Don't worry, this story is about Harry, and primarily from his view point. You see him center stage beginning with Chapter 1, after which I use only JK Rowling's characters. The prologue is background that sets the stage for a situation Harry has to deal with, but none of JK Rowling's characters would have done such a dastardly deed. Except for Voldemort, of course, if he'd hadn't discarded everything muggle as inferior. (insert evil cackle here. :)
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.
As Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore searched through Voldemort's cave for a locket a continent away, Henrik smirked as he surveyed the obscure hangar nestled in the mountains of Montana at Malmstrom Air Force Base.
This particular hangar with its beige walls and metal roof held a treasure trove for the blond wizard. Nuclear weapons. He could care less what his employers wanted with fifty atomic missiles, but he did care about the gold he'd receive in return. Pure gold that goblins would melt down into galleons. He'd spent years building his reputation on the muggle black market for a job like this. He'd take the payout – enough to fund a small country for a year – and return to the European magical society as a lord. They may frown at him for his mixed, dirty blood, but they would respect his money.
He glanced down at the top-secret map so courteously provided him by a tech at the base. The poor slob didn't remember giving it to him, of course. Henrik rolled his wand between his fingers and grinned. His professional occupation – acquisitions expert – was almost laughable when muggles were involved. Their special technical systems were easily bypassed by magic.
With one last glance at the locations of the cameras, motion detectors, and heat sensors, he rolled up the map and stuffed it in his pocket. A soft pop and Henrik disappeared from the bare, rocky mountainside.
He appeared with his back against a wall, a camera overhead and smack dab in between two laser beams. He grinned as a thrill of delight ran through him. He'd discovered at Durmstrang he had an uncanny knack for apparating into unknown spaces. Not only that, he'd found by concentrating clearly on both arriving at his destination and avoiding danger, he avoided materializing in walls and laser beams.
He flicked his wand once, twice, three times. Freezing charms immobilized the heat sensors. He looked up at the camera above him. Since a flame charm might set off smoke detectors, he instead sent a carefully modulated heating spell at the camera over his head. He held it till he heard a small hissing sound. Satisfied, he repeated the exercise on all visible cameras. Simultaneous failure of the cameras was certainly suspicious, but by the time someone investigated the matter, he'd be gone.
While completely destroying the cameras with a reducto would have the advantage of simplicity, the questions that would raise would certainly lead to a witch hunt by the United States government. After all, anyone close enough to completely destroy the cameras would have been caught on the cameras themselves before they were obliterated.
No, his goal was to retire peacefully with no trail left behind. The United States Air Force would find perfect replicas of the weapons – at least on the outside – when they needed to use them the most.
Henrik turned his attention to the first warhead in a long line of warheads, its grey alloy gleaming dully in the dim light. He apparated next to its berth and slapped a smiley face sticker on it – a one-way portkey. He admired the yellow sticker for a moment, pleased with the small touch. After pulling out one of fifty grey rocks from the bag slung across his back, he activated the portkey.
The megaton missile disappeared. Without a pause, Henrik placed the rock in the empty berth and cast his transfiguration spell. He'd examined pictures of this type of missile ad nauseam, classified and unclassified, to create his spell, and then he'd spent hours practicing and perfecting the transfiguration in preparation for this mission. He nodded with satisfaction. Externally, it was identical to the original missile.
Henrik apparated to each warhead in turn, barely audible pops trailing in his wake. The whole operation took less than twenty minutes, with each warhead portkeyed to their proper place across the world. Creating the portkeys had been tricky, but invigorating. He'd had to key the portkey to home in on the inside of a moving box instead of stationary piece of ground.
With once last look around the bunker, Henrik removed the freezing charms on the temperature sensors and disapparated.
Sharif Ali didn't bat an eye when Henrik waltzed into his office in Dubai, bypassing layers of security. Henrik's reflection in the window was as haughty as the young man himself, arrogant chin jutting into the air and proclaiming his success. Sharif carefully hid his triumph from Henrik as he finally swiveled in his chair to greet him. He raised one eyebrow expectantly.
Henrik held both hands loosely at his side with his legs spread slightly apart. "It is done."
"Ah," Sharif said. "But how do I know you managed such an...unlikely accomplishment?" The doubt had to be carefully played, else the younger man's suspicions would be roused.
Henrik's jaw tightened. "You came to me because I always deliver when no one else can. When I say I've done something, then I've done it."
That was true. The broad-shouldered man in front of him had carefully built just such a reputation, perhaps for such a day as this. Sharif nodded sharply once. "You will receive your payment after the items in question are used. The gold will be dropped off at the usual location in Pakistan."
Clenching his fists, Henrik stepped forward quickly. "If you're hoping I'll be fried by the nuclear strike you're planning tonight-" The ominous sound of a bullet being loaded into the chamber of a gun echoed in the room, and he stopped. He'd forgotten the bodyguards standing silently in the corners.
Genuine humor stretched Sharif's mouth into a rarely-used smile, displaying crooked, yellow teeth. He waved a hand. "Come now. The gold has already been delivered, as agreed. I will merely make a few calls to both the ships and the men guarding your gold, then you will be free to go."
Henrik sank down into the plush velvet chair near the desk. He ignored the mesmerizing view of Dubai's lights reflecting on the water in favor of watching Sharif.
Dubai. The whelp in front of him must think Sharif was a wealthy, but aging sheik spending his twilight years in this place that catered to the wealthy. No, Dubai was simply easier to access than his hometown of Tehran. Even for a man of Henrik's...unusual talents.
Running a hand through his greying hair, Sharif confirmed the arrival of his missiles at a few select ships. Then he phoned the guards to have them evacuate the cave they'd hidden Henrik's payment in.
"Excellent, all is in order with your payment and your delivery." Sharif rose to his feet, carefully restraining the quivering excitement flooding his system as decades of planning came to fruition."I'm sure you have much to do tonight, as do I. Insha'allah."
"Insha'allah." Henrik stumbled over the unfamiliar words, turned on his heel and sauntered away.
While watching his naïve tool disappear from sight, Sharif wondered if the foolish young wizard would think to check for the contact poison he'd ordered sprayed over each shiny gold bar. He bared his teeth in a feral grin as he turned on the spot and disapparated.
Sharif strode through the narrow, cramped passageway as the ship rolled underneath his feet, joy singing through his veins. He'd been searching for years – decades – for a wizard or witch with the Henrik's innate talent. The ability to safely apparate to unknown destinations was truly rare. Not only that, but Sharif required someone who was either morally bankrupt or susceptible to temptation. Unfortunately, that innate talent of Henrik's wouldn't work if he felt the act of apparating would make him unsafe, such as if he used it under the duress of blackmail. Sharif had tried that before with a rather pathetically fragile red-haired thing.
He'd been gone less than an hour while he waited for Henrik, and an absence that long was easily hidden, even on a ship just large enough to hold a missile launching platform.
As he reached the command center, he nodded at the dark-haired, tanned lieutenant in front of him. Volunteers, each and every member of this ship. They knew this mission would end in their deaths, although they thought it would be glorius end at the hand of other U.S. or NATO ships for attacking the western world, not the ignominy of starvation. Still, they had eagerly volunteered to strike a blow at the western imperialists. Sharif wasn't that petty, though. No, in a few short minutes he would personally usher in the time where the world would be bathed in blood and chaos. Soon a new world order would be formed, with his people once again taking their proper place as the rulers of the civilized world.
Sharif slowed to a stop. "It's time."
The lieutenant stared back at him for a moment before squaring his shoulders. "Yes, sir." He turned, shouting orders at the ensigns and privates around him. They tore open the massive crate holding the nuclear weapon and loaded it into the launcher.
Sharif glanced at the watch around his wrist, the last time he'd use it. Five minutes till midnight. "Confirm with the other ships that they are ready for launch."
"Yes, sir, general, sir."
Five minutes slowly ticked by before the lieutenant returned. "All ships are ready for launch."
"On my mark." Sharif restrained a savage grin. The sweet taste of triumph spilled over his tongue as he said, "Launch."
Fifty separate missiles launched upwards into the sky at carefully selected places around the world. Each continent except Antarctica would receive eight missiles. The remaining two would be added onto the four designated for the United States of America. More than enough to do the job.
Minutes passed as each person on Sharif's ship watched the fiery trail of their missile ascending into the air, without knowing that their greatest wizard and protector, Albus Dumbledore, was at that moment tumbling lifelessly to the ground.
When the crew turned around, their leader was gone.
To be continued...
A/N For a brief description of the science this story is based on, please read the author's note at the end of the next chapter. And if you're enjoying this, feel free to check out my free original fantasy stories by going to the links in my author profile page. I'd love to see you at my story blog!