The Legend of the Exchequer was one of those. In fact, it was not even a legend. More a tale to frighten people in the middle of the night, when all the common stories had been told and one wanted a horrific moment to shiver. Before May of this year, Filius Flitwick would have judged the existence of a group of wizards immensely powerful gathered in the goal of conquering the world ridiculous. The kind of thing one begins to invent when he has drunk too much Firewhiskey. Not to mention there had never been any clues about the existence of this mysterious organisation in hundreds of years, not to mention the ridiculous point that it had been supposedly created by a pharaoh having the ego of a pyramid. This had been before. This was now.
In spite of the warmth of the Scottish climate in this beginning of June, Filius Flitwick felt very cold contemplating the proof one of the most dangerous and secretive magical organisations which had ever been in existence had managed to send one of their agents in the premier school of the British Isles without anybody being the wiser. If the rumours had any truth in it, the pawns were their weakest members. And one of those had been able to conjure a series of obscure and terribly dangerous Dark Arts incantations. If Alexandra Potter had not had a lucky shot, nobody would have known anything and Devkins would have gotten away without anybody being the wiser.
Not that he knew much now. Only a name. And the dark feeling that whatever had been started this year, it was not over. Perhaps, over the summer, getting back in contact with old friends would not be that bad an idea. Now there was only to hope Miss Potter would stay out of trouble until the beginning of the new year...
3rd June 1992, Granger's Residence, England
"Well at least we know the Stone is a fake." Alexandra affirmed with conviction.
"Are you sure?" Demanded Hermione.
The two girls were currently examining the results of their last experience with the Stone in the kitchen of Hermione's parents. There was a lot of piled glass...and a syrupy red liquid that sure as hell wasn't blood. Or blood had changed taste and consistence in this reality. It wasn't alchemic. Which left...
"Pretty much. Unless grenadine is one of the core ingredients for making a Philosopher's Stone?"
The brown-haired Gryffindor girl made a negative nod.
"Didn't think so." The Potter Heiress sighed. "Goodbye, dreams of unlimited gold and immortality..."
Not that it had been a deception any longer. The Stone had had no magical capacity whatsoever in the various liquids it had been plunged. Crushing it had just been the last confirmation the two young witches needed.
"And the one Neville saw in the mirror?" Asked Hermione.
"Certainly a fake too. If the first was a trick, I don't see why the Headmaster wouldn't put a second fake in the mirror."
The black-haired Ravenclaw closed her eyes momentarily before reopening them with new determination.
"Well, too bad. We will have to find other means to become rich and famous."
"You're already famous in the wizarding world." Corrected the dentists' daughter.
"No, I'm infamous, my dear Granger." Joked the green-eyed girl.
"Fair enough." Hermione shrugged. "I have managed to crack the codes Devkins used for the papers you stole, by the way."
"Difficult?" Alexandra demanded. Given the lack of protection surrounding his office, the eleven-year old had expected unbreakable codes to be the order of the day to protect sensitive information.
"He used well-known ciphers of World War II. With the library computer, it was not exactly difficult to decode them." Hermione sniffed in a disdainful manner. "Either he believed Muggle technology had not made any progress, or he thought no one would ever have the opportunity to read these documents before he destroyed them."
"The latter I think." Alexandra said thoughtfully. "Like in a spy movie." Well, it was not that weird. Devkins had been a spy of sorts, indeed. "Anything interesting?"
"Not really, no. Everything is in a sort of coded language, and I was unable to find the references."
"Fine." Alexandra tried her best not to show her disappointment. "Keep them, it's always possible we will find more clues. Or we could dump them to Professor Flitwick in December."
"There is one thing though, but I don't know if it is important..." The tone of the Gryffindor was hesitant.
"What?"
"Professor Devkins worked for someone called Knight Summoner."
"Knight Summoner? That's a weird name..." The Potter witch frowned. "I don't remember seeing it as a nickname of any known Death Eater. Certainly an alias or an invented persona...do you have any idea who this 'Knight' work for?"
"I have only one word. The 'Exchequer'."
10th June 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
The students gone, Hogwarts was a formidable way to meet someone without rousing any attention, mused Albus Dumbledore. Save the elves, the ghosts, Hagrid and the portraits, there was no one left anymore. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, he controlled four out of four of these. Which meant the meeting between himself and his visitor would stay between themselves.
"Firewhiskey, one hundred and twenty years of age." Gulped Alastor Moody with deep satisfaction. His old Auror friend was showing new scars and more grey hair than the last time Dumbledore had seen him. "May I ask how you put your hands on it?"
"Trade secret, I'm afraid." Smiled the Chief Warlock.
"You and your secrets, Albus." Growled the man infamously known everywhere in the British Isles as 'Mad Eye.' "You will have to offer me one for my retirement next year."
"Maybe." This was certainly an occasion worthy of it, but he was not going to say it straight in front of Moody. Otherwise everyone would ask for his bottles each week. "But you don't come at Hogwarts only to raid my liquor cellar."
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