39 Poisoned Ceremony

The Senate House stood tall and proud, its walls marked by centuries of scholarly pursuits. Soft, natural light poured through the tall, arched windows, filling the grand hall inside. Rows of wooden chairs, neatly arranged on the polished stone floor, were filled with graduates and their families, all dressed in their best clothes. The high ceiling and the quiet chatter created a feeling of serious anticipation.

Lucas, known to the world as Harry Potter, sat among his classmates, a picture of young achievement. He wore the traditional Cambridge academic dress, his black gown pristine and rustling slightly with each movement. The hood draped over his shoulders had the distinctive colors of the Physics Department. Under the gown, he wore a smart, dark suit that fit his small frame perfectly.

Professor Thompson, Lucas's advisor at Cambridge, sat down beside him. The old man's words were tinged with admiration as he said, "I must say, Mr. Potter, you've certainly made an impression on the faculty. The research you've done released during these trying times have had a great impact on the world."

Lucas tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, Professor. I couldn't have done it without your guidance and support."

"Nonsense, nonsense," Professor Thompson chuckled, waving a hand. "Your brilliance is all your own. I just gave a bit of direction here and there."

Nearby, the Dursley family sat, their faces beaming with pride. They had long since gotten used to Lucas's extraordinary intelligence and treated him with the respect and admiration of an adult.

"Harry, we're so proud of you," Petunia said warmly, her eyes shining with pride. "Your parents would have been thrilled to see you today."

Vernon nodded in agreement, his usually gruff manner softened by the occasion. "Indeed, Harry. You've done us all proud."

Lucas acknowledged their praise with a grateful nod, his expression one of quiet satisfaction.

As the ceremony began, the university chancellor took to the podium, their voice ringing out clear and commanding. "Today, we celebrate the end of years of hard work, dedication, and academic excellence. Each of you has proven yourselves worthy of the highest honors given by this respected institution."

The chancellor paused, letting their words sink in before continuing. "The journey to this moment has not been an easy one. You have faced countless challenges, late nights of study, and the pressure of exams. But through it all, you have persevered. You have shown the strength of character and the depth of commitment that defines a true Cambridge graduate."

The audience nodded in agreement, the graduates sitting a little straighter in their seats, their faces glowing with pride.

"Each of you has left your mark on this institution," the chancellor went on, their voice filled with conviction. "Your research has pushed the boundaries of knowledge, your leadership has inspired your peers, and your passion for learning has enriched our community. You have not only met the high standards set by those who came before you – you have raised them higher still."

"As you leave these halls and venture out into the world, remember the lessons you have learned here. Remember the value of hard work, the power of curiosity, and the importance of integrity. These are the qualities that will guide you through the challenges and opportunities that lie ahead."

The chancellor's gaze swept over the assembled graduates, their expression one of deep respect and admiration.

"And now, it is my great pleasure to present a young man who embodies these qualities in every way. A student whose achievements have not only inspired his peers but have also captured the attention of the world beyond these walls."

The chancellor's gaze settled on Lucas, a note of reverence in their tone. "Among you sits a young man who has defied all expectations and shattered preconceptions. Harry Potter, at the young age of ten, has achieved what many strive for their entire lives. His exceptional intellect and unwavering commitment to the pursuit of knowledge have earned him a place among the ranks of Cambridge's most accomplished alumni."

A round of applause filled the hall, mixed with murmurs of awe. Lucas remained composed, his expression betraying none of the pride that might have swelled in others.

"Mr. Potter's groundbreaking work in the development of renewable energy technologies has already begun to illuminate our path towards a sustainable future," the chancellor continued, their voice imbued with respect and admiration. "His innovative approaches to harnessing solar and wind energy have not only showcased the untapped potential of these resources but have also offered practical solutions during a time when traditional energy infrastructures have shown their vulnerabilities."

"But Mr. Potter's contributions extend far beyond the technical realm," the chancellor added, a note of warmth in their voice. "His leadership within the academic community, his willingness to mentor fellow students, and his voluntary efforts in various humanitarian causes have set a new standard for what it means to be a scholar. His maturity, empathy, and wisdom stand as a beacon for peers and professors alike."

Nods of agreement filled the hall, the audience clearly impressed by the young boy's accomplishments.

"It is students like Mr. Potter who embody the very essence of our mission here," the chancellor declared, their voice now a resonant echo in the chamber. "To empower the brightest minds to challenge the present and innovate for a better future. It is with immense pride and the highest honors that I present him with his degree today."

A moment of anticipatory silence enveloped the room, charged with the weight of the occasion.

"Harry Potter, please come forward."

Lucas rose from his seat, his movements graceful and self-assured. He walked to the stage, his footsteps echoing in the hushed hall. As he approached the chancellor, he extended his hand, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter," the chancellor said, shaking his hand warmly. "Your work is truly remarkable. We're proud to have you as one of our own."

"Thank you, Chancellor," Lucas responded, his voice sincere. "Studying here has been an incredible journey. I'm deeply thankful for all the support and opportunities I've received."

The chancellor nodded, a look of respect in their eyes. They handed Lucas his diploma, the parchment crisp and heavy in his hands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in congratulating Harry Potter, Bachelor of Science in Physics, with highest honors."

As those words rang out, the hall burst into applause. Everyone was on their feet, clapping thunderously. Lucas stood there, head held high, the very image of composure and grace.

As the applause died down, Lucas returned to his seat, and reached for the glass of water placed on the small table beside his chair. The ceremony had been long, and the warmth of the room had left him feeling parched. He lifted the glass to his lips, the cool liquid a welcome relief.

But as he swallowed, he felt a sudden, searing heat emanating from the ring on his finger. The Ring of Poison Absorption, created by him when he feared being poisoned by assassins, was imbued with protective magic, designed to detect and neutralize any harmful substances he drank. And in that moment, it had just saved his life.

He maintained his composure, his Occlumency skills allowing him to mask any hint of shock or concern. He discreetly cast multiple Legilimency probes, trying to detect any trace of the perpetrator, but found nothing. Whoever had done this was most likely not present any more.

If I find whoever was responsible, their end will not be pretty… Lucas thought, more than a little bit irritated.

The ceremony continued, each graduate receiving their diploma to the cheers and applause of their loved ones.

As the final graduate crossed the stage, the chancellor once again took to the podium, their voice filled with emotion.

"Graduates, today marks your place in the proud, ongoing story of this institution. You've shown yourselves to be deserving of not just the highest accolades but also profound respect. As you step out from here, take with you the lessons and insights you've gathered. Use them to shape the world, to forge a future that's brighter and fairer for everyone."

The chancellor paused, their eyes moving thoughtfully over the sea of new graduates.

"Remember, from this moment on, you're forever intertwined with the Cambridge legacy. You're part of a tradition that spans centuries, embodying excellence, innovation, and commitment to others. Hold this legacy high, let it inspire you in everything you undertake."

As the ceremony came to a close with those final words, Lucas joined his classmates in the jubilant cap toss, a timeless gesture of their shared success. Yet, even amid the celebration, his thoughts were still focused on whoever tried to poison him.

oo0ooOoo0oo

Agent Michael "Mike" Thompson sat in the nondescript van parked a few blocks away from the Senate House, his eyes fixed on the small monitor displaying the live feed from the hidden camera they had managed to place inside the grand hall. The van, a plain white Ford Econoline, was a common sight on the streets of Cambridge, allowing them to blend in seamlessly with the local traffic.

Inside, the van was equipped with the latest in surveillance technology. Compact LCD monitors lined one side, offering a crisp and clear live feed from a hidden camera inside the Senate House. Next to them, a series of digital video recorders sat ready to store hours of footage on digital tapes. Tucked into another corner was an advanced wireless transmission system, capable of sending encrypted, real-time updates securely back to headquarters. The space was tight, crammed with cutting-edge gear and a tangle of wires, all underscored by the lingering aroma of cigarette smoke and the staleness of cold coffee.

Mike, a seasoned operative in his early forties, had a rugged, chiseled face that spoke of countless hours in the field. His dark hair, peppered with gray at the temples, was cropped short in a military-style buzz cut. He wore a nondescript gray suit, chosen to allow him to move inconspicuously through crowds.

Beside him, Agent David "Dave" Wilson leaned forward, his eyes intent on the screen. Dave, in his mid-thirties, had a lean, athletic build honed by years of rigorous training. His sharp, angular features were complemented by keen, intelligent eyes that missed nothing. Like Mike, he wore a suit chosen for its blandness, a dark blue ensemble that would draw no unwanted attention.

On Mike's other side sat Agent Sarah "Sal" Johnson, her posture erect and alert. Sal, a few years younger than Dave, had a cool, professional demeanor that belied her youth. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her blue eyes had a steely, determined gaze. She wore a conservative black pantsuit, the very image of a government agent.

"Status report on the poisoning attempt?" Sal asked, her voice crisp and businesslike.

Mike shook his head with a grim expression. "Negative effect," he reported. "The target consumed the liquid but showed no visible reaction. He maintained composure throughout."

Dave frowned, his fingers drumming on his thigh. "We had reliable intel that he would be drinking from that specific glass," he said, voice tight with frustration. "What went wrong?"

"It's possible the target has developed countermeasures," Sal suggested, thinking aloud. "Given his unprecedented intellect, we can't discount the possibility that he's anticipated such attempts."

Mike nodded, his jaw set. "Agreed. We need to reassess our approach. The target's age precludes many standard infiltration techniques, and his lack of a typical social structure limits our options for exploitation."

"What about a more direct method?" Dave proposed with a tense tone. "A targeted strike, something he wouldn't see coming."

Sal leaned forward with interest. "What did you have in mind?"

Dave pulled out a file, his fingers rifling through the papers. "A gas attack," he said, pulling out a schematic. "We've been developing a new nerve agent, odorless and deadly in minute doses. If we could introduce it into his environment somehow, maybe through the ventilation system at his residence..."

Mike studied the schematic with furrowed brows. "It's a viable option," he said slowly. "But the delivery system would need to be perfect. We can't risk any collateral damage or unintended exposure."

Sal narrowed her eyes and nodded. "We'd need to run simulations, test the dispersal patterns in a controlled environment. And we'd need to ensure we have a reliable way to confirm the target's elimination."

"I can work on that," Dave said eagerly. "I have contacts at Edgewood who can help us refine the formula, make sure it's undetectable."

Mike held up a hand with a serious expression. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he cautioned. "We need to present this plan to command, get the necessary approvals. An operation of this scale will require significant resources and planning."

Sal and Dave nodded sternly. They knew that eliminating Harry Potter was a top priority, that his research posed a significant threat to American economic dominance. But they also knew that any misstep, any hint of their involvement, could lead to disastrous consequences for not just their faction within the Agency, but to the diplomatic relationships of the country.

"In the meantime," Mike continued, "we maintain surveillance. We watch his every move, look for any patterns or vulnerabilities we can exploit. The target may be a genius, but he's still human. He'll make a mistake eventually, and when he does, we'll be ready."

As he spoke, the graduation ceremony on the screen came to a close, and the attendees began to disperse. The agents watched as Harry Potter exited the hall, his stride confident and purposeful.

"Look at him," Dave muttered. "Ten years old and he walks like he owns the world."

"That's what makes him dangerous," Sal replied, her eyes never leaving the screen. "That kind of confidence, that kind of intellect... in the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic."

Mike nodded grimly. "Which is why we need to stop him," he said, his voice low and intense. "No matter what it takes, no matter how long it takes, we will find a way to neutralize the threat he poses."

He reached forward and switched off the monitor, the screen going dark. In the sudden silence of the van, the weight of their mission seemed to press down on them, a tangible force that filled the cramped space.

But they were ready for it, they were the best of the best, the unseen guardians of American power, and they would not rest until Harry Potter was no longer a threat.

"Alright," Mike stated, adopting a tone of strict professionalism. "Let's get to work. Dave, start on those gas simulations. Sal, I want a full workup on the target's daily routines, every place he goes, every person he interacts with. We need to know him better than he knows himself."