Chapter 8 : The Department (Part Two)
Specialized Occupations
Due to past international dealings, many nations historically specialized in specific magical fields in favor of others, especially in their respective Departments of Mysteries or equivalent. Although European Ministries took a balanced approach, much of the disparity remains in other parts of the globe, particularly in Asia. Specialists are often requested to join missions where their particular skills will be of use, though they tend to be excluded from more general missions due to their narrow focus.
[…]
Wand-magic, the most common form of magic globally, remains the most significant overlap between all nations with organized magical governments, in part due to it being one of only a few forms of magic that is easily taught in a public school setting. Since schooling began to replace apprenticeships around 500 BCE, wandless forms of magic have lost in popularity and use due to their relatively high requirements on an individual's magical capability and time. Wanded forms of magic that are non-traditional also became less relevant to many users given that better alternatives for achieving their effects were found by more commonly usable means, such as enchanted artifacts. (Read about the Artifact Crisis for more information on why this particular field of magic also came into disuse in subsequent centuries.)
[…]
The most famous specialized occupations currently practiced in the British Isles include specific forms of Healing, several forms of Seeing and Scrying. There also remains a small subpopulation in the wizarding community of self-described 'Mancers' who specialize in the manipulation of the primal elements. All alternative forms of magic are registered at the Ministry of Magic.
[…]
Outside the British Isles, many alternative forms of magic are practiced and are generally culturally bound – for example, Japan is known to have several forms of alternative magic that have become partially known to local muggles due to weaker segregation of the wizarding population. These include several Healing practices, traditional alternatives to the Animagus transformation and magic focused on stealth and assassination, known as 'Ninjutsu'.
From 'Unspeakable Primer' Selected Passages, P. 213, 215, 217, 218.
"HARRY POTTER EMPLOYED AT MINISTRY!"
It was splayed across the page in garishly large letters – the letters were actually wiggling, as if they were trying to jump off the page entirely. At least that wasn't too surprising, Harry thoughts dryly.
He'd read the article right away, just to see the damage – it was relatively benign compared to what it usually said, at least. The article itself was terribly uninformative – it contained one or two references to the fact that the Department of Mysteries was involved. Harry was sort of surprised at that – it was a notorious part of the Ministry judging by past publications in the Prophet. Possibly the paper was simply hesitant to print too much information on it before they were absolutely certain, given the reaction they could expect from the Unspeakables if they were caught lying. (Harry was certain it would involve removing memories and the spontaneous disappearance of all records of the paper having ever been written.)
Strangely enough, it seemed that someone had been paying particular attention to the fake conversation he'd had with the Minister. He hadn't meant to sound profound, but apparently that's what he'd managed to do. Indeed, his impromptu Latin had apparently managed to make him sound ´cultured, educated, and intelligent.´ Harry smirked – he should remember that one the next time he had an interview. Evidently the media were quite enamored with a bit of showmanship.
With that in mind, Harry picked up his collection of writings by Virgil – one of his mother's books, of course, lavishly illustrated and signed. There were probably a few other tidbits in here he could use when he was inevitably cornered by Rita Skeeter.
"Mister Potter?" A voice said at the door, and Harry's head snapped up.
"Mister Lassell?" Harry wondered, waving his hand at the door to open it. "It's not time yet, is it? I could've sworn…"
"Oh, you're not too late at all," Lassell said with a small smile as he quickly closed the door behind him. "There are quite a few people out there to see you, so I thought I'd come warn you."
"Already?" Harry groaned, "I'd hoped I could get to the Department without being harassed, at least."
"They've been there since before the Prophet came," Lassell answered nervously. "They're the press, they probably already heard all about your employment from colleagues yesterday, and they've barricaded most of the way down by now. Don't think you can avoid them, either."
"Great, now what do I do? It's at least good they don't know where my bedroom is," Harry said, scoffing as he walked over to the window. It wasn't really a window, of course, but at least it gave him a nice view. "Not really the best way to begin a day, I think."
"I would suggest putting your robe on first," Lassell said, gesturing towards the chair on which the brand new Unspeakable robe hung in a haphazard fashion. "Might've been okay for you to traipse around in your school wear yesterday, but you're expected to wear the uniform when on duty. You can use it to obscure your identity, at least for a while."
"Hadn't really thought of wearing it yet, had other things on my mind," Harry admitted, walking over. "It's enchanted, right?"
"Mostly defensive charms and a few obscuring ones," the brown-haired man noted with a smirk. "There are a few other ones that aren't really relevant right now. You don't really have the clearance."
Harry sighed as he pulled the robe over his normal clothes, thankful that he'd just pulled on his muggle wear instead of his full Hogwarts uniform. The robe fit perfectly and Harry barely even noticed it was there. "Comfy."
"Well, it was designed as a uniform, you know." Lassell replied. "It's got big pockets and summoning things from it is pretty darn impossible. Well, unless you're Albus Dumbledore, I suppose. Oh, the hood there? If you put it up it should turn transparent for you – everyone else won't be able to see your face anymore. The only ones exempted are those also wearing Unspeakable robes."
"Makes sense. Can't imagine what kind of enchanting went into making these."
"Enough," Lassell answered. "They're worth a fortune but thankfully they are pretty safe. Be sure not to have anyone wear it unless they're an Unspeakable – there's security spells in there that are fitted to you now. They'd probably die."
"Time to face the music, I suppose?" Harry asked with a grimace.
Lassell smiled broadly. "Oh, I'll leave you to that on your own. Just a hint: you're in the Department now, so you'd better make a good impression. You know what kind of reputation we have and the kinds of people that work down there – act it up a little. The media will gobble up obscurantism when we're involved, and they've no idea what kind of introduction rituals we use. It's popularly believed that we sacrifice goats."
"You want me to make up fancy-sounding things so they'll leave me alone?"
"I'll see you in the Department in half an hour." Lassell said as he vanished. For a moment Harry thought he'd apparated but suddenly the door opened a crack and closed again. Invisibility Cloak, huh? Harry thought about using his own for a moment, but decided against it. He was nowhere near stealthy enough to pull off a trek all the way down to the lower floors and considering the people waiting for him down there somewhere he'd probably end up getting it damaged.
"Here goes nothing," Harry said with a shrug, and he stepped into the hallway.
To say that things were hectic would be an understatement. Harry had barely made it to the central staircases before someone - Harry had no idea how - recognized him and ran up with a parchment and furiously writing automatic quill – doubtlessly the type that Rita Skeeter used. Harry cursed that he couldn't use the elevator yet to skip the floors and quickly marched downstairs ignoring all people who tried to approach. The Unspeakable robes did their job to keep most of the Ministry personnel away – they knew better than to mess with the Department of Mysteries, probably – but the press was far more insistent.
Nearing the final corridor to the Department - with a shudder Harry remembered dreaming of this place many times as Voldemort finally succeeded to lure him to the Ministry to retrieve the prophecy. Now, unlike then, it was completely packed with rows upon rows of people.
Rita Skeeter was there, of course. As always, her blonde hair was styled in elaborate curls, and she was wearing those awful gaudy rhinestone-studded spectacles. Clutched in her hands were a crocodile-leather handbag and a long green feather that was all too familiar. She was flanked on both sides by wizards and witches carrying all manners of photographic equipment – though all of it rather lumpy. Several of the wizards had strange devices filled with powder which were apparently meant to ignite at random, if their spontaneous flashes were anything to go by. An eccentric-looking wizard flanked Rita, his hair the texture of candy floss, and his clothes a gaudy yellow that hurt the eyes. Golden jewelry blinked from behind his jacket.
"Mister Potter!" the strange wizard yelled, attracting the attention of that mass all at once. Harry stepped back with a gulp, his robe evidently quite incapable of hiding his identity. "Xenophilius Lovegood, the Quibbler. You know my daughter, yes?"
Harry nodded quickly, as Luna's father was almost immediately drowned out by at least a dozen different journalists yelling their own publications, while Rita Skeeter stalked up with a nasty smile. Someone grabbed at his robe; another took hold of a sleeve. "STOP!" he yelled in a sudden burst of anger.
'Concentrate, don't let them get to you,' Harry thought, trying to focus. These very people had been all too willing to slander him just last year, decrying that Lord Voldemort wasn't back. Now here they were, suddenly in favor of him again. They weren't really interest in him – they were interested in a news story that would sell. 'Well then, let's give them something to write about,' he thought with a smirk.
The throng of journalists had backed away somewhat at his outburst, except for Rita, of course. Several kept making pictures, though there was little to be seen on them now.
With a flourish, Harry threw his hood backwards – it was too late to claim anonymity now. Harry gave them his best glare. "If you wish to speak to me in the future, you will make contact with the Minister for Magic or the head of the Department of Mysteries," he said after a lengthy pause. "I prefer to go to work in peace."
Rita gulped at the cold stare she received. "Mister Potter, you have only joined the Ministry yesterday, surely-"
"You will make an appointment or I will have you arrested for harassment." Harry stated harshly, internally wincing. This was harder than it had seemed, though Rita seemed sufficiently cowed.
"Mister Potter, are you indeed confirming that you are working at the Department of Mysteries?" a tall wizard asked. Harry rolled his eyes.
"The Ministry will certainly make an announcement soon, if they have not done so already. The Department of Mysteries was most gracious to offer me a position, and I accepted. A position that I shall soon have to fill, lest I arrive late on my second day." Harry said, looking the man in the eye.
"Is there a reason you were recruited at such a young age?" Mister Lovegood asked with a peculiarly sharp look in his eyes. "It is very unusual."
"There are several other young people in service at the Department, including several prodigies in their field. I don't wish to talk about the reasons behind the Ministry's interest in my presence."
"Are there rumors true that you were in league with Albus Dumbledore and spent the last year involved in efforts to combat his threat?" A witch asked from the right, drowning out several other questions. Harry didn't quite know how to answer that one – the answer was sort of yes, but he couldn't very well say that – but it seemed his hesitation was taken as an answer.
"Is the presence of noted Pyrokinetic Mustang related to your recruitment at the Ministry?", "Are you involved in an effort to overthrow the Minister?", "Do you remain insane like least year?" The questions were quick and progressively more addle-brained, and Harry finally decided it was enough.
"SILENCE!" he yelled, and the mass of journalists suddenly followed his command – even the cameras stopped flashing. "I will arrange for an interview sometime in the next few weeks, when I find the time. I have an appointment in a little less than ten minutes and it is of vital importance."
"You're involved in something important, then? What does go on in the Department of Mysteries, Mister Potter?" Rita asked sweetly, her eyes twinkling almost like Dumbledore's would.
"I am afraid that I cannot give you such information – if I did, I'd have to kill you." He said it as a joke, but it was quite obvious from the many wide-eyed stares that there were not very many muggle-borns here – and fewer still that would watch television.
"Very well, mister Potter." Said one nervously. "You can expect a letter. Quite a few, I'm sure."
"Step aside." Harry said curtly, marveling at his own performance – he'd managed to intimidate a whole bunch of media people with a showy cloak and a harsh look!
Rita Skeeter was the last to tail along as Harry reached the entrance to the Department itself – several angry-looking Aurors flanked the door and were looking at Harry impatiently.
"Harry, Harry…" She began with a sweet smile. "Quite a show, that was. You're not the only one to read the classics, you know. Audacibus annue coeptis, I would say? You'll hear from me."
Harry blinked as Rita moved off, not even arranging an interview. That Latin sentence – it was from his book on Virgil, he was certain. Look with favor upon a bold beginning.
"Very nicely done," said a voice as Harry finally walked into the central entrance hall of the Department. It was Lassell, of course. He slipped off his invisibility cloak and quickly put it into a duffle bag he slung over his shoulder. "I was ready with my flimsy memory modification spells in case it was necessary, but that was quite unnecessary. I particularly liked that bit about having to kill them! That'll make them think twice!"
"Wizards can't take a joke." Harry said with a shrug. "Right then, I'm here. I'm on time, even. How'd I do that?"
Lassell chuckled, combing his hair into a semblance of neatness – hiding under a clammy cloak hadn't done it any good. "You've already seen a bit of the Cosmos Chamber, so I figure I could introduce you to a few of the other people there – well, you've technically already met them at dinner – and get you helping one of them out. That should give you a nice way to get used to the dynamics of this place.
"It's very different from its reputation, isn't it?"
"Depends who you ask, I suppose," Lassell answered with a shrug. "I mean, you've got the people who are totally obsessed over the place having Necromancers in service, for example. Not that they're any good in the field, mind you – since they're not really allowed to go into full-on dark magic they tend to just muddle here and there. It was quite a bit different in the past, before the whole place came down in pieces."
"When the international cooperation was destroyed." Harry guessed, thinking of his manual. "I read that in the history section. A lot of ideas were shot to pieces when that happened, eh?"
"I'm probably not the best person to ask," Lassell answered with a nervous shrug. "Jocelyn – that's Mrs. Burbidge – thinks I'm a bit nutty with my ideas that the international organization simply went even deeper underground than the Unspeakables themselves."
"Secret even to the Unspeakables?" Harry wondered. "You figure they're in it for themselves, then? Some conspiracy of wizards that are doing illegal stuff without anyone knowing?"
"Possibly," Lassell answered distractedly. "Or the whole destruction of the cooperation was a ruse in the first place. It only broke up because of that blasted Grindelwald after all."
Harry narrowed his eyes at that. "The manual is quite clear that the massacre-"
"Yes, yes." Lassell said with a sigh. "A great tragedy, but it was not nearly as relevant to the Departments of Mysteries. To this day most members are from higher classes of society – not from the slums."
"I'm just saying that death on that scale could break anyone. I can see how it could break a long-standing alliance between nations." Harry sighed as he walked over to the night-black door that would lead to the cosmos chamber – it was very helpful to have color-coded doors now, given that he was officially an employee. "You know the muggle world dealt with a similar blow at the same time and it's known as one of the greatest monstrosities in history."
"I'm sorry for bringing this up at all," Lassell said sadly. "I sometimes get lost in my conspiratorial thoughts. I might lose track of the big picture."
Harry didn't answer, thinking back to reading his manual. It was a great read – it held everything from the Department's history, commonly used tools and magic, as well an in-depth look at historical activities of the Department and its allies. Much of the book covered centuries that Harry had barely thought about – a good chunk was talking about the British Ministry before it was even called that.
Recent History had been a chilling read, though. In a way he was thankful of doddering old Binns – he'd never even touched on any of this, barring a mention or two of the clashes with Grindelwald and Voldemort. A gap in his knowledge of the past – sure. He was beginning to think he should've never read it at all.
Death on an unimaginable scale pervaded the last century – there was barely a reprieve between one Dark Lord and another, with minor threats filling in the interim. Especially after the disbanding of the international cooperation of Ministries violence had gone way up – especially against muggles. The manual had more mentions of massacres among muggle villages and populations than any other.
The big one, the most notable event he'd known nothing about, was spoken about quickly without any bold text or exaggerated pictures. It was a morose set of passages speaking dispassionately about the topic, as if to get it over with. It casually mentioned the death of nearly a quarter of the wizarding population of continental Europe. Like an afterthought.
A quarter of the wizarding population of Europe. Britain had been largely spared (the books theorized the presence of Albus Dumbledore, Grindelwald's greatest rival, kept him from attempting the crossing,) but the number was still beyond reckoning. Aside from the exodus of European wizardry, it had led to undue resentment against the British government which had been slow in responding to what was known simply as Grindelwald's Massacre. Gellert Grindelwald evidently had little to do with it himself – his followers had simply gone over the edge and used muggles to do their dirty work – stealing the wands from wizards and delivering vast numbers of undesirable wizards to the nastiest of dictator around.
Harry had realized, reading these pages of history, where much of the bigotry against muggles came from, even if it wasn't often mentioned. It was wizards that arranged it – the involvement of Grindelwald's dark wizards was well known – but it was muggles that ultimately killed a huge number of wizards and witches. Muggles were held indirectly responsible for the largest massacre wizard kind recorded in wizarding history.
A decade-long debate over guilt and punishments had followed the eventual defeat of Grindelwald at Dumbledore's hand and the defeat of both muggle and magical forces of terror that were destroying any semblance of peace. No Ministry turned out to be innocent- many had hidden spies, collaborators, even Imperius-controlled slaves in their midst, slipped through the net while the wizarding world tried to distance itself even further from the awful things happening in the muggle one. Alliances were shattered, most Ministries too paranoid to dare negotiate on equal footing with another. It would take decades for such trust to reestablish itself – the Department of Mysteries still hadn't.
It had been the Departments of Mysteries in the various nations that had allowed the enemy to even make the massacre possible, after all. Like none other, cooperation among nations had been strongest there – the research of magic, core to all wizarding nations like nothing else, and in conjunction with that peacekeeping on an international scale. Mopping up after the Artifact Crisis had brought them together, but it had been internal betrayal on the deepest level that had torn it apart again. It was through the implicit trust among dedicated members of the Departments of Mysteries that Grindelwald's forces had managed their most horrible feats.
Nobody had even known until it was all over.
Harry sighed as he looked at Lassell miserably. The top-side of the wizarding world was happy and colorful and filled with bizarre events and magnificent creatures. The underbelly of the beast, however, was soaked in blood.
One of the strangest things, though, had been a symbol. A triangle around a circle, with a line down the middle. A symbol Harry swore he'd seen somewhere before, recently. It was a chilling thought – where could he have seen the symbol of the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald?
The Cosmos Chamber, like ever, was dark and foreboding. Distantly the light of the imitation sun shone through the huge room, its fingers of luminance barely reaching the edges. Harry soared through the darkness without too much enthusiasm – he'd been thinking about people dying far too much. He needed to get his mind off things.
"You look unusually glum considering it's only your second day," said a cultured voice as someone came floating out of the darkness. "It is good to see you again, Mister Potter."
"Avicenna, right?" Harry questioned. It was the aristocratic vampire from dinner – the one that the werewolf Rafe had estimated at a millennium old.
"Correct. I saw you drifting out here in your lonesome. Lost?" Avicenna smiled slightly. "I was assigned some minor work on the moons of Jupiter, want to come along?"
Harry nodded, scooting along with a thought. Harry unconsciously took a position reminiscent of Quidditch – forwards, knees bent. Avicenna stayed completely upright and looked about as aerodynamic as a brick.
"Just thinking about things," Harry admitted finally. "I've been reading the manual, and it's got some unsettling things in there."
"You've reached the history section, eh." Avicenna said matter-or-factly. "Not the first person I've heard mention it. If you think recent history's bad, try the things that aren't thoroughly documented. Half the wars I was personally involved in aren't even in the books."
"You've been around for a while, I suppose," Harry said. "You must've seen a lot of these awful things with your own eyes. Feels like my own experiences hardly measure up."
"I've been around, as you say. A thousand years or so, last time I bothered to count. In life, I was a polymath – I was well versed in many fields, though many would be considered primitive today, I'm certain. I interacted with the muggle world quite a bit – modern-day Persia, that's where I was."
"I'm pretty sure Persia's not there anymore." Harry said wonderingly. "I suppose if you're immortal it sort of blurs together.
"Eh, immortality. I didn't wish for it. In life, I said 'I prefer a short life with width to a narrow one with length.' – I came to regret the sentiment and tried to make amends for my wrongdoings when I was dying, I was quite distraught. Then I met my sire."
"The vampire that turned you," Harry said, nodding, as the two finally left the darkness and came into view of Jupiter again. Apparently it had become quite the meeting place, though Lassell was currently elsewhere.
"The exact circumstances are not important – the results were that I was thought to be dead, and I ended up as a relatively rare breed – a vampire that retained his ability to use magic. It's quite rare, you know – vampirism and magic don't tend to go together very well. Most lose their conscious control of magic entirely after being embraced. Turned, if you will." Avicenna sighed lightly. "I rejected the change, initially."
"You were turned against your will?" Harry asked, shocked.
Avicenna shook his head. "No, I agreed to the turning of my own free will. I regretted that choice. It's perhaps not easy to understand in this modern age, but deeply held beliefs were far more powerful then compared to now, even within the wizarding community. I was a Muslim scholar, and I had enough problems justifying using magic in conjunction with those beliefs. Becoming an undying creature that drinks blood to survive didn't make things any easier. I spent half a century discussing the matter with several similarly afflicted individuals. Ultimately, I changed my priorities. I pursued my greatest interests and sought to fulfill those."
"I've never really thought too deeply about this religious stuff," Harry admitted. "I mean, I've been to a church a few times – my uncle probably thought he could use it to get the magic out of me – but I've never really thought about it. Hadn't really thought about what wizards and witches believed in, either. Do they even believe in a life after death like the Dursleys do? Like Dumbledore does?"
Avicenna chuckled. "Such grand questions, mister Potter. And a grand irony in asking a vampire of all beings about a life after death. I already have mine, and have elected to spend it in the study of the world – and perhaps, in time, I will see the worlds I study here with my own eyes. I have time a-plenty."
"Maybe I should look up a book on the topic." Harry mused.
"Religion's every bit as testy a topic among wizards as it is among muggles," Avicenna pointed out. "Be prepared to step into a mire of contradicting opinions and vastly overstated nonsense from all sides."
"Great." Harry muttered. "I can just see it now. Hundreds of Snapes battling it out."
"I have the advantage over you in that I can think of these matters over centuries," Avicenna admitted. "Perhaps someday we will speak on a more even footing on these matters. I keep my views to myself, don't bother others, and it's worked for me for the past few centuries. I figure if I can get other people to act like that, we could even get along."
"Good luck with that," Harry muttered, "Now, we were here to do something worthwhile, right?"
"Depends on what you call worthwhile," Avicenna said, chuckling. "Do you see all those tiny moons? We're supposed to note any deviations in their paths from usual. I think it's got something to do with a comet or asteroid that passed through the system?" Avicenna picked a notepad from one of the deep pockets in his robe. He seemed very much younger than he had at the dinner table – far less stately and official-sounding. "Right, there's been a bit of a collision on the far side, and as far as we're aware the muggles didn't pick up on it. We did, though – and it's rather interesting. It was a minor asteroid that came from somewhere in the outer regions of the solar system. We're supposed to find it."
"We're the only ones in here?" Harry wondered as he noted that there were no distant bobbing lights like there were the day before.
"We are. Means we get to manipulate the whole thing – you'll love it, I'm sure." Avicenna stated, hovering upwards. Harry followed until they were both some distance above the planet. "Now, I could've just tracked which moons changed orbit and calculated where the asteroid came in – that would give us our answer. Since we're alone now, let's do something a little more interesting."
Harry didn't see anything in particular – Avicenna merely closed his eyes and a look of concentration appeared on his face. A dull groaning seemed to echo from all sides. It took Harry a moment to realize that Jupiter was –stopping-.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked nervously. With a shudder the giant planet came to a halt, its moons similarly suspended.
"We're turning back Jupiter's clock." Avicenna said with a smile. "Toughest one, obviously, aside from the sun – a great deal of magic in there."
With a second groaning noise the planet slowly started turning backwards. Moons slowly started orbiting in the opposite directions, a small storm dissipating on the giant planet's surface as Harry watched .
"Almost there," Avicenna said, finally opening his eyes. From one moment to the next, a bright flash seemed to erupt from the part of Jupiter facing away from the miniature sun at the core of the faux solar system. It wasn't very large, but the rock was still large enough to slam right through the top layer of Jupiter's thick atmosphere.
"It's a space rock," Harry said dryly. "Not sure what the significance is."
"A little respect, please," Avicenna said without a smile. "Those space rocks have destroyed most of the Earth's life, several times. If one of those gets near us in the future, we're in trouble."
"Why does the Ministry study them, though? Isn't this the sort of thing muggles are good at?" Harry squatted in mid-air, though it wasn't easy. "I mean, the simulation is great, but beyond that I think most of this is already done."
"You overestimate muggle science," Avicenna answered. "They're far – and they'll probably get somewhere near us in the next few decades – but they're not as close as us, nor as capable of intervening. If one of these big ones is heading our way, we want to anticipate it before muggles see it. If we can deflect it out of our way before the muggles see it coming, we can prevent disaster and keep our society a secret. If we allow one of these foreseeable disasters to slip out of grasp, we risk global catastrophe of one kind or another."
"You don't think so lowly of muggles, do you?" Harry wondered, worriedly. "Surely they deserve a little more credit than that. It's not as if coordinating with the muggles on this would be a full-out breach of the statute of secrecy."
"How would it not be?" Avicenna wondered. "International wizard cooperation is terrible as it is, and muggle-wizard cooperation is barely more than a formality. The muggle Minister knows about our existence and some important factoids, but nothing concrete – we certainly don't get any muggles involved in our struggles."
"Couldn't you arrange for some meeting of minds?" Harry asked, irate. "I mean, you've got obliviators, I'm sure something could be arranged. Get the greatest muggle and wizard minds in the same room working on problems like what to do when one of these big space rocks heads for us. It just makes sense."
Avicenna didn't answer, but his face was troubled. "Perhaps we'll see that happen, someday. The wizarding world's not ready for it, though. There's a new war coming, and it's probably going to put this place out of business until it's over."
"I suppose I'll have to end it quickly then," Harry said with a smirk.
"Confident of yourself, eh?" Avicenna said with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps we'll see what you can do after some proper training. Since we found our culprit, I'll alert Lassell of its position and he can mark it down while we do something else. What would you think of learning how to apparate?"
"You wished to speak with me, Miss Burbidge?" Harry asked warily as he stepped into the sparsely-decorated office. Jocelyn Burbidge had a look of distaste on her face – though that had been there at dinner too, so perhaps it was how she usually looked.
"Mister Potter. I understand you've been spending the day in the Cosmos Chamber?"
"Yes. Unspeakable Avicenna has been showing me some of the things that are done there, and he's been teaching me how to use the silent spells."
"That and you've been registered as apparating without a license several dozen times." Burbidge replied with a thin smile. "Taking advantage of your new rights already, are you?"
"Unspeakable Avicenna was merely showing me how to do short-range jumps, Miss Burbidge. I suppose I'll get a license as time permits."
"I like a proactive approach in learning, Mister Potter. I hope that your commitment to learning the important basics will persist into the future. I expect some great things from you, considering the kind of reputation you've built up.
"I can't really help that, you know. Being famous sort of takes care of that on its own." Harry said sheepishly.
"I asked you to come here today since something relevant to your personal safety has come up. The new security measures in the Department have kept a close eye on the activities of an illegal Animagus that has been sneaking in to attempt to sabotage our anti-apparition wards. A certain rat that you might be familiar with."
"Wormtail!" Harry ground out. "You caught him?"
"He's not currently in custody." Burbidge said softly. "Capturing him would prompt Lord Voldemort to change his approach, so we allow him the illusion of undetected entry. We have a wizard trailing Mr. Pettigrew at all times, in case he ever becomes a liability. Right now, you are at little to no risk. The wizard in question does not even mean to harm you directly as far as we can tell. He is convinced one of our relics is a lynchpin for our security system, it seems."
"A lynchpin?" Harry questioned, "You mean for wards? I thought I read-"
"You read correctly. It would appear that You-know-who's information on our security network is considerably out-of-date – it would imply that past leaks from the Department have not given you-know-who sufficient information to gauge how much we've changed since he was last in power."
"You're going to use Pettigrew as bait." Harry finally concluded with a grimace. "You're going to use him to lure the Death Eaters to the Ministry where you can take them out with that fancy new team you're setting up."
"You're quick on the uptake, kid." Burbidge said. "It depends on the kind of timeframe this Pettigrew fellow is expecting. We're stalling him a little with his 'sabotage' but for now we're still assembling a good team. It's probable that an attack will come before they're ready and it'll be a job for the regular Aurors. The greatest issue, perhaps, is that the lure we're using is itself chasing after something as well."
"What do you mean?"
"Pettigrew is clearly trying to find a way for Death Eaters to get to you – he'd on a mission for He-who-must-not-be-named to do exactly that, I suspect. Which would mean you, or someone polyjuiced like you, must be in the Department. Except, we can't just drop our security mechanisms all at once – and polyjuice would be as obvious to us as it would be to any of the Death Eaters."
"Basically, I have to be here to lure them in." Harry concluded. "Battling more Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries – because it worked so well the last time."
"I would suggest leaving the fighting to the Aurors," Burbidge said sternly. "You're a bit more important than makeshift cannon-fodder. I'd suggest barricading yourself in one of the smaller rooms, hide somewhere in the cosmos room, or lock yourself among the artifacts. Death Eaters will have a hell of a time even getting to those places."
"Can't you just allow Unspeakables to apparate or something like that? I mean, I did it earlier in the Cosmos Chamber…" Harry wondered.
"One can't apparate out of the department or into it. Internally some apparition is possible, but obviously we´re not going to leave the door wide open for Death Eater reinforcements or escapees."
"This is a very bad idea."
Burbidge sighed, eyes downcast. "Look, Potter. I know that it's taking advantage of you – tough. You've fought through nastier things than an anticipated Death Eater attack and came out on top. It's a lot to put on your plate, but it could give us a great edge in the war. You know as well as I do that to get someone like you, You-know-who will send one or more of his highest followers. Bellatrix Lestrange, perhaps. We could de-fang his little cult."
Harry sighed again, but he couldn't really keep arguing against it. It wasn't going to be stopped just because he thought it was a terrible plan.
"When would this happen?" Harry finally asked. "Are we talking weeks?"
"We can't be precise." Burbidge admitted. "We're talking weeks to months. Certainly not much longer. We'll know it's at hand if Pettigrew makes his getaway."
"Guess that means I'd better learn fast."
"I expect that anyway, Mister Potter." Burbidge exclaimed, shoving her chair backwards. "I expect you to visit with the Custodians today, and to continue familiarizing yourself with the Cosmos Chamber, for now. We'll keep you informed about any developments regarding our … guest."
"Why do I get the feeling I was recruited to set up exactly this sort of trap?" Harry asked with a twitch.
Burbidge sniffed at that, shaking her head. "Oh, don't worry, there were plenty of reasons for you being here that had nothing to do with the coming war. I wasn't for your recruitment, but it's out of my hands."
Harry didn't quite know how to react to that. He doubted there was a reaction that the haughty woman wouldn't disapprove of.
"Incidentally, this arrived for you, earlier today. The wards picked up on it and delivered it to me, due to your new status as an employee here." Burbidge opened a small filing cabinet and rifled through an absurdly huge amount of folders crammed in there – it was like Moody's trunk, enlarged on the inside. "You're lucky that it reached me rather than anyone else – it's from a family member of mine and it may contain some rather sensitive information. Be sure to arrange for more covert communication in the future."
Harry blinked confusedly as he took the yellowed parchment. It was signed, oddly enough, by Draco Malfoy. "I wonder what he wants?"
"I would suggest purchasing a pair of linked mirrors if you wish to keep in contact." Burbidge said softly. "There are few wizards in the Department who could resist opening a letter with your name on it. Draco's name would get a similar reaction."
Harry grimaced as he read through the letter in silence. He could barely believe half the words in it. Draco Malfoy, going against his parents and Lord Voldemort in one go? Draco Malfoy trying to take a neutral position? It was like finding out Snape snogged your mother, completely unthinkable.
Halfway through the letter – written rather formally – Malfoy talked about their brief chat during the night – but Harry knew it certainly hadn't happened.
'I don't know how you found out about my reluctance in joining the Dark Lord or spying on Professor Snape – I expected my covert actions to have been sufficiently hidden for even the headmaster's eyes. Your advice on seeking the Professor's help was appreciated, even if I cannot fathom why you would care. I burned the letter to my mother after you left.
You never struck me as the type to think things through, so I must confess to some confusion over your apparent interest in my safety and your apparently impressive sources within Slytherin house. Perhaps you were sorted wrongly after all?'
Harry shivered – now even Malfoy was saying he should've been in Slytherin – and working with a covert organization that specializes in keeping their affairs a secret surely couldn't help matters. Would there be any Gryffindor left in the end?
More pressingly, what on Earth did Malfoy mean? Harry hadn't known about Malfoy's apparent split with the ideals of Voldemort, or his spying activities (even though the latter did confirm some of his nastier assumptions about the boy.) – could it simply be a trick?
The problem with that, Harry figured, was that Malfoy wouldn't be stupid enough to send a letter by owl post detailing such sensitive information unless he was really shaken up – or under direct orders from Voldemort. Yet, if Voldemort were involved, why risk detection from any number of other eyes?
Malfoy had met someone who he'd believed was Harry – and that person had confided in knowing about his true loyalties and dissuaded him from sending a letter to his mother – perhaps one relaying what he'd picked up with his spying. Malfoy was being manipulated by someone within Hogwarts- probably someone using polyjuice. Manipulated to get away from Voldemort's side.
A Polyjuiced imposter, using Harry's face of all people's to get close to Malfoy. It was ridiculous.
"Everything all right, Mister Potter?" Burbidge questioned, and Harry blinked and straightened. He'd been staring at the letter for several minutes, forgetting he was still in the middle of the office and poised to leave.
"This raises more questions than it answers." Harry said shortly as he folded up the letter and shoved it into one of his many pockets. "You wouldn't know where to get some two-way mirrors, would you?"
Burbidge smirked as she opened a cupboard and retrieved two small mirrors – neither more than three inches in length and shining lightly gold. "You can borrow these - I understand you'll be visiting Hogwarts over the weekend so you should arrange to have one delivered to young Draco. They don't allow eavesdropping – only the person holding it can hear or see the other side. Be careful though – your own words are obviously still perceived by any spies."
Harry narrowed his eyes as he accepted the mirrors. "Why are you helping me so much?"
"Merely loyalty to my family, certainly." Burbidge answered immediately. "I may not be a member of the Malfoy family but I have very close ties to them and would like to see them flourish again. With Lucius disgraced and jailed, there are precious few people left to carry on the good name."
Harry nodded hesitantly. "We've never gotten along, as I'm sure you're aware. I'll see what I can do."
"What the heck are you doing up here, Mustang?" Moody growled as he limped into the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. He was wearing his formal Auror robes and most people gave him wide berth. Not quite as wide as the wizard named Mustang, though.
"Alastor! A pleasure to see you!" The tall black-haired target of his ire responded with a slight bow. He was wearing, as always, a long red duster with a flame pattern running down the back and sides, his hands firmly in his pockets and his back slightly bent, as if he were carrying around a weight on his shoulders. A gold-encrusted jewel in the shape of a flame was dangling from his neck, shimmering in the torchlight.
"Mustang, you are fully aware that you are going to light the place on fire if ya stick around here any longer. Follow me." Moody said with a glare. "Why are you up here, anyway? Aren't you usually somewhere down in the bowels, if you bother showing up at all?"
Mustang rolled his eyes as he followed Moody quickly, taking care to keep his hands in his pockets. Mustang, after all, was a Pyromancer – if he wasn't careful, he could accidentally set fire to quite a few wizards. One of the disadvantages of having complete control over the elements – reining that control in when you want to lead a normal life.
"Minister Scrimgeour asked me to tour the different Departments since I'll be working with a few of them in the future." Mustang said as the two entered one of the many lifts which were thankfully rather empty now – the big rush was over. "I understand you'll be working with me?"
"You'll be working with me, more like." Moody said with a glare. "I have twice the experience of the rest of you put together, I'm thinking."
"Can't we that bad, can it?" Mustang said, absently rubbing his nose, causing Moody to tense up. Mustang's hand was covered in a white glove with runes covering it entirely. "Do you like the glove? Designed it myself."
"It keeps those fire powers of yours under control?" Moody wondered, "I don't recognize the rune patterns."
"Oh, no, they're just fancy gloves." Mustang said with a smile, earning himself another stare with Moody's whirling blue eye. "I got the design from one of the guys at Temporal. I'm sure I'll find out where they got it eventually."
"So how DO you keep these flames under control?" Moody wondered as he stepped out into the lowest floor the elevator would go, headed towards the Department of Mysteries. "Haven't met many of you 'Mancers before."
"We don't control it, really." Mustang said after a long pause. "We sort of guide it, if you will. The whole heat thing around me is really a side-effect of my imperfect guiding – some of it escapes where I don't want it. I suppose it could be said as being poor control, though I'm not aware of any Pyromancer or even Necromancer that can pull off seeming normal."
"Why'd they even recruit you for the Department of Mysteries, I wonder? You're probably the least stealthy person we've got."
"I kick arse and take names?" Mustang proposed, juggling a small ball of fire between his hands. "Put me up against almost any ordinary wizard that hasn't prepared themselves and I'll toast them to a crisp. Flame cooling spells only work for a few of my spells and I can burn the oxygen out of a room quickly enough to send anyone in it into shock – of course, that'd include me, which would be annoying."
"You're our powerhouse, then." Moody said with a nod. "I already gathered it's my experience with fighting the Death Eaters that got me the invitation. Y'know any of the others?"
"I hear we're getting some fellow from America that was born here in Britain and a gal from Japan? Or was it the other way around?" Mustang shrugged, sending sparks flying. "I figure that we'll get a stealth specialist, an assassin perhaps. Maybe someone who specialized in medical magic."
"I've some ideas on what kind of person we should be expecting, then." Moody said. "It's rather a moot point until we get a better idea of what we'll be doing anyway. Scrimgeour's being obscure as usual and being mysterious just seems to be a job requirement down here."
"You might see that star pupil of yours again." Mustang said. "Heard about her – a Metamorphmagus, eh?"
"Hmmm, Tonks." Moody answered. "Don't think we'll be taking her along, though. Not only is she a newbie in the Auror gig, but she's also got some problems with coordination. She might be capable of hiding herself well but when you're tripping over every second tile you're not gonna be very stealthy."
"Criticizing your own student, Alastor?" Mustang said, as he followed Moody into the Department of Mysteries.
"Nobody's perfect, Musty. Tonks' simply the best I've ever taught."
"Did you just call me-" The black-haired pyromaniac exclaimed, but he was cut off by Moody hobbling off towards a black door. "What're you doing?"
"Just checkin' on another of my students." Moody said with a smile, shoving open the door and stepping in. "Hey, Harry, I'd like ya to meet an old colleague of mine."
Mustang followed Moody into the darkened room.
"Alastor, what are you doing here?" A dark-haired teen said as he descended from the darkness. "Didn't think you were allowed in here."
"Harry Potter! Blimey!" Mustang half-shouted, plumes of steam rising off his arms. "I heard you were employed here but I didn't think-"
"I've been teachin' him a bit over the summer." Moody explained. "Harry, this firebrand is an old mate of mine – Mustang here was in the Auror program with me many years ago, before he left to become a Pyromancer."
Harry shook Mustang's hand – it was a hot and dry shake, as expected. "Nice to meet you, Mister Mustang."
"Honored to meet you, Mister Potter. I'm quite the fan!" Mustang said happily. "I've read all about you."
"Yes, well…" Harry answered warily. "Don't believe everything you read. I'm sure Moody here can fill you in on what really happened."
"I figured I'd tell you first, Harry." Moody said finally. "I wasn't allowed to before you were an employee, unfortunately. You know the new Chamber they're setting up? Elite group of Death Eater fighters, all that? Technically it's still being planned but when it gets started I'll get to boss everyone around!"
Harry gaped at that. "You're going to be working here? You couldn't have told me that a few days ago? You had me worrying being all alone in the department without any Order members and you're here –yourself- ?"
"Be careful with what you say, boy." Moody said, eyeing Mustang.
Harry blanched, glancing at Mustang with shock – he'd almost forgotten the man was there. Mustang seemed bored with the whole thing. "Order of the Phoenix, eh? Figured out you're a member ages ago, Alastor."
Moody pulled out his wand, but Mustang quickly waved his hand. "No need for that, I'm not going to tell it to anyone, of course. I've had dealing with Dumbledore in the past. Phoenixes are creatures of fire, no? Perhaps I should consider joining."
Harry blinked at that. "You'd do it for the symbol?"
"Well, I do have to keep up the theme, don't I?" The man said with a wide grin. "I've already got the eternal youth thing down, pretty much – I mean, me and Alastor here are nearly the same age and I look twenty years younger! Can't quite use fire to apparate yet, but I'm sure it's possible."
"You're weird." Harry concluded.
"Thank you. So are you, I take it. Slaying giant snakes with magical swords, going around provoking the nastiest wizard in decades on a regular basis, occasionally join a clandestine organization or two." Mustang smirked as he rubbed a gloved hand through his hair, setting off streamers of flame that vanished almost immediately. "Weirdness is a job requirement, down here in the Department of Mysteries. This will be the first time I'm officially an employee, even if I've worked with the buggers here in the past. Unfortunate that I won't get a nice tidy robe like yours, though."
"We're not officially Unspeakables." Moody said at Harry's questioning look. "We're just going to be stationed here. 'Cause this place has some of the most important things to keep from our current enemy. That includes prophecies, artefacts, and you."
Harry snorted at that. "Speaking about prophecies – I'm supposed to pay a visit to the hall today. You'll be around, I take it? Will you be at dinner?"
Moody nodded, stepping back into the entrance hall with the other two on his heels. "If you need me, you can always just send me an owl. Be more careful with what you go telling people – be vigilant!"
"Don't try the owl thing for me, please. I tend to fry the poor things." Mustang said sadly, shoving his hands back in his robe. "Later."
Harry tried not to think of that mental image as he made his way to the white door with translucent blue bubbles floating all over it – the door to the Hall of Prophecy.
The Hall of Prophecy was much like Harry last remembered it. It was high as a church with nothing but huge towering shelves covered from top to bottom in dusty glass orbs, glimmering dully in the light issuing from candle brackets that spread an unearthly blue light.
In the dim light Harry could just make out the shelf right in front of him – number 53. Many of the prophecy orbs were dull and brown, though some spread a weird whitish glow around themselves.
Without really thinking about it, Harry started walking in the direction he remembered his prophecy had been – slightly down Row 97. There was no sound to be heard throughout the huge room – his steps echoed distantly.
It was eerie enough the last time, but it seemed like the room was even more forlorn and abandoned now that it was actually in use. It took mere minutes to reach the ninety-seventh row and the gap on the shelf was impossible to miss. The shelves themselves seemed identical to last time – somewhat rickety and in need of repair, though Harry knew these were recently replaced ones.
"Mister Potter?" A thin voice spoke, and a thin, short man came shambling out of the darkness, holding up a small lantern. "If you'd follow me, please."
The wizard was barely any taller than Professor Flitwick and even thinner, with few wisps of white hair on his head and a short gnarly walking stick clutched in his hand. He walked with a noticeable limp and occasionally seemed to get his robe in the way. The robe itself was blindingly white, almost shining in the bluish light of the chamber.
"I was supposed to come say hello, today." Harry tried, and the man nodded without turning around as he headed towards the opposite side of the chamber, where Harry had just come from.
"I figured you'd make your way to your lost prophecy eventually, so I cast a small ward to warn me of your arrival. I'm one of the Custodians, of course. We don't generally use names here – far too messy – so feel free to use my title." The man looked backwards with an enigmatic smile. "You've caused quite a stir."
"I have that effect, it seems." Harry said demurely. "This Seer thing that I've got going on is just the latest in a long string of crazy things."
"Yes, we'll have to discuss that in the weeks to come. I've been reading about your Layman's Diagnosis. I find it incredibly unlikely, but never say never in magic, I suppose." They passed Row 70 and Harry noticed a particularly bright shelf to his right – almost all the spheres were shining slightly.
"That would be an Oracle's output," The Custodian said.
"I don't have a clue what you just said." Harry responded, embarrassed. "Layman's Diagnosis? Oracles?"
"A layman's diagnosis is a term we use for those folk who self-describe or are described by layman as a Seer or Prophet. It's common among both wizards and muggles to attribute coincidences to prophetic powers and the professionals here sift out the gold nuggets that actually do have the Sight, however minutely." The Custodian stopped suddenly, pointing at a shelf that was curiously enough largely empty. "This was from a misdiagnosis – the Ministry workers at the time accidentally considered someone a Seer even though our spells didn't pick up the predictions, and a special ward was created to catch them anyway. Turned out eventually that it was a fraudster – but not before hundreds of prophecies of theirs were catalogued. It was that sort of thing that ultimately got us to our current high standards. Don't know if Oracles – that's a type of Seer – ever got misidentified, though."
"Has this happened a lot?" Harry asked curiously as he scanned some of the yellowed labels. "I mean, I've got a hard enough time to convince myself of what everyone's telling me, and here are people who manage to delude themselves into having abilities they don't?"
"You have little to worry about, I believe," The custodian answered. "Your prediction within this very building was fortunate, as there are many spells in place to catch any snippet, since we have a rather disproportionate amount of people with the Sight around. It's not that one that's giving us trouble – it's the tactile foresight that you've allegedly had."
"How do you even know about that one?" Harry wondered.
"It was registered like any other prediction – We also received a coded message from Albus Dumbledore, your headmaster, about this matter – he was quite concerned that it might be a form of possession. It's just sort of confusing to get one out of the blue."
"I suppose visions of the future beat possession, though neither seems particularly pleasant to me right now."
"Yes, well, the fact that it's so far the only such occurrence is even more baffling, given the relative severity of the reported incident. You had echoes of the event in question, correct?"
"I had the same feeling multiple times, yes. Professor Dumbledore concluded that it was some kind of blood burning curse that I was feeling." Harry grimaced. "I should go to the library and look up the counter curse or something, in case it's happening any time soon."
"We have several analysts taking a look – they might have better interpretations. Some of the suggestions have included exposure to some form of extreme magical stress, a vacuum environment, or the injection of particular poisons. Suffice to say none of them are terribly enjoyable." The man shrugged, heading off towards the end of the rows again. "In any case, you have been warned, so you should keep on your toes."
"As if Voldemort's not enough to keep me on my toes already." Harry said with a sigh. The small man twitched slightly but didn't slow down at the name. "There's no chance of this vision stuff being from his side or leaking over, right?"
"He evidently did not call back his forces after your prediction in our building, which would suggest that he did not experience that particular vision. Likely the force of your original tactile prediction was the reason behind the overflow towards him. Employing Occlumency on both ends further separates you, which is advantageous."
"Why do I get the feeling that the Ministry knows more about me than even I do?" Harry said softly. "How'd you even know I learned Occlumency?"
The small wizard rubbed his nose with a blush at that. "Actually, it was sort of an educated guess. Thank you for setting my mind at ease, though – it would've been a hassle to arrange a teacher that had the clearance to know half the things you must know."
"I've only been here a day or two, I've not seen that many secret things yet," Harry responded with a chuckle. "I've not even finished the manual yet."
"I was referring to your connection with Lord Voldemort." The Custodian said carefully, though he grimaced at speaking the name. "That you even have such a connection is considered quite a secret, and I hear you're considered as much of an asset to the Ministry as the Minister himself. I believe the Ministry would've ended up hiring Dumbledore to train you – and what a hassle that would be."
"Dumbledore in the Department of Mysteries, that would be interesting to watch." Harry agreed.
"Considering what happened the first time he came in here, I'm surprised he's still allowed in the building," The Custodian said with a laugh. "I swear, it could've been yesterday, not a good century ago. Where goes the time, eh?"
"You should tell me that story sometime, I think."
"Only if you get yourself tested and certified with the right people. Departmental secrets and all that, right?" the man responded. "Though I have no doubt you'll get involved with the top secret stuff eventually. You're looking at some fun times ahead, m'boy. And coming from a Custodian of prophecies, you can take that as a fact!"
"What?"
"You heard me," Scrimgeour said with a frown. "Field mission, as soon as you can arrange it. Couple weeks, perhaps. I won't take a 'no'."
"That's insane! He's been here for barely two days, Rufus!"
"He'll do just fine. Get some training in, then put him with an experienced Unspeakable and set him loose. Believe me, Jocelyn, I don't like pulling rank – but this must happen."
"It's completely ridiculous!" Jocelyn Burbidge responded with a snarl. "He's not even learned how the dynamics in the Department work and you want to send him out into the wide world to do the stuff veteran Aurors are hesitant to?"
"You are not the only person who's got contacts among the Temporal Division, Jocelyn. I know that Potter's an important asset. I want the best odds and experience is what he needs most!" Scrimgeour almost yelled at the end, thankful that his doors were impervious to sound, lest Weasley would come storming in. "You underestimate the boy, Jocelyn."
"I am realistic. He's barely a newbie, this isn't right. He'll end up dead, and that's exactly what we DO NOT WANT."
"Put him with the best you've got. Maybe team him up with Alastor Moody; they've got a history together. Pick something relatively easy, if you wish. Just make it happen." Scrimgeour sighed as he dropped into his seat.
"It's a mistake." Burbidge said with a shake of her head, as she headed for the doors. "You might be the Minister, but I've got some power of my own. If this game of yours ends in disaster, you'd better find a place to hide."
"Such wonderful threats." Scrimgeour said with a smile. "You run along now, and have fun. And remember... it's our little secret."
"Oh, stuff it, you old lion."
Scrimgeour was finally alone in his office, rifling through the thick stack of notes that still needed signatures. He sighed deeply. "I'm surrounded by idiots."
Author's Note :
A few of Scrimgeour's quotes are from The Lion King's Scar.
The Custodian, though not blue, has been modeled somewhat after the Guardians of the Universe from Green Lantern.
Mustang's inspired partially by the anime character Roy Mustang from Full Metal Alchemist, a state alchemist who prefers to use fire in combat and wears white gloves with symbols on them to generate sparks which he turns into infernos.
Yes, I am drawing parallels between the Wizarding World War and the Second World War – Rowling's hardly been subtle about it in the books or interviews and we hear far too little about this period of history in the books beyond Grindelwald himself. I hope nobody's offended by the references to the Holocaust (which should be obvious.) but I considered it a rather plausible explanation for some of the muggle-hatred.
As for Avicenna – though I'm basing him on the real-life person, I have added some twists which I consider plausible for a person that's long outlived most of the ignorance of his age. Considering he was an intelligent polymath with an interest in the universe, I'd expect him to keep going in that direction, rather than stuck in the limitations of the 11th century. I considered a traditional Muslim belief system but it seems to me being a vampire would be rather problematic in conjunction with that. (No interest in opening religious debate here, though feel free to curse at me for not going there.)
The asteroid hitting Jupiter was inspired by comet Shoemaker-Levy, which collided with Jupiter about two years earlier than the timeline of this story (1994).