Rufus Scrimgeour looked up from his paperwork at the polite knock on the door.
–Come in,†he said.
The door opened and a thirty-something, nervous woman came in. Scrimgeour gestured to the chair on her side of his desk, giving her a reassuring smile. As she sat down, he nonchalantly opened his schedule for the day and glanced at the time. Ah, of course.
–Miss Draper,†he said, –of the Department of Mysteries, I assume.â€
Miss Draper nodded.
–The Mage Research Group,†she said timorously. Scrimgeour nodded.
–What is it you wanted to see me about, Miss Draper?†he said, and waited expectantly for her to speak. She took a moment to gather herself, opening the black folder she carried and taking out a piece of parchment.
–As you know, sir, our group has had very little to do for many years. We spend most of our time looking into historical accounts of beings known as ‘mages’.†Here she paused nervously. Scrimgeour decided to take pity on her.
–Mages being defined in common parlance, I believe, as being to a wizard ‘what a wizard is to a Muggle’?†he enquired.
–Yes, sir. We believe that the actual definition is much more specific than that, of course,†she continued, –but thus far we haven’t had a chance to find out.â€
Scrimgeour nodded. Mages were the mythical figures of the Wizarding World. Merlin had been said to have been one, if such a person had ever truly existed, and a few names throughout history had been attached to the word - normally after they had died. Beliefs regarding the actual nature of a mage varied greatly from story to story, from tales about people who could control the elements, speak to animals, read another’s mind like a book - but the one similarity that all these accounts held was that a mage’s magic was wandless, and thus a ‘different kind’ of magic - ‘magecraft’ as a opposed to witchcraft or wizardry. The Mage Research Group was dedicated to seeking out the truth in such stories; Scrimgeour had been reading their file the day before, knowing this meeting was coming, and had learnt a surprising amount. The group believed they had actually encountered a mage some four hundred years ago, but in fear of, as he believed, –being experimented onâ€, he had fled - and by the time they had managed to contact him, he had renounced all magical ability and was living as a muggle in Japan. He had never understood his powers - if he had had them - and they had terrified him.
The group had then managed to quietly have a law made that prevented mages from being harmed. Upon one being discovered, they were to present themselves to the group, who would then share their research with them in the hope of no one else feeling the way the last mage had.
But there had been no more mages.
The file detailed the creation of a device, said to be able to detect the use of so-called ‘magecraft’ anywhere in the country; however, the accuracy of the machine was entirely debatable as it had not been created until after the last known mage had forsaken his magic, and hadn’t detected anything since then.
–The device is active, sir,†said Miss Draper. Scrimgeour sat forward, looking at her curiously.
–When did it activate?†he asked. Miss Draper floundered.
–You are aware, sir, the accuracy of -â€
–Yes, yes, I am,†he said.
–Well, if the machine’s accuracy can be trusted, sir, then we’ve been getting flickers of power for almost a year now. Tiny blips, nothing we would normally deem noteworthy - but then there was this.†She passed him the piece of parchment in her hands. There was no need for Scrimgeour to inspect it closely - it was clear what she meant him to notice.
The chart on the paper displayed a flat line, up until a point that seemed to have occurred around Easter of the previous year. Here the line spiked dramatically, but briefly.
–Just a flash of it…†Scrimgeour said thoughtfully. Miss Draper handed him the second piece of parchment.
This was a continuation of the same chart, but here there were several spikes.
–Nothing on the level of that first spike, but much more frequently and sustained for longer,†Miss Draper explained.
–Like someone’s practising?†Scrimgeour murmured to himself. Miss Draper nodded.
–That’s what we think, sir.â€
–And it’s just the one?â€
Mages were traditionally believed to appear in threes; the presence of one indicated that two more would arrive.
–Yes sir. But a trio of mages, according to our research, do not need to appear at once; they can be years apart.â€
The Minister leant back in his chair, and let out a long, slow breath.
–So, is there a procedure? I remember reading one in the file, but I can’t quite recall how it was supposed to go,†he said, knowing that she would be able to explain.
–We attempt to make contact, in as peaceful and non-confrontational way as possible,†said the younger woman. –And according to ministerial protocol, sir… the Minister himself is supposed to be present to offer his official assurance that no harm will come to the person concerned.†She said the last sentence rather quickly, as though uncertain of the reaction it would provoke. However, Scrimgeour had remembered this fact from the file, and it hadn’t surprised him then. Mages were, by all accounts, incredibly powerful, and their powers were tied to their emotions much more strongly than the average wizard’s. It was sensible, therefore, to give them the utmost respect when meeting for the first time, especially if it was unlikely that they knew much of their powers or of how to control them.
–Of course,†he said. Miss Draper looked relieved.
–We believe we’ve located the source of the more recent spikes, though it hasn’t been easy. But looking at when they typically occur, the next one should be in about three days time.â€
Scrimgeour clapped his hands together.
–Then I assume we’re all going for a walk?†he asked.
~
He later regretted having been so enthusiastic. It was three days later and they had been tramping about the forest for several hours in the general area that ‘magecraft’ had supposedly taken place. The device which detected it was unmovable from the Ministry, or this would likely have been a lot quicker, the Minister thought. Still, the weather wasn’t bad, and it at least was a change from sitting in the office all day. Scrimgeour looked at his watch. Around now, if he’d been having a normal day, his secretary would be bringing him a fresh cup of tea…
He realised that they had come to a stop. He looked around. They were in some kind of clearing, green and fresh, surrounded by pine trees and not much else.
–Found anything?†he asked, not holding out much hope, and he was right. Miss Draper and her two companions had merely stopped to reorganise the things they were carrying. Scrimgeour let his gaze drift around the circle of trees that surrounded them - but then something caught his eye.
–Miss Draper,†he called quietly over his shoulder, as he walked towards one particular tree, –come and have a look at this.â€
There was a mark on the tree, like a scorch mark - but from no ordinary fire. It was in the shape of a hand print, and the edges were almost perfectly cauterised. The fingers of the hand were slender and long; long fingers were believed to be a hallmark of powerful magic, Scrimgeour knew, but he was dubious as to how much truth was in it.
Miss Draper was inspecting the mark, carefully making notes on size, location, and other characteristics in her notebook.
–It’s quite clearly not been etched using any kind of tool,†she said. –Look at how perfect the edges are - and you can even see the lines on the palm.â€
Scrimgeour looked closer and realised that she was right. There was a fine network of lines across the palm of the print, but not like those of the wood. Scrimgeour could follow the life line and the creases in the finger joints - and looking even more closely, it was just possible to make out the faint fingerprints of whoever had done this. He gave a low whistle.
–Impossible to be done with regular magic,†he said. –They’d have had to have put their hand there - but it would have had to have been scorching hot.â€
One of Miss Draper’s assistants muttered something under his breath that Scrimgeour didn’t quite catch.
–What was that?†he asked.
The man looked up at him, shifting nervously, clearly uncertain how to talk to the Minister for Magic.
–I said it looks like we’re dealing with an elemental, sir,†he said.
–It’s a possibility,†Miss Draper said. She was just taking out a magnifying glass to inspect the print more closely, when there was a noise that Scrimgeour, having gone through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, recognised instantly.
–Quiet,†he muttered. The other three immediately fell silent, looking around. Miss Draper sidled quietly closer to him.
–What is it?†she whispered nervously.
–Someone trying to be very, very quiet,†Scrimgeour murmured with a grim smile. He spoke out, clearly and loudly, but calmly.
–Who’s there?†he asked. There was a pause. –We’re not going to hurt you,†Scrimgeour said gently. –Whoever you are, whatever you can do, we’re here to help you.†Scrimgeour had been turning slowly, looking all around the clearing - at Miss Draper’s widened eyes focused on something over his shoulder, he turned again to see what she was staring at.
In mid air, a short, diagonal line of fire had been drawn. As they watched, a second line was drawn joined to it, and after a few more seconds -
–It’s writing,†one of the assistants said. The group watched silently until the writer appeared to be finished. The completed message read:
The words stayed long enough to be read and absorbed, and then faded into the air.
Scrimgeour thought for a moment, and then spoke again.
–You have no real reason to, I suppose,†he said. –But you have my word, if that means anything to you.†The group watched the same patch of air, expecting more words to appear in response, so they were startled when a voice came from behind them.
–Does it mean anything to you, is the real question,†said the voice. The group turned and there, leaning against one of the trees, was -
–You?†asked Scrimgeour. The young man gave a short, humourless laugh.
–Yeah, me. Apparently.â€
He turned and began to walk away into the forest, and then turned back with a raised eyebrow.
–Well? Are you coming, or not?â€
After a moment’s pause, they followed him in silence.
He led them through the trees for a few minutes until they came to a small hollow by a fallen tree. He settled himself on the ground, leaning against the trunk. The other four sat down on the ground by the lip of the hollow - close enough to have a normal conversation, but not close enough to be a threat. Not that the young man seemed that worried about them; in fact, he seemed remarkably relaxed, though watchful.
–Sorry about that,†he said, giving a half-smile, –but that clearing’s surprisingly busy - it’s the midpoint for a load of Muggle rambling routes. If you want to talk it’s probably best to do so away from someone else’s picnic.â€
The others nodded, but otherwise did and said nothing. Scrimgeour glanced around at them. They looked as stunned as he had first felt.
Of all the people to be a mage… Scrimgeour thought. But then, how appropriate. How fitting… it makes sense of so many things…
–Well?†the boy asked, leaning back against the fallen tree trunk and tilting his head up to gaze at the sky for a moment before looking back at the group in front of him. –I don’t bite, you know,†he said, looking a little bit amused.
–No, you just make finely detailed, scorched handprints on tree trunks,†said Scrimgeour, meeting his eyes with a raised eyebrow and a small smile. The boy - and however Scrimgeour tried to think of him as a young man, he couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen and for some reason seemed younger - the boy gave another short laugh.
–I thought you’d spot that,†he said.
–You’ve been following us?†Scrimgeour asked.
–Only for the last half hour,†the boy replied.
–You made that mark for us to see?†asked Miss Draper, politely. It was the first time she had spoken to him, and the boy gave a considering look at her and her assistants, and their bags.
–No,†he said shortly. –That was from a while ago - I didn’t realise that clearing was so popular, or I wouldn’t have risked it.â€
She nodded, and then, seeing his expression, spoke again.
–My name is Aimee Draper… I’m from the Mage Research Group, Department of Mysteries.â€
At this the young man raised one eyebrow and glanced at the other two, who were sitting and at least, Scrimgeour realised, they were trying to make some vague attempt not to look dumbfounded. Miss Draper had clearly seen this too.
–This is Eric and Daniel; they are my assistants.â€
There was a pause.
–What do you want?†the boy asked finally.
–Well, really we’re entirely here for your benefit - †Miss Draper started off, but she didn’t have the chance to finish.
–What do you want?†the boy asked again, quietly, calmly, his eyes flicking between Miss Draper and the Minister.
–What if it’s not about what we want?†Scrimgeour asked.
The young man looked sceptical.
–I know the Ministry pretty well by now,†he said.
–Then you’ll know we tend to get tied up in bureaucracy,†countered Scrimgeour, –and little laws. And according to those laws, you get all the power in this situation.â€
This seemed to surprise the boy.
–Why?†he asked after a moment’s thought. –Why give me all the power when it’s quite clear that I’ve got it already?†As he spoke, almost to himself, he rubbed the tip of his thumb along the inside of his middle finger; when it reached the tip a small, bright flame flickered to life on his skin. The others watched, captivated, as he flicked the flame across his hand and between his fingers.
–Unless you just want to use it…†he said, balling his hand quickly into a fist and then releasing it. The flame had gone.
–At which point, I think I rather have to be going.†At this he stood, and Scrimgeour thought he had never seen anyone move so fluidly, so controlled. He seemed on the point of turning and leaving - Scrimgeour almost felt as though the boy would actually run - when Miss Draper spoke up.
–We have some information that you may find helpful.â€
The teen paused. Miss Draper, seeing her opportunity, continued, speaking quietly.
–Our group has been researching mages for hundreds of years; we are willing to give you access to all the information we have.â€
The boy turned and met her gaze.
–And what’s the price?†he asked.
–We ask nothing from you,†she said.
–So what do you get?â€
–Mages are dangerous,†Scrimgeour said shortly. –We get the comfort of knowing that you are learning to control your abilities - if you didn’t the damage you could do would be…†he paused, searching for the right word.
–Horrific,†the young man said, and Scrimgeour could have sworn that he saw tiny red flames in his vivid green eyes before he blinked and they disappeared.
–Yes.â€
The boy seemed to consider this.
–You don’t have to decide right away,†Miss Draper said. –You can contact us…†she held out a slip of parchment in her hand. There was a pause, and then the sensation of movement, and then the young man stood in front of Miss Draper. He took the parchment and looked at it. Scrimgeour blinked furiously. How had he moved that fast? But he didn’t have time to ask, because a moment later the boy nodded politely to Miss Draper and Scrimgeour, and - left.
There was no other word for it. He didn’t Disapparate, nor did he disappear into thin air; of this Scrimgeour was certain. And, on replaying those moments in his mind, it did seem as though the boy had turned and walked away from them; but the several seconds that that action should have taken seemed to have been compressed into barely one…