Merlin's Familiar
Prologue
Letters
July 9th
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Granger Household
Hermoine heard a tapping at her window and opened it to let an owl deliver a letter to her. The letter was from Hogwarts. Thinking that this was her OWL test result she opened it up and began to read.
"Ms. Granger," the letter started.
"Thank you for offering to host an exchange student in the pilot Hogwarts International Exchange Student program. Your exchange student is Lexius L. Ayers from Concrete, Washington, USA. This student has completed the fifth year of instruction at the Salem Witchcraft Institute. At the request of the student, an aeroplane ticket has been sent and the student will be arriving on the 4th of August to the London Gatwick airport at 10:00 AM. The student will stay with you and you will need to escort them to the Hogwart's Express on September 1st. Upon arrival at Hogwarts, the exchange students will join the new students to be sorted into their houses. Hosting a student does not guarantee that the student will be placed into your house. If you have any questions or problems, please send an Owl to myself or Prof. McGonnagal at Hogwart's."
"T. Barnywhoop, Professor, Defense against the Dark Arts."
As disappointed as she was that this was not her Owl results, she was still excited to host a student from a different country. She went downstairs to tell her mum and dad and to get the extra room set-up.
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Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
Albus Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk and reading a letter that had just been delivered to him. Opening the envelope, he noticed that there were two letters in the envelope. He started with the more official looking one.
"TO: Prof. Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,"
"FROM: Office of the Secretary, Department of Magic, USA"
"I regret to inform you that the Department of Magic does not have a candidate that will fit your parameters. We have exhausted all avenues available to us and have come to this conclusion. We hope to render assistance in the future. A copy of this letter has been sent to The Minister of Magic, Conelius Fudge for his information. R. Sound, Secretary of Magic."
Sighing, Dumbledore put the letter down and began to read the hand-printed note that was in the envelope.
"Albus,"
"I was not able to find anyone that would fit your EXACT requirements. I was able to find several possible candidates but each of them was outside of the needed age or temperament ranges. The best that I could do was sending you one of the "A" list candidates but I was told that you did not want any of them. Sorry old friend. The best that I can do is place a strike team at your disposal but I do not think old "Fudge-brain" would like that too much. Let me know if I can help in anyway. This Riddle may only be your problem now, but he could very easily be ours in a couple of years. On a brighter note, I hope that the exchange program works as the students could use the exposure to different cultures and magical teaching/traditions. In a couple of years I hope to involve more of the Eastern schools but they are dragging their feet. Take care, Reginald Sound."
Placing the letters on his desk, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair in thought. After a couple of minutes, a small smile could be seen forming under his long beard.
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Somewhere in Europe
In a darkened room, a cloaked figure activates a message bubble. A woman stands beside him, a quill in her hand as she plans a raid. A small masked figure, armed with a sword, appears above the bubble; he kneels and begins to address the cloaked man.
"Master,"
"I wish to report that all but two pieces of the plan to retrieve the Heart and Key of Slytherin are in place. We have been able to successfully block the Ministry of Magic's attempts to enlist outside help in preventing our inevitable victory. As per your instructions, Harry Potter and his 'Defense Association' have been left unharmed and unmonitored. Inroads have also been made into Hogwarts and the ministry for future operations and intelligence gathering. Always your humble servant, MacNair."
Nodding the cloaked figure crushes the bubble in his hand, destroying it utterly. He turns to the woman who stands beside him, her once-regal face drawn from years of imprisonment.
"All is proceeding as planned," the figure gloated, "and those sheep do not know that a storm is gathering at their door that will rip their world apart." He smiled, then. It wasn't the sadistic smirk of a psychotic megalomaniac, although the cloaked figure certainly was one. It was rather a smile of simple delight. His plans were all falling into place, and he felt joy at the prospect.
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