MISSION RECRUITMENT

31st July 1982

"What news from Surrey?" Chekhov asked, sipping tea from the mug Alice had made for him when she was just eleven.

"Well Drake has failed in every attempt he's made so far. Blood and Sacrifice is as unbreakable as we believed it to be," Croaker said. "Drake almost had complete memory loss when he tried to be too smart and forced the wards to retaliate."

"That's what happens when you're over enthusiastic about things," Chekhov said dryly. "I'm just waiting for the day Sanders blows up half the ministry."

Croaker laughed.

"How did Rookwood's interrogation go?"

"Completely brainwashed. The idiot," Croaker said scornfully. "He actually believes in what Voldemort was doing in contrast to his own status as a half blood. He swore on the life of his mother that purification of blood was the only way for the magical world to survive."

Chekhov clucked in disappointment. "How did we let him into our department? I'm amazed we ever thought he was a smart wizard."

"He did show a lot of promise but then we all make mistakes sometimes," Croaker said.

"Let's not make it again is all I'm saying."

"Anyway, so the school is the only point of entry that we have is it?"

"Depends on when he starts preschool," Croaker said. "We've got eyes on the kindergartens in the area so until the Dursley's enroll their kid we're not going to get a whiff of Potter."

"So we wait," Chekhov concluded. "Now let's move on to more important things …"

-x-x-

18th May 1983

"Alan Shaw, is it?"

"Yes Sir."

Alan Shaw was a fair, five foot ten inches tall graduate of the Auror program who was recruited right after he graduated from Beauxbaton. He had dirty blonde hair, pale blue eyes and was a regular good looking American with a face and body that looked like it was cut out of stone. Didn't have a lot of friends, and those who were his friends were wary of his unemotional state of living. High grades in all his years and top of the class at the Auror academy, nearly setting a record rivaling that of Mad Eye Moody.

Of course now that he had joined the DOI, that record was erased and slowly but meticulously, all traces of his ever being in the Auror academy was removed. People forgot who he was, his parents were convinced that had just one daughter and his identity was burned from every database that existed on the planet, magical and non magical.

"Have you met Mission Commander Croaker?"

"This is my first time meeting him."

"Have you taken the oath?"

"Yes sir, Ms. Stacy ensured I said it without mistake."

"Good, so now you know what we are and what you are from here on out."

"Yes Sir."

"You will be dealing with Croaker at all times. You will answer to no one else except for me but all my orders will be conveyed through your mission commander so this is probably the last time you're going to see me. Good luck and don't screw up."

Chekhov patted Shaw on the back, stepped into the fiery hearth casually and suddenly spun out of sight. There was no other way in or out. The mission commander's office was accessible by a special floo network that was hidden by a modified Fidelius charm and it lay beyond Chekhov's office and much deeper in the Earth, protected beyond measure.

Croaker cleared his throat, attracting Shaw's full attention. "Do you know who Harry Potter is?"

"Survived the killing curse cast by Lord Voldemort by rebounding it towards him."

"The circumstances around his survival are a mystery and the DOM has a deep interest in unraveling said mystery. Now we suspect the boy will be starting kindergarten next month and your mission is to join the school as a teacher, observe Harry Potter and create an accurate profile of the boy. Do not get close to him and do not attempt to get close to his residence. The wards are powerful and unkind to wizards not friends with Albus Dumbledore."

"Not friends?"

"Only Albus can give permission for magical folk to walk through those wards unharmed. They are powered by the magic of blood and sacrifice. A combination that is unbreakable."

"Do the wards reach the school?"

"They extend along with the boy's movements but they get weaker as the boy gets further away. The school, however, is within a range that will keep the wards strong but will discourage you from interacting directly with the boy. You have to figure out a way to circumvent these wards and find a way for us to get to the boy."

"Don't children usually go to preschool when they're four or five?" Shaw asked curiously.

"The Dursley's kid turns three next month and they have high hopes and a lot of faith in their son's abilities or so I hear," Croaker said without interest. "Those are unimportant details. What is important, regardless of age, is that we're finally getting a chance to actually look at Harry Potter after nearly two years."

"Now Chekhov managed to squeeze a little detail about the prophecy from Dumbledore and the gracious headmaster of a children's school said that the prophecy was fulfilled when Voldemort failed to kill Harry and was obliterated himself. There was nothing more and he couldn't recall the exact wordings…. The old fart."

The squeezing involved a recording orb showing Alastor Moody destroying evidence and then sending a patronus message to Dumbledore. According to Chekhov the look on Dumbledore's face was most satisfying. The words of the prophecy were not shared and even the threat of Moody losing his job and his life did not sway Dumbledore.

"Do we believe him?"

"Absolutely not and that is the reason we want you to observe the boy. Do you have any questions?"

"How long do I stay?"

"You stay until you have an understanding of his intelligence quotient, his behavior with the muggles, areas of study in which he might be talented; his mother was a genius after all and if there's mentally anything wrong with him."

"Mentally as in, did the killing curse fry his brains for good," Shaw asked rhetorically.

"You catch on quick. Any more questions?"

"No Sir."

"Good luck then."

Shaw nodded and stepped into the fireplace. A whisper of a destination later he was gone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

2nd October 1983

Footsteps echoed off the walls of the closed stone corridor. Alan Shaw, the new field agent recruited by the Department of Intelligence was on his way to submit his report. He walked along the cold, damp corridor until he reached the end, where instead of Chekhov's office; there was a crackling fireplace instead.

"Mission Command," he said, stepping into the fire. There was no floo powder required.

Croaker didn't look up from his desk, on which he was carefully examining a parchment with a powerful magnifying glass. "Well?"

Shaw had a thick file under his arm and he carefully pulled out a bunch of papers and put them in front of Croaker.

"What is this?"

"Draw inside the lines activity for the kids," Shaw replied, his voice steady and tone strong.

"They're horrible," Croaker remarked. Croaker then pursed his lips, waiting for the verdict.

"This," Shaw said, pulling out another white sheet from his file, "Is what Harry Potter did."

Croaker was impressed. The children were supposed to keep the crayons within the dark lines of the dinosaur and all of them failed miserably except for one. The strokes were flawless, not a dot was outside the lines and different colors were used for different sections of the prehistoric creature.

"Does this make him a gifted artist or one with the potential for greater things?"

Shaw produced more papers from the file and Croaker's eyebrow twitched.

"Addition, subtraction and basic multiplication," Shaw said. "It took him less than a week to understand the basics and to put things in perspective, this is second grade stuff."

Croaker whistled but sensed there was more. "Is there a punch line to this or am I going to have to squeeze it out of you?"

This time Shaw removed a photograph and a vial; containing swirling silver mist.

Croaker's eyes widened in shock. "Dumbledore!" he exclaimed.

"The kid knocked down a stack of books on his cousin's head, accidental magic of course, after his cousin smacked him in the head with a plastic bat. Three teachers saw it happen and informed the principal who in turn informed the relatives," Shaw grimaced at this point. "Who in turn said Potter was a freak, he must have planned it out and purposefully harmed their little angel."

Croaker snorted.

"Did Dumbledore show up to cover it up?" Croaker asked, frowning.

"He did," Shaw said, a hint of a smile appearing on his otherwise emotionless face.

"Unbelievable," Croaker muttered. "In between all the political maneuvering and strong arming disobedient purebloods, he had the time to visit a school and do the job of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

"Curious isn't it," Shaw said, the smile gone as fast as it came. "The DMAC doesn't even have a record of there being accidental magic around Harry Potter. The record was erased just as fast as it came."

"What about the vial?"

"My memories of what I saw before it was wiped clean."

"Any traces?"

"Dumbledore's a genius. I didn't even realize he was there until I saw the photograph in my camera and found the vial in my pockets."

Croaker hummed, clasping his palms. "So clearly Harry Potter is not done with the prophecy."

"Dumbledore lied to us."

Croaker rolled his eyes. "Stop stating the obvious. A prophecy is born and Dumbledore says it's been fulfilled?" Croaker laughed humorlessly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"No luck on finding a way past those wards I imagine," Croaker asked.

"I can't even talk to the boy without employing occlumency and focusing on just teaching him."

Croaker hummed. "Keep watching the boy. Keep testing him and pushing past his limits. The idea that he could be an asset to the department is a tempting one. Also try to get a measure of his magical potential. Oh, and I assume that he's not showing any signs of being affected by the curse?"

"He's perfectly normal. I ensured all the kids had a basic medical check up and so far, except for being undernourished, he's fine."

"Good," Croaker murmured, deep in thought.

"What next?"

Croaker shook the vial of memories like a bell sounding victory. "We now have more leverage," he smirked.

"It's not enough to get him to back down," Shaw observed. "All it says is that Dumbledore has an interest in the boy who lived and he personally showed up to ensure his safety in a school of muggle children. Exposing the truth exposes us."

"Which is why you're still watching him," Croaker said sharply. "What's your opinion on the idea of recruiting a toddler?"

"The kid's smart. He enjoys learning and he's already showing signs of being leagues ahead of his own age group. If the department decides to condition him from such a tender age, he'd be an incredible talent to us."

Croaker frowned, mentally weighing the pros and cons of attempting to raise a child within the department. "For now determine without a shred of doubt that it would be in our best interests to recruit Harry Potter. Mathematics and cute art is not going to cut it. Once we're a hundred percent on this I'll take the proposal up to Chekhov."

Shaw nodded and left.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

31st July 1984

Footsteps echoed on the walls of the closed stone corridor. Alan Shaw, Harry Potter's art's teacher, the loveable man who won over the hearts of every mother with kids in the school, was on his way to submit his final report.

Croaker and Chekhov stood behind the desk, waiting patiently.

"Well?"

"His grades have dropped," Shaw said without preamble. "He's becoming more withdrawn and a target for bullies."

"Why?"

"I can't enter Privet Drive."

"Go on."

"He yearns to learn. But then he looks at his cousin and closes up."

"Abuse?"

"No visible signs."

"Mental abuse then."

"No doubt about it. I believe it started after the first accidental magic incident."

Chekhov sighed.

"What's the play?" Shaw asked. "It's obvious what's going on here."

Croaker snorted. "Wasn't it from the start?"

"Cut the cross talk and give me a plan," Chekhov said sharply. "Dumbledore's conditioning the boy. We get it. We do it all the time and he does it all the time. What I want to know is, is Harry Potter worth our time?"

"I think he's a Metamorphmagus," Shaw added.

Stunned silence perforated through the room. They had one potential Metamorphmagus in their recruitment network and another would be an incredible asset.

"You're sure about this?"

Shaw hesitated. "It's a suspicion," he admitted.

"Based on what facts?"

"I've seen him get pummeled by his cousin's friends. They beat him like you would beat a rabid Hippogriff, but never once have I seen a glimpse of a bruise or the faint sign of injury on him."

"Hardly convincing," Croaker scoffed.

"We can make him everything this department desires," Shaw pressed. "He's intelligent. And by intelligent I don't mean smart, I mean fucking super smart."

Croaker and Chekhov raised their eyebrows at the unexpected praise. Was Shaw getting emotional over this? The question was running through both their minds.

"And no, I could care less," Shaw said, recognizing the expressions. "But I've been watching this kid for a little over a year now, and I can tell you he's got the potential for greatness. But whatever plans Dumbledore has for him, they don't involve exploiting the kid's mind, on the contrary, his intellectual capabilities are being carefully beaten into the deepest corners of his mind where they will stay, never to be brought out again."

Chekhov turned to Croaker. "Will he be an asset or a liability to our secrecy?"

"The boy who lived can get into places through the front door instead of the back," Croaker muttered. "Politicians would sacrifice their balls to get a hold of him and if we let them while he is ours, then it works in our favor immensely."

"But first we have to find a way to get through those wards. Kidnapping is out of the question; before you can suggest it. Dumbledore's got every corner locked tight. The only way we take him is the legal way."

"Ministry?" Shaw asked.

Both Croaker and Chekhov laughed. "I keep forgetting you're still new here," Chekhov said, shaking his head in mirth.

"So who do we report to, if you don't mind me asking?"

Croaker answered, looking him straight in the eye. "The Ministry."

"Back to topic," Chekhov commanded.

"We need to get to the Dursleys," Shaw said. "Perhaps a lottery trip to a foreign country where Harry Potter is left behind?"

"It's worked for us in the past but Harry Potter is too high profile. Dumbledore will dedicate his life to tracking him down and returning him to the Dursley's if Potter still has something to do with the prophecy."

"Why is Dumbledore such a problem?" Shaw asked. He was new here, Chekhov had made that point many times in the past year and he had never asked questions beyond his authority but this time he felt he was deep enough to know.

"Dumbledore is a politician," Croaker said gravely. "He is the head of the World Defence League, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the head of the International Confederation of Wizards."

"When something interests a man like that, it's only because it benefits him. When he takes measures like this, then you can imagine how significant it must be."

"Does that make the most famous wizard of our time against us?"

"To talk about Dumbledore would be to talk about a century of power struggles," Chekhov said. "Find us a way to legally get to Potter and then the file on Dumbledore will be on your desk."

"Is that understood?"

"Crystal, Sir."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

1st September 1984

Shaw quit the school the day after his report on the progress of Potter and switched the mode of his mission to watching and profiling Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

Dumbledore's wards extended beyond the limits of the school and it was thanks to mind bending occlumency training that he was able to prevent the wards from convincing him to turn and run far away from the reach of the wards. The school was as far as he could get and beyond that there was no penetrating the wards. He could not interact with the Dursleys, he could not get anyone to do it for him and he could not even locate the accurate address of the house Harry Potter lived in. Dumbledore was thorough with locking out Harry Potter from the world of magic.

But he was not thorough enough and he underestimated the lengths to which the Department of Mysteries was willing to go, to get to Harry Potter. Of course, it was the Department of Intelligence that was doing all the work and that gave them a vital advantage over Dumbledore.

Shaw was able to teach Harry, although he was unable to string words unrelated to teaching when it came to talking with the boy. He could observe but never interfere.

Observation was enough.

It wasn't hard to understand all there was to the guardians of Harry Potter. Vernon Dursley deeply loved his wife and kid, he loved his job and his ambition was to one day become the marketing director of the company he worked for and maybe even start his own company.

On the other side of things, he was racially prejudiced, hated anything that didn't fit into his limited way of life and he detested anything that went against the teachings of his Church.

Shaw found it easy to dislike the man.

Petunia Dursley on the other hand, was a woman with a superiority complex a mile wide. Her dream was to one day stand above all her neighbors and superficial friends and be able to look down on them from the highest pedestal she could imagine. Her routine ran like clockwork and her shopping list never varied unless there was a special occasion. In that case the list for special occasions was set in stone as well. Her list never changed, her attitude never changed and she would create a scene if the item on her list was unavailable at her preferred Hypermarket.

Shaw wondered if this was the kind of assignment all field agents were given on their first outing after training.

After a month of observation and planning, it was time to set the ball in motion and Shaw, disguised as a priest, walked into Grunnings Drill Manufacturers. Father Illiosis walked to the reception area with a roll of pamphlets under his arm. He was dressed in a poor quality, worn out suit and rang the bell at the reception. He knew, right at this moment, Vernon Dursley was in a meeting with the managing director and with a saintly expression on his face, Father Illiosis requested a meeting with the MD.

It was time to dangle the bait.

The man at the reception couldn't refuse a man of god and immediately ushered him to the conference room, wondering what this man of faith could want with a company that manufactured drills.

The priest introduced himself and launched into an animated explanation about why he was here and Vernon Dursley was captivated by this man who spoke about children with unusual predispositions. Vernon felt like god himself, had sent this man to Grunnings after what his freak of a nephew had pulled off at the school this time. A teacher, who was uncharacteristically mean to Harry, had her hair turned green and there was a hullabaloo in the school because of it. But Vernon knew, he knew it was the boy who did it even though there was no proof and even though the boy was in a different classroom at the time, Vernon knew the freak was responsible for the incident even though it had been written off as a hair product disaster by the women.

And now, a priest, a man of god, was advertising for a gathering where supposedly incurable children were cured of all the bad things that ailed them! He looked at his boss and frowned at the skepticism on his face. Of course, he thought in disgust. His boss was an atheist. He believed in his own work and didn't credit a supernatural power for his success.

The Father was politely turned down and respectfully asked to leave but before his boss could stop him, Vernon stood up abruptly and dragged his overweight body towards the priest as fast as he could.

"Father Illiosis! Father Illiosis!" he panted, out loud.

"Yes? Mr….?"

"Dursley, Vernon Dursley."

Good, the prey was attracted.

The spell was broken, Shaw thought in satisfaction. Vernon had made first contact and now he could speak freely, but there was no need to. Not if everything went according to plan.

"What can I do for you Mr Dursley?"

"Why did you come to Grunnings of all places? I mean why now? Why here?"

The incident with the hair had really unbalanced Vernon, Shaw thought grimly.

"I go wherever god needs me to go, Mr Dursley," Shaw said serenely. "Wherever there are children who need to be touched by God and his goodness, I will be there."

"I… I have a nephew," Vernon began nervously. "He's four and he… he's uh… he's been touched by the devil."

Shaw was silent, waiting for the man to continue and say the words.

"Abnormal things happen around him… things that the church frowns upon… things that any decent human being would frown upon… … will… could you help him, Father Illiosis? Can you get rid of the devil inside him?"

Shaw raised his arm and put his hand on Vernon's shoulder, his eyes radiating compassion and understanding. "Bring him to the gathering, my child," Shaw said softly. "And there, we will make it better for you forever."

There were tears of joy in Vernon's eyes and he took the pamphlet offered to him by Shaw.

"I trust I will see you on the 4th of this month?"

"Without a doubt," Vernon said enthusiastically.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

4th September 1984

The Church Shaw chose for this operation was not grand and was located in Pulborough, East Sussex, where there was no magical presence whatsoever. The Church was just like any other building in the village except for the large cross at the apex of the distinctive triangular roof of the building and the large idol of Jesus Christ inside. Light streamed through the beautiful stained glass windows and the inside was very spacious and lined with rows of long wooden benches.

About twenty children and their parents had already turned up and Shaw was waiting for Harry Potter and Vernon Dursley. The event happening in the church was real. The children and parents who had turned up were invited just like Vernon was and Father Briggs, a real priest and a good man, was in charge of blessing the sick and rowdy children whom the parents had brought to be cured of the ailments.

Shaw's only purpose in the church was to get Harry Potter to become a ward of the Department of Mysteries.

Was the bait attractive enough?

His expression flickered, showing a hint of relief, when Vernon Dursley and Harry Potter walked into the church, fifteen minutes after the scheduled time.

Vernon was holding Harry's hand tightly and Shaw could see the child holding back tears because of the bone crushing grip on his feeble fingers. There was fear written all over the face of the boy and Shaw recognized it was fear of punishment for entering the Church.

For the first time since the mission began, he felt the tiniest feelings of anger towards Albus Dumbledore for allowing a child to grow up in such an environment, even if his plans vaguely had the best interests of the magical world. But that tiny sliver of anger disappeared when he remembered that Harry Potter was just one in a million kids like him and he focused his mind on the task at hand.

"Thank you for coming Mr. Dursley," Shaw said politely, shaking the man's hand. "And this is?"

"Harry Potter," Vernon said at once, his voice tense.

"Pleasure to meet you little man," Shaw said kindly. He was in disguise of course. It wouldn't be much of a covert mission if Harry recognized him as his school teacher.

Harry looked at him, his eyes filled with curiosity and a million questions regarding his presence at the Church but he held it all in, looked down at his shoes and held out his hand.

Shaw noticed that there wasn't a single mark of Vernon's grip on his hands. He took the tiny hand and shook it gently.

"This might take longer than I expected," Shaw said grimly to Vernon.

"What do you mean? Can you cure him?"

"Do you mind if Mr. Potter and I talk in private, Mr. Dursley?" Shaw said.

"I… I don't think that's a good idea."

It had taken hours and a terrible row with Petunia until he was able to get her permission to get Harry to the gathering. It was worth a shot, he kept repeating and screaming until she finally gave up and told him to do whatever the hell he wanted.

Shaw looked around and Vernon followed his gaze and it lingered on the other Priest who was quietly addressing the other parents. Vernon wondered why he was kept out of the group and as soon as that thought crossed his mind Shaw leaned in to whisper in Vernon's ear. "He needs to be cleansed of the evil's plaguing him," he whispered, sensing the variety of thoughts in the man's mind which worked to his advantage. "I cannot spook the devil inside him."

Vernon's eyes widened in fear.

"May I Mr. Dursley?" Shaw asked again, loud and clear.

"O-of course! Please do!"

Do not spring the trap prematurely.

Shaw smiled at Harry and took him to one of the rooms behind the stage, where Father Briggs was beginning his sermon. Vernon followed and Shaw told him to wait outside the door while he spoke to Harry.

The room behind the door was the office of the priest and consisted of a portrait of god and one flimsy table surrounded by three chairs; One for the priest and two for visitors.

Shaw made Harry sit in one and he took a seat in the other.

"Are you going to hurt me?" Harry asked and Shaw, for the first time got a good look at what Harry Potter was. He was painfully thin. His shirt was covering bones and his pants were three sizes too large for him. His hair was pushed to one side in an effort to make it look neat but it just stuck up diagonally. His eyes were a unique green and they were looking at the floor, avoiding eye contact with a man, who he thought was going to hurt him.

"I want to give you this," Shaw said.

Harry raised his eyes to the table curiously and then his eyes widened dramatically.

In the middle of the desk was a book, titled 'Puzzles and Riddles.'

"Do you want it?"

Harry just stared at the book hungrily and didn't make an attempt to take it.

"You can have it and many more if you do one thing for me."

Seconds turned to minutes and Harry didn't move a muscle. There was fear, desperation and longing in his eyes and Shaw just waited. He had to allow Harry to say the words. He could see the train of thought travel from fear to suspicion to craving to intrigue until it reached a state where he was able to summon the nerve to speak for himself.

Ten long minutes later, "What do I do?" Harry whispered.

Shaw smiled.

"There's another door behind you. I want you to go there and when I call you again, I want you to scream and act like a madman."

This time Harry's eyes met Shaw's and there was no fear. There was just puzzlement and bewilderment at the odd request.

Shaw had to keep it simple, he could not waste time trying to make Harry understand something he needn't understand until the deed was done.

"I won't call your name but there is a bulb above the door. It will blink red and at that moment I want you to run into this room, screaming. Do you understand?"

"Why?" Harry asked, confused.

Shaw just pointed towards the book and then removed another from the drawer. The new one was titled Prehistoric Beasts.

"Will you do as I ask, Harry?"

Harry nodded, his eyes attracted to the cool dinosaur on the cover of the book. If he could read the book he didn't mind doing what this strange man asked.

"Good, now go and wait. It won't be long."

Harry slowly walked towards the door, his small body taking its time and he kept looking back at Shaw and the books on the table, wondering if this was all just a dream.

Once Harry shut himself in the room where the priest slept Shaw went and let Vernon into the room.

"Well?" Vernon demanded impatiently. "Is he cured?"

"Please have a seat Mr. Dursley," Shaw said tersely and the worry in his voice made Vernon anxious.

"Where is the boy?"

Spring the trap.

"Mr. Dursley there is something very wrong with your nephew," Shaw said severely.

"W-wr-wrong? What do you mean?"

Vernon was frightened. Outside the Priest was blessing every child that was brought to him but his nephew had been pulled aside as if the Priests knew he was a freak and his worst fears were coming true.

"Darkness Mr. Dursley," Shaw said gravely. "That child will bring misfortune wherever he goes."

Vernon's mustache quivered. This was a bad idea, he realized. Petunia was right. "I have to take care of him," he muttered. "Maybe I should leave. This was a bad idea."

"Your family could be in danger, Mr. Dursley."

"Is he dangerous?!" Vernon gasped.

"By taking him in, you are not doing yourself a favor in God's eyes Mr. Dursley."

Vernon gaped.

"And I think you must let me have the boy so that your sins may be cleansed."

"What? What are you saying?! What is this? I have no idea what you are talking about…!" Vernon was panicking, he was beginning to rant uncontrollably and fear was taking root deep inside his heart.

Reinforce the trap and kill thoughts of escape.

At that very moment Shaw pressed a button under the desk and to his delight Harry burst out of the room, screaming his head off, waving his arms like a madman and running straight towards Vernon.

Vernon almost had a heart attack when terror gripped his heart in a vice grip as a clearly mad Harry Potter ran straight towards him.

Shaw burst into action. He jumped over the table, grabbed the screaming Harry and took him back to the room and shut the door.

"Well done Harry! Well done!" he said softly.

Harry was panting. Blood was pounding in his ears and whatever Shaw was saying was turning into a strange buzz in his head. His head was forced up and Shaw looked into his eyes.

Shaw realized that the sudden sight of Vernon must have really terrified Harry and he put the book of riddles and puzzles into Harry's hands.

"Wait here and do not come out alright?" he whispered.

Harry just nodded shakily, his body trembling violently. His eyes caught sight of the book in his hand and slowly his terror was brought down but he was still shaking.

Shaw went back out and Vernon was purple with rage. "What the bloody hell was that!" he shouted. "You tell me right now or god help me I will…"

"You will what Mr. Dursley?" Shaw said sharply, taking his seat behind the table. "That boy is dangerous and I'm offering you a chance to get rid of him before he hurts your family. What is it that is stopping you Mr. Dursley?"

The anger slowly ebbed away and with a heavy sigh, Vernon sat down. "Bad things will happen if I give the boy away," he said miserably. "I can't tell you the truth Father, or else my family will get hurt."

Shaw leaned forward, concern written all over his face. "Is someone threatening you?"

"Worse," Vernon mumbled.

"What do you mean? If they find out Harry is no longer with you then they will hurt you? Who are they, Mr. Dursley?"

"They say keeping Harry with us protects us more than him. Bad people want to hurt us and apparently the boy keeps them away."

Deliver the final blow.

"Wizards," Shaw whispered and Vernon was shocked.

"What did you say?" he whispered, unable to believe the word that had come out of the priest's mouth.

"A secret society, hidden from the world," Shaw breathed. "That child has magic and thus he is evil in the eyes of god. The magical world is a product of the devil Mr. Dursley and we know all about them. If you let me help you I will make sure you never have to hear from them again."

"H-how?"

Shaw removed a bunch of papers from the drawer. "We have a protection system for innocent families who get burdened with magical children. You are not the first family to be forced to care for such a child," Shaw said grimly. "It is a trend with these people. They force innocent families to deal with the child and when they are eleven years old, they will come to take them away. You will be forced to care for the child until they feel like taking responsibility for it."

"They are monsters Mr. Dursley and if you allow me, I will help you get them off your backs forever."

"How?" Vernon whispered hopefully.

"Legally sign him over to our care," Shaw said, pushing the papers towards Vernon. "And to ensure they don't suspect a thing, you must adopt a similar looking child, a good non magical child for whom you can love instead of a freak."

"I have to talk with my wife first," Vernon said, doubt clouding his mind once more.

Still struggling? Go for the heart.

Shaw stood up, his expression fierce. "This is no joke Mr. Dursley. You saw what just happened. The boy tried to kill you! Are you the man of the family or not? Make the decision Mr. Dursley. Your life depends on it."

Vernon's breathing became faster and his heart beat faster. He had always let Petunia make the decisions for the family. If he had had things his way, the boy would have been at the doorsteps of an orphanage the moment they found him at their doorstep. If things would have gone his way, they would have been in the States and he could have been the vice president of the main Grunnings office, instead of languishing as the sales manager head in the local branch. If things would have gone his way, Dudley could have been in the finest preschool in the country if Petunia hadn't refused.

His face hardened and he took the pen Shaw offered him. He was the man of the house and it was time Petunia knew it.

"Where do I sign?"

Shaw showed him the dotted lines and five minutes later they were done.

"What now?" Vernon asked. He felt like a huge burden had suddenly lifted off his shoulders and his faith in god and belief in his existence was reinforced ten times over.

"Now we go to an orphanage close by and you get to choose a four year old child to replace the monster you had living with you all this time."

Three irksome hours later, Vernon was getting back into his car, with a black haired boy, scarcely similar to Harry Potter; the only common features being the thick black hair and round powerless spectacles framing his eyes.

"Remember Mr. Dursley," Shaw said. "Your wife must sign those papers and accept the situation or else all our work will be for naught."

Vernon nodded.

"This is the will of God and your chance to live a life of love and peace."

"I understand," Vernon said softly. He was holding the new Harry's hand like it was a delicate piece of glass.

"Take this as well." Shaw gave Vernon a metal tube, closed at both ends. Inside the tube was Harry's blood and the insides of the tube was engraved with runes that pointed all magical devices looking for Harry Potter to the tube of blood.

"What is it?"

"A blessing from god," Shaw said. "Keep it in the room you kept your nephew in and never remove it."

Vernon wanted to ask more questions but he held his tongue.

"It will ensure that the wizards never darken your footsteps again," Shaw said, putting Vernon's mind to ease. "Have a good life Harry," Shaw said to the newly adopted boy.

The slightly pudgy boy nodded shyly.

"I had to pull a lot of strings to make this happen and you need to know child services might come to your house after a month to check up on young Harry Potter."

"We will give him the best care in the world," Vernon swore and with a burden less smile, he helped Harry get into the car and drove away.

Mission almost accomplished.

Shaw sighed. It was time to break the news to the real Harry Potter.

He walked back into the church and Father Briggs was still in the middle of conferring with the parents and imparting valuable advice on how to deal with their children's problems. He entered the back room and found Harry still engrossed in the book of prehistoric animals.

His lips were moving silently as he absorbed every word that the book spoke. He didn't hear Shaw come in but he did notice his presence when the book was gently pulled out of his hands.

"Hey!" he protested angrily, but then he remembered what happens when he protests and he quickly closed his mouth and looked to the floor.

This was a critical moment if Harry was going to become a part of the DOI. Shaw pushed the book back into his hands and waited.

Harry looked up, stunned. Such a thing had never happened before and it baffled his mind.

"If you had a choice," Shaw said slowly. "Would you come with me, where you can read all the books you want or would you want to go back to your uncle and aunt?"

"You," Harry said quickly. It was an instinctive response. His soul rejected the idea of returning to the Dursley's and for better or worse, he would jump at the chance to leave that house that caused him so much pain and he did.

Shaw led Harry to a van parked out back and nudged the boy into the back seat, where a couple of other puzzle books were lying in wait, to keep him occupied during the long journey. Magic was to be kept a secret until the mission was complete.

They drove all the way to the Ritz Hotel at 150 Piccadilly, London, where Shaw had already booked a Suite, having complete confidence in completing his mission. He led an awestruck Harry through the grand hall and up the elevator which frightened Harry, and to the Executive Suite that he had booked for a couple of days.

The idea behind the expensive room was to show Harry the difference between them and the Dursley's and make the boy truly believe that he was on his side. He was there to take care of him and never hurt him again, not that he really cared.

"Stay here, enjoy the books and there's cartoons on the telly," he said to Harry. "If you want to eat there are chocolates, sandwiches and juice in the fridge. I'll be back in an hour so make yourself comfortable but don't leave the room alright?"

"Yes," Harry mumbled, his eyes alternating between Shaw and the remote. He was waiting for the moment when this man left so that he could watch the telly. As far as he could remember, all he had ever seen on the telly were bits of images as he was led to his cupboard and lots of exciting sounds through the cracks in the cupboard under the stairs and being in this room with all these luxuries thrilled him to the bone.

As soon as this strange priest whom he suspected was not really a priest left the room, the television was turned on and channels were being browsed at maniacal speeds with a gleeful expression on his baby face.

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Footsteps echoed on the walls of the closed stone corridor, lit only by marble sized green balls that showed the way while darkness suffocated the narrow corridor. The air was musty and damp and irritated the lungs of anyone who walked in them, until they got used to it.

Alan Shaw, the man who penetrated through Dumbledore's wards, walked towards Dmitri Chekhov's office to deliver his final report on the mission to recruit Harry Potter.

The Head of the Department, Dmitri Chekhov; Mission Commander, Albert Croaker; and Senior Field Officer, Hugo Milner were seated around Croaker's desk, waiting for Shaw.

"Well?"

Shaw placed the magical contract on the table for them to see.

Milner pulled on his joint and blew sweet smelling smoke from his nostrils lazily. "A simple yes or no will do kid," he said, his voice deep and gruff.

"The Aunt is yet to sign. It should take Dursley about five more minutes to reach home after his short detour at the market and another fifteen to get her to sign it."

"Quite the bold plan this," Chekhov muttered.

"Relax boss," Milner said, blowing smoke on his face.

"Get that shit out of my face Hugo," Chekhov said, scowling.

Hugo just rolled his eyes and took another drag.

This was the first time Shaw was meeting the infamous Hugo Milner and he observed the man curiously. He was about six feet tall, unshaven angular face, misty gray eyes, dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows and extending to the back of his nape, brown complexion and simple clothes.

Suave was the first word that came to mind and the next sent a chill through his spine.

This man was not normal, he concluded warily, when those odd eyes turned towards him lazily. A shiver of fear slithered down his spine and he was sure those eyes were not of this world.

He refocused his attention on the legal documents and waited.

Everyone waited patiently for the signature to come and exactly fifteen minutes later, Petunia Dursley signed her name on the document, effectively putting Harry Potter in their custody, the muggle and magical way. Dumbledore made a big mistake when he didn't legally appoint himself guardian of Harry Potter and the Department of Intelligence had just scored a massive victory over the political behemoth.

Mission Accomplished.

Milner stood up and brushed the ash off his shirt and stubbed the joint on Croaker's desk earning a withering glare from the mission commander.

"Where's the kid?" Milner asked and Shaw was startled.

"What?" Was this the man the department was assigning to watch Harry Potter?! he thought incredulously.

"We have a plan that doesn't involve you Hugo," Chekhov growled. "You might be off duty for now but I don't think you're the man to raise the kid. He needs parents and proper guidance."

"Chill the fuck out, Cheko," Hugo said nonchalantly. "What the department needs, I can deliver."

"Hugo," Croaker warned. "This is the boy who lived. There's a prophecy that needs to be heard first before any other decision is taken. We've never recruited out of the crib before and your infinite wisdom needs to take a back seat right now."

Hugo sighed. "Fine, fine," he grumbled. "We'll hear the prophecy and then I'll take him under my wing." Hugo sniffed his armpits and grimaced. "So to speak," he added jokingly.

"Hugo," Chekhov growled.

"You don't need to deeply analyze this boss," Hugo said firmly. "I know what you're afraid of and I can guarantee you have every right to fear it. But you also know that I'm the best at what we do and under me, he'll be even better. An agent conditioned at the age of four and a possible Metamorphmagus to boot? Did you really think I would pass this up?"

"You think too highly of yourself Hugo," Chekhov sighed. This was the problem with having people with superior intelligence under your command, he thought irritably. They also came with ego's the size of continents. But as much as he hated to admit it, Hugo was right and wrong. Hugo was the perfect man to raise the kid but none of them could predict what kind of an agent he would grow up to be.

"He's in Executive Suite 7 at the Ritz," Croaker said. "Get him to the prophecy room."

"Excellent," Hugo said grinning in anticipation and then he strolled out through the fireplace,

heading back to the surface and to introduce himself to Harry Potter.

Chekhov rubbed his forehead tiredly and Shaw had to ask, "What exactly are you afraid of with Milner?"

"Recklessness," Croaker grumbled.

Shaw blinked.

"Pot addict with an unhealthy love for explosives," Chekhov added.

Shaw smiled. "Apart from the pot smoking, isn't the rest somewhat a part of the job description?"

"Secrecy becomes difficult when explosives are involved. We try to keep it to a minimum but Hugo seems to think explosives explosively keep our existence a secret," Croaker said humorously.

Chekhov on the other hand just glared at Shaw. "Dumbledore's file is on your desk. Read it, commit it to memory if you wish and get back to Croaker for your first mission."

"First?"

"This was the test and you passed with flying colors."

Shaw gaped. "A two year mission this important was a test?"

"We would have been disappointed if Harry Potter was kept out of our grasp but it wouldn't have meant our existence becomes meaningless. Our job is far more complicated than worrying about the ambitions of powerful wizards in our corner of the world and soon you will come to realize how vast this world really is. This mission taught you to consider every mission, low in priority or high, as important as your own life. This mission lasted two years? The coming ones will last even longer."

Alan Shaw was stunned. It was the first time he was this shocked and Chekhov merely smiled.

"Welcome to our Department Shaw."

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