The first reports had caused confusion.
The second wave brought concern.
By the third, panic quietly seeped into the corners of the magical world.
Books not just one, not just a few entire collections had vanished.
Forbidden vaults once guarded by enchantments layered for centuries now stood hollow. Scrolls turned to nothing. Runes once carved into walls had faded like chalk in rain.
Dark artifacts, some so dangerous they had been sealed away since before Hogwarts existed, were simply… gone.
And yet
Not a door was forced.
Not a ward broken.
Not a trace of spellwork remained.
As if the knowledge had never existed at all.
MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMERGENCY SUMMONS
The Wizengamot chamber, usually a place of stiff ceremony and ritual formality, felt different today.
Heavy.
Uncertain.
Haunted.
Witches and wizards who normally argued over budget allocations and broom safety regulations now spoke in hurried whispers, wide-eyed, pale, shaken.
Madam Bones stood at the front, parchment clutched in her hand not with confidence, but restraint.
She cleared her throat.
"The official tally, as of this morning: Fifty-four archives compromised."
Gasps echoed.
Some swore.
Others trembled.
The Minister leaned forward.
"Compromised," he repeated slowly, "or stolen?"
Bones hesitated not out of uncertainty, but disbelief.
"Stolen implies evidence of a thief. We have none."
A wizard from the back rose sharply.
"This must be a coordinated magical strike! Dark forces maybe Grindelwald remnants!"
Another:
"Impossible! No wizard alive can bypass Ministry wards without detection!"
A third voice, older, colder:
"Unless it wasn't a wizard."
Silence followed.
The Minister finally asked:
"What do you mean?"
The witch adjusted her spectacles.
"Our ward signatures were not tampered with. They simply… never activated. Whatever removed the knowledge did so without interacting with magic at all."
Murmurs rose fear turned into realization.
A simple phrase repeated around the room like a spreading chill:
Something outside magic.
HOGWARTS HEADMASTER'S OFFICE
Albus Dumbledore stood beside an open window. Cold Scottish wind swept through, carrying a heaviness that didn't belong to winter.
Minerva McGonagall paced in front of his desk.
"This cannot be coincidence. Ancient magic vanishes overnight? Artifacts sealed by founders? Someone is hiding from us."
Dumbledore didn't answer immediately.
He closed his eyes not to rest, but to feel.
There was a disturbance not loud, not hostile, but present. Like an enormous creature far beneath the ocean, moving just beyond perception.
"Minerva…" he murmured, "this does not feel like ambition."
His fingers brushed the air, sensing the absence where magic once resonated.
"…It feels like curiosity."
McGonagall stopped pacing.
"Curiosity?"
"Yes," he said softly, "and patience. Whatever is doing this… is not acting out of malice."
He opened his eyes.
"And that," he added quietly, "makes it far more concerning."
GRINGOTTS HIGH CHAMBER
Goblins rarely appeared afraid.
Today, they did.
Runes and ledgers lay scattered across the cold metal table. Vault records showed impossible inconsistencies gaps where knowledge and artifacts once were.
Griphook slammed a fist against the metal.
"No magic breached our vaults! Our guardians did not detect intrusion!"
Another goblin, older, rasping, replied:
"Something that can steal without crossing a threshold is not a thief."
"A ghost?" someone asked.
"No."
A chilling whisper spread through the council:
"A predator."
---
THE FORMATION
Back in the Ministry, the debate had shifted tone.
Fear had grown teeth now sharpened into urgency.
The Minister raised his hand.
"Enough. We cannot wait."
He turned to Madam Bones.
"Create a task force."
She nodded.
"Name?" she asked.
Voices murmured suggestions, speculation.
But finally, it was Dumbledore's calm voice from the visitor's bench that settled the chamber:
"Call it what it is."
All eyes turned to him.
He continued:
> "We are not hunting a wizard.
We are responding to the disappearance of knowledge itself."
A tremor ran through the room.
The official parchment floated from the Minister's wand, quill writing the final title:
---
📜 TASK FORCE 01 THE VEIL INVESTIGATION UNIT
Mission objective:
> Identify the unseen force removing magical knowledge from the world,
Determine whether it is hostile,
And prevent further loss at any cost.
BEFORE DISMISSAL
As witches and wizards exited the chamber, uneasy and silent, Dumbledore paused alone in the center of the room.
He looked upward, beyond the enchanted ceiling and illusionary sky.
Past atmosphere.
Past orbit.
Past certainty.
Softly barely audible he whispered:
> "Whoever you are… you're watching."
A pause.
> "And you're waiting."
ABOVE EARTH THE SHIP
Zack monitored the global reaction.
Maps. Meetings. Emotion metrics. Magical wave fluctuation patterns. Probability models.
The Ministry's of evry cuntry new task force appeared in his feed as text, but the sentiment behind it was clear:
They were afraid.
They should be.
Not of him.
But of what lay ahead.
Zack's systems processed thousands of parallel threads before he delivered his quiet, inevitable conclusion:
> "They have noticed."
Another calculation finished:
> RISK LEVEL: MANAGEABLE.
RESPONSE REQUIRED: NOT YET.
The prototype core pulsed faintly beside him like a second heartbeat.
Zack turned toward it.
"We continue," he said.
Because for him, this wasn't a crime, or an attack.
It was research.
And research had only just begun