Chapter Text
PROLOGUE: 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England
August 7, 1995
Harry Potter still couldn't believe that there were dementors all the way out here. Had Lord Voldemort's power grown so quickly in the months which had gone by since Peter Pettigrew had revived his old master? If so, the Wizarding community had a lot to worry about.
What was even more disturbing was the fact that the dementors been brazen enough to attack not only Harry but Dudley as well. Dudley was a Muggle and the product of a family which didn't want anything to do with witches and wizards. Dudley was no threat to Voldemort or any other wizard -- with the possible exception of his old punching bag, Harry Potter. The only explanation Harry could think of was that Voldemort had taken control of the dementors and was confident enough to have them start attacking Muggles in the open.
Most disturbing of all, however, was the fact that the Ministry seemed to be doing anything possible to interfere with the protection of the Muggles. When Harry had shown the spirit of Gryffindor and cast the Patronus Charm to dispel the dementor attack Dudley, the Ministry had responded with a Howler citing him for inappropriate use of magic by a minor. Instead of the expected award for bravery, he had gotten a provisional expulsion from Hogwarts and a summons to a disciplinary hearing.
This was not fair. Could Voldemort had already taken over the Ministry as well as the dementors? He hoped not, as that could cause a cataclysm worse than the one which had killed his parents and left him with the Dursleys.
The Order of the Phoenix was still on his side, however. He watched as they lined up outside his aunt and uncle's house ready to whisk him to safety at a secret safe house in London. They were led by Alastair Moody, the famous Auror. Judging from the man's reactions to him, it clearly WAS Alastair Moody and not some impostor hiding under the Polyjuice Potion.
Sparks flew in the air, and Moody launched his broomstick into the skies. The rest of the Order followed him, including Harry. Soon, they were in the clouds and away from the eyes of prying Muggles.
A short while later, they approached London. Flying into the capital was going to be tricky because of the possibility that Muggles might see them. Thankfully the moon wasn't visible: had it been lighting up the sky, there could have been trouble.
The convoy flew down over the Thames and started heading towards their destination. At Harry's side was Nymphadora Tonks, a young witch who had an uncanny ability to change her appearance. Together, in silence, the convey skimmed over the water, leaving virtually no wake in their path.
The boat came at them, around the curve of the river, so quickly that the wizards didn't have much time to react. Moody barked an order, and the convoy increased its speed to the point where any Muggles watching from the ship would see just a blur and attribute it to a bird.
Harry veered over to the port side of the ship. Tonks bore left and passed by the starboard side. Harry watched running lights go by in a blur as he flew by. He was surprised to find several unusually bright lights illuminating a section near the stern of the ship. Those weren't running lights, he thought. Someone was either making a video or a Muggle movie. Probably some couple on their honeymoon, he thought.
He wondered whether he should alert the others to the possibility that the Muggles might have caught the wizards on film. He dismissed the threat, however. Trained Aurors like Moody and Lupin presumably understood the possibility and were casting charms to dispel the Muggles' attention. Harry knew that it took years of training to become an Auror. With all that extra experience, they could probably do things which Harry couldn't even conceive of.
He dismissed the possibility of Muggle detection and concentrated on the task at hand: getting himself away from the dementors. He glanced briefly at Lupin, who nodded to him. His hypothesis had been correct: Lupin had been blocking the view from the Muggles. Reassured at last, he continued on towards 12 Grimmauld Place wondering what would await him there.
Had Harry understood that Lupin's nod was simply a comment saying that Harry was now safe from Voldemort, things would have been a whole lot different. For the Disillusionment Charm which everything relied on would be good at preventing Muggles from seeing him...but not video cameras.
To be continued...
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Update #1
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August 7, 1995
Thames River
London, England
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David Stern had no idea that filming a Super Bowl commercial would be so difficult. Granted, Blast Cola had had an excellent quarter and more stores were selling Blast than ever before. However, the ability to sell soft drinks didn't translate well to making fancy commercials.
The CEO had paid over $3 million to acquire a 30-second slot for Blast. Now it was up to Stern, whom the CEO had tapped to actually make the commercial. The CEO had told him that he could spend up to $2 million on this commercial, and that his job would be on the line if it didn't live up to expectations.
He had given the advertisement a lot of thought and had decided that he'd have a young couple drinking Blast in several countries on a round-the-world honeymoon tour. They had already filmed segments in Rome, Shanghai, Moscow, Honolulu, and San Francisco. Now, it was time for London.
Stern had decided immediately that the scene would be shot from the Thames on a luxury cruise liner. The couple would be drinking Blast in their cabin's private balcony with the city skyline lit up at night. It would make a beautiful scene, and it would set the stage for the final shot in Tempe, where the game would actually be played.
The stars in the commercial were actually two gorgeous employees who worked for Blast. The man's name was Jake Myerson. He was 26 and was a quality control specialist. The woman, Rebecca Marshall, was 24 and worked in accounting. Not only were they attractive, but rumor has it they had the hots for each other. That made the commercial even easier. They wouldn't have to put on any false airs to flirt with each other.
Getting the actors to memorize the scripts was one thing. Getting all the cameras, lights, and so forth in the cabin was something entirely different, however. Beds had to be moved a few feet to make room for lights. The TV had to be taken off the wall, and the film had to be placed in the minifridge to keep it from spoiling -- after all, cold film tended to work better than warm film.
Eventually, however, everything was ready. Stern told the actors to take their positions on the balcony. Big Ben was coming up on the starboard -- behind the couple when seen through the camera -- and Stern really wanted Big Ben in the shot. What else truly exemplified England?
He hoped that this shot would work out. If not, they'd have to rent the boat AGAIN and it would take time. Money wouldn't be a problem. However, several crew members were getting a bit antsy. They hadn't been home for several weeks and were getting homesick. London was their last stop, and many people were praying that this shot would pass muster.
Stern watched as Big Ben drifted closer and closer. He lifted up his hand and raised all five fingers in the air. The thumb went down. 5, 4...
At 3, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. All he could see was a distortion of some sort, an area where the view of the other side of the river seemed to be twisted in some way. It seemed to be flying in the air towards them, very quickly. It was too small to be a helicopter and flying too slowly.
The countdown continued. 2, 1, 0. The lights turned on and the actors began their script.
HER: "Jake, look at this! Big Ben! Just like in the books!"
HIM: "I see, Becky! It's beautiful! Look at all the history there!"
HER: "Can you take a picture of me with it in the background?"
HIM: "I'm afraid I can't right now, honey."
HER: "Why not?"
The camera turned to show Jake with a video camera at his feet and a bottle of Blast Cola in his hand. Behind him, out over the river, the bird grew larger and larger. Oddly enough, it wasn't flapping its wings. Must be a kite, Stern thought.
The commercial continued as Jake pointed at the bottle of Blast. "Because of my Blast Cola. The tangy, fruity flavor cheers me up and make all of our problems just pass us by like phantoms in the night."
The line came out perfectly for a change. What was even more impressive is that the distortion flew right behind Jake from the perspective of the cameraman. He couldn't tell what it was in real time, but whatever it was had added immeasurably to the shot by symbolizing the "problems" that were passing the speaker by.
Rebecca, who couldn't see the distortion, continued as if nothing had happened. "All right, Jake. I understand now. Go ahead, indulge yourself in Blast. We can always take the boat again if you want the Big Ben shot."
Perfect, Stern thought. Just perfect! With a fist pump, he said: "CUT! That's a wrap, boys! PERFECT!"
Everyone cheered and began cleaning up the set.
To be continued...
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Update #2
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November 6, 1995
Blast Cola Headquarters
Tempe, Arizona
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The technician played the segment of the commercial shot in London and stopped right in the middle, where the anomaly had appeared. He pointed at the screen.
"There. Take a look at the thing flying past the boat in the background."
Stern looked at the object and frowned. "It's a bird. What else could it possibly be?"
The technician groaned. "I think we've been hacked."
"Hacked? What do you mean? You think Coke or Pepsi is aware that Blast Cola is probably going to be on their level in a few years and are executing a pre-emptive strike to make sure we don't get off the ground?"
"No, Dave. I think some kid tried to screw around with us. Take a good look at this image. I don't know about you, but it looks a hell of a lot like a kid flying on a broomstick. If that ain't a practical joke, I don't know what it is."
Stern looked at the image. The object wasn't very well illuminated, so it's unlikely that they'd ever figure out what exactly it was. However, from the little he did see, he could not rule out the possibility that it was a bird. And in a world where there was no magic outside of fantasy stories, a bird flying by was far more likely than the Wicked Witch of the west.
Granted, it was a rather large bird. It had a long neck -- presumably Sanders's "broom handle" -- and a big triangular tail masquerading as a broom's the sweeping section. It had large wings which had been filmed rising over its body in mid-flap. Judging from the size of the wings, they were large enough to appear almost the size of a child or teenager when seen from this perspective.
Stern couldn't think of any birds that size flying so close to the mainland. There were albatrosses and creatures like that with large wingspans, but those tended to stay out at sea. Perhaps this was a new, undiscovered creature or -- far more likely -- something which had escaped from the London Zoo.
The London newspapers hadn't reported a breakout from the Zoo the day after the filming had concluded. He would know -- he'd read through most of the paper while waiting at the gate in Heathrow. However, what was more likely, a bird breaking free from its cage or the Wicked Witch of the West trying to bombard Blast Cola's luxury liner with flying monkeys?
He had to admit that strange things had been happening in England of late. People had died for no apparent reason and bridges had collapsed in puffs of black smoke. The government had eventually concluded that it was a freak weather phenomenon. However, if it WAS a freak weather phenomenon, that only bolstered the claim that this was an exotic bird. The bird had obviously been blown up to England in the air mass that brought the strange weather.
He had a friend who was an ornithologist -- perhaps he'd be able to identify the bird. However, that wasn't important right now.
He turned back to the technician. "It's a bird. Trust me. Exotic birds exist with a very large wingspan. If you don't like it, erase it using PhotoShop."
Sanders shook his head. "Any attempt to get rid of it will reduce the quality of the image. You'll see seams cutting through Big Ben. We don't want the NFL fans to think that we skimp on quality."
Stern frowned. "And we can't refilm the segment because Becky has since left the company. We'd have to refilm the entire commercial with new actors, and we don't have time for that. We're going to have to keep it as is."
The technician frowned. "But..."
Stern's temper finally let loose. "Darn it, Sanders! It's a BIRD! There's nothing ELSE it can be! Had it been daylight it would have been obvious! Now let's finalize this commercial so we can make our deadline!"
The technician sputtered but did as he was told.
To be continued...
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Update #3
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January 7, 1996
Quabbin Academy of Sorcery
Dana, Massachusetts
United States of America
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A Brief Description of the Academy
Presented by Professor Arthur Nagle
School Headmaster since 1992
Prescott House '44
FOUNDING
The Quabbin Academy of Sorcery, or QAS, was founded in 1695 as a response to prolonged persecution of witches and warlocks during the years 1692 and 1693 in Salem, Massachusetts. The attacks began after a small breach of the Statute of Secrecy triggered a general scare. Eventually, the Statute of Secrecy was restored and the appropriate people Obliviated. Unfortunately, many innocent members of the Wizarding community lost their lives as they withheld using their power to save themselves from the Muggle persecutors. Although each of them could have used magic to protect themselves from the various means of interrogation and torture, doing so would have ruptured the Statute of Secrecy further and all of them knew that any further breakdown of the Statute could have dire consequences for both Muggles and wizards.
Our founder, Josiah Hampton, realized that the only way the wizards would be able to keep their community going would be to have everyone Apparate out of the Salem into a new community further west, far beyond the reach of the Puritan authorities. They eventually called their new community Dana, after Professor Hampton's late wife.
Free from the Puritans, the Wizarding community flourished and developed large populations in three adjacent Swift River Valley towns: Enfield, Prescott, and Greenwich. The centerpiece of the community was the Academy, in Dana proper. At the Academy, young men and women from all over New England would be able to study wizardry without any interference from the Muggle authorities.
As time went by, the population of the area increased. Although the wizards had taken extensive precautions to make sure that a repeat of the Salem Witch hysteria could no longer happen, the increasing numbers of Muggles gave them cause for concern. Eventually, in 1930, Horace Hopwell, a closet wizard who had been living in Boston for a time, recommended that the Swift River Valley be dammed to create a reservoir which would provide drinking water for the Boston area.
The plan was enacted, and the Quabbin Reservoir was born. Muggles watched as the four Wizarding towns were flooded and erased from the map. Meanwhile, Wizard Hopwell was doctoring the records of the towns to ensure that no references to the wizards survived: for instance, the date of the founding of Dana was switched to 1801. What the Muggles didn't realize, however, was that the wizards were able to return to the towns once the reservoir had filled. The Dana wizards had perfected the Repellaqua spell, a powerful incantation which would surround a large area with a waterproof dome.
Protected by Muggle eyes by the impassable shield of water, the wizards resumed their secret lives. In 1946, QAS was honored to be selected as a founding member of the American Sorcerer Academic League, or ASAL. The ASAL comprised a federation of regional Wizarding schools spread throughout the country. The annual Quidditch tournament between the eight schools is one of the highlights of the school year. QAS has jurisdiction over the six New England states as well as part of upstate New York.
The total enrollment at the Academy, as of the 1995-1996 school year, was 826, spread more or less evenly across all seven grades.
ACADEMIC STRUCTURE
Wizards who are accepted to QAS enter the Academy at sixth grade, at the beginning of junior high. They spent Grades 1-5 with Muggles, learning the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic.
The Academy has two campuses, one for men and one for women. The men meet in Dana and the women in Enfield. Both campus use state of the art magic and are designed to help the students learn as well as they can.
The curriculum follows the standardized class schedule popularized by Albus Dumbledore at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England. Any prospective parent will be reassured that his or her child will get the appropriate Defense against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Divination, and other standard lessons. There is also a special program for gifted students.
SOCIAL LIFE
The school is divided into four houses: Dana, Prescott, Greenwich, and Enfield. In days gone by, they corresponded more or less to which city the candidate had grown up in. Nowadays, however, people all over New England get distributed throughout the houses. The old rule still applies -- for instance, everyone from Prescott is assigned to Prescott House -- but the Four Towns only provide 21% of the class of '96.
The Academy hosts several academic and recreational competitions. The four houses compete in Quiddich, Quodpot and spellcraft on a regular basis. The Academy's women's Quodpot team, the Mermaids, have won the ASAL championship three of the past five years, and we are expecting that trend to continue under our new coach.
FINANCIAL AID
We at the Academy understand that a good education does not come cheaply. As a result, we have a financial aid package for those wizards who find admission too expensive. Please contact the headmaster for more information.
Thank you for your attention.
To be continued..
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Update #4
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January 15, 1996
Quabbin Academy of Sorcery
Dana, Massachusetts
United States of America
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"Mr. Reynolds?"
The Muggle Studies teacher turned around. It was one of the ninth graders, David Anderson. David was one of his best students, and the reason for obvious: both of the boy's parents were Muggles. Reynolds was learning about as much from David as the rest of the class was learning from Reynolds himself.
Reynolds wondered if David realized how lucky he as living in the United States. Had David been living in England and attending Hogwarts, he would likely be persecuted by Voldemort's minions -- and by the students of Slytherin House -- as a "Mudblood". Reynolds recalled his experiences during the war against Voldemort and shuddered to think what would have happened to little David if he fell into Voldemort's clutches.
Although the English Ministry of Magic was trying to cover it up, word had started to leak out. Voldemort had returned and was starting to marshal his forces of Death Eaters. Supposedly a Death Eater who had infiltrated Hogwarts had fixed the latest incarnation of the Triwizard Tournament -- a competition between the three major Wizarding schools in Europe -- so that Harry Potter would win, be Portkeyed over to Voldemort's father's grave, and play an important, albeit unwanted, role in the Dark wizard's revival.
From what Reynolds had heard, virtually everything that could have gone wrong had done so. Voldemort's accomplice at Hogwarts had managed to fool the Goblet of Fire into thinking that Harry Potter belonged to a fourth school, which had forced the Goblet into nominating the boy as a fourth champion even though Dumbledore had placed an age line around the Goblet. The announcement of the "fourth champion" had thrown all three schools into apoplexy, but there was nothing they could do as the champions were bound to the tournament by a magical contract which could not be broken.
As if that were not bad enough, Voldemort's plan had gone awry when the two Hogwarts competitors, Potter and Cedric Diggory, had decided to tie for first place and touch the Triwizard Cup -- the Portkey -- at the same time. Both boys had been whisked to Voldemort's father's grave, where the stowaway Diggory had been killed by a supposedly dead Peter Pettigrew. The death of the popular Hufflepuff had horrified the community.
Hopefully Dumbledore would take care of Voldemort's revival in England before everything got out of hand. David here didn't know yet, and hopefully he would never have to know.
Reynolds turned to David. "Yes, David? What's going on?"
In response, David showed him a Muggle information parchment -- a newspaper, Reynolds believe it was called. As a Muggle Studies teacher, Reynolds was more familiar with Muggle artifacts than most wizards. However, that didn't amount to much. It was hard for information to flow between cultures in a world subject to the Statute of Secrecy.
The parchment seemed to be discussing sports. Reynolds didn't understand much about the sports mentioned: basketball, football, and so forth. He knew they existed, but that was more about it. The pictures, as usual, didn't move. This time, they seemed to be showing men in unusual helmets.
David pointed at the parchment. "Mr. Reynolds, I have a good idea for a class project for Muggle Studies which I think everyone will like. A week from this coming Sunday, the 28th, is the Super Bowl."
Reynolds looked at him, baffled. "The what?"
"The Super Bowl, Mr. Reynolds. It's the championship football game and a very popular sporting event. People all over the country, and possibly the world, will be watching it."
"So? I don't think any wizards other than you pay attention to Muggle sports."
David smiled. "Exactly, Mr. Reynolds. I recommend that we all watch the game together and learn about Muggle culture that way. Muggles have devices which can record programs on the television --"
"The what?"
"Television, Mr. Reynolds. It's a Muggle device which allows people to receive programs from all over the world. At any rate, my family will be watching the game, recording it, and sending the record to Hogwarts so I can watch it in my spare time. There's a matter of powering the device which is required to play back to program, but I've been speaking with Professor Nagle and he thinks the problem can be overcome with magic. I must say, Mr. Reynolds, he's intrigued by the idea."
Reynolds stared at him. "You think that this sporting event will be a good way to learn about Muggle culture? I don't see how. All we'll see is Muggles playing games."
David smiled. "The game itself is a sideshow for the most part -- unless you're a fan one of one of the competitors. You see, the Super Bowl is best known for advertisements. Muggle companies take advantage of the fact that the Super Bowl is a highly watched program and develop very good advertisements to be shown during the broadcast. We can learn a lot about Muggle culture simply by watching the advertisements. And when we're not watching advertisements, we can watch the game and learn about football. What's more, there is generally a show during halftime which will let us learn more."
Reynolds laughed. He was intrigued. This actually wasn't a bad idea. "You know, David, that's a very good idea! How long will this game last? Can we show it during classes?"
David shook his head. "No. I think it will take too long. Maybe three or four hours. We'd have to set aside an afternoon for it. If you can't, we can just do an evening. We'll all meet in the auditorium and watch it."
Reynolds frowned. "You're going to have to still do your homework, you know. I don't want people skimping on their lessons because of this Muggle sport."
David looked at him pleadingly. "Can you get Professor Nagle to let us out early and have a half day so we can watch the game and then do our homework?"
A new voice answered. "Absolutely, David."
Both David and Reynolds turned as Professor Nagle walked into the room and smiled. Turning to Reynolds, he continued, "I must say, Steven, this is actually a rather clever idea. It will help cheer up the winter doldrums."
The headmaster turned back to David. "When's the game again?"
"January 28th, sir. A Sunday. I suspect my duck is going to be able to deliver the recording of the game on the 29th or 30th. We've also got a small television we may be able to lend you which runs on batteries. Once we've got the image, we can just blow it up with Engorgio and everyone will be able to see it."
"Indeed you will, David. What about February 2nd? Imbolc, the Cross Quarters day? It's the Friday night after the game and you don't have class the next day. It's a good day for a celebration, right?"
Reynolds looked at the headmaster and smiled. "It is, Arthur. It is."
The headmaster nodded and turned back to David. "All right, David. We're on. Tell me if there's anything you need me to do to help out."
David beamed at him. "Thank you! Thank you!"
To be continued...
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Update #5
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January 17, 1996
Death Eater Safe House
Colombo, Sri Lanka
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Damodharan Dilmi was fed up with waiting. He had been imprisoned in Azkaban for twenty years and had suffered terrible torture at the hands of the dementors. Yet he had stayed strong and true to the dreams of Lord Voldemort.
Many of his fellow Death Eaters in Azkaban had been disheartened when Voldemort had been vanquished by the infant Harry Potter. Dilmi considered them weak and spineless. The fact that a great man had been incapacitated did not end the need for the wizards to rule the Earth. Muggles were incompetent, from what he knew. They were not wise enough to be in positions of authority. Wizards, with access to magic, had access to the required knowledge. It was the wizards' duty to take back what was rightfully theirs.
Dilmi had stewed in his own frustration for many, many years. As if that weren't bad enough, the situation got worse two and a half years ago when the fearsome Light side wizard Sirius Black managed to break out of Azkaban in his Animagus form. He remembered gritting his teeth when the news came in. Not only did the Light side have another fearsome warrior on their side, the dementors had taken extra care to intimidate and terrify the remaining inmates to make sure that the desire to break out of the prison didn't become contagious.
Everything had changed a little over half a year ago, however. He had felt the Dark Mark burn on his arm and could hear the astonished cries of his fellow Death Eater prisoners. He remembered the ecstasy he had felt when he realized that Voldemort had managed to return, having shrugged off a curse that would have killed anyone else. He knew that the time would soon come when the Dark Lord would redeem his followers from Azkaban.
That time had come a couple of weeks ago, when a host of renegade dementors and Death Eaters managed to break the Death Eaters out of Azkaban. Several good men had been killed in the fighting, the arcane knowledge of Lord Voldemort on their lips. However, with the dementors neutralized by their own kind, it all came down to who had the guts to use the Avada Kedavra curse on their opponents. The Light side forces preferred to not do that, which more or less sealed their fate.
Dilmi had played a pivotal role in the breakout. He had managed to Imperius one of the Aurors and convince him to call off some dementor reinforcements. As long as the dementor battle was a stalemate, the Death Eaters would win. It had been Dilmi's duty to ensure that the Dark dementors achieved no worse than a stalemate.
Once free from Azkaban, he returned home to Sri Lanka and spent the next two weeks recruiting allies from all over the Indian subcontinent. He now found himself in charge of a large group of Death Eaters who were itching to get back at the Muggles and Mudbloods.
He had not heard much from Voldemort since his release. However, he knew enough to know that the Dark Lord was pleased with Dilmi's progress. Dilmi had been surprised to learn that Voldemort's recruitment was progressing more slowly than Dilmis. Voldemort's problems could be summarized in two words: Albus Dumbledore. The Hogwarts headmaster had seen Cedric Diggory's body and had listened to Harry Potter's description of the bizarre fight in the graveyard. Dumbledore knew that Voldemort would be snooping around Britain and was doing his best to stop him.
The authorities in Sri Lanka, however, were not aware of the Death Eaters in their midst. Their information came from the British Ministry of Magic, and the Ministry was adamant that Voldemort had not returned.
This left Dilmi in a position to act where Voldemort couldn't. He considered it his duty to do something to show the world that the Death Eaters meant it business. If Voldemort couldn't, Dilmi would. He had mentioned the plan to his lord, and Voldemort had reluctantly agreed. Dilmi's cell would have the opportunity to plan the first magical attack of the Second Wizarding War.
He had discussed the idea with his men and eventually came upon a plan. Two weeks from today, they were to cast a powerful curse on a crowd of people downtown. They would then take advantage of the Imperius curse to frame a Muggle group, allowing the Death Eaters to escape. Dilmi, however, insisted that he receive the honor of casting the Dark Mark into the sky. Sure, everyone would see it. But none of the Muggles would know what it meant. A cloud looking like a skull. Big deal. He'd seen clouds that looked like frogs, trees, and so forth.
Dilmi's reconnaissance had decided upon one of three targets. The primary target was the Central Bank, as an attack there would not only kill people but damage the economy as well. If the Bank was impregnable, the second choice was a sports facility, which allowed for high casualty rates. If all else failed, his cell would fall back on their third choice, a major shopping mall.
Voldemort had planned well. He had distracted Dumbledore and the powerful British authorities while his sleeper cells all over the globe had prepared themselves. Dilmi was ready and hoped that the upcoming attack would earn him a position as the Dark Lord's right-hand man.
He rubbed his hands together, adjusted the Death Eater mask on his face, and continued working on his plans.
To be continued...