Chapter 9 : The Outside

Regulations for Employees

Most basic regulations for Ministry employees apply to Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries, though explicit exceptions have been agreed upon with the Wizengamot and current Minister for Magic. The Department of Mysteries itself has an additional list of secrecy-related regulations that are discussed in 1.1 Special Regulations. Currently, exceptions to standard Ministry regulations include the following:

[...]

Unspeakables are allowed to use standard issue Unspeakable cloaks to hide their identity in Ministry locations, as well as use codenames and voice distortion spells. Standard punishments for falsifying identity do not apply.
Unspeakables who have received permission from the Minister for Magic are allowed to use non-harmful Legilimency while in Ministry locations. '1894 - Statute Against Unauthorized Mindreading' does not go into effect.
Unspeakables are allowed free access to restricted areas in Ministry locations, except those restricted by the Department of Mysteries itself (It is expected employees seek permission from their superiors in the latter case.)
Unspeakables are allowed, in extreme duress, to use the 'Unforgivable' curses. Careless use remains highly illegal. All use of such curses is subject to review by the Wizengamot.

Further exceptions exist, but are limited in scope largely to information access and not applicable to all employees. Similar exceptions apply to some parts of the Auror program and Obliviators; all can be found in Appendix 1. Please note that any and all regulations are subject to change.

From 'Unspeakable Primer' Selected Passage, P. 14.

"Deprimo!"

"Almost got me there, big guy!" Mustang yelled loudly as he flipped head over heels and lightly landed on his feet. "Getting a bit slow in your old day?"

"Could you shut your trap for a minute?" Moody growled, flicking his wand sideward in a wide arc, the spell's broad yellow flash just barely missing Mustang's legs. "You're too bloody slippery."

Mustang smiled broadly, waving his arms loosely, not even aiming. "Come on now, Alastor – you must admit it's a good workout. Maybe if you manage to hit me, I'll send back a spell or two!"

"Won't matter then, you'd be knocked out on the floor," Moody replied. Two more curses barely singed the corners of Mustang's long coat, sizzling out on the floor with bright sparks and plumes of smoke.

"Don't be so sure – I've gotten better, y'know. You've not seen what kind of training I went through that I can even be in the same room as you without burning you to a crisp!" Mustang flipped backwards again to avoid yet another bright yellow slash that hummed dangerously as it passed. "Close one!"

Moody sighed as he lowered his wand. "Fine, you made your point. You're a slippery eel with a nasty bite. Our ace, if we ever need it."

"I'm not nearly as slippery as her." Mustang said with a smirk. "I've spoken to Potter about her - you won't believe what kind of –"

"Yes, yes. Keep your suggestive comments to yourself, you're not kidding anyone." Moody scoffed, rolling his real eye. "She's a Kunoichi, what did you expect?"

"A Shinobi in England. When's the last time we've had one of those over here, anyway?" Mustang wondered. "I mean, even the muggles know about ninjas – they're practically legendary. Didn't think the discipline was still practised though – mostly historical, I figured. Made up by the movies, perhaps."

"Oh, they're really around," Moody retorted. "Almost lost an ear to one of them, a few years back. I was on an errand in Tokyo and one of 'em spotted me interrogating a muggle. Figured I was a thief and wanted to go all righteous hero on me."

"I suppose it's a testament to your skills that you're still here, if half the tales are true."

"Yep. Constant vigilance has saved my neck a bunch of times. There's a reason I'm still kickin', you know." Moody groaned as he sat down against the wall of the training hall. "So we've got our assassination type – what do you suppose our medic's going to be like? Haven't heard a tittle about that."

"American, I think they said. I suppose we'll find out," Mustang said as he stretched. "British heritage, I heard. Wonder if he'll have a weird blend of accents? Hope it's someone entertaining, not some old cynic like you."

"Watch your tongue, firecracker," Moody said. "Maybe I'll hit you with the slug vomiting curse for that one."

Mustang winced. "On the topic of colleagues – anything from those no-good students of yours?"

"They're still missing in the States. Haven't heard much about it for a while, but since I've got superiors again, I can't go and fetch 'em. Going on four weeks now."

"It's not that rare though, is it, Aurors not reporting in for a while?" Mustang asked. "Nobody seems really worried."

"They're good wizards, they'll take care of themselves. Most likely scenario is that they went undercover and don't have a good way of communicatin' without being seen. Maybe suspect they're being watched." Moody shrugged. "Have been on a few of those missions myself."

Mustang twirled his wand. "I suppose it'll work itself out. Want to try and kick the fighting up a notch? Your spells against my fire?"

Moody sighed as he got back in position. "Don't torch the place down, now."

Mustang grinned widely in return, an arc of fire stretching from hand to hand like a ribbon, ready for anything.

Harry had his eyes closed firmly, his face contorted in a grimace as he concentrated on his task. He couldn't slip up. He tried to ignore the blood rushing to his head but it wasn't easy. 'stay focused!'

"Pretty good!" A tinkling high voice commented and Harry's eyes snapped open. Simultaneously, he forgot his focus and smacked painfully to the floor from his position, sitting two feet high against the wall.

"Don't do that!" Harry yelled loudly as he rubbed his nose which ached from the impact. "You know I can't do it without thinking yet!"

Asami Watanabe looked on amused as Harry scrambled upright with some trouble. "You shouldn't spend so much time on the walls! Until you've mastered the technique, you're just going to make yourself uncomfortable doing it."

Harry grumbled, but didn't contradict his colleague. Almost a month had passed since Harry joined the Unspeakables, and a good chunk of it had been spent getting to know all the people who worked there – some as new as he was. Asami had arrived three weeks earlier, the third member of the new special team that the Unspeakables were setting up, according to Moody.

The first week at the Ministry had been interesting enough – learning the basics of apparition, how to call the elevator and how to send an internal memo – but things hadn't really gotten intriguing until the second week. Several of the people he'd come to know, including Avicenna the vampire, had left on various assignments, and he'd spent some time with Mirrikh: allegedly the Head Unspeakable, though he seemed to defer to Burbidge half the time. Mirrikh apparently thought Harry could do no wrong – the impromptu prophecy when the two first met had secured that friendship.

He and Harry had been assigned welcoming the new recruit – Asami – the second week, but Mirrikh was 'unexpectedly' called away and Harry ended up giving her the tour himself. Judging from the grins he received, this was probably a set-up or a test – he'd never found out if he passed or not. Asami, being the equivalent of a Japanese Unspeakable, hadn't needed much help in any case. She was in her forties, but looked quite young for her age – there was no trace of grey in her elaborately pinned-up bun of black hair – and she was probably the most athletic person Harry had ever met. Every step she took seemed inexplicably fluent, though Harry had no idea what gave him that impression.

Harry smiled slightly as he thought back to the first time he'd seen her after the tour – training in one of the Auror halls, where duels were traditionally fought. The peculiar thing hadn't been that she was there – Moody spent a lot of time there too, after all – but that the entire place was filled by several feet of water – and she was walking daintily on top of it.

Harry had been so gobsmacked – silly in retrospect, considering everything else you could do with magic – that he'd slipped off the rickety stairs and plunged straight into the water below. Harry's embarrassment was complete when Asami used a pensieve to show the memory of his pratfall to many colleagues; in the end, Harry had no choice but to join in the merriment himself.

It had been barely two days later when Harry dared to ask Asami to teach him the spell she'd been using – she'd turned his request down, noting that the magic was quite complicated and that it'd taken her months to master, and she still needed her wand for it anyway. Harry was not exactly the epitome of stealth anyway.

Harry hadn't stopped there and figured that those people that were studying while on the walls and ceiling probably knew something about it – they were, after all, also defying gravity. That's how he ended up running into Asami again – and this she would teach him.

Fortunately, sticking to the wall was easy enough – but going anywhere was quite another, and pesky gravity got in the way, which meant he'd just be hanging vertically down the wall, suspended by his feet. Entirely not what he had in mind, nor what the other people around him were doing. (Most of them were snickering regularly at Harry's beginner's antics, though he had no doubt that they'd had the same problems, once.)

"What're you thinking about, hotshot?" she asked curiously. Asami barely had any accent – whatever English study she'd done, it was quite excellent, as she could hardly be distinguished from a native.

"Just… the past few weeks have been insane. First Avicenna, then you, and Alastor… and let's not forget the Custodians every second day. You're all so much better at things!"

"Poor dear," Asami said with a snort. "Working in one of the most elite institutions in the Wizarding World with experts in their respective fields. What a terrible life you have."

Harry sighed, as he placed a foot on the wall and stuck it there with a quick spell. This was only the first of several steps to getting this wall-walking down – the easy part. He'd only managed to counter gravity a few times, and walking up more than a foot or two was still beyond his grasp. "I just wish I knew what I'm supposed to be doing. It feels like school – I'm learning a ton, but I don't think I'm contributing much. I've been delivering reports from the Cosmos Chamber, but it seems any person could've done that – I barely see why it is a secret. Most of my days are filled training duelling with Moody and various handy spells from whoever has time."

"You should really ask Unspeakable Burbidge. She is, after all, your superior." Asami said, chuckling. "Though I hear you've got a knack for getting under her skin."

"She's practically a Malfoy, It's not a big surprise." Harry grumbled.'

The real reason, Harry reflected, was that Burbidge was irate about Harry's hesitant attitude towards her some-times-removed nephew Draco Malfoy. Harry had delivered the two-way mirror he'd gotten from her the first weekend he was back visiting at Hogwarts – gotten a weird stare from the boy he gave it to, too – but not much had changed since then. He'd informed Dumbledore of the situation – in as far as that man didn't know it all already, as he always seemed to.

Going back to Hogwarts that first time had been weird. He'd only been gone for barely a week, but it felt longer – far longer. Harry had entered with his Unspeakable cloak securely fastened, though many had deduced who he was immediately – the newspaper story about his employment was, after all, still being updated every day with new ridiculous information, and one didn't usually see Unspeakables at the school (at the very least, not without forgetting right afterwards.) In the latest rumour, Harry had apparently been assigned to the Dragonslayer Squadron, a mythical section of the Department of Mysteries that spent its time defeating unruly wyverns and dragons.

Hermione had been disappointed to hear that Harry hadn't visited the Unspeakable library yet – he'd fixed that oversight the next day, looking for ways to counter blood burning curses – while Ron was largely interested in what kind of interesting magic he'd already learned. Harry was actually quite surprised that, for once, Ron –didn't- seem jealous. It seemed, actually, that he had other things on his mind. 'Could it be – nah.'

Ginny had spent almost half an hour interrogating him on all the tidbits he could share – most of them incredibly vague. When he tried to broach the Seer issue, he felt like he was choking – apparently, that was not something he could discuss without breaking some rule or another. Had he sworn a verbal oath on that? The meetings with the Custodians had included a lot of promises.

Luna and Neville had been mostly absent – Neville had stopped by for a quick chat but was involved in a Herbology project with Professor Sprout – and Luna, well, she was apparently helping out her father with his newspaper, and had locked herself in an empty classroom for most of the day. Harry hadn't had the courage to read more than the cover of that particular newspaper yet.

"You're a million miles away, aren't you?" Asami wondered as Harry roused from his thoughts.

"Just thinking about how much things have changed since I got here. It feels so strange – usually, I'd be in class now." Harry sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Instead, a ninja is teaching me how to climb walls and the best Auror in the country is teaching me combat wizardry. It's surreal."

"Kunoichi." Asami chided. "I've corrected you enough times. Ninja is just the popular term."

Harry grunted as he tried to move up a step on the wall – his back remained on the ground, despite his insistence that it move upwards. Wandless magic, it turned out, was pretty difficult to control, and the only reason that he'd seen quite a few people sitting on the ceiling and walls was because there were a lot of powerful wizards here. All of them with years more experience in using this magic. A deep sigh escaped him at the work he had ahead of him.

"Why don't you take a little time off and try again later?"

"I'm afraid that I'll just fall asleep if I don't keep on doing something," Harry answered cheekily. "Come on, there must be something interesting for me to do around here. Not everything has to rely on knowing special magic."

"You could always visit Angus."

Harry shrugged noncommittally as he stood up. "I suppose he could use a little company. I swear, most of the people here don't respect the janitor. I'm beginning to sympathize with Filch."

"He's not a janitor," Asami chided but Harry had already waved it off. "I know, I know, he's a respected member of staff. He also cleans the archives, so I think he counts as the local Filch. Even has a bloody cat, as I understand."

Harry said his goodbyes as he quickly made his way into the entrance hall. Several of the doors were open and a handful of Unspeakables were talking right there in the hall – probably a team had just arrived from elsewhere.

Harry had seen this a couple of times now – teams of Unspeakables were sent out to study some new artefact, or investigate some mysterious deaths – and inevitably they'd expound on their adventure at every opportunity for the next few days. Rafe Phelan, the werewolf he'd met at dinner that first day, had been quite adamant in his tale about how he defeated forty mind controlled swine with bare hands – though he'd later admitted in private that it'd been three pigs and he'd used a stunning spell. Harry had built up a healthy scepticism about any new wild story he'd heard since then.

Ignoring the group, Harry quickly made his way over to the artefact repository, where he'd visited on the first day with Mirrikh. The items occasionally repositioned themselves – though it was possible that Angus moved them – but a few of the big ones could be used as landmarks to find one's way through.

"Angus, are you here?" Harry called out, fishing his wand out of one of his pockets. "Lumos."

Much like the Cosmos Chamber, the lights were generally absent here – some of the items got rather feisty under direct light and Angus, on top of that, seemed to prefer the darkness. Being a half-Goblin might have something to do with that, though.

"I'm here, Unspeakable Potter." A raspy voice came from some distance away. Harry carefully made his way over, dodging several large racks full of gleaming swords and at least three sets of unusually aggressive footwear.

"How's things today?" Harry asked, looking down bemusedly at the diminutive caretaker that was lugging around a small chest. "Didn't get yourself lost in here again, did you?"

"That only happened once," Angus replied with a glare. "It's only because all of you are so very tall. Always looking down on the little people and our problems, aren't ya?"

"You're a wizard, Angus. Act like one. You might not have a wand, but you can knock me on my backside easily enough."

"Whose fault is it that I don't have a wand again?" Angus replied with a sneer.

The Ministry – however lenient it was in the Department of Mysteries – had been unable to bend the rules enough to allow Angus to use a wand like any human wizard could – he fell in an unfortunate cul-de-sac in the law that's prohibiting goblins from owning wands. Had his father been a wizard – rather than an unusually magically knowledgeable muggle – perhaps he'd had a chance. The law considered him a muggleborn wizard - and unfortunately, the law was not particularly friendly towards muggleborns, even now. A small blessing it was, then, that Angus was unusually adept at wandless spells, courtesy of his mother's line.

"The law will be changed, eventually," Harry reasoned. "Besides, I let you use my wand all the time, when nobody's watching. "

"You're the only one who even seems to care around here," Angus said. "At least it's nice to have one or two wizards who can look beyond a little goblin in the blood."

"I've had my fill of racists," Harry responded with a smirk. "I'm close friends with a house-elf, and I'm a half-blood myself – I'd be a hypocrite if I were to dismiss you like trash."

Angus' eyes were unusually moist, reminding Harry uncomfortably much of Dobby when he was on one of this 'Harry Potter is the greatest wizard ever' tirades. Angus' floppy ears didn't help either.

"Any new acquisitions?" Harry inquired, looking around carefully – usually he could spot when something was added recently, due to the pristine casing.

"A pair of cursed manacles," Angus pointed at a small case with a pair of house-elf sized manacles connected with a chain. "It's a pretty old artefact – probably involved in the enslavement of house-elves or similar creatures. Nasty magic."

"Any reason it's not destroyed?" Harry wondered. Usually, as he'd understood, dangerous or lethal artefacts were destroyed or deactivated to avoid future problems. Only the interesting and unique made its way to the archives.

"The Chamber of Thought wants to take a look at it, since it shares similarities to the mental magic that's keeping the house-elves from rebelling. Maybe it can be used to speed up the natural degradation of that enchantment." Angus answered, swinging his small lantern around to the opposite side – Harry aimed his lighted wand in the same direction. "Here's another new find."

Harry stopped in front of the case – it looked empty. "What is it?"

"Enchanted knife. It's pretty much invisible and awfully quick. The most dangerous stuff has been removed, but there's some kind of apparition spell on it that hasn't been figured out yet."

"Apparition spell?"

"It's apparently designed to force a person to apparate in a random direction. Perhaps several at once. Probably very handy, particularly since it's invisible. Unspeakable Watanabe believes it is an artefact made by a Japanese wizard that specializes in her type of magic."

"An assassination dagger," Harry mused. "This is what Rafe brought back, isn't it? I heard he was off to Japan last week. Are you sure it's safe to keep weapons here?"

Angus nodded as he moved towards the room's entrance. "It's quite secure."

Harry passed by the red ring he'd seen that first day. "Any news on this one?"

"There's never news about that one, Potter." Angus answered with a sigh – Harry had been asking for information on it every week, ever since he found out that it could be used to travel through any apparition barriers – the perfect emergency getaway. If it didn't kill you too.

"Never say never." Harry said with a grin. "What do you say about joining us at dinner, today?"

"Albus." Severus Snape said as he stepped into said headmaster's office, briefly eying the array of magical contraptions that were cheerfully whirring away on various shelves around the room.

"Severus. I hadn't expected to see you till breakfast," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with amusement from behind his half-moon glasses, as he gazed over his curiosity-littered desk. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I… found myself in an unusually reflective mood," Snape admitted uncomfortably . "I perceived that it would be prudent to change my locale for a while."

"Oh, Severus…" Dumbledore started with a sad look in his eyes that set Snape's teeth on edge.

"I traced the symptom to a rotting batch of Myosotis; it will take some hours for the fumes to dissipate entirely. " Snape continued brusquely, secretly relishing seeing Dumbledore fumble for a reply. "I have not, as you like to say, gone 'soft'."

"You felt the need to visit me after an accident in one of your potion laboratories?" Dumbledore questioned with a slight smile. "Are you certain that is all?"

Snape didn't answer for a while, staring out the window without really seeing. Finally, he spoke. "I have not been summoned in three weeks."

"I have noticed." Dumbledore replied immediately. "No attacks have occurred either, thus this could be easily explained as Tom having no immediate need of your presence."

Snape bristled at Dumbledore's use of Voldemort's real name but he'd gotten used to it by now. He took a moment to formulate his racing thoughts. "It's disturbing, given that until shortly the Dark Lord has been acting as if he were somewhat incompetent. I doubted his leadership and I am sure I was not the only one among the Death Eaters, particularly those that knew him before his long-term disappearance. I was starting to doubt his continued sanity."

Dumbledore frowned. "What are you trying to say? Surely not being summoned does not contradict such information?"

"The last time I and the Dark Lord spoke – as we've discussed – he seemed far more like his old self – the only time he'd done so in recent memory. It was also a private meeting with only a few followers. I have retrieved memories of a larger meeting that I was not invited to – the marking of one of our students, as you recall – and upon further review, I have found inconsistencies." Snape frowned again. "I believe the Dark Lord is deliberately feigning incompetence towards a majority of his current followers."

"I see no logical reason for Tom to do such a thing," Dumbledore answered slowly. "It doesn't seem like a very good method of achieving the power he craves."

"We may not know the reason, but if we can for the moment consider the possibility – what does it say about his plans? We have been assuming that his plans as described to the larger gatherings are accurate."

"While he'd working on something that none of his followers know about, and distracting them from it." Dumbledore concluded. "Possible, but it doesn't answer why he would include you among those to whom he shows his true colours. Surely such a deception would not work if you risk exposing it to your greatest enemy? He may believe you loyal, but that does not remove your proximity to myself."

"We are clearly missing something important," Snape observed. "It may be that the Dark Lord is simply confident enough that he does not believe you could stop him, even if you knew."

"That is a most uncomfortable suggestion," Dumbledore admitted. "Before his defeat, Tom was quite adept at subterfuge – he could well have decided to dabble in his old interests and lead us all on a wild goose chase."

"His plans will undoubtedly include Potter." Snape pointed out. "I know you have informed the boy of the prophecy, and the Dark Lord certainly suspects him of knowing it since their meeting in the Ministry."

"Harry is safe." Dumbledore said shortly. "Alastor keeps a close eye on him, and he's among the most capable wizards and witches of our country now. The protection on the Department rivals the most ancient wards of Hogwarts itself after the recent break-in."

"Hogwarts has hosted several teachers with bad intentions for Potter now, Dumbledore. What makes you so certain he will be better off at the Ministry, where there are far fewer certainties?" Snape growled under his breath. "That good-for-nothing brat should never have gotten his invitation, we'd all have been better off."

"Severus, you know what plans Tom was making before he was informed of Harry's new occupation." Albus reminded him. "My assassination has seemingly lost priority now that we no longer keep all our eggs in one basket. I believe that Tom's preoccupation with Harry gives us time – I am convinced that Harry will be fine."

"How can you be so very certain?" Snape asked, but Dumbledore merely responded with an enigmatic smile.

"It is infuriating that you know more about the Dark Lord's actions than me, Dumbledore. Do you have more spies among his ranks that you cannot talk to me about?" Snape inquired glumly.

"I do not know more about Tom's actions than you, my dear boy." Dumbledore said with that infuriating twinkle in his eyes. "I merely know more about Harry than you do. He is a remarkable boy."

Snape scoffed, glaring. "He's a miniature James Potter. I don't need to know any more to know what to expect from him." He looked out the window with a hint of sadness and sighed.

Dumbledore looked on sadly, before he perked up suddenly with a cunning look. "Did you say you were exposed to a whiff of rotten Myosotis, Severus? The Forget-me-not? Did you know that it is allegedly - Oh, surely not…"

Snape sighed deeply, raising his wand in response. "Expecto Patronum."

Dumbledore watched demurely as a lightly glowing doe pranced through his office, its soft shimmering light reflecting off his many trinkets. "After all this time?"

"Always."

Harry spent most of the day in the library, combing through many huge tomes that contained entirely too much irrelevant information, most of it so technically complex that he couldn't make heads or tails out of it. That was, of course, a risk when you were trawling through the archives of arguably the largest library in the country.

It was quickly apparent that without Hermione's knowledge when it came to books, Harry was completely lost among all of these – tall stacks of books littered one of the many long tables that were positioned haphazardly across all three floors of the library. Most of the books were on topics that Harry really didn't want to know about, like practical necromancy and magical fashion trends.

A small pile of books was positioned off to the side – books that were useful and had been consulted already. Most of them were about nasty curses and several were undoubtedly far too dark for the Hogwarts Library to even consider stocking them. He even came across the book that had once been used to figure out the recipe for Polyjuice Potion.

"Come on, work!" Harry muttered as he waved his wand in a complex spiralling shape. He was busily practicing one of the spells he'd listed as important – this one was about conjuring a sphere of air. He'd already figured out a more effective water-conjuring spell and several healing charms for use with burns, but he was being thorough.

It had been the Custodians, as usual, that had gotten him focused on his original vision again – burning alive from the inside – and searching for ways to survive it. Thankfully he'd been allowed to have a quick reminder of the vision as per the prophecy record at the Ministry, and spent some of his evenings looking up the symptoms in dusty medical tomes.

With a sudden burst, several books were pushed off the table and most of the loose paperwork in the room scattered everywhere in a gust of wind. 'Success!' Harry thought and losing concentration for a moment, the sphere dissipated. It seemed the sphere of air worked quite well – as long as you remembered to maintain it. Trying again, Harry was gratified to note that the spell worked like, well, a charm.

The sphere of air was his solution to one of the possible causes of his pain the Custodians identified – exposure to a vacuum. Harry had already figured that the spell could be used in other ways – a full-body version of the Bubble-head Charm, essentially. Perhaps it could be used to blow things away as well?

"Persistent, aren't you?"

The librarian, undoubtedly a relative of Pince's considering the uncanny resemblance – looked disapprovingly at the messy table and scattered papers. "Clean all of this up before you leave. Be thankful you're the only one in here."

Harry nodded and grinned, thinking back to the first time he'd done this – several other Unspeakables had been quite irate when Harry tried out a medical spell against burns and accidentally managed to cover a large area with foul-smelling greenish goo, including those colleagues. He'd ultimately traced the problem to a mispronunciation, but his reputation as a disturber of the peace was established.

Harry, figuring that he'd completed his day's work by learning yet another spell, flicked his wand around to return books to their proper places – a particularly helpful spell he'd learned from the librarian a few weeks earlier. He couldn't quite manage it wordlessly yet, though. The various papers he picked up by hand and left them neatly stacked on the centre table.

Without warning Harry something large and feathery landed in his hair and Harry fell back with a yell, reflexively swatting at his attacker. Said attacker, a rather irate Ministry owl, didn't seem to like this much and nipped him on the hand before dropping off its letter.

"You must be Moody's owl, no doubt about it." Harry muttered as the flying menace swooped away. He'd been attacked by the same animal several times already, but it was outwardly so similar to most of the other Ministry owls the only way to distinguish it from the others was to look for antisocial behaviour it picked up from its master.

Harry unfolded the letter to find surprisingly neat – for Moody – writing. Probably someone had been looking over his shoulder while writing it. It was short and to the point : "Report to Burbidge at eight." No name, of course – that'd probably be considered too much information by the paranoid ex-Auror.

"Daddy?"

"I'm here, Luna." Xenophilius Lovegood answered with a smile as he spread open the latest of his newspaper, the Quibbler, on his counter. "Just looking at the latest print."

Xenophilius was, as usual in these lazy afternoons, reading through the latest print of the next day's Quibbler, comfortably lying down on his couch by the fireplace.

"You know the date, don't you?" Luna asked smartly, pointing at the paper, as she walked into the room. "I told you about it, remember?"

"Ah, the new story about your boyfriend?" Xenophilius wondered, looking at his daughter with wide eyes. Luna often had information on what went on at Hogwarts before anyone else – she was particularly diligent in tracking leads for a story.

"He's not my boyfriend, dad." Luna replied in exasperation. "Not yet, anyway. He's just a friend, who is a boy. Now, you'd best make a floo-call with yourfriends, or you'll miss the scoop! You've only got a few days, I think."

Xenophilius nodded wildly as he tossed aside his paper and headed over to the fireplace, grabbing a tall spiky ornament filled to the brim with floo-powder. "I'll do that right now – maybe I can also ask about Flying Fuzz Worms, since they're in bloom this time of year – You were talking about -" The man suddenly stopped, wide-eyed, as he slowly turned. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?" he asked with a confused glance around the room.

There was nobody else there.

"Any particular reason you wanted to meet me here?" Harry wondered as he noticed Moody sitting in his lonesome in Burbidge's office.

"Just sit down and be patient, brat." Moody growled.

Harry plopped down in one of the uncomfortable chairs and stared around the thinly-furnitured room. He'd spent way too much time in here lately. Moody's artificial eye was fixed right on him, which was uncomfortable in the best of times.

"How's your aim?" Moody asked as he too slumped down. "Haven't had a chance to see you at long-range in a while, ever since you started exploiting your apparition."

Harry smirked as he thought back on that – though his apparition for long distances was shoddy at best – and entirely unreliable at the moment – short-range turned out to be pretty easy to pick up – and very handy when there's no apparition barrier in place, such as in inside the training halls. He'd taken to training his short-range apparition to be extremely precise, as it could be an invaluable means of getting out of sticky situations that Moody loved to simulate during training.

Moody himself could do the same thing – and much more quickly – but he'd admitted that the quick jumps were disorientating, particularly with his eye, and that they were decidedly crippling when facing multiple foes, as one's wand would be too busy to keep up shielding spells.

Wandless apparition has been Harry's first idea, but that turned out to be particularly more difficult than with a wand – and definitely out of his league, for now. Moody confessed that as far as he knew, only Dumbledore was capable of it, and even then he preferred a wand. Harry, knowing his luck, added Voldemort as probably capable as well.

"I've been working on it, but it's hard to figure out how good you are without a moving target," Harry answered. "I mean, a real person isn't going to be as predictable as a bludger, which just sorts of heads for you without defending itself."

"I suppose you'd need a real fight, or a battle drill." Moody said, seemingly to himself. "I can probably arrange it."

Burbidge took that moment to enter, looking on disapprovingly as both of her guests sat up straight in their seats. "Unspeakable Potter," She said. "I have been instructed – under protest – to assign you to a Field Mission. Minister Scrimgeour believes that it is imperative that you acquire practical experience – regardless of the risk involved."

Harry blinked several times. "A Field Mission? Like the ones the senior staff have? I'm still consider a temp!"

"What's this about temps?" Burbidge asked with a frown. "You're a fully-fledged member, Unspeakable Potter. Surely you do not believe that the Ministry would hire people as – Ah," Burbidge suddenly stopped with an odd look on her face. "I believe I understand. For your information – Temp is the shorthand for the Temporal Division of the Department of Mysteries."

Harry gulped at that, remembering the rather silent member of that division that had attended several evening meals in his first week, before vanishing to parts unknown. "I thought that the Time Room wasn't in use?"

"It isn't." Burbidge answered. "It will be rebuilt, however. Presumably you will join the Temporal Division sometime in the future. They've got their own way of recruiting, I'm sure you're already on file or something like weird like that. To answer your question – yes, a Field Mission like those long-term employees receive. Usually assigned to people who specialize in a particular field of magic or discipline of research."

"Which would be?" Harry wondered, thinking back to his shortened Hogwarts time and the disjointed spells he'd managed to learn since arriving here.

"Precisely." Burbidge replied. "This is why I was against the suggestion to send you on such a mission – but the Minister was adamant. Barring disagreeing with him on such a significant issue, I have chosen to pair you with Associate Moody here – you've already met – as he has considerably expertise in the Mission I have chosen. It would also be his first mission after re-joining the Ministry."

"Specifics?" Moody asked, and Harry noticed he'd been silent the whole time.

"I believed you would also be interested in this particular task," Burbidge said, as she handed over a folder with some pages of text and two photographs. Moody inhaled sharply as he saw them. "You are to find and retrieve two Aurors who have gone missing on assignment. This was an international mission, thus our involvement."

"I know them!" Harry exclaimed, shocked. "They're the ones I met when I first came here, aren't they?"

Moody grunted at that. "I figured someone would be sent out to fetch them one of these days," he said with a frown. "Awfully little information on what they were doing over there. Reconnaissance? Of what?"

"Aurors Williamson and Proudfoot were assigned a mission in the American state of Washington – reconnaissance of a potential feeding ground."

"Bloodsuckers?"

"Vampires, indeed. Several vampires resembling registered British criminals have been observed in the area, which is why we were flood about it by the American Ministry. At least two muggles and a wizard." Burbidge said, shoving a second pile of papers forward. "The two that have most substantiation are still on the books as human, which means they must've been turned somewhere in the last few months."

"What type of vampire are we talking about?" Harry wondered, thinking back to his manual.

Burbidge nodded appreciatively, gesturing towards the papers in front of her. "Whatever type it is, it feeds on live humans – violently. This would imply one of the several types that are particularly nasty when new-born. Might want to find out what you're dealing with before getting too involved."

"What're we supposed to do if the Aurors – you know, have been turned?"

"Capture, or kill if we're really unlucky and they're Malkavians or something." Burbidge said without remorse. "We have several vampires working for us – it is likely we could rehabilitate them should the need arise. Unfortunately – or not, depending on how you look at it - they'd more likely be dead than vampires, given that they're wizards."

"I assume we're staking out the feeding grounds and tracking them?" Moody asked as he scanned the report he'd been given. "Why is there no separate American inquiry? Are they not concerned about the muggle deaths?"

Burbidge sighed, grimacing. "Unfortunately, a significant portion of the American wizarding world has little or no tolerance for muggles, even more so than here. They are rather hands-off with their handling of crimes that involve muggles – presumably because they've never really had a muggle-wizard conflict of any significant scale."

"You never struck me as the type to stand up for muggle rights," Moody observed with a smirk. "Hypocrisy sneaking through?"

"I may not like them, but I do not tolerate wizarding murder, regardless of the victims." Burbidge said with an angry scowl. "You may recall that I consistently voted for those politicians which would make the muggle-magical separation absolute. That includes any and all involvement with muggles."

Moody shrugged, glancing at Harry. "Not exactly the safest of first assignments, I gather."

"There's no such thing as an easy assignment," Burbidge responded sharply. "It's the best I could do on short notice – no way in hell am I putting a first-timer on artefact retrieval, and I believe we both understand a mission involving conflict with Death Eaters is extremely unwise."

"Still, we'll probably end up exterminating rabid bloodsuckers." Moody said.

"That's why I put you on the team, Alastor. You've got the experience to do this on your own if need be." Burbidge grimaced as she looked over to Harry. "Potter, I expect that you follow instructions to the letter. You are new to this line of work and not nearly educated enough to really be ready for this kind of thing – but you'll have to be. Don't make things more difficult."

Harry gulped and nodded, feeling trapped. He was nervously thinking about the prospect of getting into a close encounter with vampires – if they were anything like Avicenna, it would be a hell of a clash.

"You will leave immediately – lodgings have been arranged in Washington if they are needed. You'll make your way to the feeding grounds via conventional muggle means and covertly scout out the local area before moving in to extract our missing Aurors. If the situation changes, change your actions accordingly – I expect you, Associate Moody, to take point on this."

Moody agreed glumly, no doubt imagining the worst possible problems. He'd probably turn his paranoia up to eleven when actually on the mission, Harry thought.

"You have a time limit of around two weeks, before you are expected to report back here, though that's a maximum. You'll be carrying a small portrait with you that you will report with every day – we don't want to lose you too. Take care of it, as its kind is extremely rare." Burbidge handed Moody a small bag. "If you have no other option, you may request assistance from the American equivalent of Aurors, though I would not bet on much help. Details are in the report. Dismissed."

Harry followed Moody out of the office, thought whirling in his head. "Why?" was the first thing he came up with.

"The Minister for Magic wishes for you to be at your best," Moody observed as he continued reading the report with his real eye while keeping an eye on where he was walking with the artificial one. "He is evidently convinced that you will need practical experience in a short period of time – and considering the resources the Minister has, I would not doubt such a conviction. He is no Fudge."

"I suppose it could have something to do with the attack Burbidge thinks is coming within a few weeks," Harry opined. "She's already told me that I have to lay low when that happens, though."

"I believe the Minister has drawn some conclusions about the prophecy that has gone missing from the Department," Moody noted softly, startling Harry. "I believe he has drawn similar conclusions as I have."

"Which would be?" Harry asked, sounding strangled. Moody knew about the contents of the prophecy? Surely not?

"Oh, don't worry, I don't know what it says. Dumbledore's been less than covert about the fact that he and you know, though. Considering who it was about and Voldemort's wanting to have it, there are few options that make sense. You are the one to knock him off his perch, eh? Make it a two-fer?"

Harry didn't answer for a while, then finally nodded, not looking at Moody. He merely got a grunt in response. "You mustn't tell."

"Do I look like a snitch to you, Potter?" Moody growled, his glare looking particularly menacing as he rubbed what was left of his nose. "Voldemort obviously already knows this, so I don't see why you're so shocked I do. Just be glad the press hasn't caught wind of it, or they'd be callin' you the Chosen One or some such rubbish."

Harry shuddered as imagined that scenario, knowing it all too likely. "Just… it's my business. Let's focus on what we have to do and hope that the Minister's plans don't get in the way of the Order's."

"Eh, that'll be okay, I believe." Moody said, grimacing. "Scrimgeour's always been a bit too quick on the uptake for my liking."

"You don't like people who are dumber than you, nor people that are smarter. Anyone left?" Harry wondered, smiling. Moody scoffed, eying his watch right through his coat pocket. "We've got a couple hours before the Portkey's due." Moody hadn't quite moved out of sight yet as he called back. "For Merlin's sake, don't put your wand in your back pocket!"

"Very good, Fenrir." Lord Voldemort said with a dangerous smile. "I expected no less, of course."

Fenrir Greyback bowed and backed away, unusually cowed compared to his usual bestial self. Lord Voldemort was perhaps the only person he gave such reverence to. "Thank you, my Lord." The werewolf quickly left the dining hall.

"They'll find out about the pack." Lucius Malfoy said, though without much conviction. He was once again supplying his house for Death Eater meetings and didn't seem particularly overjoyed by the fact. Of course, that he'd switched his imprisonment at Azkaban for confinement at his own home didn't help matters much. "Fenrir's never been very subtle."

"You underestimate the cunning of a properly motivated werewolf," Voldemort responded, ignoring Malfoy's disrespectful attitude. "I have many spies, and there is no sign that anyone's even aware of my actions – not even the old fool."

"He must suspect," Lucius said worriedly. "He is not stupid."

Voldemort twirled his wand impatiently, frowning. "That he is not. He is not likely to underestimate me – though the Ministry might. Dumbledore by himself is no threat – his precious Order barely more so."

"They've stopped several attacks during the summer," Lucius pointed out carefully, hesitating. He was practically openly criticizing the Dark Lord now, and it was a miracle he hadn't been cursed yet. Perhaps it was the lack of spectators. "They've got the manpower to stop us, if they wish."

"The attacks were merely opening blows," Voldemort said, "They were meant to weed out the worst among new recruits, and to gauge the strength of the enemy. You may have noticed we became progressively more organized, requiring more and more force from Dumbledore's Order?"

"I did not think it was intentional, my Lord," Lucius admitted. "Some have questioned your leadership."

Voldemort snarled at that, slitted nostrils flaring. "They are fools. Those who cannot see through such mild deception are not the kind of follower I require. I know whom I can rely on."

"Of course, my Lord." Lucius said quickly.

"Lucius, Lucius, of course you are among them." Voldemort said with a sly smile that looked positively deranged. "You have served me well, even if your last assignment was… less than successful."

Lucius winced as he was reminded of his bungling the mission to retrieve the prophecy about Potter. That he'd been captured had been an additional insult to his dignity. Azkaban, thankfully, was fast becoming a terrible memory. "I will not fail you again, my Lord."

"See that you do not. I require the very best of my allies – and that includes a certain ability to look through the obvious and see underneath. A certain Slytherin mentality that is deploringly absent among many young recruits." Voldemort sighed, making him look uncharacteristically human. "It is unfortunate that Legilimency can be so very harmful, or I would have long since cleaned the ranks."

Lucius stayed silent, recognizing one of his master's contemplative moods, in which he would most likely snap at any responses.

"Preparations are going well – though I am uncomfortably aware that there are missing pieces. What of Wormtail's deception, Lucius?"

Lucius jerked up as his name was mentioned. "He remains in the Ministry building per your instructions. He lives off scraps and is almost done with his task. I received a letter from his just yesterday, sent with a hawk."

"His task is a ruse." Voldemort said, glancing up. "He will have quickly aroused suspicion – that is his task. The ward stone I have him working on hasn't been in use for a decade."

"Why is he there, then?" Lucius wondered. "Distraction?"

"Distraction – or a sleeper agent. I have put him under the Imperius Curse – when a certain situation occurs, he will signal. It will be time to strike, then."

"You really believe we can take over? Just like that?" Lucius wondered.

"I don't believe it. I know it. The board is set, the pieces are moving." Voldemort responded with narrowed eyes. "See to it that know this too. We shall have victory."

"I've got the Portkey." Moody said gruffly waving a length of rope as he walked out onto one of the balconies that stuck out of the side of the Ministry building – one of the few places that said building was in contact with the outside at all. The whole place was of course invisible to muggles – and indeed, anyone looking at it from more than a few dozen feet away – and covered top to bottom with cushioning spells. "We have about ten minutes."

"What is this place?" Harry wondered, gazing out across quite a nice panorama of London with amazement - he'd barely seen a glimpse of the sky in a week or two.

"You've probably not been here before – this is one of the official long-distance apparition targets. You'll note the blue tiles – they're so you don't confuse one with the others – they've each got their own shade. Since long-distance apparition has a higher risk of splinching and erratic arrivals, it's rather easily recognizable to allow for better focus." Moody passed the length of rope he was holding back and forth nervously. "If the torch there – yeah, there it goes, best stand back-"

The greenish torch on the edge of the platform has burst in flames moments before – the flame was still getting brighter. With a cracking noise that was uncomfortably loud a rather haggard-looking wizard appeared about three feet above the centre of the balcony, dropping to the floor almost immediately and bouncing lightly on the bespelled floor. "Phew, what a rush." He said tiredly in an odd accent as he picked himself up. "Oh, hello there," the wizard said with a smile as he dusted off his robe.

"Everything all right?" Harry questioned, frowning.

"It was just a jump from the Netherlands, no worries." The wizard answered with what Harry now recognized to probably be a Dutch accent. "I would've taken the boat, but it'd just left so I figured I could wait for hours or take a little risk."

"Not much experience in long-distance apparition?" Moody asked, surprisingly openly. "Haven't done much further than France myself – and I felt that for a day or two."

"Oh, I've had plenty of experience – I'm just out of practice. Used to jump from Berlin to Paris biweekly, you know." The wizard waved as he passed them by, resting on one of the benches along the edge of the platform, his gaze briefly lingering on Harry's scar. "Have a good trip, now."

"We're up." Moody said unnecessarily, as he held out the length of rope. The Dutch wizard looked on with fascination.

"Transcontinental? Remarkable." He said, eying the rope. "Well, hope you keep your lunch!"

Harry nodded, though he already felt a bit queasy from just thinking about going along with a Portkey. The last one hadn't left the best of memories. Then again, nobody would be crazy enough to attempt apparition around the world – except perhaps Dumbledore.

Harry was quite literally pulled out of his musings as there was a sudden violent jerk somewhere behind his belly button, as if a hook was plunged in his innards. It didn't quite hurt but it was quite uncomfortable and the confusing kaleidoscope of colours didn't make things any more sensible. Unlike the last Portkey he'd used, though, this one seemed both calmer in terms of whirling around and considerably faster.

The landing was remarkably disastrous. Harry flew out of the vortex like a cannonball, ricocheting off the wall – thankfully cushioned – and bouncing off the floor until he managed to get his legs beneath him and stop himself. Shakily he stood up and turned to look at Moody, who had stepped out completely unfazed and had a bemused look on his face.

"Nobody told you how to use Portkeys, eh?" he asked, before laughing slightly.

"There's ways to use them?" Harry said with a confused look. "Last times I used them they were particularly violent as well."

"Some people get it on their first try, just like Flooing." Moody said with a shrug. "I'd not suggest using Portkeys to unprotected areas – you'd probably end up headfirst into a wall. Probably not a soft one."

Harry rolled his eyes – there wasn't exactly much likelihood of him using long-distance Portkeys anyway, and he sure as hell didn't know how to make the things to practice. "I'm a Quidditch player, I can take a few hits."

"Just make sure you tell someone when we get back. Don't want you barreling into everything every time you use one of the blasted things." Moody said as he gazed around with his twirling eye, his scarred face set in a scowl. "Don't see our welcoming party."

"I knew it would work!" an excited voice said to their left, and Moody had his wand out and aimed within the second. An excitable dark-haired woman stepped into the apparition point. "I've been working on invisibility spells. I've finally found one that works on magical artefacts!"

Harry raised an eyebrow at that – Moody's eye was an artefact? Department of Mysteries style artefact?

"Don't spread that spell of yours around," Moody muttered with a glare. "It'd upset a lot of people."

"Oh, I know," the woman said, reminding Harry rather of the equally chatty Tonks. "I haven't told anyone, of course – that would get me into so much trouble! – but I just had to try it. Just to be sure, you know? I'm sure it'd also work with all sorts of illusion spells, and since you were coming over, well—"

Moody sighed as his whirling eye scanned the area for more traces of wizards or witches, the real one fixed on the woman. "Whirlpool."

"Sandstorm." The woman answered with a smile. "Really, Alastor, you still know our old passwords?"

Moody grimaced, sneaking a glance at Harry. "This here's an old friend of mine. You can call her Maria, I suppose. Don't want to get all formal."

"We probably won't meet again anyway," Maria said with a small smile. "I was in a joint operation with the British Aurors about a decade ago."

"Do you know everyone?" Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I swear…"

"I've worked as an Auror for longer than most, and I've done other things besides, what did you think?" Moody answered. "My impostor might've been fond of painting me as a recluse, that doesn't mean the genuine article's an antisocial jerk."

"Oooh, I remember reading that in the papers!" Maria said with a laugh. "Some plot to capture a young wizard, wasn't it?"

"Me, actually," Harry volunteered with a cheeky grin. "You sort of get used to murderous professors after a while."

"Who're you then?" The woman asked with a frown, then spotted the scar. "Oh, I remember! Harry Plotter, isn't it?"

"Potter." Moody corrected gently, smirking at Harry's gobsmacked expression. "Oh, come off it Potter – surely you didn't believe your story reached all parts of the globe? You might be a living legend in Britain, here in the States you're a curiosity that's old news."

Harry scowled. "I figured with all the people falling over themselves to call me mad or evil, some of it might've made it over here."

"Eh, I heard most of it when I was in Britain those years back. There was a bit of a hubbub about it then even here, but I never really cared what went on given that I had a job." Maria waved absent-mindedly in Moody's direction. "Alastor had the most fanciful tales, you could never quite determine what really happened or what was added for effect."

Moody didn't respond to Maria's insinuations but he looked particularly uncomfortable. Harry briefly considered there'd been more going on between the two – before shoving that particular mental image in the deepest recesses of his mind. Really not good to think about. He shuddered.

"Here's your money," Maria said finally, handing over a wad of dollar bills. "Going muggle, it should take you only a couple days to make it over to your target destination. I'm heading back to work – do keep in touch, Alastor."

"I will," Moody promised with a smile. "I've been meeting quite a few of the old lot lately, might be interesting to get us all together again."

"I'll think about it," Maria answered with a wink before she turned on the spot and vanished with a barely audible pop.

Moody inhaled deeply, taking a swig from his canteen. "Ah, smog and car fumes. No mistaking it, we're in America."

"Peter!" he cried out, but he received no answer. He didn't stop running – stopping meant death. He swerved between trees, his breath coming in short gasps. "Peter, where are you?"

His legs felt like they were on fire – they could barely keep up his pace and his bruised ankle protested painfully at his callous use of it. He forced himself to keep running, his eyes on the horizon, hoping beyond hope that he could keep going.

There were no answers to his calls aside from the unmistakable noise of running – another pair of feet, far too nimble and quick to belong to any human.

"Oh God, oh man." Proudfoot cursed in between pants. He could see the first buildings in the distance – not civilization, but at least other people – but he knew he wouldn't make it. The one chasing him was gaining quickly and – gone? Proudfoot realized that the constantly resounding sounds of running feet had vanished – he was running all alone. He let out a deep sigh.

"Peter Williamson, you stubborn prick, you'd better survive," Proudfoot said with ferocity, snarling into the dark woods he finally left behind him as he stumbled into some small town. He had to find a place to lie low – the fiends would undoubtedly track him down, considering he was likely the only wizard in miles and wounded to boot.

He barely had time to scream before he was bowled off his feet, falling head over heel to the ground. He looked up in fright, then blinked owlishly.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Author's Note : Just to inform the people sending me messages : This is not a crossover fic. No non-HP characters appear in this story.

I've spent some time watching anime, thus some references slipped in, given some overlap between my planned team and the subject of said animated series. I blame Naruto Shippuden for all of this time include : The Shinobi in this story are group of wizards that are largely based on the original myths and legends, though I took the water-walking directly from the anime Naruto.

The Shinobi dagger that's mentioned is also a reference to Naruto – in particular it's a reference to Minato Namikaze's customized Hiraishin kunai. As noted, though, its spell is lost.

Short-distance teleportation is an offshoot of apparition that I envisioned ever since we found out how to train for apparition – if the easy step is short-range, surely this would come in handy in battles for particularly quick individuals?

Several references to HP Canon events beyond book 5, such as the concept of the press catching wind of Harry being the 'Chosen One' – I always considered that to be more fitting to other situations than just after his Department of Mysteries grand tour in book 5.

Next Chapters : Midnight Hour.

Some possible spoilers, mostly a writing-related rant : This chapter essentially acts as the end of the first arc, leading directly into Harry's first mission which will be shortly followed by a chapter called The Invasion, so it's obvious that status quo as barely established isn't going to last very long. I wanted to put a little more action into this chapter but I felt that shoving some of these bits into the next chapter would be somewhat weird, given that Harry's storyline is very much miles away from Voldemort's activities and Snape's spying. Draco's been relegated to after this mission, given that his plot currently has the least urgency behind it (he's at school and not expected home til holidays, if then.) Several other important plotpoints such as Harry's 'Sight' and what's going on with the title of this fic will become relevant both very soon and in a chapter or two, once more. The risk of writing a complex story, I suppose - you'll inevitable have to pick and choose what order to get events. The first mission seemed the most pressing given upcoming events. If other writers have experience with how to best approach this issue, I'd like input - I've already decided to cut down on certain storylines I'd originally planned as things would simply get too crowded. Most notable, we see relatively little of Hogwarts-related activity at the moment - with all the Ministry business going on and the Department's various plots and problems, it got rather overly full here.

Hope you didn't get bored by that, and see you next chapter, or in a review reply. ^^