The Unspeakables... (BtVS/Harry Potter)
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively. I also don't own The Lord of the Rings or The Untouchables. They belong to John R.R. Tolkien and Paramount Pictures respectively.
AN: The idea behind this fic was inspired by a line from Jeconais' White Knight, Grey Queen
Harry's article during his fifth year has more of an effect then he had expected. It kicks off an active period in the history of one of Britain's oldest and most secret organisations. Voldemort had better hold onto his hat. The Unspeakables are on the prowl and they fight dirty.
March 23rd 2011
Diagon Alley, London
'Harry Potter Speaks Out At Last: The Truth About He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named And The Night I Saw Him Return'. The man in the crisp, dark suit smirked at the headline of the Quibbler. He had always enjoyed some of the off-the-wall articles that were posted there and was a devoted reader as a consequence. This, however, was big. Harry Potter was speaking out at long last. More importantly, the lad had provided a comprehensive list of the loyal Death Eaters who had attended the Dark Lord's resurrection. Cornelius Fudge had suppressed what few names Potter had given out so thoroughly that not even the man in the suit's fellow agents could get a hold of them. The man had strongly believed that Lucius Malfoy was one for some time, but the Director had wanted more the educated guesswork. And until Potter had spoken out, that's all they had. No longer.
The man in the suit was a unique one. He was the head of a secret organisation known only as the Unspeakables. He answered only to the Director of the Department of Mysteries. His code name was Paladin. He had chosen it as a modification of a title he had been branded with by an old enemy. His real name? Paladin didn't use his real name anymore. His first name was only ever used when he was in trouble and he was well shut of it. His middle name was a horror that no one should have been inflicted with. His last name was discarded because he associated it with his drunken, abusive, useless father. His nickname… She had given him that nickname so very long ago. He had no wish to remember her any longer. He had loved her… Best friend since forever… And then she had gone mad with grief and he was the one that put her down personally. Some things were best left in the past. He was Paladin, Leader of the Unspeakables. That was all he needed.
Paladin grinned at his companion. "Lookie here, Jack. The Potter kid's sent us an early present from the Easter Bunny."
Jack's inscrutable expression shifted to show just the vaguest hint of a smile. "Cool."
Paladin shook his head in amusement at Jack's typical, monosyllabic response. His fellow Unspeakable had been like that since long before the man had taken the name Jack. "You know what this means, don't you? Hunting season is open."
Jack shrugged, offering no verbal response. Still, a trained Unspeakable could pick up the unspoken enthusiasm in the movement. Jack might be a man of few words and fewer expressions, but he really disliked dark wizards. It happens often when a local dark wizard decides that a werewolf pelt would make a powerful talisman and tries to take yours by force.
Paladin grinned. "Let's get back to base, Jack. Director Croaker should be willing to let us go ahead now."
March 25th 2011
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire
"Master…"
Voldemort smiled at the proper obeisance offered by his loyal Death Eater. He would torture Karkaroff for a thousand years for betraying Rookwood's cover. Tom was quite certain he would have regained his form years earlier if only his loyal Unspeakable had been free to act. "Rise, Augustus. I wish to know of the Hall of Prophecies."
The Death Eater affected an air of confusion. "What exactly is it you wish to know, my Master?"
The Dark Lord restrained himself from lashing out. The question was certainly valid. There were likely thousands of facts to be known about the Hall of Prophecies, some that Rookwood would know and some that he wouldn't. Besides, Augustus was particularly useful and had proven his loyalty. It wouldn't do to torture him without cause. "I wish to know exactly how one may retrieve or view a specific prophecy."
Rookwood's face betrayed nothing. "The only people capable of lifting the prophecy are those who it concerns, the one who heard it, or the one who spoke it. All others would be unable to remove it and would likely be struck down by powerful magic."
Voldemort winced internally. According to what he knew, that left a disgustingly select few. Trelawney was right out. Dumbledore had that irritating woman shut away at Hogwarts. Dumbledore was likewise unacceptable. The old man was much too canny and powerful to allow himself to be manoeuvred into removing the prophecy, and even if he would, it would be next to impossible to take from him. The Dark Lord himself could not take it. His presence in the Department of Mysteries would have the effect of trumpeting his presence to every corner of the Ministry. Fudge's wilful denial of the truth was too useful to sacrifice unnecessarily. That left Potter. Difficult, very difficult, but with Snape destroying what mental defences the boy had, Tom might be able to influence the boy's mind just enough. Decision made, Voldemort nodded mentally. "Excellent work, Rookwood. Send Avery in on your way out."
The Death Eater bowed slavishly and walked out with his head held high. Rookwood smiled faintly as he heard Avery's terrible screams. Failure was a bitter pill to swallow.
Augustus walked calmly to his assigned room at Malfoy Manor, shutting the door behind him. A moment later and privacy spells and detection charms began springing from his wand, making sure that the room was absolutely secure. Lucius Malfoy was a sneaky bugger and it wouldn't do to be careless.
Finally satisfied that his room was clean of surveillance spells, Augustus opened a trunk that had been with him when he escaped from Azkaban. He had kept it shrunken and hidden whilst in prison, originally smuggling it in by swallowing the shrunken and heavily enspelled item. Within the trunk was a wide assortment of necessary items for an Unspeakable or his calibre. The one he was most interested in, right now, was his palantír.
The palantíri were one of the best kept secrets in magical Britain. Originally created by Merlin for his primary apprentices, the Istari, they had been corrupted by the Dark Lord Sauron and used in his bid to take over the nation. The Dark Lord had been backed by a powerful goblin warlord, Grishnákh the Great, and had used his hold over the palantíri to corrupt one of the Istari and a local muggle Lord. The betrayal of Saruman and the madness of Denethor had nearly resulted in the Dark Lord's victory. Luckily the great muggle Lord Aragorn and another Istari named Gandalf had resisted long enough for the Dark Lord's only horcrux to be destroyed. Little was known about the being that destroyed the so-called ruling ring. The palantíri passed out of knowledge for many years until they were gathered up by the precursors of the Unspeakables. Magicks that are long since lost were used to cleanse them and restore them to their original purpose… the protection of Britain.
Rookwood placed his had over the palantír, calling upon its power to link with the master palantír in the Department of Mysteries.
Moments later, the image of Paladin coalesced into being. "Hello, Special Agent Castle. I see He-Who-Must-Be-Hyphenated has rescued you from Azkaban."
Castle smirked at the sarcasm in Paladin's voice. Paladin had a real hate on for Dark Wizards and Witches. Castle shuddered to think what Paladin would have done to him if the former's defection to the Death Eaters had been anything but a hoax. "My occlumency kept the dementors from being able to harm me, Sir. I thank you for smuggling in the extra food. Azkaban meals aren't fit for a dog. I remain strong and fit for duty."
The Commander of the Unspeakables nodded agreeably. "Your sacrifice is much appreciated, Castle. Excellent work. What do you have for me?"
"The Dark Lord demanded that I tell him how one might remove a prophecy from the Hall of Prophecies…"
"And you told him…?"
"I informed him about the subjects of the prophecy, the recipient of the prophecy and the actual seer."
The Lead Unspeakable nodded. "You kept quiet about the remaining people who could access it?"
"Yes Sir."
"Excellent. Keep up the good work, Castle. If Voldemort should find out about the others with access, simply claim that you weren't aware. He knows full well that the Hall wasn't your assignment."
"Understood, Sir. Castle out."
March 27th 2011
Construction Site, Wiltshire
Lucius Malfoy walked calmly across a muggle street, pretending for all the world that he was anywhere but in a muggle part of town. He wanted more then anything to be back at his Manor, but he had to move about in the muggle way. It is an unfortunate fact of life that certain dark objects are extremely volatile when transported by magical means. That left Lucius with only muggle means to get the needed objects from his vault to his Manor.
Malfoy was just passing by a construction site when one of the workers spotted him and shouted out to him. "Hey Gov, got the time?"
Malfoy stared at the construction worker that was trotting up with a crowbar slung onto his shoulder. "The time for what?" he said in his most condescending voice.
The construction worker didn't seem to notice how very unwelcome he was. "The time, Gov. You know… on your watch?"
Lucius finally figured out what the ill-bred muggle was trying to say. Normally he wouldn't give the ruffian so much as a second look, but he wanted to blend as much as was possible and if giving this ape the time would make less of a splash, the Dark Lord would be well pleased. Malfoy flipped open his pocket watch. "It is 10:32."
The construction worker nodded agreeably. "Thanks, Gov. Much obliged." And with that the construction worker lashed out with the crowbar.
So stunned was Lucius at the sudden attack that he failed to do anything. He didn't apparate, as dangerous as that would have been, he didn't draw his wand, and he didn't even use the knife that was concealed in his cane. Instead he dropped like a sack of potatoes as he felt the shattering of one and then another of his kneecaps. The excruciating pain focussed him enough to make a grab for his wand, a move that was thwarted as the crowbar slammed down on his hand.
The ruffian smiling at Lucius and whispering softly, "Lucy… You got some 'splainin' to do." Lucius was quickly gagged and tossed over the muggle's shoulder, an invisibility cloak draping over the pair of them and making Malfoy suddenly very nervous. His last thought before passing out from the pain was to wonder how he had fallen to the point where he was stuck staring at some ruffian's posterior as he was dragged off to Merlin only knew where.
March 30th 2011
Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, London
Morningstar sighed in frustration. The tall brunette was utterly tired of watching the entrance to see who came in. Normally, this would have been child's play. The only people actually authorised to enter the Department were the Unspeakables, who all wore distinctive cloaks, the Researchers whom she knew by sight and the Director who wore an Unspeakable cloak.
The problem Morningstar had was with the Order of the Phoenix. Technically the group of bumbling incompetents was on the right side, so arresting them or taking them out wasn't really an option. Unfortunately, as previously stated, they ranged from moderately competent to utter idiots. Their decision to guard the Department of Mysteries was not only unnecessary since the Unspeakables guarded it very jealously, but also caused security issues since it was very difficult to pick out who was an Order member and who was a Death Eater. Suffice it to say it made the Unspeakables' expert sniper more then a touch irritated.
April 2nd 2011
The Forbidden Forest, Near Hogsmeade
"The Dark Lord has offered us freedoms that the Ministry will never truly allow. Freedom to work, hunt and spread our gift as we may…"
Jack frowned faintly as he listened to the charismatic psychopath that was Fenrir Greyback. In many ways the monster reminded him of a certain female werewolf from his past. She too had thought of her lycanthropy as a gift and the ability to run free on the night of the full moon, something that endangered countless people, was her right. It was until Jack had taken it from her, permanently. It was only the sheer number of werewolves in the area that kept Jack from trying to end Fenrir on this night.
"Our gift… What exactly does this gift we have provide us with, Fenrir? Power is all well and good but what use is it without the mind to wield it properly. Lycanthropy is a disease and a curse and needs to be treated as such. Surrendering to the wolf simply brings us all another step towards self-destruction."
Jack sighed. Lupin played on the other extreme Fenrir. He feared the wolf too much to ever hope to achieve the control that Jack and Fenrir had. Jack had learned long ago that by accepting the wolf and making it part of you, one could truly control the change. He had the werewolf monks in Nepal to thank for this breakthrough.
Fenrir glared at Lupin. "Well if it isn't the traitor. Enjoy your latest dose of wolfsbane, Lupin? To think that any wolf I sired could have become a weakling like you."
Lupin growled in anger, his eyes taking on an amber hue. "If you hadn't sired me against my will then perhaps you wouldn't have me disgracing your precious werewolf nation."
And there, as they say, was the rub. Fenrir bit anyone he pleased, without regard for whether they wanted to be a werewolf. The monster was responsible for the divides within the werewolf nation caused by the unwilling weres. He was responsible for the particularly draconian laws that magical Britain had against weres due to his unrestrained spread of the werewolf curse.
Jack watched calmly as Fenrir and Remus sparred verbally for the hearts and minds of the pack. The war of the words would not end this night. Unfortunately, with Fudge in charge of the Ministry, it was almost inevitable that the majority of the werewolves would march under Fenrir's banner.
April 5th 2011
Defence Against the Dark Arts Office, Hogwarts
Dolores Umbridge smirked as she sat in her office, considering the day's work. Albus Dumbledore was gone from Hogwarts. That alone was cause for celebration. The meddling old man had too much power over their society at too many levels to be allowed. He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, thus controlling education. He was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, thus controlling legislation and a large portion of the legal system as well. He was the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, thus controlling international magical law and arguably having as much control of international magical politics as the DIMC did. And lastly he was the Head of the Order of the Phoenix, thus keeping control of most vigilante elements, a light-side-oriented spy network, and a certain moral authority in Britain. Dolores had no desire to fall to a dictator, however benign. It was her responsibility to watch over Britain to avoid such people coming into control.
No longer was Dumbledore the benevolent dictator. Dumbledore had lost two of his arguably most influential positions. Now she just needed to keep the old meddler on the back foot. Hopefully her youngest agent would be able to help her with that little problem. A knock rapped itself out on her door. "Come."
The door to Dolores' office opened and in walked young Marietta Edgecombe. "You wanted to see me, Ma'am?"
Dolores offered a benign smile to her agent. "Are you prepared to see if we can't recover your memory, Agent Eagle?"
The girl grinned sheepishly. She hated pretending to be weak, but it had been necessary to allow the obliviation to take. Whoever it was who had wiped her memory had needed to believe total success. And of equal importance was that Director Umbridge had wanted Dumbledore out of Hogwarts, not Harry Potter. On the contrary, Potter was critical to many of their future operations. "Please, Ma'am."
Five minutes later Dolores was able to disrupt the obliviation. Removing an obliviation is a very delicate process, requiring a great deal of power and finesse. Luckily, Dolores Umbridge, despite appearances, had both in spades. She had carefully played the role she needed to for her cover. A foul-up with this process could have broken Marietta's mind, but the only persons at the incident that Dolores couldn't have overpowered were Dumbledore and Potter. Dumbledore was in her sight the whole time and could not have been responsible. Potter, on the other hand, lacked any training in obliviation as yet. "There. I believe that should do it. Who was it, Agent Eagle?"
Marietta thought a moment and came upon the newly uncovered memory, her own mastery of occlumency allowing for a rapid process. "Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ma'am."
Dolores smirked, looking for all the world like the toad that caught the fly. "Shacklebolt… That wouldn't happen to be the same Shacklebolt that Special Agent Mimic claims is in Dumbledore's precious Order, would it?"
Edgecombe grinned at her superior. "I do believe it is, Madam Director."
April 8th 2011
Defence Against the Dark Arts Office, Hogwarts
"You're not drinking, Mr. Potter."
Harry affected a look of sincere incomprehension. "Of course I am, Professor."
Umbridge offered a condescending look and then sighed. "As you wish, Mr. Potter."
Harry's eyes widened as he felt a full body bind strike him in the back, followed immediately by conjured ropes which firmly tied him to his chair.
Dolores grinned widely. "That's much better, I think. You see, Mr. Potter, one of the shoddier things to occur under your precious Professor Dumbledore's reign is that wordless magic only begins in one's sixth year. That is why you've never really dealt with it before." Dolores cancelled the body bind on him, but left the ropes.
Once free of the bind, Harry immediately began to speak. "You won't get away with this!"
Dolores laughed heartily, a great departure from the girlish titter she was thus-far known for. "My dear, Mr. Potter, how can you say that? You don't even know what it is that I'm attempting to get away with. If you would…"
Harry was rather confused by the last statement until his head was in the grasp of a pair of feminine hands, wrapping around him and forcing his mouth open. Harry mentally cursed himself for forgetting whoever it was that had cursed him from behind, even as Umbridge poured three drops from a dropper and onto Harry's tongue.
Umbridge sat back behind her desk and gestured dismissively. "You may release him now, Agent Eagle. He's under its effects."
Harry fought furiously against the effects of the powerful truth serum, but there was no mental way to fight the potion. It was purely a chemical reaction.
Dolores leaned back languidly in her seat. "What occurred during the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, after you and Cedric Diggory grabbed the Tri-Wizard Cup?"
Harry was confused at this choice of questioning. Up until now, Umbridge had given every indication of being Fudge's stooge. The marks on his hand alone spoke to that fact. Still, he related the entire incident to her as requested.
Edgecombe took careful notes as precious information spilled forth from Harry Potter's lips. Umbridge was confident that the article in the Quibbler had been true. She had specifically banned it in order to increase interest in an otherwise disreputable magazine. Still, she had wanted it all straight from the horse's mouth. She nodded in satisfaction. "Suffice it to say, everything that was written by Rita Skeeter in that article earlier this year is true then?"
"Yes."
Director Umbridge smiled. "Why did you defend Sirius Black?" Again, Umbridge already had her suspicions based on the tale of Voldemort's resurrection, but she detested agents who made assumptions without evidence and she would not become someone she despised, even if she pretended to be someone she despised.
What followed was a soliloquy from Potter on Sirius Black and how it was he came to be framed.
A new question occurred to the Director as Potter wrapped up his tale. "Who cast the fidelius on the Potter Estate at Godric's Hollow?"
For the first time, Harry seemed to fight with himself. "I'm not certain. Perhaps my Mother? I understand she was a charms expert."
Umbridge shook her head. "Expert or not, Mr. Potter, it is a mystical fact that neither the caster nor the secret keeper of a fidelius charm can spend more then three hours out of every twenty-four in the place they are guarding and the less time they spend there the better. It is part of the trade off required for a charm of such power. Lily Potter stayed there too long to have been the caster."
Edgecombe continued to take rapid notes from behind Potter.
Umbridge stopped herself and moved on. It would not do to waste time. "What is Dumbledore doing to prove Black's innocence?"
"He tried to convince Fudge of it."
Umbridge's blood boiled. Something stunk. Goodness knew that Dumbledore, as head of the Wizengamot, had infinitely more simple methods of getting Black acquitted then relying on Fudge's good sense. 'Or at least he had at the time', she noted mentally with some satisfaction. It was nice to know her belief in Dumbledore's corruption was not unfounded. "Why have you been looking so off, lately?"
Potter shrugged, wondering what the hell was going on. "I haven't been sleeping well. I've been dreaming of a corridor of some kind. Dumbledore thinks its being caused by my mental link with Voldemort." Harry was horrified at the information that was passing his lips.
Umbridge's lips grew thin. "What is Dumbledore doing about this so called mental link with Voldemort?"
If Harry hadn't been under truth serum he would have gaped at hearing someone else, especially a supposed Ministry lackey like Umbridge, call Voldemort by his name. Instead he just answered calmly. "Professor Snape is trying to teach me occlumency."
Dolores nearly popped a blood vessel. "Dumbledore is having you instructed in the mind arts by someone who even an idiot could recognise despises you."
"Yes."
Dolores closed her eyes and prayed to Merlin for patience. She wanted to have a hissy fit over that little tidbit alone. Even if Snape was doing his best to put aside his differences with Potter, Snape's inherent hatred of the boy would make any attempt at teaching him the metal arts worthless. And Dolores was not willing to be generous enough to believe Snape was even that mature. "Remind me to have Special Agent Adama train you personally in the mind arts… Are you confused yet, Mr. Potter?"
Harry nodded slightly. "Yes."
Umbridge allowed an ugly smile to cross her face as she leaned forward. "It's only going to get worse, young man. I am Director Croaker of the Department of Mysteries. I was wondering if you would care to join the Unspeakables…"
Dramatis Personae
The Unspeakables
Director Dolores 'Croaker' Umbridge; witch from Lancaster, England
Commander Alexander 'Paladin' Harris; squib from Sunnydale, California (30)
Special Agent Krevlornswath 'Adama'; Deathwok from Pylea (52)
Special Agent Augustus 'Castle' Rookwood; wizard from Montgomery, Wales (41)
Special Agent Daniel 'Wolfman Jack' Osbourne; werewolf from Sunnydale, California (31)
Special Agent Dawn 'Morningstar' Summers; witch from Los Angeles, California (26)
Special Agent Nymphadora 'Mimic' Tonks; witch from Spelthorne, England (22)
Agent Marietta 'Bronze Eagle' Edgecombe; witch from Belfast, Northern Ireland (16)
Agent Harry 'Aslan' Potter; wizard from Godric's Hollow, Wales (15)
Notes:
Dawn as a Witch: Dawn was moved by her mother to Sunnydale just prior to her eleventh birthday; the presence of the hellmouth kept Salem witches institute from detecting her
Xander as a Squib: Xander is a squib from a long line of squibs; his family had long since forgotten about magic but they still possessed the ability to see and understand that world
BtVS Divergence: As some may have figured out this is a Buffy-verse where Xander is forced to kill Willow after he fails to talk her down; he abandons Sunnydale thereafter, feeling that he has failed everyone
DIMC: The Department of International Magical Cooperation
Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours. I also have a pretty awesome picture that goes with this fic.
Jasper