Sunday, July 27th, 2014. 1:35 PM.

  12 Grimmauld Place, Borough of Islington, London, UK

  The Task Force briefing was looking to be short and to the point. Coverage on Malfoy Manor had been lessened, but not dropped, as it was still irregularly visited by members of The Purple Gang. Harry was quite taken with the monicker bestowed by the spectators at the Wales/Germany game. It was the indignity of it that made him smile. Between that, and the cover story The Prophet was gleefully making bank on, he would guess that Contessa Sabatini spent most of her waking hours at a continual boil.

  A copy of the ersatz 'Manifesto' was posted by the door into the upper hall.

  ***

  To the Desecrators of the Pure Game

  ?BEWARE!?

  Be It Known by These Assigns that We, hereafter Betitled:

  te Saveoures offe Kwidditch

  Have taken the Measure of the Moderne Game called 'Quddithc, and

  WE HAVE FOUND IT WANTING.

  It is FOUL! It is CORRUPT! It has been Co-Opted by the Impure and Foreign to Line Their Pockets and Humiliate Their Betters.

  Kwidditch was Born on This Scared Island, and it was spread by Our Noble FourBears to Raise our Kindred Islanders from their State of Savagery, that they might better Serve Us, as their Benefactors and Foundrers of the Sacred Game.

  But the So-Called International Comitee has spread this False Game, this Heresy, to Tear US Down! Changing Rules so that Good Honest English Men can NOT prevail against the Over-Ranked and Over-Broomed Foreigners and Former Colonials! The Proof is in this one Sad Fact: NOONE can remember when England last won their so-called 'World Cup!' Oh, we HAVE won, but records were 'Lost' or 'Destroyed' or expunged after the fact. Official and Committee Corruption has stripped England of Victory and Awarded it to Political Cronies, or Those of Impure Blood, to Slake their Primitive Need for Destruction!

  Our Demands are Simple and Reasonable. Pull the Island's Game back to the Island where it was Born, and Make it PURE!

  These are not Cries for Change!

  These are Demands for Restoration!

  JOIN US, BROTHERS!

  (Women, Foreigners, Half-Bloods, Mud-Bloods and Employees of the Ministry Of Magic NEED NOT APPLY).

  ***

  Harry shook his head, and checked his notes again. The group was down to core leadership and two of the three team leads.

  "Ginny," he said. "Good job on your disinformation projects. Any worries on your end?"

  "Nope!" she replied smugly. "We had to do three printings on the edition with the Manifesto. My Editor, the irrepressible Barney Boy, is over the Moon, Frogs or not. I floated the idea of just printing the Manifesto by itself on a quality cardstock, and selling that. You know, add some mysterious warnings and invigorating pep talks on the back, and maybe a big banner on the front, 'Know Your Enemy!" "She smirked. "He loved it. We're not able to do that kind of work at the paper. But I set him up with an Entrepreneurial House-Elf who is doing Vanity Press work, and could use some jobs to take up the idle hours on his press."

  'Oh, you evil minx!" Harry breathed in delight. She shrugged modestly.

  "I also told Barnabas if he played his cards right, he might be able to unload some of the junk cluttering up the sub-floors."

  "I don't know," Harry grinned at her. 'We don't want to run out of pixies."

  Missy had been doing Ginny's nails, using a Pixie-sized Paint roller to lay down the base coats, then filling the blank canvas with delicate metallic filigree. Her little snort of laughter sounded like a chime, and she hurriedly backed away before her laughter made her spoil her lines.

  Harry regarded her work with approval. Possibly another income stream for the Pixies, he thought. He wondered if they had bank accounts yet.

  Returning his attention to Ginny, he said, "And the other thing?"

  "Daniel and I managed to get together before the first article appeared, and disinformationalised the ever-loving Hel out of the stories. Everything is still accurate, as far as the story goes. But anyone who shows up at Azkaban looking for secret passages and safes is going to end up sorry and sore."

  "Good work!" The compliment was sincere. Daniel Weston's revelations added a whole new level to the case, and a new field to investigate.

  "Staying on Azkaban," he went on. "Hermione, any word from Kingsley?"

  She shook her head. "Not yet. He replied to confirm, but nothing else so far. He's like me, worried. We sent out that investigative commission a week-and-a-half ago, and neither of us has heard a word. They're not unreasonably late in reporting in, but..."

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  "But." Harry agreed grimly. "As much my fault as anyone's. I asked him to send them out, and then life jumped on top of all of us."

  Ron nodded agreement. "It's been mad!" he said earnestly. "At least we have a couple of weeks before the World Cup ramps back up." He gave his wife a quirky smile. "Hermione and I haven't had a decent argument in weeks. I kind of miss it."

  Hermione blushed a little, and dug him in the ribs with a stiffened finger. He yelped and fell backwards off the bench.

  "We'll put together a stealth mission to investigate. Proudfoot, that's a you thing. We've pulled enough warm bodies back that you can swap with the active teams, and get the group you want. Figure me and Ron for two of your actives, and Hermione as Non-Combat Specialist." He glanced up the table to see Ron whispering in Hermione's ear. "That work for you two?"

  Hermione was purple and speechless. Ron was grinning as he said, "Sure. What day?"

  Harry looked at Proudfoot and said, "Tuesday for choice?"

  Proudfoot nodded, which was all Harry expected, and probably more than anyone else would have gotten.

  "Demelza." Harry turned to her. "How is disinformation on your end?"

  "Looks to be going very well. The..." she grinned. "The Purple Gang bought that the Niffler had escaped, and replaced it after shoring up the hide a little. This was not their best stealth team, so it was simple to keep track of them."

  Harry said, "Yes. Their best stealth team took injuries, and I don't know how fast their people heal." He frowned. "Or what their people are for that matter. Never seen them out of robes and cowls."

  "Well, these were easy, until, of course, they got off the property and Apparated away." She frowned as well. "One of these days..."

  Harry nodded, as did Hermione, still faintly pink. She said, "One of these days we will figure out how to track Apparition. Maybe sooner than we think."

  Harry raised an eyebrow, and Hermione gave him one of her patented 'Later' looks. He looked back to Demzela. She continued without prompting.

  "Draco and Wilberforce should be doing a double-talk act somewhere. The Egotistical Aristocrat and His Long-Suffering Gentleman's Gentleman. I'd buy a ticket."

  That would be Draco complaining over his father's health, and about his mother insisting he secure all the Family Treasures and Keepsakes at The Manor. And Wilberforce remarking what a wonderful job the highly-paid Stealth Witches did in smoothly facilitating the transfer. Draco grudgingly admitting it could have gone worse.

  She shook her head. "It's like they were born to be what they are, and somehow each found their perfect complement. What I can tell you is that there has been no sign of The Gang at the Townhouse for five shifts. I recommend pulling all those detachments."

  "Better and better," said Harry. "Gives Proudfoot a larger pool to pull from." He suppressed a shudder. "And I do not want Narcissa Malfoy taking matters into her own hands."

  Proudfoot caught Harry's eye, and mentally telegraphed grim agreement.

  ***

  Everyone except the Granger-Weasleys had decamped. Ron was over in the Small People Annex, helping with magic that not even the most precocious of wandless children could manage. The kitchen was down to its most cosy dimensions, just right for three people and a small Elf. Oh, and a black folder taking minutes. Hermione, Ginny, and Harry were around one end of the dining table, now the perfect width to exchange paperwork across.

  "Hermione, how does the new information affect your theories?" Harry asked. Ginny and Demelli were going through the unredacted notes from Weston's interview, collating the facts that did not make it into The Daily Prophet articles.

  "It's been quite a help, actually," Hermione admitted. "The biggest part of which is being almost certain where the magic originated, and with whom."

  "Where is Azkaban, obviously. Whom?"

  Hermione's nose wrinkled in distaste. "The Dark Wizard Ekrizdis. Azkaban was his stronghold, possibly for centuries. It served as a combination of lair, stronghold, laboratory, and torture chamber. It wasn't until he probably died that the ridiculously powerful Concealment and Containment Charms around the place gave out. The Ministry had no idea of the existence of the Island, or him, until then."

  "Ah," Harry's tone was wary. " 'Probably' died?"

  "Ekrizdis is one of the great magical mysteries of the Late Middle Ages. Origins unknown, possibly Greek, possibly Egyptian, more likely a Briton hiding behind a fanciful name. Demelli can find no records of the Ministry of the time's investigation of the newly appeared island, or the discovery of his new creatures, the Dementors." Hermione wore a dissatisfied look.

  "While I understand and sympathise with the original Investigators... Well, I'm sure it wasn't pleasant, unexpectedly running into an island full of incorporeal creatures. Much less ones that ate Happiness, radiated Despair, and were quite likely starving. Still and all, that is no excuse for failing to make and preserve proper Records!"

  Hear, Hear! Demelli chimed in. Hermione acknowledged her kindred spirit with a small smile.

  "It was also the height of arrogance to bring several of these things back to the mainland for study. When they inevitably escaped..., well." Hermione shrugged, then firmed up her expression.

  "What this does do is give us some things to compare. There are similarities between Dementors and these Anomalies. Both incorporeal, both feeding upon intangible concepts, both radiating something which acts directly, if subconsciously, on the mind. I wonder if the effects on Muggles would be lesser, as with Dementors. I also wonder what the effect on a victim would be, if the Anomaly was not stopped from feeding. Would the victim's magic eventually come back? Would they end up a Muggle? Which reminds me." She began to shuffle through the papers stacked neatly before her. Picking one, she slid it over to Ginny and Demelli.

  "Demelli, please ensure that everyone on the task force gets a copy of this, and learns it. The current mish-mash of spells to protect one's mind from the Anomaly's influence are either too long, require one to hold multiple spells at once, or are simply ineffective. I have devised a Shield Spell that, if learned well and practiced assiduously, can be Silently cast in less than a second. It will protect the caster's mind and magic from all outside influence. Even against a Dementor, it will give up to ten minutes to evoke a strong Patronus." She frowned. "I haven't tried a Patronus against the Anomaly."

  "Later," said Harry. "But let's take it further. Demelli, tell everyone that competence at this spell is mandatory. They are sidelined from Task Force activity until they can perform it to your satisfaction thrice in a row. The third of those must be against the captive Dementor in the Department of Mysteries. Coordinate with Grim Fawley on that. He will probably want to spread the spell in his department as well." Harry hesitated.

  Thank you, wrote Demelli, ...for not reminding me to maintain confidentiality with Fawley. That would have been very patronising. And, yes, I will be undercover as M.O.M. File.

  "Got your back!" Harry said, a little too quickly. Turning back to Hermione, he said. "You seem to have elided over one little question about Ekrizdis. 'Probably' died?"

  Hermione grimaced. "Poor investigative techniques, I'm about sure. From the few records that were both found and survived, Ekrizdis was obsessed with Immortality."

  "A Dark Wizard obsessed with Immortality? Wow, that's novel." Ginny muttered to Demelli, who allowed a Happy Face with a wide, toothy grin to dominate her folder cover for a moment.

  "I postulate an unfound lab, or reliquary, or record room, with much more complete information." Hermione ignored the byplay.

  Doubtfully, Harry said, "Weston's interview seems to account for most of the interior of the prison..."

  "Ekrizdis' castle was multiply cursed. It was disassembled down to the ground, and the materials were consigned to the deepest known parts of the North Sea." Hermione shook her head. "The best wizards of the time 'determined' that the foundations were solid, and magically neutral, and built the prison upon them. Ignoring the fact that Ekrizdis was the greatest practitioner of Concealment Magic of all time."

  "Point," Harry said thoughtfully. "Definite point. Ginny, do you think Weston would help us?"

  Ginny raised her eyes to the ceiling and momentarily caught her lower lip between her teeth. Harry suddenly wanted to kiss her, but pushed the feeling down. If he acted on every urge of that type, they both would have chapped lips. And twice as many kids.

  'He'll need some pretty strong assurances. He's got no love for the British legal system." Ginny paused, then went on. "But I know the mystery of those pillar rooms is eating him up. It's doable."

  "Good enough for now," Harry said. "Let's firm up these Mission Objectives..."