Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Michael Watson sat behind his central office desk in London. He enjoyed it here, with the peace and quiet. He had grabbed a book entitled "Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2" and was quietly flipping through the pages, practicing random spells as he saw fit. He had not received any formal training in magic during his childhood. His parents had believed that magic belonged in pure-blood families only and; therefore, none of his family had been to Hogwarts in generations. However, they were also too poor to send children to Durmstrang because they refused to work anyplace which allowed Mudblods to use their services; which was everywhere. The pure-blood mania made him sick.
He had left the family after absorbing all the information he could. Being out of the loop for almost a thousand years has advantages and disadvantages. It means that you miss out on all of the magical advances that happen. He'd been playing catchup for twenty years now. But it also means that you know things that have long been forgotten. And dark magic is what lasts the longest in families like his. That knowledge had saved his life in several duels during the hight of the Cold War.
He had received a job as an agent for the Ministry in 1968. During those years, even the magical world had been pulled into the struggle between East and West. Therefore, the Ministry of Magic in Britian had formed a secret group of wisards, which was something he fit into naturally. It had paid the rent while he caught up on 1000 years of wizarding advancement. The search had given him quite the extensive library of spells, though admittably they were mostly combative and dark ones.
A knock came on the front door.
"Come in," Watson said. The door opened to a young man about twenty stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The man stood tall and confident with a full head of black hair. He was slender in build, but buff none the less. He was wearing dark green robes with long sleeves. The man turned and looked at Watson expectantly.
"And what is your name?" Watson said without getting up.
"Regulus Black," the man said.
"You were sent to spy on me?" Watson asked calmly, motioning for Regulus to sit in front of the desk.
Regulus smiled. "You don't take anything for granted, do you?"
"It is how I have lived as long as I have," Watson said.
"You'd fit in well in the ranks," Regulus said, sitting.
"You didn't answer my question," Watson said.
Regulus smiled again. "True, I did not."
"So?" Watson asked.
"Yes, I was assigned to tail you," Regulus said. "The Dark Lord doesn't trust you."
"So, if I call him?" Watson prodded, putting his chin in his hands.
"He will come, wands blazing, ready to kill," Regulus said.
Watson chuckled. "Unless you tell him otherwise." Regulus nodded in agreement. "I presume you have a reason to blow your cover?" Watson said.
Regulus opened his mouth and then closed it again. He swallowed and spoke, "Do you trust the Dark Lord?" he asked.
"No," Watson said.
"Trusting of me quickly," Regulus said.
"I know I can kill you," Watson said. "And Riddle."
Regulus cringed. "That is a name I do not often hear," he said.
"Again, why blow your cover?" Watson said.
"I need information," Regulus said. "I...I think may be...I think there's more I need to know."
"And you have come to me why?" Watson asked.
Regulus motioned behind Watson. "I have been assigned to investigate you," he said. "And your information library is extensive."
"I do not have much on your kind of magic in here," Watson said.
"You might have more than you think," Regulus said. "Your library is full of dark magic."
"What kind of dark magic might you be interested in?" Watson asked, slowly getting up and walking toward the bookshelves.
"I believe that the Dark Lord knew who you were the moment you stepped foot in his tent," Regulus said.
"Then why assign you to investigate?" Watson asked, not taking his eyes off the books. "Why the charade?"
Regulus breathed deeply before answering. "I believe he is looking for a way to become immortal before he fights you. Just in case."
Watson turned suddenly. "He is immortal," Watson said. "However, he is not unkillable. My family knows magic which has been forgotton for millennia."
"I do not believe he has stolen the Philosopher's stone yet," Regulus said. "But even if he has, the Dark Lord likes to cover his bases. Claiming more than one type of immortality sounds a lot like him."
"So you're looking for something that would give immortality through dark magic?" Watson asked.
"Yes," Regulus replied.
"I might have what you need," Watson said, pulling a book from the shelf. He set it on the desk. Regulus reached for it, but Watson pulled it back. "Information costs," he said. "What do I get?"
"If the information is good?" Regulus said. "I'll tell the Dark Lord to trust you."
"And when he finds out he can't?" Watson asked.
"I'll probably already be dead," Regulus said.
Watson pondered him, deciding whether to trust him or kill him. Finally he shoved the book toward Regulus. "You'd make a good agent for the ministry," he said. "Page 666 should have what you need. Read under the heading 'horcrux.'"