him," said Cadim tonelessly.
"Yeah, alright. When do we start?" Harry asked Kingsley.
"As soon as you've met your team," replied the Minister for Magic before standing up and indicating the end of the meeting.
18th January, 2015. A safe house, somewhere in Wales.
The sun had been swallowed by the mass of grey clouds and at four o'clock in the afternoon, visibility was difficult, especially with the snow blanketed landscape. With a faint pop, Harry Potter and Frank Longbottom appeared at the foot of a small hill, and began to walk north at a steady pace. Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Frank walked through the protective enchantments of their Ministry provided safe house and made for the door. Both Harry and Frank were slightly numb from the cold and in need of a firewhiskey. Although today had been a success, Harry had that annoying feeling that success came with suspicious ease. Surely Lestrange should have apparated from the security of his home, rather than outside, thought Harry. He sighed, and decided not to think too much about it. Turning to Frank, Harry said, "You're going to have to go back today. I only let you come because this mission was at home."
"Yeah, sure," replied Frank absently. The young Longbottom was still shocked by his first experience of death. It had been quick, very quick, and that scared the teenager. "Just like that," he thought to himself, "your life can end." He knew his father had fought in the Second War and that he had personally inflicted a mortal wound to Voldemort by slaying Nagini, the Dark Lord's faithful serpent companion and sixth horcrux. He knew that his father was there in that legendary Department of Mysteries battle and of the bravery he displayed throughout the Carrow's reign at Hogwarts. But Frank didn't believe he could live up to his father. He was more of the bookish sort of boy, with the reputation as the smartest student at Hogwarts after the famed Hermione Granger. His mother and father were supportive of him, but his great-grandmother wanted Frank to be more like his father and grandfather. Apparently, she was the same towards his father when he was Frank's age.
At the door, Harry knocked twice, two short raps, followed by one after a pause. The door was opened by an attractive witch with a heart-shaped face and shocking pink hair just long enough to cover her curious looking earrings.
"What alerted you to my presence when we came to pick you up from the muggles in the summer after the Triwizard Tournament?"
"You broke a plate," replied Harry.
"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks with a smile. "That was quick."
"Yep. We didn't run into any trouble and Lestrange stuck to his usual routine," replied Harry as he dropped himself onto the sofa in the middle of the room.
"Good, good," acknowledged Tonks, as she sat down next to Harry. "Dean's got a lead on Crabbe. If he's right, we're headed for Barcelona tomorrow."
"Great, it's not like we need a rest," said Harry, stifling a yawn. "At least they're paying us well."
"Hm. You look like you could use a massage," said Tonks, as she wriggled herself behind Harry and began working on his tense shoulders. Harry relaxed and allowed Tonks to massage him into a half-sleep.
"Your hands are amazing," murmured Harry dreamily.
"They could be even more so. Somewhere...more south," whispered Tonks playfully. Although she was four years older than him, the chemistry between Nymphadora Tonks and Harry Potter was unusual. They would frequently flirt with each other to the point that one would believe the pair were more than friends, but the respect that Harry had for Tonks, and that of Tonks for Harry clearly said that the flirtations were merely harmless fun.
"Tonks!" came a shout from the back room. "Tonks! Is Harry back?"
"Yes Luis, I'm back. Where's my goddamn firewhiskey?!" Harry shouted back in mock anger.
"Coming, coming," said Luis, his voice sounding much nearer. Harry turned in his seat and saw Luis Higgins, coming towards them with a bottle of firewhiskey under his arm. Luis was a recent recruit to the Auror Corps, and after only a year and a half, the American wizard had proven himself a highly skilled Auror. He was a body of precocious talent, having graduated from the American Academy of Magic in Alaska at the age of fifteen and receiving his undergraduate and masters degrees in forensic sciences four years later from Harvard. Luis was described by many as traditionally handsome: he had deep set, piercing blue eyes, an aristocratic nose, and well-defined cheek bones. However, it was his thick, blond wavy hair that most girls found attractive and it was this said hair that was responsible for his bedding of innumerable women.
"Here we are, firewhiskey for our resident assassin," said Luis in his very faint New York accent as he set down the bottle on the wooden coffee table.
"Ah, cheers mate," said Harry as he began pouring a generous amount of the whiskey into a small tumbler conjured by Tonks. The firewhiskey burned its way through Harry's veins, instantly warming him. "Here, Frank, have some whiskey," Harry called over to Frank who was hugging himself next to a very small fire.
"Thanks, Harry," he murmured as he came to take the proffered tumbler.
"So, Lou, what d'you have for me?" Harry asked after he had been regenerated by the alcohol.
"Well, apparently, the Crabbe's are in Barcelona," said Luis, leaning back in his seat. "The Ministry thinks that they're behind the ETA attacks."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah, our French contact wants to meet you...alone," was the cautious reply from Luis.
"Alone? When did he say?"
"Tomorrow, eight thirty in the evening. Paris, Hotel Thierry du Vagne, room 101."
"Room 101? Is he serious?" asked Harry, laughing.
"Well, the Patronus he sent sounded serious," said Luis, sounding more cautious.
"The Patronus?! I thou- what the fu- he's a wizard?" Harry exclaimed incredulously. "How did he know we're wizards too?"
"I don't know," said Luis.
"But he did say something about meeting a Jacques Delacour," said Tonks.
"Delacour? As in Head of the French Magical Police Force?" Harry asked, his interest clearly showing on his face.
"The very same," came a new voice from the doorway. "Dean says to keep it down, he's trying to catch up on some sleep." Martin Gerard joined the others on the sofa. He was a pale faced wizard with slick, black hair. Like every other Department of Mysteries employee, there was nothing remarkable about Martin's appearance, save for his dark purple eyes. Martin was half-vampire as well as half-French, and the way he had introduced himself to the team for the first time, it was as if the unusual combination were part and parcel.
"How'd Delacour find out?" Harry asked Martin.
"No idea. But you can find out when you go and see him," replied Martin in his slightly throaty voice.
"Right. We need to let the Ministry know first. We'll give Frank the message for when he goes back tonight," said Harry.
"Yeah, and we also need more bribe money," Tonks reminded Harry.
"Yeah, and I also need to call Sirius," said Harry, standing up and pulling out his iPhone. Since the war with Voldemort had ended, the wizarding world in Britain had experienced a small revolution. Without the threat of death looming over people, travelling proliferated, especially travelling into the muggle world. The wizarding world soon acknowledged the benefits of incorporating some aspects of the muggle world into their own, and thus the use of computers, telephones and the internet became common. Now, it wasn't unusual to walk into a wizarding household and find children playing on iPods and watching television. In fact, this change had been championed by Harry's best friend, Hermione Granger who couldn't understand why wizards were determined to remain in the Middle Ages. Hermione was now the Ambassador to the Muggle World and head of the newly founded Department of International Relations and International Magical Law.
Harry walked out of the small room and up the small flight of stairs to his bedroom. He was surprised that he had signal in the remote area they were in. He dialled Sirius's number, and after two rings, the old Marauder picked up.
"This is Sirius Black speaking, how may I be of assistance today, oh Ye Who Lived."
"Yeah, hi, I'm looking for a fifty-five year old idiot- no wait, I think I'm speaking with him," laughed Harry.
"Watch it, mate," replied Sirius, the smile evident in his voice. "How're things?"
"All good, dear Padfoot. Lestrange has now been bye-byed and I'm off to Paris tomorrow."
"Paris? I didn't know there were Ditts there. The FMPF are very thorough," said Sirius.
"Well, I'm going to meet Monsieur Delacour," answered Harry, dropping himself on his bed.
"What in Merlin's name are you meeting him for?" asked Sirius, his voice slightly rising.
"Turns out our French contact is also a wizard and Delacour seems to know who we actually are," replied Harry.
"Hmm, well maybe you lot need to be a little bit more careful."
"Pads, if we're a little bit more careful than we are already, we'll be coming back home in another thirty years."
"Fair enough. Anyway, how's young Frank holding up?" Harry paused to yawn before answering.
"As expected. He'll learn to cope," said Harry, his voice thick with tiredness.
"Sure. By the way, Ron told me to remind you not to forget his game against Puddlemore United."
"Yeah, yeah, real funny."
"Sorry, sorry, I forgot you're not allowed to come back home," said Sirius sounding more than slightly amused. "Anyway, I gotta go, Buckbeak's making a racket outside. Thanks for the update."
"Alright, I'll call you after Paris," said Harry.
"You do that. Stay safe," replied Sirius, and he hung up, leaving Harry free to fall into a deep sleep.