Author's Note: The following takes place at some point between "Goblet of Fire" and "Order of the Phoenix".

Prologue

Cornelius Fudge sat behind his desk, running his fingers through his rumpled gray hair. What did Dumbledore think he was playing at, making such wild claims? And the Potter boy, how could he possibly…? Unless…

He shook his head vigorously. It wasn't possible. You-Know-Who couldn't possibly have returned. Well, he had a few surprises in store for Dumbledore.

Just as he thought of surprises, he got one of his own. Two men and a woman were having a rather heated discussion just outside his door. "I will not permit you to simply waltz into the Minister's office unannounced!" the woman, whose voice he recognized instantly, yelled.

"Madam," one of the men replied, "with all due respect, we do have an appointment". His voice carried a trace of an American accent; Fudge vaguely recalled having an appointment with someone from the American government at two. He absently glanced at the clock: one fifty-nine.

"Appointment or not," the woman was beginning to sound more flustered, "you simply cannot…"

"Let some pudgy, toad-faced half-goblin interfere?" the second man said coolly. His voice was much deeper, and most distinctly American. "I couldn't agree more."

The door opened just as the clock chimed two and the two men entered, leaving a now-incensed Dolores Umbridge in the hallway. Both of them could easily have passed for Muggles, save that they were in the Minister for Magic's office. One, whom Fudge presumed to have been the first he'd heard, wore a sharp, dark blue business suit. His neat, dark hair was pulled back from his angular face. The second, nearly a head taller and powerfully built, wore blue jeans and a black leather jacket. His long, flowing black hair and maroon complexion identified his Native American heritage easily. His piercing dark eyes darted around the room as the first man held out his hand to the Minister.

"Minister Fudge, I presume?" Fudge nodded to the question, standing and taking the offered hand. "A pleasure, sir," the smaller man continued. "Nathaniel Pike, of the United States Department of Magical Affairs, International Relations Division. My associate, John Blackfeather." The Native American's eyes met Fudge's briefly and he gave a curt nod, then continued to scan the room.

"Yes, of course," Fudge nodded. "Please, have a seat, gentlemen. May I offer you a refreshment?"

"Thank you, no, sir," Pike said politely as he seated himself in one of the office chairs in front of Fudge's desk and the Minister returned to his. Blackfeather remained standing. "We've come to discuss some rather disturbing reports that have reached us."

Fudge suspected where this was going, but he feigned ignorance; how could the Americans have found out already? "What manner of reports, Mister Pike?"

Pike leaned back slightly, folding his hands in his lap. "The Department has received word that a certain unnamable Dark Wizard may be once more at large." Fudge's suspicion was confirmed; he tried not to blanche as Pike continued. "Further, our intelligence indicates that your office has made no effort to investigate the validity of that possibility. Forgive me, Minister, but given the nature of the Unnamable One's actions in the past, this is a reason for international concern."

"My office has not investigated these claims," Fudge barely managed to keep his voice from trembling, "because such claims are ludicrous. The one you speak of died nearly fourteen years ago".

"So the Ministry's reports said," Pike nodded slightly, his tone giving no indication of having caught the strain in Fudge's voice. "However, the individual who has made these claims, one Albus Dumbledore, is very well known and well respected, both here and abroad. Surely a claim of such magnitude, made by one of his stature…"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not returned," Fudge snapped. "I have my suspicions of why Dumbledore would make such a preposterous claim, but whatever his reason, I can assure you that it does not concern the international magical community." He stood, his eyes flashing a hint of anger. "Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have another appointment to which I must attend."

Pike rose as well and gave a polite nod. "Very well. Good day, Minister." He then turned and left the office, Blackfeather close behind him.

"Told'ja so," Blackfeather said with a smirk as the pair crossed the Atrium of the Ministry for Magic, ignoring the curious looks he drew from passers-by. "He'd have to see V first-hand to believe he's back, and to be honest, I don't blame him."

"Yeah, I know," Pike sighed, tapping the top of his tight ponytail with his wand, letting his shoulder-length hair loose. "Occupational hazard, John; I had to try going by the book."

Blackfeather simply nodded. "Plan B?"

"Would cause an international incident," Pike told him with a derisive snort. "PR would have a fit if a rep from the US Department of Magical Affairs gave the British Minister for Magic a fat lip." His companion chuckled under his breath, apparently picturing the scene.

"Fortunately," Pike continued, a smirk of his own crossing his sharp features, "there's a Plan C. I have a few contacts on this side of the pond."

Blackfeather raised an eyebrow. "Is there anywhere outside US territory youdon't have a few contacts, Nate?"

Pike seemed to seriously consider the question for a moment. "No," he said finally, and the two exchanged grins. "I'll fill you in on the details when we get back to the embassy."