MISSION LIGHTNING BOLT - Part 2
The Ritz, 9:00 PM
"Now tell me you understood all that I've said."
"I'm a wizard…. I can do magic…. My parents were … umm… they were killed by a bad man and I'm famous."
"I imagine that is a lot to handle but…." Milner said slowly. "But…"
"Can I have unlimited chocolate?!" Harry burst out excitedly.
"Now hold on kid…."
"Can I make Tom and Jerry real?! Can we buy a Lightsaber?!"
"When did you? Oh never mind, just calm the fuck down kid!" Hugo snapped.
"What's fuck?"
"It's what men like to do all the time."
"What?"
"I'll teach you the details later," Hugo said hastily, "But first why don't you get some rest. I imagine your body must be exhausted after such a long day."
Hugo was right. Harry suddenly felt the waves of tiredness blanket his mind and he yawned, opening his mouth wide.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't be. Just get on the bed and sleep. Tomorrow and the day after and the years after are not going to have a lot of sleep. Get the most of it now."
Harry didn't understand what he meant. But he was feeling really sleepy so he crawled onto the bed and laid his head on the soft pillow. "Good night," he mumbled and a couple of minutes later he was fast asleep.
"Good night kid."
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The Next Day: Department of Mysteries, Curses and Runes Division, 10:00 AM
The slap of rubber against skin echoed through the large room and Rachel Sanders smiled at Harry with a maniacal glint in her eyes.
"I've been waiting for so long," she whispered, stroking his scar lovingly. Harry flinched and shrank away from the creepy woman.
Milner pressed his finger against her forehead and pushed her back. "Stop freaking him out," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Get to work before I make you do it."
"You don't have to tell me that freak," Sanders retorted. But she was intimidated by this strange man. His eyes made her want to crawl and hide far away from their reach. She forcefully swallowed the tight knot that was stuck in her throat and went behind the soapy membrane that hid the entire room except for the table that she had brought out for Harry's examination.
Harry tightened his grip on Hugo's pants when he was lifted and placed on the granite table.
"What is she doing?" he whispered.
"Relax," Hugo said. "It's going to be fine."
Harry's mind flashed back to a scene from the cartoons he was watching. When the doctor said relax it's going to be fine, usually a ten ton black iron mass crushed them the next minute.
His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when a huge rectangular block that looked exactly like those in the cartoons was levitated through the shimmering membrane and he screamed in horror. But all that came out of his mouth was a whimper and Hugo patted his shoulders comfortingly.
"What is that thing?" Hugo asked curiously. It looked like quite the powerful magical artifact.
"Something I created," Sanders said with pride. "It's based on the X-Ray machines muggle have but this one is much more accurate and can be adjusted to examine every part of the human body."
"So it's like a CAT scan, MRI and X-Ray all put together," Hugo said, impressed.
"Something like that. It's got three hundred and forty three layers of runes on the inside and beautifully entwined between those layers are enchantments you've never even heard about," she said proudly. It took me a long time to create this darling but I'll have you know I thought about this long before I knew about the muggle devices," she added quickly. She didn't want anyone thinking that she was stealing ideas. She craved for credit and couldn't wait for the day her invention was made public and her name famous.
Croaker and Chekhov entered the room right then and both were surprised to see the normally large room truncated to a few meters from the door. "What's with the secrecy Sanders?" Chekhov asked curiously.
"I don't want my workspace seen," she said stiffly. "And what is your assistant doing here?" she asked, pointing at Croaker.
"He's my second in command, Sanders," Chekhov said dryly. "He can go wherever he wishes."
"So he knows about my work?"
"Down to the last detail."
"Does he know about Potter's work as well?"
"Yes he does."
Rachel Sanders was outraged. Lily Potter, the former head of the rune division before her death, was someone Sanders could not stand to think about or talk about. They used to work side by side; Lily, researching runes and her, researching curses. It vexed her to no limits that Lily was treated as a special case and given more authority than her but what made her apoplectic with rage was the fact that Lily Potter's work was classified as top secret and kept out of her reach. How could they deny her knowledge, she just couldn't understand.
"Get on with it Sanders," Croaker ordered, pointing to Harry.
"You knew my parents?" Harry asked in interest.
Sanders just sneered and huffed. "Just your mother for a little while." She looked like she wanted to say more but a pointed look from Chekhov made her reconsider. She summoned weird looking glasses that, instead of lenses, had two extra large eyeballs and she put them on.
Harry giggled and Sanders scowled which made her look more comical and made him laugh even more. "You look funny," he said.
"I'm not the one with a funny scar," she retorted.
"Are you arguing with a four year old, Sanders?" Chekhov asked, exasperated with the witch. She was brilliant but like most brilliant people, she came with a personality and an ego that was too eccentric to handle.
The large eyeballs glared at Chekhov as well but she finally drew her wand and tapped a rune on the large rectangular block of solid stone. Immediately a buzzing sound filled the air and tendrils of magic began to come out of the top of the stone device.
"Lie back and keep your hands and legs away from your body," she said to Harry, now completely focused on her work.
The mood turned somber as the odd floating block, that didn't have a name yet, started vibrating and sending pulses of colors through the tendrils coming out from the top which in turn connected to the large eyeball spectacles that Sanders was wearing.
Sanders pointed her wand at Harry as the magic began to flow into her specs and went through a series of wand movements at every point on Harry's body, from the tip of his toes to the crown of his head.
Harry was fascinated by the strange image and he was feeling a pleasant tingle wherever her wand was aimed at. After ten minutes she told him to turn on his stomach and Harry could feel the tingling go from head to foot.
After a while the buzzing sound, the vibrating block of stone and the tingling under Harry's skin, all stopped and there was complete silence in the small area of the room where they all stood.
Sanders took off the eyeballs and her eyes were red with stress. "That was harder than I thought," she said.
"Are you alright?"
"Reasonably," she replied. "The magic is a little hard to control and the eyes are very sensitive to such levels of magic. They'll be back to normal in no time."
"So what did you see?"
"Nothing yet. What I just did was create a live clone of every part of the kid's body. First we see what's under the scar before we try any other form of testing. We have to be very careful when dealing with curse scars."
Hugo's opinion of this woman rose significantly.
"Off the table kid," she said and Harry was more than happy to get away from the chance of being squashed like Tom or the Coyote after an ill attempted trap.
As soon he got down, there was a squelchy sound and when he looked back he gasped out loud. An ethereal image of his body was left behind showing the insides of his body clear as day.
"Is that me?" he asked in awe. He could see his heart, beating gently. It was nothing like the pictures he had seen in books or cartoons. It was tiny and had strange red tubes coming out of the top and was not like the shape shown in the books. Then there were the bags beside his heart which had to be his lungs and he was startled to realize that they were expanding with every breath he took. His eyes drank in the sight of the stomach which looked more like a peanut and the liver and kidneys. That's all he could recognize and there was just so much. He was in awe of his own body.
"Right," Sanders said, all business like. "Organs are fine, muscles are quite weak and underdeveloped but a better diet should take care of that. Good strong heart, hmmm… liver's a little enlarged but nothing to worry about." She paused and frowned when she got to the brain.
"What is it?"
"You see the bright red lines?"
"Yes, they seem heavily concentrated at the center of the foot and palms. Is it magic?"
She touched the stone block with her wand and the red became brighter. "Right, so the base of the foot is usually where we absorb magic from and the palm is where it can be released from. Now this mass inside the stomach is like a temporary storage area. The bigger it is, the longer you can last in a one on one duel."
"Why is it in the stomach?" Harry asked curiously.
Sanders scowled at the interruption but answered nonetheless. "I'm not really sure but the stomach is where all the food we consume is broken down so it makes sense that magic too would be stored there until it is called upon. Anyway, as I was saying this is the usual path magic takes. We absorb and we release, it is an endless cycle until we die."
"Cut to the chase will you?" Hugo sighed. "If I wanted a lecture I'd go to the fucking university."
"I'm getting there arsehole," she snapped back. "You are welcome to leave my class if you don't like it."
Harry frowned. There it was again, that word, fuck. He really wanted to know what it meant. Hugo used it a lot.
"Now look at his forehead. There's a bit of red there that is not part of his system."
"So it is a curse scar," Croaker breathed.
Sanders tapped the block again and Harry's brain reappeared. "And as you can see there's a tiny, very tiny mind you, tiny bit of it brushing against his frontal lobes."
"It looks like it's lodged there," Chekhov muttered. "What is it exactly?"
Sanders looked at the little piece of red closely. "Well it looks like magic but it shouldn't be stuck there," she murmured. "Hang on." She tapped the block and his bones became visible.
This time everyone let out an audible gasp of shock and surprise.
"Blow me down," Hugo muttered, baffled at the sight in front of him. "This is fucking unreal."
Sanders was opening and closing her mouth, unable to bring the words out.
"What the hell is this?" Chekhov and Croaker said together, with matching tones of wonder.
Sanders finally found her voice. "Are those runes?" she gasped.
Harry's entire bone structure was covered with runes. There wasn't a single part that wasn't engraved with strange symbols. They could all see it. All over his skull, around his eyes, his jaws, behind his teeth, the ribs, the spine, hips, legs and feet; they all were marked with minute symbols that were indecipherable.
"That's cool," Harry said, completely unaware about the uniqueness of his bone structure.
Sanders laughed faintly. "Cool? That's impossible," she said. "You can't engrave runes on the bones of a living human! You have to draw runes with your wand or your fingers. And to do this would mean to cut you open beyond understanding!"
"Sanders."
"How is this even possible," she breathed, ignoring the call. "This is… this is… is this Lily's work?! Did Lily do this?!"
"Calm down Sanders," Chekhov said. "Why don't you try to understand and explain it to us?"
"Explain?" Sanders laughed agitatedly. "How the hell am I supposed to explain this?"
"Use your brain and make a conclusion."
"You can't magically make runes appear anywhere," she snapped. "Runes are drawn. They are drawn and they draw their power from an external source; that is magic from a living source. And depending on the structure of the runes, they serve a specific purpose. The fact that they're on his bones means, someone cut him open and drew them there without killing him or leaving any marks on his skin or tissue which is impossible even with magic!"
"Or?" Chekhov pressed.
"Or she drew them on his skin and then they sank into his bone, which is also indisputably impossible!"
"Or not," Hugo said, regaining his calm.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Sanders spat. "Do you think you know more about curses and runes than me?"
"Clearly someone did," Hugo said with a pointed look at Harry.
Sanders reddened. "I… I'm better than that red headed skank alright!"
"Skank?" Harry muttered. "What does that mean?"
"Will you calm the fuck down Rachel Sanders!" Chekhov shouted. He was getting annoyed with her denial of something that was clearly possible, going by Harry's bones.
Chekhov never cursed and that did the trick.
"I'm sorry," Sanders said, visibly relaxing after a deep breath. "It's just, to see something like this is very shocking."
"We understand, but there's a four year old here and we don't need to improve his vocabulary alright?"
"Yes," she muttered.
"Now, back to the scar," he said soothingly.
"Yes, of course." She carefully examined the runes but she couldn't read them or understand them. They were in a different script than those known so far and again, for the millionth time, she wished she had access to Lily's research.
"It seems to be damaged here," she said after a while. "Look," she said pointing at the area under the scar.
She was right. The foreign magic was stuck to the part where the runes were damaged and there was an extremely miniscule crack in the skull from where the magic had penetrated through and reached the surface of the brain. But barely.
She touched her wand on the ethereal form of Harry and the forehead region was expanded.
"Yeah," Hugo said, looking at the spot closely. "Two, no, three runes have somewhat lost their shapes and the magic is stuck to them. What does it mean?"
"Well obviously that's the place where the killing curse struck right?" she began, going into lecture mode. The mode she was most comfortable with.
Everyone nodded. Including Harry, who found all this fascinating instead of disturbing.
"So we can deduce that the magic was most probably repelled by the runes but since the killing curse is so powerful, it must have damaged the runes."
"So that's a bit of the killing curse stuck in his head?"
"No, not anymore," Sanders said confidently. "Look, when you cast a spell, you're using magic that is universal to all magical beings. Except that once it travels through you and is shaped into something with a purpose, it has your intent and well, you could say signature to it. Are you with me so far?"
"Yes," Harry said quickly and the others remembered his presence. Hugo grinned at the interested expression on his face.
"Now this magic has lost its intent. If it still had intent, it would be much brighter and very painful. This is just something that accidently got left behind when the killing curse rebounded."
"But it has Voldemort's signature," Croaker said slowly. "Is it affecting him?"
"I told you, it's gone stale. Whatever those runes are, they were capable of reflecting something like the killing curse but they were damaged in the process which somehow led to a bit of it remaining behind. But again, I'm just creating a hypothesis. I could be wrong, unless I can understand what these runes are."
"So it's harmless magic stuck in his head in the form of a scar."
"I can't tell if it's harmless," Sanders cautioned. "There's a bit of it touching his frontal lobe and the magic wants to finish what it started. A spell must do what it was intended to do and even though this magic has lost its intent to kill, it will still want to enter the body. The killing curse is a curse so powerful that it stops all your body functions instantly. That is why there's no coming back after getting hit by one. Everything that keeps you alive is shut down as soon as it touches you.
Now as for this, I'm not sure what would happen if we attempted to remove it or let it go through. Magic has to enter and leave and it cannot be destroyed. That's a fundamental principle that can never change. This bit of magic is unnatural because it can't leave. It wants to complete whatever it was tasked to do and then return to the earth.. So to speak."
"Does it still want to kill me?" Harry asked, his babyish voice a little afraid.
"It can't kill you but I don't know what could happen if we let it through."
"So we leave it alone?" Croaker asked.
"It has You Know Who's signature," Sanders said sharply. "Intent or no, this is magic cast by You Know Who. It is his magic and a part of him."
Croaker hummed. "This is quite the situation."
"Can't we just use tweezers to pull it out? Or maybe summon it or even scoop it out?" Hugo suggested, light-heartedly.
Sanders goggled at him. "What do you think, this is ice cream?"
Harry laughed.
"This isn't funny," she scolded.
"Sorry."
"Maybe if we repaired the runes," Croaker suggested.
"We don't know how they got there in the first place," Sanders said severely. "And in case I forgot to mention, those are blood runes. Most likely Lily's blood if I'm allowed to take another wild guess without having access to her research."
"Not that again," Croaker sighed.
"What?!" Sanders said defensively. "Whatever she was up to, she managed to do this!" she said, waving her fingers at Ethereal Harry. "How can I help if I don't know the first thing about this?"
"No," Chekhov said sternly.
"But…"
"I said no. Lily's work is far beyond you and your temperament. That case was closed a long time ago and I won't allow it to resurface."
"Far beyond me?" Sanders mouthed in indignation.
"But these runes have something to do with sacrifice," Chekhov added. "Dumbledore reckons that by Lily's sacrifice to save her son, an ancient protection was summoned around him which Voldemort overlooked, resulting in his own curse hitting him instead. But clearly there's more and if you want to figure it out, you're going to do it with what you have in front of you."
"Unbelievable," Sanders huffed.
"Believe it," Chekhov snapped.
"So what now," Hugo asked, getting bored of all this theory and half boiled assumptions.
"I suggest we heal that crack in his skull first," Croaker said calmly. "He's been living for four years with a broken skull. I can't believe it hasn't healed yet."
"Probably because of the magic," Hugo said. "Perhaps the bone has healed around it and thinks the magic is a part of it. If you look closely it's almost a smooth hole through which the magic is penetrating."
Croaker touched Harry's scar. "Tell me if it hurts," he said kindly. He pressed hard and kept increasing the pressure until Harry hissed and drew back.
"It hurt," he said, rubbing his scar.
"Can you heal the fracture?"
Sanders gave him a look.
"Then do it."
Something unexpected happened the moment Sanders touched her wand to the scar and whispered the spell to repair the crack. The runes that looked damaged regained their original shape the moment the fracture was healed and there was a little whining sound that came from the scar. In Ethereal Harry, they saw the magic get sucked out at the point where it was trying to penetrate and it was spit out with a hiss.
Harry cried out at the unexpected jolt of pain and slapped his hand to his scar as a pale green light was ejected out. It splashed harmlessly against the wall and disappeared.
There was stunned silence.
Sanders blinked. "I think the problem just got solved," she said blankly.
"Are you fucking serious?"
That didn't come from Hugo. Nor did it come from Chekhov or Croaker.
Four pairs of shocked eyes looked down towards Harry who was grinning impishly. "Everyone keeps saying it so I said it too," he said blushing under the intense gaze.
"Hugo," Chekhov groaned.
"My word," Sanders muttered.
"That was perfect Harry," Hugo chortled. "I couldn't have said it better myself."
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Chekhov's Office
"Quite the anticlimactic end don't you think?" Croaker said.
"Who said this was the end?" Chekhov returned. "But bloody hell," he sighed. "Those runes…" he trailed into silence, still feeling amazed at the sight of them.
"You knew Lily was making progress, but getting this far," Croaker added. "Do you think it was after the trip to Mexico?"
"Has to be," Chekhov said. "But that's a story for later. What we need to talk about is the prophecy."
"It's very vague. Seventh month ends, well which calendar does it refer to, to start with. Dark Lord could mean Voldemort or it could also mean Vanderwick or maybe Kasprovich. As far as I know we had three self proclaimed dark lords back then."
"Let's assume it's the Gregorian calendar for now," Chekhov said. "And Voldemort was the only one whom people really feared," he added. "Vanderwick and Kasprovich were put down with ease as I recall."
"The Germans were quite merciless when they subdued Vanderwick," Croaker said warily, remembering the day quite vividly.
"Trelawney is a British national am I right?"
"She is, I checked."
"Either must die at the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives."
"Two men who cannot die unless they are killed by one or the other," Chekhov murmured.
"But then it says both can't live while the other survives," Croaker said. "So if this is true and the prophecy is referring to Potter and Voldemort then it's already been fulfilled."
"Unless Voldemort is not dead," Chekhov pointed out.
"So both should be dead then, since they are in violation of the rules of the prophecy."
"And that's why the clause which states they must attempt to kill each other and in that event the second part will be fulfilled," Chekhov said.
"Born to those who have thrice defied him."
"Defied how? Does it mean fought?" Croaker asked. "If we're talking literally, then James has been involved in life threatening encounters with the Death Eaters and Voldemort almost a dozen times. He was an Auror after all."
"And thrice he nearly died after boldly confronting Voldemort," Chekhov added. "Lily on the other hand was there on two occasions. I can't remember a third where she was in direct contact with Voldemort."
"I think it was the attack in Hogsmeade and the other in Diagon Alley where they were caught in the middle of the killing. The third could be during one of Dumbledore's solo operations."
"Defied," Chekhov murmured, thinking deeply. "Again, too vague. Defied everything he stood for or defied him by standing up to him?" "But we can't assume this prophecy is related to them yet," Chekhov added.
"It's too late for that isn't it? By hearing its contents and immediately assuming it meant him he's made it about him."
"But if it's not about him then he could still be killed by anyone else. That is, assuming he's still alive."
"And if he is alive then what is he doing? Why hasn't he returned to finish what he started?" Croaker said, frowning.
"Let's just say he's dead for now," Chekhov said.
"Marked as his equal and will have the power the Dark Lord knows not."
"Physical mark could mean the scar and that means the prophecy comes into effect after the marking has taken place," Chekhov said.
"Unknown power could mean the runes."
"But we shouldn't assume it's about Potter and Voldemort yet," Chekhov said again. "The same prophecy could refer to various other people around the globe in similar circumstances. You'll be amazed how similar different parts of the world are even though they'd like to think they're unique."
"But Voldemort has made this about him hasn't he? If he has bound the rules of the prophecy to his existence then no one can kill him except for Potter and that has to be the reason why Dumbledore is so invested in the boy. If he could control and direct the boy to kill Voldemort then it would mean a lot more than just political points for having a direct hand in guiding the Boy Who Lived."
"Dumbledore is a different matter. Let's focus on the prophecy Albert. Don't let your mind waver and jump to conclusions so soon."
Croaker sighed. "Well it is a very intriguing prophecy."
"Is there a possibility it's a fake?" Chekhov thought suddenly.
"Chang wouldn't have recorded it then," Croaker said. "She's from the Time division and they've been researching the time sand for Merlin only knows how long."
"They do have the means to look into the future which means the prophecy has to be real for her to acknowledge it," Chekhov muttered, thinking out loud. "If the prophecy is referring to Potter then inducting him into the department is going to be a problem."
"Unless we don't make him swear the oath," Croaker said.
Chekhov sighed. "He will make an excellent addition to the field," he said. "Sanders ran a test on the blood Shaw provided. He was right, Harry is a Metamorphmagus."
Croaker whistled in appreciation of the news.
"I'm not letting this opportunity pass up."
"That would be wise," Croaker agreed. "And that reminds me. We have to give a bonus to Sanders for making that homing device for his blood and maybe consider her demands to reopen Lily's research. It could be useful to know how to counter the killing curse and find out the full extent and powers of the runes on Harry's bones."
"Absolutely not," Chekhov said firmly. "That magic was too dangerous and I have a feeling that's what got her killed in the first place."
Croaker was startled.
"The prophecy, her unexpected pregnancy and all the events that made her life spiral out of control occurred after she went to Mexico. I'm not willing to let anyone be exposed to such magic again."
Croaker mentally did a check on the timeline and he realized Chekhov was right. "But what about her notes?"
"Lily destroyed them."
"WHAT?!"
"I didn't tell Sanders because then she would try and find out about where Lily went and sooner or later would be on the next portkey to Mexico without our knowledge."
"There's no trace of Lily ever going there," Croaker pointed out.
"Don't underestimate Sanders," Chekhov warned. "She gets very passionate about things and you can bet she's not going to rest until she deciphers those runes, but I doubt she's going to have any luck with that. I think it's for the best that that's all she has to focus on."
"Do you mind me asking what was there in Mexico? I know she was researching some kind of magic and the runes were involved but I don't know the exact details."
"I don't mind but I won't tell," Chekhov said with a note of finality.
Croaker sighed. "Back to the topic at hand; the prophecy."
"Leave it be. We'll get Shaw to join Dumbledore's group and this time ensure that he's working for us."
"How?"
"Let's start with Black," Chekhov said. "I liked the way Shaw handled taking Harry out of Dumbledore's hands and using Black we could find a way to get Shaw into Dumbledore's hands."
"Black killed thirteen people and betrayed the Potter's while serving under Voldemort," Croaker said. He was just saying it because that's what everyone believed.
"Maybe we should ask him why he did it," Chekhov said.
"Ideally, we'd send Hugo for such a mission but he's decided to play nanny," Croaker said dryly.
Chekhov snorted. "If he heard you say that, those eyes would be unforgiving."
Croaker laughed. "Forget I said it. So I suppose I'll have to do the Black meet?"
"No one else can do it and I don't want Shaw to have contact with Black as of yet. He's still pouring over the Dumbledore files and verifying the facts."
"Thorough isn't he," Croaker commented.
"Always the best way to do things," Chekhov agreed. "Let's start with a detailed investigation into Black's life," he said. "We're going to need an ace if we have to convince him to do whatever we ask. That is, if he really is innocent."
"I assume I'm going to be working for the ICW when I meet him?"
"Of course, why do you ask?"
Croaker smirked. "It's good to be thorough."
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