The End

Additions to Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has anything to do with Alias, which was created by J.J. Abrams and is the property of ABC. This chapter title is lifted from the song "A Rush of Blood to the Head" by Coldplay.

Chapter 3: Buy a Gun and Start a War

"Sydney, wait up!" Michael Vaughn called as he jogged a few steps across the Central Intelligence Agency office in Los Angeles to catch up with his quarry.

"Hi," Sydney Bristow replied, pausing momentarily until he fell into step.

"Where are you headed?" Michael asked.

"Bathroom," Sydney improvised quickly.

"Right," Michael said, giving her a skeptical look. "You got the memo too, then?"

"What memo?" Sydney maintained, but she swore inwardly. She could fool the most advanced lie detector tests ever invented, but Michael could still tell whenever she wasn't being truthful. It was a moment before she realized that the bathrooms were in the opposite direction from where she was heading. If Michael was not so perceptive then she might have been able to claim that she had simply gotten the geography of the CIA office confused. After all, technically, she'd only been working in the office for three days. Then again, Michael already seemed to know about the note.

"The one that requests your presence in briefing room ten at three o'clock, and says not to tell anyone about it," Michael prompted playfully as he summoned an elevator.

Realizing that Michael must have gotten the same memo, Sydney said, "Do you have any idea what this is about?"

"None," Michael replied.

"I didn't even know there was a briefing room ten," Sydney muttered, her lack of familiarity with the layout of the building now providing a source of annoyance instead of a ready excuse.

"It's hardly ever used," Michael explained, "usually just for high security and top secret missions."

"Sounds like fun," Sydney said as they stepped onto the elevator, the crowd within forcing the pair to forgo any further conversation

When they arrived at briefing room ten, two men were already inside, Director Kendall and someone Sydney had never seen before. The unfamiliar man was wearing a very strange selection of clothing: a sweater vest with a blue lab coat over it, black pants, and worn out white sneakers. His hair was balding on top but flaming red everywhere else and his spectacled face was covered in an expression of pure excitement. If they had not been standing in such a dubious room, Sydney would have wondered if someone had just pulled him off the street. Her next guess was that he had just returned from some deep cover mission.

"This is Arthur Weasley, head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects for the Ministry of Magic in London," said Kendall. "Mr. Weasley, this is Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn. They are two of our best field agents."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Mr. Weasley in a smart British accent. Sydney and Michael simply nodded dumbly as they shook his hand, still trying to sort out his job title. Had Kendall really said Ministry of Magic?

They all took a seat, Kendall and Mr. Weasley on one side of the table and Sydney and Michael on the other.

Kendall started. "As I'm sure you know, in the Middle Ages, people believed that Witches roamed the Earth. Anyone thought to be a Witch would be burned at the stake. Eventually the idea died out, but they were right. The CIA has known for some time that Wizards and Witches do exist. Several years ago, American Wizards discovered that someone was creating a spell of great destructive power. The CIA was called in to help stop him. The agreement was that we would help as long as high ranking CIA officers would be allowed to retain their memory of the incident. Now the Wizards of the United Kingdom are in need of outside help, and in order to prevent more people from knowing about Wizards our services have been requested."

Sydney and Michael were trying their hardest to take what the director was saying seriously, but their thoughts about the utter strangeness of these words must have shown on their faces, because Kendall asked, "Is there a problem?"

"Well, no disrespect intended, sir," Sydney said carefully, "but this all sounds so strange. I was just waiting for someone to jump up and say, 'April Fools.'"

"We thought you might feel that way." said Kendall. "That's part of the reason Mr. Weasley is here."

"Alright," said Mr. Weasley, standing up and pulling a slender piece of wood from his pocket. "Magic at its simplest deals with defying the laws of physics. I can cause your pen to fly, push a chair without touching it, or light up a room without burning anything." As he spoke he did all these things with a simple wave of his wand.

Although still utterly fantastic, the idea of Wizards and magic did not seem quite as far-fetched as it had a minute ago.

Mr. Weasley continued. "For several decades wizards of England have been terrorized by a wizard by the name of..." he paused for a moment, tried to speak, failed, cleared his throat, then continued "...Lord Voldemort." He paused again to shudder. "Three months ago he was killed and his followers captured. However, a few days ago some of these followers escaped, we believe their aim is to regain Voldemort's former power. We cannot allow that to happen."

"Why didn't you just go to other Wizards for help?" Sydney asked. "If you Wizards have the power to manipulate physics, then surely we can't be very good assets."

"The largest concentration of magical people on the planet is in England; when foreign Wizards need help they usually come to us," Mr. Weasley explained. "But almost our entire dark Wizard fighting force was destroyed in the final battle; we don't have the resources to stop the Death Eaters. A Wizard's strength is usually in power and strategy; we need logic, and maybe a few of those firearms. That is what you call them, isn't it? Anyway, the idea is that a small team would work undercover to bring them down. As this is what you people do for a living, we thought your expertise would help us."

"This would be a deep cover assignment of unknown duration," Kendall started.

"Wait, I'm not cleared for long term missions," Sydney interrupted.

"You are now," Kendall replied with a shrug.

"I've got a roommate and friends, they'll notice I'm gone," Sydney argued.

"I don't seem to remember telling you that this is a voluntary assignment," Kendall replied coolly. "I assure you, your friends will be well taken care of. Please continue Mr. Weasley."

Mr. Weasley had been watching the argument as though he wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but forced himself to move on from it at the sound of his name. He stepped up to the view screen, fiddled merrily with the remote control a moment, and finally managed to display a picture, even though he was pointing the control the wrong direction. He looked a little redder than usual and it was obvious that he was trying very hard to look like he was familiar with the technology.

"This is Lucius Malfoy," he said, indicating the screen, "the man we believe is leading the Death Eaters. I you should have pictures of the rest of the Death Eaters we know escaped from prison in your folders." He advanced the screen. "These three, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, will make up the rest of your team."

"My God," Sydney gasped, "They're just kids."

"Is that your son?" Michael asked.

"That is my son and they are only eighteen," said Mr. Weasley, "but it was these three who really defeated You-Know-Who, Harry especially." It didn't take a genius to read the sadness and regret in his voice.

"He killed someone when he was only eighteen?" Sydney asked, all attempts at rationality forgotten.

"Actually, he was seventeen at the time, but it was destiny," Mr. Weasley sighed. "They would keep meeting one another until one finally killed the other. We're just lucky Harry won."

Michael seemed compelled to change the subject, because he asked, "What kinds of tools are we taking with us?"

"You'll have all the standard gear with you: radios, bug killers, lots of firepower, and if you need something else you can ask for it, but the idea is that you two will pose as Wizards. That means that contacting us may be difficult, and you two are the only ones going," Kendall replied. "If there's nothing else, Mr. Weasley will escort you to England. Your plane leaves tonight."

Sydney, Michael, and Mr. Weasley left the room together, and it was impossible not to see the boyish excitement on Mr. Weasley's face.

"Haven't you ever been on an airplane before?" Michael asked.

"No," Mr. Weasley said, looking as though he was about to burst apart with excitement.

"Then how did you get here?" Sydney asked.

"I used a portkey. It's too far to Apparate here from England," Mr. Weasley replied.

Sydney and Michael stared at him, completely at a loss for how to respond.

"Portkeys are objects that have been charmed to transport people from one place to another when they are picked up," Mr. Weasley explained, sensing the reason for their sudden quiet.

"And Apparation?" Sydney pressed.

"Oh, that, it's just..." Mr. Weasley disappeared from beside Michael and reappeared next to Sydney without even losing step.

Sydney jumped sideways into Michael with surprise, a fact that startled even her just as much as Mr. Weasley's trick. This business with Wizards and Witches must have made her more nervous than she had let on, even to herself.

When she got control of herself again, she asked, "If you have ways to disappear and appear somewhere else, why are we taking a plane?"

"Well, only advanced Wizards can Apparate, but all of it, portkeys, the floo network, we don't know if it works on Muggles," Mr. Weasley replied. "Muggles being non-magic people, of course. Besides, I'm going to need the time to teach you to act like Wizards. And maybe, if there's time, you can tell me a bit about yourselves," he added hopefully.

***************

Sydney was sitting alone on the private CIA plane, studying the pictures of the Death Eaters. After the last one, she found the pictures of Harry, Ron, and Hermione and paused on Harry's portrait, pondering. She found herself absently reaching down to trace a finger over his scar but blinked and straightened up in alarm when she noticed that his expression had changed. His eyes were following her finger, as though he was daring her to come any closer. That couldn't be right, pictures can't move. However, before long there was no denying it. When she moved to touch his forehead, Harry dodged nimbly out from under her and disappeared off the edge of the picture. Eyebrows crinkling in confusion, Sydney lifted up the picture and checked the back side, to see if she could discover where he had gone, but it was no use.

With a sigh, Sydney flipped the picture back over and studied the edge where Harry had disappeared. He had been forced to kill a person at the age of seventeen, but there had been nothing in those emerald eyes that suggested anything about it.

Unable to stand it anymore, she walked over to Mr. Weasley and sat down across from him. He had been excitedly watching the blinking light at the end of the wing outside his window, apparently not at all disappointed that it was too dark to actually see anything, and when he noticed Sydney sitting across from him he exclaimed, "Fascinating, simply fascinating. I don't suppose you could explain just how this airplane stays up, could you?"

He glanced over at her and must have noticed her confused expression, for his face fell and before she'd managed to change tracks to answer his question is said, "I'm sorry, did you want to ask something."

"Well, yes," Sydney replied. "But it can wait. I can try to explain airplanes to you if you want."

Mr. Weasley seemed to battle with himself for a moment, but said, "No, no, it's not important. It can wait. What were you going to say?"

"You said that Harry would keep meeting Voldemort until one of them was killed," Sydney started. "So they'd met before?"

"Yes," Mr. Weasley replied with a sigh. Michael apparently caught what they were talking about and came over to listen in.

"In fact, I think it's safe to say that no one person has suffered more at the hands of Voldemort," Mr. Weasley continued, then started relating all he knew of Harry's history with the Dark Lord. His narrative continued for almost the entire flight as Sydney and Michael inquired for further detail into each incident.

As they were coming in to land, Mr. Weasley finished explaining his own role in the final battle, his attention clearly divided between his story and watching the approaching ground through the window. However, he couldn't explain everything, saying that only Harry, Ron, and Hermione could do that. He also wished them luck in that pursuit, because to his knowledge the three of them rarely even talked about it with each other.

While the plane taxied along the tarmac, Sydney and Michael had just enough time to explain the basic principles of airplane flight to Mr. Weasley, who absorbed everything they said with rapt attention, as though they were fulfilling one of his life's greatest goals.