Chapter 6 » Fragments Of Mystery

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WORLD EXCLUSIVE! Boy-Who-Conquered Missing!

by Rita Skeeter

When this reporter returned to work after a well-deserved holiday, she had no idea that her first story would be one of shock to the Magical population of Britain. For none other than Harry Potter, 16, twice defeater of Dark Wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has vanished without a trace.

Our story begins, dear reader, just days ago when the Ministry of Magic announced to the press the names of the eighteen people who were to receive an Order of Merlin at this years ceremonies. A large increase on last year, due to the heroic efforts of Aurors, Unspeakables and Ministry workers whose helped proved invaluable in the capture of Leone Nikastal's daemon and the downfall of You-Know-Who.

Harry Potter's name was among those who were to receive the Order of Merlin, 2nd Class (which has been widely criticised by many, who believe the heroic boy deserves at the very least a 1st Class, and a title). However, at the ceremony just several hours ago, Ministry officials were forced to admit that Harry Potter's absence was caused not by illness or refusal of the public attention despite his shy and polite demeanour.

Instead, the Boy-Who-Lived, saviour of the Wizarding world has been missing since Thursday the twenty-second, nearly two whole days ago. Ministry sources informed the Daily Prophet that no explanation can be found for young Harry's disappearance, which was in mysterious circumstances - the details of which are top secret and un-divulged.

Even Harry's family and closest friends have remained unaware of our hero's plight, despite a Ministry spokeswoman's assurances that the Ministry's full resources were committed to identifying the Boy-Who-Conquered's location and bringing him home safely.

Gravena Grudging, 72, expressed her disgust with the Ministry's investigations. "It's an absolute farce!" she shrieked, hitting a passer-by with a cauldron. "The Ministry's done nothing for that poor boy, who's saved all our lives once again. He's protected all of us and now the Ministry can't even look after that dear little boy for a single day. I'd bet anything it was Death Eaters."

Other expressed the same views, though some had even more worrying ideas. "Of course it's Fudge's doing," snorted Bran Biggles, proprietor of Biggles' Baked Goods and Fancies. "He hates him, dinnee? Sayin' all those things about the boy, tryin' ta get him locked up. He's either got him locked away somewhere, or the wee bairn's gone for good."

Doubtless, the Boy-Who-Conquered's supporters will (continued on pages 2-4 and 6)

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione shrieked, throwing the paper down. "The Ministry must know something!"

Dumbledore looked over to her, solemnly. "The Ministry does have some clues Miss Granger, Mister Weasley. Harry has certainly not vanished deliberately, despite many of his belongings being missing. Both Hedwig and the Magecraft are still at The Leaky Cauldron, from whence Harry has gone astray. His old Firebolt was still at Hogwarts, as you know, in the Quidditch cupboard -"

"I don't care about his broom," Hermione snapped, not caring about rudeness. "Where is he?"

"As I was explaining," Dumbledore continued calmly, "he has not left deliberately. Either he left by accident or was taken by someone else. There's appears to be no sign of a break-in, and Tom says no-one else was upstairs at the same time. On the side of Harry being taken, there was a window open - if the perpetrator of the crime was an Animagus, for example, he could have entered without being noticed. On the side of Harry vanishing accidentally, he appeared to be working some kind of spell at the time; if it went wrong or worked in an unexpected way, he could have been transported somewhere else."

"Or he could have left deliberately," Ron argued, "but accidentally left Hedwig and the broom behind. Or maybe he thought he wouldn't need them wherever he was going!"

The headmaster sighed, feeling every one of his years - including all his twenty-four past lives, several of which had been exceptionally long-lived. "Possibly... but I doubt Harry would leave without leaving a note or writing to someone. Sirius - who I might add is in an absolute uproar - says Harry didn't write to him, and you two and Sirius are the ones he would most likely write to."

He steepled his fingers. "I asked you both here, because I wanted to tell you both in person. If Harry comes into contact with you in any way - if you have any idea where he might be, or what ritual he was doing - please, tell me straight away. Even if only to let us know that Harry is safe."

Hermione gritted her teeth. If we knew where he was, we'd tell you! she screamed impotently in her head.

"Yes, professor," Ron said shortly, obviously just as unpleased as she was.

They left together, allowed to spend the rest of the day at Hogwarts before the Flooed back to their homes, when a thought struck Hermione. "Do you think Harry might have used that illusion of his? The one connected to his tattoo?"

Ron frowned. "He might have, but I would have thought that Tom would have told the Ministry about it if he thought it would help. Besides, if Harry is using the illusion then it means that he doesn't want to be found - so it wouldn't be right of us to give away his secret."

Hermione nodded, relieved. "You're right. It's better if we just keep quiet about that." She pursed her lips. "Ron - Dumbledore said that the window was open... what if Wormtail somehow got in? He wasn't arrested or killed... he's still out there somewhere..."

"I don't think so," Ron said. "I mean, we saw the room Harry was staying in. Do you think a rat could climb its way up to the window? And why not just kill Harry and leave his body there? Unless he took him to use him to resurrect You-Know-Who again... but you couldn't get a person to fit through that window."

Hermione's eyes widened. "And all Magical hotels have anti-Apparition barriers on them anyway, to stop people running out on their bills! So he couldn't have left that way, either. What about a Portkey?"

Ron tried to think up a way that this would be impossible, but couldn't. He shook his head dejectedly. "It's possible," he admitted. "On the other hand, maybe Harry took on one of his Animagus forms and left himself." He squeezed his friend's arm and went to say something more when they heard a door shut and voices.

"- gone," said the sharp female voice, from along the corridor. "If Harry was trying to do what I think he was, then he could be in serious trouble."

"I've already told you what he was doing," said a frustrated male voice. "Weren't you even listening?"

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other, both recognising the woman's voice; Professor Levina Carnaena. "Come on," Hermione hissed, moving as quickly and quietly as she could into one of the disused classrooms. Ron joined her behind the door, both listening intently.

"Of course I was listening," Professor Carnaena was saying, "but despite your knowing that he was going to attempt the spell, how do you know that he was attempting that particular one when you interrupted?"

"The mirror was there, and the ingredients he said were needed!"

"Fine," said Carnaena, sounding exhausted. "I was hoping it wasn't, but I believe you. And that means Harry's in big trouble."

Ron and Hermione listened even closer at this; both had also now noticed that despite the two voices, there was only the sound of one pair of shoes - Professor Carnaena's by the sound of it, as her boots had short heels on them that made a distinctive clacking sound against the tile floor.

"So what do we do?" asked the harsh male voice.

Carnaena sighed as they passed the door Hermione and Ron were hiding behind. "Firstly, don't go looking for him. You'll just get stuck on the other side as well, and I need you here - if Harry uses the link to contact you, I can tell him what to do. For now, we'll just do some research..."

Finally, her voice got quieter as the pair got too far away, and despite their straining, the teenagers could hear no more.

They peeked outside to check no-one was watching, and then slipped out. "They know what's happened to Harry!" Ron grinned, before scowling. "How the hell do they know?"

"Ron!" Hermione tutted, grabbing his arm and pulling him in the opposite direction that the other two had gone. "The question we should be asking is what do we do about it? Do we risk confronting them, or do we pretend we never heard anything? It didn't sound as if they wished Harry any harm... not if Professor Carnaena suggested Harry could contact that man. They sounded quite worried about him, actually."

"Yeah, but we still have a right to know where Harry is! Maybe we could help him or something. Besides, I still think we should find out who that man was, and how both of them know what's going on."

"Maybe he's Professor Carnaena's husband or something," Hermione said, exasperated. "It's not really important. The important thing is to find out how we can help Harry -"

"So the best thing to do is find out what happened to him - and the only way to do that is to talk to those two. Problem solved!"

They paused by a suit of rusty armour. "All right," sighed the girl. "We'll retrace our steps and confront the Professor. We'll wait until she's alone, though - and have our wands ready. Let's keep this from the other teachers for now, in case she really is on our side."

Ron nodded eagerly, and the pair turned back, hoping their Divination teacher hadn't travelled too far away.

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Harry and Tom were meanwhile celebrating Harry's first successful piece of Shadowmancy in The Badger's Sett. Tom had consumed half a pint of a foul-smelling brown concoction, which was apparently a highly alcoholic drink that had been popular in the Wizarding world several centuries ago, before the only supplier died taking the recipe to the grave.

"That's one of the best things about Elysium," sighed Tom happily, after swaying a little. "No knowledge is lost here! Someone, somewhere, knows anything you want. Secrets are two-a-penny here - not that they have pennies," he admitted. Harry rolled his eyes, hoping Riddle wouldn't notice. If only he had seen Voldemort acting like this before, he wouldn't have been afraid to face him in battle.

The man slammed his tankard down on the table. "Are you list'nin' to me, Harry?"

"Absolutely." he lied, taking another mouthful of his water.

"Good. As I was sayin' -" Tom paused, forehead wrinkled in concentration. "What wuz I sayin'?"

Harry groaned. "You were talking about how impressed you were that I made your shadow look like a cat; and then you started talking about your beer."

"Not beer," Riddle hiccupped. "Divine beverage. Beyond mere beer."

"Quite," said Harry, and silently swore to stay alive for as long as possible.

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Adair Connor skimmed through the fax he had just received and assimilated the information. Realising its importance, he quickly stepped over to his desk and tapped the buttons to the intercom. Lord Abyssay's voice filtered through. "What is it, Connor?"

"I've just received a fax confirming the rumours we've been hearing for the past two weeks," Connor spoke quickly, eyes still on the paper. "I can fax it through to you right now, if you like."

Abyssay's sigh was clear. "That's one problem with all the security and safeguards on my office door. My own secretary, in the room next door, can't deliver a sheet of paper without spending ten minutes getting past the precautions."

"Should I deliver it?"

"No, just fax it through. It'll save us time. Have someone look into a method of allowing you in here quickly, without relinquishing the security measures."

Adair confirmed the order and faxed the unassuming page through into the office next door. It certainly made for interesting reading, he mused as he turned back to the immediate paperwork. Brenna, the Necromancer of the Dark, had got her hands on some kind of new weapon. The details were vague, but the threat was real enough - she'd been bragging about it so much that even their few informants had managed to hear of it.

The blond man paused at one of the reports. Subject FB/P/27E had been approved, and was ready to go into the initiation phase. A pity. He hoped they'd find the Potter boy soon; it would be nasty for him to return, only to find out what they'd done in his absence.

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They found Professor Carnaena in her office, where she had apparently gone to sort out the schedules for the upcoming term. Hermione doubted the files on her desk were really that innocent if she seemed so disturbed about Harry, but they certainly appeared innocuous.

The office - for it was the first time the pair had entered it - seemed quite sparse. Functional, clinical, with little real warmth to it; it was neat, and certainly didn't look like a room that someone might spend a lot of time skiving off in. Work, work, work, was all that Hermione could read from the impersonal atmosphere.

The Divination teacher looked up as they entered. "A knock is usually the first step in entering someone else's rooms."

Ron leapt in before Hermione could reply. "Not when you've got something to hide, it isn't! Where's Harry? What's happened to him?"

The woman eyed them with disdain and... something else in her eyes. "Harry Potter, I suppose? I have -"

"Don't say you have no idea!" Ron snapped out, his ears turning a furious red. "We heard you talking to that man in the corridor. You know what's going on, so tell us!"

Hermione tugged him back, hand at her wand, as Carnaena smiled in a predatory manner. "If you had waited until I finished, you would have found that I was going to say 'I have some idea, but I am still working on the exact location'. Do you gain an illicit thrill from interrupting people? Only it isn't a very useful, or admirable trait."

Hermione swallowed and found her tongue. "Professor, what's happened to Harry? We just want to know if he's okay, and whether we can help him at all." Ron vigorously nodded his agreement.

"An interesting idea," Carnaena mused, looking them over with a small spark of interest. "I suppose I could let you in to a little of what I know..."

"How about all of it?" Ron contested hotly. "Look Professor, I know you seem to think this is all some wonderful secret, but if we could do anything, anything at all to help Harry then we should know. That is, if you want to bring him back?"

The woman smirked. "Oh, all right. You've convinced me. Close the door now... take a seat - bring your wands out if you feel more comfortable, it must be rather awkward keeping one hand in your pocket all the time - and listen to what I have to say."

With a wary glance at each other, the pair did as she said, sitting tense in their seats and ready to jump up at the slightest hint of a trick. Carnaena pushed her papers aside and looked them over.

"Now," she said clearly. "What I am about to tell you is completely secret - much of it is known by certain governments, organisations or individuals, but some of it is known only to Harry, me and another member of our little group; you'll meet him soon enough."

"The one we heard you talking to?" Ron interjected. "Er - sorry."

"Please don't interrupt, Mr Weasley. However, you are correct in your conclusion. For now though, kindly remain quiet and leave your questions until afterwards. There are some things I am not going to tell you - things that it would have an adverse effect for you to know, and things that are for Harry to tell you, should he choose."

She cleared her throat. "What you are about to hear must remain untold to anyone who is not already aware. Even your friends, family and teachers must remain ignorant. This charm will make sure that you abide by these rules that I have just set down. Hold the tips of your wands to mine."

The pair did so. The words that the trio said were identical to the words Harry, Malfoy and Dumbledore had said just less than a year ago in the headmaster's office, as he had sworn the boys to secrecy over the facts of Atlantis. As soon as the three people withdrew their wands, Carnaena sat back.

"I first met Harry last year at Hogwarts - the person he was spending his late-night training sessions with was me. I've been teaching him various things; magic, ways of fighting, things he needs to know to fulfil the two prophecies that were written about him. The second one has already been performed; that was his defeating of Voldemort, and the occurrence of the Eclipse.

"The first prophecy, however, has only been partially completed. It explains how Harry, after defeating Voldemort, may go on to fight his true enemies; darker and more powerful than Voldemort could ever hope to be. Yes?"

Hermione put her hand down, wondering why she was acting as though she were in a class. "Professor, why haven't we heard of these prophecies? Does Harry know about them, or Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore was aware of the first one. He told Harry, who stumbled upon the second. The second was made by Elspeth Glades, if you want to look her up - find the prophecy about the Phoenix and the Eclipse of Remembrance. It's quite long. Now... Dumbledore isn't aware of my links to Harry, and I plan to keep it like that for as long as possible. Your headmaster is a reasonably influential player in a game that hearkens back over five millennia ago, and he's obliged to pass all important information up the chain of command in his organisation."

The pair listened in growing amazement and incredulity as their Divination professor explained about the murder of the Cyrin royalty and the prophecy that Merlin had made before his death. She recounted how Natasha Nikastal and Diana Genevieve had been elemental spies for the Dark, and why Leone had released the daemon; and that Harry was the Phoenix, destined to defeat the Five or die in the attempt. She didn't tell them about Techno-Magic, or that she had been present in Atlantis millennia ago - better that they remained unaware of both facts.

"So this... Resistance... has been messing around with eugenics for three centuries - and Harry is the result?" Hermione said sceptically. At Ron's puzzled look, she clarified. "Eugenics is when you breed animals or plants for particular traits; like cows that give more milk, or a different colour rose. The Nazis tried it with humans during World War Two to create 'perfect' Aryans."

Carnaena tutted. "I don't recall saying I approved of it, you might recall. Actually, I have no real opinion either way; it's happened, Harry was born, and whether it's inhumane or not is of no consequence. The fact is that Harry is most certainly the prophesied Phoenix, and he's accepted the responsibility that comes with that title."

Hermione shook her head. "That's daft. If that were true, Harry would have told us. Why would you tell us right now? And it doesn't explain where Harry is. And -"

"Will you let me finish?" she sighed. "Harry didn't tell you because he was sworn to secrecy - much of it he can't physically talk about anyway, thanks to the secrecy-spell Dumbledore performed on him. And if he did tell you, you'd be in even more danger; if the Dark knew that you were aware of his role in the war, they'd focus on you as a way of getting to Harry.

"I have my own reasons for telling you; not least because I'm going to need some help and I know I can probably trust you two more than most people. I've come across some rather important and particularly disturbing information that I'll need some assistance with

"As to your last comment, Harry has - according to my source - done something rather stupid." she snorted. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"What?"

Levina cocked an eyebrow. "Now you're interested? How fascinating. Harry has foolishly decided to attempt a particularly powerful example of ritual magic; one that he's far too inexperienced to have a go at. Not only that, but he did it without any help, and I have little idea as to what exactly may have happened.

"As far as I've managed to work out, it goes something like this. My source says that Harry, hearing of the daemon's escape from the Ministry, found a way to send the creature back to its place of origin rather than letting it run around loose. However, my oh-so-intelligent contact managed to interrupt the ritual half-way through, which ended up sending Harry somewhere else."

Ron looked determined. "Where?"

"That's what I have yet to ascertain. Firstly, I have no idea what happened to the daemon; the ritual may have worked, or it may have created an unexpected effect - or none at all. I can't really find the daemon and ask it." Carnaena tapped the desk with a quill and looked seriously at the pair. "The spell was one to transport the daemon; I assume it may have happened to Harry instead. I've already managed to check the items used in the ritual, and thankfully Harry hasn't been trapped in any of them.

"My contact - who has a certain link with Harry - assures me that he is still alive, and most likely trapped partway to where the daemon was meant to go. We haven't attempted to contact him yet, as such a spell is incredibly traumatising for the magical connection; we don't want to try to speak to him too soon and end up severing the link completely."

Hermione though about this for a moment. "So how long is it before you can contact him? I mean, it's been two days already. How do you know he's all right?"

"If Harry doesn't return by this evening, we'll attempt to contact him. My source's link with him is stable enough that he is constantly aware of Harry's health - he appears to be uninjured and awake."

"So where is Harry?" Ron blurted out, "And who's your contact?"

The woman grinned, showing unnaturally perfect teeth. "Harry is, I believe, in the Realm of the Dead. Oh - and meet Ajax."

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At the weekly meeting with the rest of the Council, Sir Abyssay was swift to produce the file about Brenna's latest acquisition. The seven leaders discussed the matter for some time, finally deciding upon waiting for more information.

The topic turned to Subject FB/P/27E - ready to begin development - and the likely whereabouts of the Phoenix. Then various local matters in the continents that each of the seven Council members was in charge of, including the case of some nobody-boy - Draco Lucius Malfoy - who might be useful to them, as his father had been.

Finally, the last subject came. The second-in-command of the entire Resistance and head of the North American branch, gave an update on the situation in his territory.

"As we all know," he asserted, shifting his overlarge bulk; near-constant paperwork didn't do much to develop muscles anywhere but the lower arm; "the presidential elections are coming up in eleven months. Now, we've gone over the candidates, and our best bet is to stick one of us in the top position - it's impossible to just control the guy with magic, thanks to the secret Wizard guards that not even the top brass know about."

Asia snorted. "A risky step, don't you think?"

"We've done it before," South America reminded her. "It was a while ago, but we could pull it off even easier now. A little disinformation here, a few bribes and blackmail there, discredit the opponents..."

"It would make our job a lot easier in the North American sector if we had ultimate power." North America agreed. "Right now, all we have are a few people in the top positions. I think it would be for the best... we've already got a few promising candidates lined up."

Europe - also known as Sir Abyssay - sighed wearily. "Perhaps we should think about this a little more, George. Let's not go rushing in where angels fear to tread, as the saying goes. Now... as Wizards aren't allowed to take the presidency, I assume you'll either put our of our Muggle or Squib agents in?"

"We have a few magical agents who are unknown to the Wizarding world," North America - George Stone - said proudly. "We can have full histories for them in less than a week. And I mean full - the news crews could get interviews from old ladies who swear they gave 'em piano lessons as kids!"

Antarctica gave a wheezing cough and tapped his cane hard on the marble floor. "I have an appointment on just a few minutes, and we are running rather late. Perhaps we could continue this at next week's meeting, when we might also have more information about this new weapon of Brenna's... the scythe?"

As Abyssay watched politely, the septet swiftly agreed and rose to head back to their bases and appointments. As the European head left the room and back into the main HQ, an expression of utter disgust replaced the look of calm composure.

"Sir?" asked Adair Connor, who waited by the door.

"Idiots!" snapped his boss, striding down to the office some halls away. "Every last one of them, idiots. They can't decide a thing - wait for more information on the new weapon, indeed! They're only doing that because they can't be bothered to take any action. And the way they talked about just... slipping someone into power like that! Putting a new president in place!"

"It is possible, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," the noble snapped, "but firstly do we need to, or do they just want to know they can call up a nuclear strike when they bloody feel like it? And we spent half a minute talking about it! Half a minute and you can see they've already decided to do it. They're incompetent, Connor, and a waste of space." Abyssay's voice lowered. "Stone is an idiot, used to the pleasures of power, and that's it. He hasn't two brain cells to rub together. Jeffrey's 'appointment' was his meeting with one of his whores - another little vice of his that he thinks I don't know about.

"Carlos is more interested in the money and power struggles with his own men - he can't even keep his own people in check! - Mai's dedicated, but has a habit of making more enemies than allies: Stephen's just plain useless, and H'rk doesn't understand Human politics enough anyway." A furious sigh.

"Will you put one of our people in power in America, Sir?" Connor questioned, wide-eyed at this outburst.

"Probably," Abyssay acknowledged. "It may be useful in future. The main concern at this point, though, is to find the Phoenix. If I'm to take solo control of the Resistance, I'll need his help." The aristocrat's eyes lit with determined passion. "We'll need his power if we're to clear this organisation of the dried-up, useless pond scum that hide within it. I run the entire organisation, and those fools insist on dragging me down with them - no longer! I have to assert my leadership, not have it torn seven ways by those idiots who think themselves equal to me."

Sir Abyssay paused at the office door and looked back at Connor. "With me as the Resistance's head, this organisation will be more than just an influential force; it will be the major player in world affairs, pulling every string, hearing every whisper. That is my dream. That is my ambition. I believe in your loyalty Connor, which is why I explained all this to you just a year ago. Do you still want this?"

Adair nodded eagerly. "I think you're right Sir. I still do." He looked resolute. "What do you want me to do?"

The conspirator turned back to the door and began the security clearances to enter. "I want you to arrange a health problem for Jeffrey. Something major to either kill him or make him physically incapable of performing his job. Perhaps a heart failure - it has to look natural. Take care of it by next week... and keep a watch for any news of Potter or that scythe Brenna has. I suspect I'm going to need both if I'm to take control."

As Sir Abyssay entered the office, Connor moved to his desk and brought up a list of useful contacts who could arrange a health crisis for the leader of the Antarctic region. He didn't notice the electronic bug recently hidden in the lining of the seat of his chair, recording and transmitting every word that had been said, nor the Seeing Stone disguised in the light-fitting overhead, broadcasting images of the room.