Rosaline "Rose" Harris woke up early to a dreary Sunday morning. The weather was typical at this time in November, with low pregnant clouds hanging overhead as it drizzled lightly outside, the entire tableau barely illuminated by the hidden rising sun. Stretching, she got out of bed to prepare for the day. She could hear her son, Darren, downstairs, probably polishing off the breakfast his girlfriend had made.
Pulling her dressing gown tightly around her thin frame, she made her way downstairs and sat down at the small table in the kitchen, cooing at her grandson as she did so.
As she had her bowl of oatmeal, Rose had to admit that her son had changed over the past seven years, while she had been … away. From the letters and few short visits, she gleaned that he had managed to pull his act together at school and pass with decent marks, earning a scholarship in the University of Leeds for a course in Fine Arts.
He had put in a lot of work for his degree, holding two jobs at the same time to pay for his studies and accommodation. It was in the university that Darren had met Linda, who at that time, was studying for her B.A. in Cinema and Photography.
According to them, they both had an instant sort of attraction to each other from the first time they had met. Being in similar financial situations, the two had helped the other out and had even pooled their resources to rent a place to stay.
Rose sighed as she contemplated her son. Before, she doubted that Darren would have been mature enough to settle down at such a young age. While he had not married his girlfriend yet (apparently young couples these days instead of marrying, entered an "open relationship") he was still committed to the girl and his son. She knew that at that age, most men would leave. That he was willing to be in his son's life and try and work on his relationship with Linda was a mark of how far along he had come from the spoilt brat he was as a child. His decision to take things slow and not rush into a marriage also enforced that opinion.
Rose herself had also changed. Before, she admitted to herself that she was not a pleasant woman. Not only was she a petty, jealous and bitter person, but she also suffered what her psychologist called an inferiority complex.
It was only after she had hit rock bottom did she realise the amount of damage she had done to her son by being what she was. It had taken a year of intensive counselling before she started to improve and ask for forgiveness from her son.
It had taken Darren a few weeks and support from the new friends he had made after his mother had gone away to give that forgiveness. Once it was given, however, both mother and son had progressed in leaps and bounds.
By the time Rose was able to join her son, four years afterward, the two of them were unrecognisable from the people they had been. Darren was now working for a firm that designed websites while Linda was doing her masters in Journalism.
The house that they were living in now was not as large as the house Darren spent his childhood in, but it was far more spacious than the back-to-back house he and Linda were living in before. They were lucky enough to chance upon it as the previous owner, a friend of a friend of Darren's, wanted to sell it as quickly as possible.
The house was attached to a small grocery shop which Rose ran while taking care of her grandson, bringing in extra money to pay the bills.
However, while Rose was content with her new life, she was not truly happy.
The reason for that was another boy. While she was not that boy's biological mother, she had been given the task of raising the boy as her own after her sister had died.
However, she had not been able to do so. While she had spoilt her son silly, and was the main reason Darren had grown into a bully, she had done worse to her nephew while watching with glee from the side as her son tormented the poor child.
"Child Abuser": the term never failed to make her cringe in shame. Rose found herself wishing that she could go back in time and fix it all. Or at the very least, seek forgiveness (even if she did not deserve it) from her nephew.
At times like these, she wondered what he was doing now. Was he happy? Successful? Did he have a good job? Was there anyone special in his life?
'Well, I am off,' Linda said as she picked up her book-bag. 'That assignment isn't going to complete itself.' The short girl leaned over and plucked her son from his chair.
'Who's a good boy, who's a good boy,' she cooed as she jiggled the baby, wincing as the ten month old tot grabbed a fistful of her long fair hair in his chubby sticky hand. 'Now, Jason, let go of mummy's hair,' she said firmly as she freed the imprisoned lock, much to the infant's dismay and the other adults' amusement.
'Somehow, I don't think he appreciates being talked to like that,' Darren said wryly as Linda placed the baby down.
'Oh, pish-posh,' Linda replied. 'He can't really understand what I am saying.' Looking at her baby she continued, speaking in a low soothing voice. 'At this age, he responds to the soothing voice of his mummy. After all,' she tickled the baby's stomach. 'I periodically read aloud from my textbooks when I am rocking him to sleep, and he doesn't mind.' She pulled a face, making the baby giggle and babble at her in response, waving his arms. 'See?' she said triumphantly in a normal voice as she deftly moved her hair away from his reach.
Darren snorted. 'I won't be surprised if his first words are something related to cameras.' Leaning towards the infant he said in his talking-to-babies voice. 'Can you say, "Aperture", Jason? Come on, "Ap-er-ture".' The baby babbled in response.
Linda rolled her eyes, 'Funny. Now, I am getting late.' Pecking Darren on the cheek, she bade goodbye to her Rose and her son, and made her way towards the door.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
'I wonder who that is,' Linda said as she approached the door. Twisting the knob, she opened it to find a man impeccably dressed in a suit that screamed wealth and standing.
The man, while tall, had average looks. Watery blue eyes stared back at her underneath impeccably combed blond hair. His face could be forgotten in a trice, just lost in a crowd. It wasn't an ugly face, but it was something that was easily forgettable.
But the unremarkable features were more than compensated for by way the man seemed to fill the room. Perhaps it was the confident way he held himself, or the set of his shoulders, but he oozed power. This man was someone to be obeyed, a person whom nobody could afford to forget.
Linda, an assertive person herself, almost unconsciously stepped back as she stammered a question out. 'Y – Yes, how may I help you?'
'Linda Campbell?' smooth and cultured, his voice was also something that could not be forgotten. Seeing her nod he took out a badge and showed it to her 'I am from The Security Service, ma'am. May I come inside? I have something that I wish to speak to you about.'
'What's going on here?' the voice of her boyfriend broke her from her thoughts. Turning around, she saw his beefy muscular form framing the hallway, looking wary, a frown marring his broad face.
'Mr Harris?' Seeing Darren nod, the stranger continued. 'I hope you don't mind, but we do have matters of great import to discuss with you and your, ah, partner.'
By the time Linda turned back to the mysterious man, she found that he was already inside. Smiling graciously (and showing a row of impossibly perfect white teeth) the man stepped further into the room. Not giving her or her dumbfounded husband time to recover, he gracefully walked into the drawing room.
By the time the young couple had managed to collect themselves and move to the room, the man was already sitting regally on Darren's favourite armchair as if it were a throne as he idly studied the room with a polite interest.
'Not to be rude or anything,' Darren spoke up. 'But who are you and what the hell are you doing here?'
'He says he is with the eM Eye Five, dear.' Linda said softly, while giving her boyfriend a look. At times, Darren could be so … confrontational, in a caveman sort of way.
'What's going on here?' All three individuals looked up to see Rose at the doorway, a look of confusion on her face.
'As I have explained to your girlfriend, Mr Harris' the seated individual drawled, 'I am with The Security Service.'
Still frowning, Darren said rather aggressively. 'I heard that bit loud and clear, mate. I don't really care what organisation you come from, but it is good manners to introduce yourself. Especially when you come into someone's house, and even more so after you know their names.'
The man looked faintly amused, as both Rose and Linda gave Darren scandalised looks.
'Are we talking about introductions?' He grimaced dramatically. 'My, my, you like diving into the prickly topics first, don't you, Mr Darren Harris? Or is it Dudley Dursley?'
Smirking at the paling faces of both mother and son, he continued. 'But where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself ... Sir Harry James Potter-Black, The Earl Potter, at your service.' As he mockingly inclined his head forward, his features seemed to melt and change.
Linda gawped at the man, disbelieving, as his features morphed in front of her eyes. Blond hair turned a deep, impossibly glossy black. Years seemed to slip off his face as it took on a haughty aristocratic look, the cheekbones becoming higher and more prominent and the nose straighter.
Whoever thought that Brad Pitt was the most beautiful man on the planet had not seen this man, Linda thought breathlessly as she looked into clearest, brightest and most vibrant green eyes she had ever seen.
If she thought the man was a commanding presence at first, it was nothing compared to what he seemed to be now. The only thing marring his great good looks was a thin, faint scar on his forehead. And that scar didn't do much to detract from his looks. In fact, the lightning shape (a very curious shape for a scar) only complimented it, almost as if he would not be who he is without that scar.
'Ha – Harry?'
'Hello, Duddy,' the man, now identified as Harry replied with a sneer on his face. 'Lost weight, I see.' Looking at Linda, he continued. 'And you are in a relationship too. Who'd have thought that someone would be willing to go out with you in the first place? Much less reproduce.'
'And dear Petunia,' backlit verdant eyes rested on the older woman. 'You were let out rather early, I hear.' While his voice was pleasant, the expression on his face was anything but.
The woman in question nodded hesitantly. 'For good behaviour,' she added nervously.
Linda finally snapped out of her daydream. Quickly processing the words exchanged before, she gasped, unknowingly interrupting her mother-in-law as she was about to try apologising. 'So you're Harry Potter?'
She knew of her Darren's troubled past, of course. He had confessed as such to her after they had started going out. Linda had been shocked initially, but eventually had forgiven him for his transgressions. He was but a child at that time. Additionally he was filled with regret at what he had done. She could still see the pain in his eyes at what he had done. In fact, he had also, with her help and encouragement, had made amends with all those kids he had bullied.
But that all paled in comparison to what he had done to his cousin. Or she supposed, her soon-to-be cousin-in-law, should she marry Darren (she was never that good at understanding relations and the terms given to various relatives, being an orphan and the only one of her family). Darren, for that was what he was to her, had told her everything he had done to his cousin. The shame he felt as he confessed was a visceral thing.
After all, he had changed his name legally to get away from it all.
Instead of answering her, Harry gave a contemptuous look at Dudley. 'Told her everything, have you? Oh, this is not going to end well.'
'Harry, we're sorry,' the woman once known as Petunia Dursley whispered, her words heartfelt and broken.
'Sorry?' Harry looked at her oddly, apparently taken off guard. His long-fingered hands twitched infinitesimally.
'The way we treated you … it wasn't right. I had no right doing what I did.' Petunia began. She had pictured the day that this moment would come. She had even practised what she was going to say.
'But you have to understand, Harry.' She looked pleadingly at the boy. 'It wasn't that I hated you, or my sister. I hated what was inside of you. I hated magic. Before we found out that Lily was magical, the two of us were close. We used to do so many things together.' She sighed. 'But once that letter came, we were separated. My parents favoured Lily over me for what she could do. Magic tore my sister away from me, Harry. It took her life, her future. I could never make amends with her because of magic. It also was the reason why my parents didn't like me as much. I didn't – didn't want it in the family anymore. Can you blame me for that, Harry?' Beseechingly, she looked into her nephew's almond shaped green eyes; Eyes which were just like her sister's.
But at the same time, those eyes were different. The warmth (so like what she remembered in Lily's eyes) that was there when Harry was just a boy was no longer present. They were now cold. And as his lips curled into a sneer, she could see the cruelty coming out. Petunia shuddered. Those emotions looked so alien.
'Can I blame you for that?' Harry repeated incredulously. 'Fuck yeah,' rage filled his face as he continued. 'You took money that was meant for my upkeep and used it for your selfish desires. Not only did it benefit you and your fat husband, but your filthy waste of space of a son as well. All I got was a fucking cupboard under the stairs as a bedroom, hand-me-downs that never fit me for clothes, coat hangers for presents, an unending list of chores, ridicule and scorn from you and your husband and broken sellotaped glasses. And what did this fat lump get?' he tossed his head towards Dudley. 'Two bedrooms, not less than thirty presents every birthday, Christmas, Easter, and whatever odd occasion you could think of, no work whatsoever, and, oh yes, one mustn't forget, free reign to bully me and beat me up. And when he made a mistake, frame me for what he did.'
'Can I blame you for that,' he scoffed quietly. Taking a deep breath he calmed down. 'You always had this lovely penchant for blaming others for the crap you did, didn't you, Petunia?' he sneered again. 'First it was the freak of a sister because she was born with something you didn't have. Then it's the freak of a nephew because he was just a defenceless child. Now, it's magic, and your parents. Merlin, when will the rubbish ever stop? Those Muggles definitely gave you quite a good deal too didn't they? Seven years for the decade of hell you put me through … what a fair trade! And they couldn't even do that properly. They had to cut it down to five, because you were "well behaved".'
Dudley opened his mouth to interject, but Harry stopped him with a raised hand. 'I don't give a fuck about you and your apologies or whatever it is that you have to say. Nor do I care to hear about how I should speak to your "wonderful loving mother". I have come here on other business.' Composing himself, he continued, adopting an official tone. 'Mrs Rosaline Harris, and Mr Darren Harris, formerly known as Mrs Petunia Dursley and Mr Dudley Dursley of Number five Armley Grange Oval, Leeds, West Yorkshire, you have been found in the possession of a magical child, one Jason Harris.
'According to the Harry Potter Magical Child Protection Act, introduced three months back, no Muggle is allowed to have possession of a magical child. Any and all magical children found in a Muggle household are to be taken and integrated into the Magical world.' He paused to let the shock sink down.
'Normally,' he continued, still smirking, 'As the Muggle family in question generally doesn't know about the magical world, a memory wipe is enough for the job. However, you lot happen to be aware of magic. So a memory wipe is quite frankly out of the question. Additionally, pursuant to the accord the Wizengamot had reached with you, Petunia Dursley, in the year two thousand and four, that in exchange for not being thrown in wizarding prison, nor being presented in front of the Wizengamot for a trial for your crimes against a minor, one Harry James Potter-Black, you would be put under observation and your life sentence in Azkaban be suspended on the condition that you not be found guilty of breaking wizarding law. Provided, of course, that said law is no more than a month old, at the very least.
'Should you be found guilty of breaking magical law, however, the original conviction is to be enforced. Again, this time without a trial as you waived that benefit originally. As you have been found guilty of breaking one of these laws, namely the Harry Potter Magical Child Protection Act, you are, henceforth, under arrest and sentenced to life in Azkaban.'
'Under whose authority?' Linda demanded, standing up. No matter what her boyfriend or the woman she looked up to as a mother-figure had done to this man, there was no way in hell that anyone was taking her precious baby away.
'Under the authority of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot of the Magical United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland,' Harry smoothly replied, still seated as he lazily regarded Linda through his heavy-lidded eyes.
'And who is this person?' Dudley demanded aggressively, equally protective of his mother and his child.
'Me.' Harry gaily replied, smiling widely. 'I am the equivalent of the President of the Supreme Court in this fair country. Anyway,' he poked a finger into his ear. 'Aurors, move in.'
The Muggles did not have any chance to react to this odd declaration as suddenly, a man and a woman appeared out of thin air. In perfect synchrony, the two immediately levelled their wands, sending twin jets of light at both Petunia and Linda.
Ropes appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around both the women and causing them to topple to the floor.
Seeing his wife and mother in this state, Dudley lunged at his cousin. Over the years, he had lost a significant amount of weight, eating right and working out in the gym. He had also paid the bills by participating in local boxing matches, so he no longer was the obese cousin that Harry knew, but a fast, albeit large man.
However, Harry was no slouch either. The rituals he had done on his body, while not as powerful and permanent as their dark counterparts had long term benefits. With regular work, they enhanced and helped the body, keeping it fit and fast no matter the age. So, while Dudley was fast, Harry was faster.
By the time Dudley could even take two steps, Harry had his fake wand out.
'Crucio,'
Dudley crumpled mid-step and was writhing on the ground, screaming as pain lanced through his body.
Harry ended the curse, breathing heavily. He wasn't worried about performing the curse in front of the two Aurors. The two he had selected when he had heard about his relatives were sympathetic to his cause. Besides, the amendment he had slipped in allowed him to use it on Muggles.
'Looks like she was actually right,' Harry said softly as an Auror came up to bind his cousin. 'You really have to mean it.'
Meanwhile the second Auror had gone to get the baby, emerging from the kitchen, cooing softly at the now sleeping baby.
'No!' Linda screamed. 'You can't do this!'
'You will find that we can,' Harry replied lightly. 'In fact, as you can see, we are doing this right now. Don't worry; you won't remember a thing after we erase your memories. Georgiana here,' he nodded to the female Auror who was holding the baby. 'Is quite good with her memory charms, you know.'
'You won't stop people in general asking questions,' Dudley said hoarsely, weakly struggling with his bindings. 'They will notice when we no longer have a baby with us.'
Harry laughed. 'You actually think that we didn't do our research?' he shook his head. 'Not only are we going to make you forget about your son, but we have already taken steps to magically erase his existence from every Muggle record. And that includes photographs, both digital and regular, birth certificates, passports, and the minds of others. Not that there are that many people who will be affected here.' He extracted a disproportionately large folder from an inside pocket and opened it. 'After all, Linda here has no family or relatives, you have kept no contact with your Aunt Marge and the three of you generally keep to yourself with practically no social life aside from a few friends that you have made in the University, and they barely keep in touch. You are basically loners. Hell, if I circulated a rumour tomorrow that you lot were secret spies for the Koreans, people would believe it.'
Taking the baby from the female Auror, Harry strode out, never looking back.
Jason Harris was one of the first confirmed Muggleborns to be taken under the new law. When the history of his biological father came to light, there was no way that Harry was going to pass up the chance to come around personally.
Apparating with the baby to the now open Home, he handed the tot over to one of the workers, who gently took over, posing for a picture on the way.
There was a relatively low chance of him having the baby in his house as first preference was given to older applicants. But if, by some chance, Jason ended up being a part of Harry's family, Harry swore to himself that he would not ever hold the boy's father or grandparents against him. He was not Snape or his aunt.
Speaking of which, he had someone to personally escort. Waving at the press once more, he left the grounds, Apparating away.
Coming out of the fireplace of the office of the Warden of Azkaban, about an hour later, he swept down to the main entrance of the prison, and out to the pier, looking expectantly at the sea and the distant outline of the mainland.
Not a moment later, a boat came into view, containing two very apprehensive looking Aurors and one terrified Muggle.
'Hello, Derek, Charles,' Harry greeted the pair of Aurors as he stepped from the boat and onto the pier.
'Lord Potter,' Derek replied, a look of awe crossing his face that Harry knew was due to a combination of speaking to someone as famous as him and at the fact that someone like him knew the name of a junior Auror.
Legilimency had its uses. And his probes were too light to be noticed by regular Occlumens. He wondered how he would fare against an expert, though.
'I was coming here anyway for my yearly inspection of the prison,' Harry continued after it was clear that the men weren't going to say anything. 'So I thought I would see for myself how you Aurors operate.'
His words caused both men to straighten. Not only was Harry Potter accompanying them, but Harry Potter, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was overseeing what they would be doing. There would no room for error.
Harry stood, quietly amused, as the two Aurors practically manhandled a sobbing and struggling Petunia to the gates.
'Please,' she pleaded at one point, looking at him imploringly. 'I had no idea about the law change! You cannot arrest me!'
'That is not the fault of the Ministry,' Harry replied coldly his eyes standing out like twin beacons in the gloom of Azkaban. 'Notices were published in the Daily Prophet. You should have read the paper.'
'But I don't get that!' Petunia screeched in reply, straining against the manacles holding her.
'Again, that is not our fault.' Harry was unmoved. 'You should have subscribed.'
'Move along, Muggle!' Derek pompously said with a sneer, propelling her through the gates and into the entrance hall.
Harry casually strolled in, watching as the Aurors processed the new prisoner. Petunia was openly crying by the time her photograph was being taken.
She gave a small shriek of surprise when one of the human prison guards changed her clothes with a switching spell.
Her sobbing stopped immediately as terror overcame her when she felt the presence of the approaching dementors. Like her husband before her, the magic in the manacles was enough to allow her to see the terrible forms of the demons coming towards her.
Picking up on the Aurors' nervousness at not being well-versed in casting the Patronus charm, Harry kindly conjured his own Patronus. The very solid looking form of Prongs burst out and cantered around the wizards, gazing at the dementors challengingly.
Rolling his eyes, the human guard irritably addressed the dumbstruck Aurors. 'Yes, yes, Lord Potter can conjure a Patronus. Even if it is the first time I have seen it, I understand that he has been doing so for a very long time. Now could you please stop gawking? I am sure you have to report back to your superiors now.'
'Y – Yes sir,' Charles stuttered out.
'For how long have you been producing a Patronus, if you don't mind me asking, sir?' Derek said, looking curiously at Harry.
'Oh not long,' Harry replied good-naturedly. 'Since I was in my Third-Year at Hogwarts.' Seeing the looks he was getting, he continued modestly, 'I had plenty of incentive then. The dementors affected me greatly then when they were guarding the castle. So I had to learn. I am sure anyone would learn quickly given those kind of circumstances.'
'You learnt how to cast the Patronus Charm at the age of thirteen and that too in less than a year?' Now it was the guard's turn to be surprised.
'Well, yes,' Harry replied slightly self-consciously. 'Again, I had major incentive. The teacher was quite effective too, you know. He used a method that I doubt could be properly replicated with the same results.' Harry did not mention that he no longer needed to cast a Patronus as the demons no longer affected him. He had found out early enough that he could appear invisible to them, both mentally and emotionally.
'What method did he use?' Auror Charles said slowly.
'That is a story for another time, Charles,' Harry replied with a warm practised smile. 'Now, I believe that we have a prisoner to … well, imprison.' He grinned at the flimsy joke as the other three chortled sycophantically. Nicolas had advised making these sort of jokes around subordinates when giving him pointers on how to comport himself in public. It had the effect of making him seem a bit more human, and would subconsciously endear him to those below him.
The prison guard then took out a complicated looking tablet with runes engraved on it. 'Right,' he said as he pressed on some of the runes, making them light up. 'Cell three-eleven is now ready. Shall we?' Getting a nod from Harry, he started off, trailing behind the dementors who held Petunia securely in their grip.
Bidding the Aurors goodbye, Harry followed behind the guard, his Patronus trotting alongside him, giving off an unearthly silver light.
The prisoners did not jeer as the newest inmate was lead to her doom, like in Muggle prisons. The dementors took away the desire to do that. Petunia was forced down many flights of stairs till they reached the bottom floor.
'This is the high security wing,' Harry informed her cheerfully. 'It houses quite a few Death Eaters, you know. They all hate Muggles, by the way.'
Then they came to a halt in front of a blank stretch of a wall between two cells set widely apart from each other.
The guard pressed the glowing runes set into the wall in a pattern, opening a section of the wall to reveal a space big enough for one person.
Petunia gasped at what she saw inside. A man was already occupying one of the three walls. He had a full beard that reached past his chest. His hair, black with dirt and grime, was lank as it obscured his face.
'Say hello to your husband, Petunia,' Harry said as he lifted the man's face by his hair, making the prisoner moan at having light pierce his eyes.
Petunia was horrified. Her once large and healthy husband was now skin and bones. With another jolt of terror, she noticed the chains that suspended Vernon from the ceiling by his now skinny arms. It did not take a genius to figure out that the only reason that Vernon's feet were touching the floor was because his arms had been long since dislocated from hanging for so long.
'I have a present for you,' Harry said softly, bringing out a phial filled with an iridescent silver-blue liquid that glowed in the darkness. 'This is unicorn blood. I am going to be injecting this into you. But first, let me tell you something about this substance. You see, unicorns do exist. Their body parts have many different properties that I will not bore you with. All you need to know is about their blood.
'Now, many say that unicorns are the epitome of Light magic, and they would be right.' Harry said in a lecturing tone. 'But they have some very nasty defences. For one, they will not hesitate to gore anyone who even remotely makes them skittish. On top of that, their blood is the most insidious type of poison anyone has ever seen. Anyone who ever drinks unicorn blood, even a drop, cannot die. But they lead a very cursed life. The blood is very addictive. Anyone who drinks it slowly goes mad with a thirst that can only be satiated by more unicorn blood. And you need not kill a unicorn to get the blood. Oh no, you just need to capture one and draw blood from it unwillingly. The best part of the magic of the beast is that it does not differentiate between who took the blood and who drank it. The only person it will affect will be the drinker.' He smiled at her nastily. 'Hold her.'
Immediately, one dementor held her still while another used its deceptively strong thin arms to open her mouth.
Uncorking the phial, Harry stepped forward and tipped the contents down Petunia's throat.
'Now, we don't have to worry about feeding you,' Harry whispered in her ear after the last of the blood disappeared down Petunia's throat. 'You can just rot here next to your husband and slowly go insane in a room that is slightly taller than my cupboard, in utter darkness as the hunger and thirst drive you insane.' Stepping back he nodded to the guard.
Upon command, the dementors dragged the now shrieking woman into the cell. Petunia's shrieks increased in terror as she saw the set of manacles on the adjacent wall next to her husband, gleaming menacingly. Her screams caused the other prisoners, including Vernon, to start screaming and shouting as well.
Harry smirked as the door slid shut, cutting her screams off. He had initially asked Flamel if the alchemist would be willing to part with some of his Elixir to prolong the Dursleys' suffering. Flamel had refused mainly because they would need a regular dose of the substance to be kept alive. However, with unicorn blood, there would be no effort required on their part, while keeping the Muggles immortal.
Grimacing at the screams of the other prisoners in the normal cells, he sent off a wide area silencing charm, cutting those screams off as well.
'Thank you, sir,' the guard said gratefully in the silence.
Harry only nodded. Noticing the meaningful look on the guard's face, he internally rolled his eyes. 'As we discussed,' He said, taking out a sack and tossed it towards the man. The bag made a characteristic clinking noise that gave a hint to the no doubt copious amount of gold it held inside.
Harry smiled as he watched the guard weigh the sack. Bribing the guard to keep quiet about his usage of Unicorn Blood on prisoners (even if they were Muggles) was worth every single one of the thousand Galleons in that sack. Now to ensure that there was no scope for blackmail…
'Obliviate,'
The guard did not even have time to react before he was magically forced to forget everything about Vernon and Petunia Dursley.
Hermione fumed as she stalked towards the ancient manor of the Smiths. Seeing Potter's widely grinning face on the front page of the Daily Prophet as he handed over a Muggleborn baby to the home was something that disgusted her to no end.
A few scant minutes later, she was ensconced in Lord Nathanael's spacious dining room with the other Order members, the doors closed and sealed magically to ensure privacy.
'Problem, Mrs Weasley?' Lord Samuel asked courteously upon noticing the dark look on her face.
'Today's Prophet,' Hermione bit out.
Everyone in the room shifted. 'But that is not the worrying bit.' Hermione continued grimly. 'I just had a meeting with her majesty … I think Flamel has her under his control.'
'Impossible,' Lady Margaret declared as Lord Nathanael asked curiously. 'Why do you say that, Mrs Weasley?'
'Well, I was in a meeting with her yesterday,' Hermione began slowly. 'And I brought up the recent legislation.' She paused one more time. 'And The Queen had no problems with it.'
'And how is that a problem, Mrs Weasley?' Lord Nathanael said very slowly.
'Well, obviously it is because no progressive modern person with even a shred of decency present in them would agree to this … insanity!' Hermione exclaimed. Even though she did not say it, her tone more than conveyed what she thought of their mental capabilities.
Lord Diagon took a deep breath. He so longed to tell the uppity girl in front of him exactly what he thought of her, her demanding ways, her abrasive personality and her bigotry. However, he desisted. The pawn would get what was coming to her eventually. At least he hoped it would. There would be no point in living in a world where people like the crass woman in front of him did not get what they deserved. If it came down to it, he would ensure that.
'I see, and how do you propose that her majesty is being controlled?' Lord Nathanael asked neutrally.
Hermione shrugged. 'Imperius?' A gleam appeared in her eye. 'If we can prove it, then we will nail them for performing an Unforgivable!'
Lord Archibald harrumphed. 'Nonsense! There is no magical way that the monarch of this realm can be controlled!' Seeing Hermione about to open her mouth to argue, he continued. 'Do you not remember the oath that you had to swear before being installed?'
Hermione fell silent as she remembered the oath of fealty that she had to give. Lord Archibald smirked through his moustache. 'And were you allowed to carry your wand till then, Mrs Weasley? No. In case you did not know, a number the Royalty Protection Branch comprises of witches and wizards who are made to swear an oath far more stringent than the one you gave. They do not allow wizards or witches visiting the monarch to carry a wand until they have sworn loyalty. Flamel has already sworn fealty to the bloodline of the current queen, when he first came to Britain and was installed by King George III as a member of the Wizengamot his successors have, in turn, made sure to renew those vows. Potter, in turn, has done the same for The Queen. In both cases, they were not allowed to carry wands until they swore that oath, which, as you know, was heavily supervised. And I doubt anyone, even Potter, can cast the Imperius without the aid of a wand. If Flamel had somehow managed to bewitch King George III, then he would have won already. As much as we like to pretend otherwise, The Queen has absolute control over us. And that is not a power she is willing to give up soon.'
'What about potions?'
'What about them, Mrs Weasley?' Lord Nathanael said tiredly. 'It is still a magical means. You honestly think that the guard will miss that? They are all trained professionals. Besides, most mind control potions require ingestion. And I assure you, it is quite hard to spike a drink there.'
'So, The Queen isn't bewitched,' Hermione seemed to deflate as she made that admission.
'No, she is not.' Lord Diagon said shortly. 'And yes, that means that she voluntarily supports the law. And what you did was extremely dangerous, Mrs Weasley.'
'What do you mean?' Hermione asked warily.
Lord Diagon replied in a slow borderline mocking voice. 'If the Queen had decided to get involved directly with the laws we make, then things would get nasty very, very fast. How do you think wizards will react to being ordered around by a Muggle? And if Potter finds out that she has no problems with it, he might move to get royal approval. That, in turn, would make it much, much harder for you to change that law or even remove it because then you would need a two-thirds majority. But you should already know that, Mrs Weasley. At least I hope you do.'
Throwing the marquess a quelling look, Lord Nathaniel spoke next. 'At any rate, I hope this teaches you an important lesson, Mrs Weasley. Do not fiddle about in things that you have no idea about. And do not do so without telling us first.' Taking a deep breath, he continued. 'I think we have dallied enough. Let's get down to business. Ever since we have learnt about Potter and Flamel, we have worked tirelessly to bring Potter down. Since he is Flamel's pawn, Flamel is least likely to help Potter out, should Potter land in enough trouble. This, we hope, will be enough to get Potter to listen to us. To that end, I would like to introduce someone who has been working secretly over the years for us. Our chief researcher, Percival Weasley,'
It took a great amount of self-control for Hermione to ensure that she did not gape as the man in question walked in at that moment. Percy was quite an enigma. Ever since that disastrous Christmas meeting that Ron had told her about, when she was in Sixth-Year, she had not heard from the third oldest of Molly Weasley's sons.
Hermione knew that Percy was working in the Department of International Cooperation, but that was it. The man was always in some country or the other, filling out various diplomatic functions.
Even though Hermione had not seen him for nearly a decade (she herself couldn't believe that it was that long) Percy had not changed a bit. He was still tall, still thin, and still weedy. He even had the same pair of glasses on his face and the same air of pompousness around him.
'Percival here will tell us about what he has found out.' Lord Nathanael said softly, seemingly missing the shocked look on Hermione's face.
Fussing about pompously, Percy took out a sheaf of parchment and laid it on the table. Taking a moment to look at the people around him, he cleared his throat and in an eager voice, started to share with the rest what he had learnt.
Hermione waited on the side, with the other Department Heads as she watched the members of the Wizengamot occupy their seats one by one with anticipation.
This meeting of the Wizengamot was called in by Minister Thicknesse himself, with invitations sent to the various department heads. Thanks to the Order, Hermione knew that the Minister had a surprise in store for Flamel and his stooge.
Harry took his place as the Chief Warlock, brimming with curiosity. Ever since the last meeting of the Wizengamot, Pius had been keeping to himself. This was despite numerous attempts by Harry, Neville and Draco to speak to the man. The three along with Flamel all agreed that there was something fishy going on.
Well, it looked like today would be the day where the esteemed Minister of Magic would finally come out in the open.
Standing up, Harry went through the motions of opening the session formally. Once he was done, he gave the floor to the Minister, returning to his seat.
'My Lords, Ladies, gentle-wizards and witches,' Pius Thicknesse began. His voice, like anyone who was given the floor to speak, was automatically enhanced magically so that it carried through the chambers. 'I have led this great nation for the past six years now, at her majesty's pleasure, and am honoured to have the confidence of this august body so far. However, I regret to inform you all that I am no longer able to continue. I hereby resign from my post. Thank you.'
The Minister's announcement took the room by storm. This was the last thing anyone was expecting. The Wizengamot was suddenly filled with sound as people started talking, shouting and generally making noise.
It took a moment for Harry to recover from this. The Minister's sudden resignation had taken him completely off guard.
This definitely was not good.
'Are you sure of your decision, Minister?' Harry asked, after he managed to get the room back into order. He fixed the man with a steely glare as he asked his question, as if hoping to get him to change his mind.
'Indeed, Lord Potter,' while Thicknesse's words were as strong and courteous as Harry's, the younger man couldn't help but notice that the Minister avoided direct eye contact.
'Very well,' Harry replied in a heavy tone. 'I trust that you have a nominee in place as your successor?'
The election of the Minister of Magic was a complex process that had equal involvement from the people as well as the Wizengamot. As long as a witch or wizard had the confidence of the Wizengamot, he remained as Minister, meaning that there was no set length of term a Minster had to serve in office. However, once that confidence was lost, or the Minister resigned, a new candidate was chosen.
A maximum of five people could submit their names for the post. The public would then vote for those they found the most suitable.
The top three candidates would then be questioned extensively by the Wizengamot, which would then vote for the most suitable candidate.
The winner would be considered to have the confidence of the Wizengamot and would be appointed by Her Majesty to the post of Minister of Magic.
In the meantime, the current Minister would stay in power. Or, in this case, would have a replacement to stand in while the new Minister was chosen.
'Indeed,' Minister Thicknesse replied to Harry's question. 'Rufus Scrimgeour.'
Hermione watched as the Head of the Auror office got to his feet with silent glee. She was disappointed to note that there was no visible reaction on Potter's face. But upon closer look, she could see the rage in his eyes. She smirked. This was only the beginning.
Harry was cursing up a storm mentally as he called for a vote. Thicknesse was not supposed to name Scrimgeour. Forget that, he was not supposed to retire yet in the first place!
There was nothing he could do but watch as a majority of the Wizengamot voted to keep Scrimgeour as the interim Minister till the elections came about.
'What the hell is happening?!' In the sanctity of his study, far away from public eye, Harry allowed the fury to show on his face and in his voice as he ranted. The air around him was heavy with magic as he paced.
'At least we now know why Thicknesse was avoiding us,' the serious expression on Draco's face belied the light tone he was using.
Harry only snorted at this. 'Did none of your contacts give you even a hint about what Pius was thinking?'
'None whatsoever,' Neville said in a troubled voice. 'In fact, they assured me that it was nothing out of the ordinary.'
'Same here,' Draco added. 'And the people I know are far less naïve than Longbottom here.'
Harry ran a hand through his hair as Neville rolled his eyes. Over the past few years, Neville and Draco had developed a tolerance of sorts. One might even say that the two had struck up a friendship. A friendship that was seasoned with barbs and flavoured with witticisms aimed at each other.
'Did you see Granger's face?' Draco suddenly said.
Harry looked at the head of the most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy with narrowed eyes. 'No …' he said slowly. 'Why?'
'She had the smuggest grin I have ever seen on a person's face.'
'How smug?' Harry asked.
'Imagine the expression on her face when she wins a lot of points for getting a spell right in school before everyone else,' Draco drawled. 'And multiply that by ten.' Seeing the look on his companions' faces, he snorted. 'Yeah, it was that smug. Merlin, I seriously wanted to slap that grin off her face. And perhaps slap her some more just for good measure.'
'You think she is behind this?' Neville scoffed.
But Harry, who had settled down behind his desk looked thoughtful. 'It is rather improbable, I admit, but she did rise through the ranks rather quickly.' he trailed off. 'We will have to do some digging.'
Focussing back on the two men in front of him, he continued. 'Draco, use some of your contacts within the Department of Magical Law. Find out what people have to say about their head. Neville, you use our contacts to figure out just what Scrimgeour is up to. Meanwhile, I shall pay Pius a visit.'
However, a week later, nothing new had happened. The Floo connexion to Pius Thicknesse's house was blocked and all efforts to contact the man were fruitless.
Meanwhile, relations between the new Minister and Harry were not going well. Scrimgeour seemed to be cold at best towards the Chief Warlock, always too busy to speak to Harry, Neville or Draco.
Things eventually came to a head by January.
'I have grave news,' Harry said tiredly to Draco and Neville in his study.
'It seems that dear Rufus, with the help Granger, plans on ousting me from my spot.' Getting up, he moved towards the window, looking out at the grounds with unseeing eyes.
'How does he plan on doing this?' Neville asked.
'I have no idea,' Harry replied, still looking outside. 'My informant couldn't find more. But I assure you that it will be something nasty. The fact that Rufus and Granger came into power only shows that we have a bigger enemy. And it also seems that they have been preparing all this time under our very noses. They have us at a significant disadvantage.'
The room lapsed into troubled silence.
'What about Flamel?' Draco asked slowly.
Both Neville and Harry snorted. 'Oh, he definitely knows.' Harry said as he turned around. 'But I doubt contacting him is going to do us any good.'
Twin expressions of surprise greeted his statement, causing Harry to chuckle. 'I know for a fact that man sees me as nothing more than a pawn. I knew from the day I first made a pact with him. Flamel is a brilliant man, but he is old … too old. Nothing will deter him from his goal. He probably has made plans should I be neutralised. Something tells me that he is already implementing some of them as we speak. No, he won't help. I do not expect him to.'
Harry snorted again at Neville's look of surprise. 'I know you have warned me against that man many times, Neville. I also know that I appeared not to take your warnings seriously. But trust me when I say that I knew. I knew from the start.'
Saying this, he sauntered back to his chair, a smug look on his face.
'Then why haven't you –?' Eyes widening Neville looked at Harry with realisation. 'You had something planned from the beginning, didn't you?' he stated shrewdly.
Harry chuckled. 'Let's say that this pawn has seen the end of the board, and, while nobody has been looking, has been slowly inching his way to that place. Scrimgeour and Granger aren't even in my path. They are an inconvenience. That is for sure. But once I am done, they won't even be that much.'
'What have you planned?' Draco's curiosity was peaked. This was the first time either of them had heard of any long-term plans of Harry's.
'You are better off not knowing.' Harry replied. He fixed the two men in front of him with a hard gaze. 'But to accomplish this plan, I will need to go … away. I will be absent from this country for an extended period of time to meet my objectives. And so I ask you now, can you trust me?
'I know I have not given you any information,' Harry continued into the silence. 'And I am not likely to do so till I am successful. But I ask you now; can you, despite that, trust me?'
'While I wouldn't like being kept in the dark,' Neville said slowly. 'I have known you long enough to trust you. So, I guess that is a yes from me.'
'Thank you Neville.' Harry said softly. He then looked at Draco questioningly.
Draco Malfoy took a long time to speak. 'My family have been quite … wily, you could say.' He began. 'The Malfoys pride themselves in always being with the winning side. My father would have probably made a plan to appear to be a sympathiser for Scrimgeour and his ilk in this situation. Merlin knows he would have succeeded. But I am not him.' He looked pained to admit that fact. 'The situation is such that there is no way for me to appear as if I am for Scrimgeour. Granger, at least, won't allow it. So I guess I am stuck with you, Harry. Besides, something tells me that you will end up victorious. So, yes, in short, I am in as well.'
Harry smiled at Draco's words, his eyes glowing brighter for a second. 'Thanks, I think. Don't worry though. If you stick with me, then I guarantee that you, both of you, will be rewarded greatly.'
'Leave the speech for the mindless followers,' Neville said impatiently. 'We said that we were in, didn't we? Now what do you need us to do?'
'Keep them occupied,' Harry replied after a short while. 'If they say blue, lobby for red, if they vote to have a break, petition for an uninterrupted session. Just make sure that they do not undo what we worked for all these years.' He took a deep breath before he continued. 'And most importantly, keep Daphne and the kids safe. I don't know what lengths Scrimgeour will go to, but I do not want them to suffer, got it?' seeing them nod, he stood up. 'Well then, gentlemen, I shall be leaving in a week.'
As soon as the words left his mouth, a frantic knocking on the door interrupted them.
'Mark?' Harry said in surprise when he opened the door to see the frantic teen. 'What is the matter?'
Breathing heavily, Mark responded. 'I just heard – Pius Thicknesse is dead.'
'What?' Neville questioned in surprise as Harry lead the young man to a chair. 'When?'
'He was found in his home.' Mark replied as he slowly got his breath. 'Murdered,'
'What is it?' Harry had a bad feeling when he saw the look of trepidation on Mark's face.
'They – they say that you did it.' Mark said quietly.
Deep inhalations met his statement. 'Impossible!' Neville stated. 'Harry was right here, with the two of us.'
'You don't actually believe that I would do something like that, would you?' Harry said with a raised eyebrow as he studied Mark.
'Of course not!' Mark replied indignantly. 'But the thing is that they might not consider Neville's and Draco's testimonies.'
Harry narrowed his eyes. 'How long do I have.' He stated more than asked.
'They plan on arresting you early tomorrow morning.'
'Do they know of your involvement?'
'No,' Mark shook his head. 'I used an Extendable Ear, they couldn't have seen me. I also booked it as quickly as possible.'
Harry silently pressed his hand on a spot of his desk and closed his eyes.
'They haven't sent anyone to watch the house yet. Arrogant bastards,' He breathed. Opening his eyes, he continued. 'Well, it looks like I will have to advance my holiday plans.' He said lightly.
Mark looked at him in incomprehension. 'Huh?' he said eloquently.
'I am going out…' Harry replied. 'Of the country,' he elaborated further.
'Why? Why not stay and fight this accusation.'
'Because I suspect that Scrimgeour isn't going to allow that,' Harry said briskly as he stood up. 'Neville and Draco will elaborate further.' Coming around the desk, he put his hands on Mark's shoulders. 'Meanwhile,' he fixed the younger man with an intense stare. 'Can I depend on you to do something for me?'
Mark gulped, 'Sure.'
Harry squeezed his shoulders. 'Good man. I want you to covertly find the real culprit. Get the evidence. Make it irrefutable. Get help if you can.' Seeing him nod, Harry turned to his two friends and allies. 'I want the two of you to help as much as possible. Also, find out how Granger and Scrimgeour are getting support. Those are the people we want to neutralise.' Seeing everyone understand, Harry straightened. 'Now, I must be away.' Saying so, he put his palm on a wall panel, sending out a pulse of magic. The entire room glowed for a moment before settling down. 'Now none can get into my study or my office in the Ministry.'
'But won't the wards fall once Scrimgeour takes you off your post?' Mark questioned.
'Ah, but I won't be here when the Aurors come for me, now will I?' Harry said craftily. 'Being Chief Warlock, they need to formally charge me. And I can only be formally charged if, and only if, I am physically present to be charged. The law allows that for people of my status. I cannot help it if I had already gone on holiday before they came along.' He finished innocently.
'Where will you be going?' Neville asked curiously.
'Congo,' Harry replied without missing a beat. 'A friend of mine has a small Nundu problem there. I will be spending a really long time in the jungles. Cut off from all communication.'
Going back to his desk, he took out a quill and parchment. Scribbling on it furiously, he sealed it in an envelope and handed it to Draco. 'This is me nominating Mungan McKinnon as my temporary replacement. Please hand it over to him tomorrow.' He gave Draco a significant look. 'It reached you today in the afternoon, by the way.'
Draco nodded as he took the sealed envelope.
Harry then ushered them out of his study. As soon as the door closed behind him, a line of blue magic could be seen on the edges of the doorway, sealing the room in.
Harry turned to his companions. 'Now I have some goodbyes to say to my family. So, if you will excuse me.' He turned to go.
'Wait,' Draco said. 'How long will you be gone?'
Taking a deep breath, Harry turned around. 'A year, tops, I think.'
'Ah, not that long then,'
Mark turned, gobsmacked, to Neville. 'What do you mean "not that long"? It's a freaking year! Three hundred and sixty five days! How are we going to hold them off for that long?!'
'You haven't worked in the political field,' Harry replied dryly. 'A year isn't that long a time in the political sphere.'
'Frankly I thought he would be gone for five, or ten,' Draco commented.
Mark tried to wrap his head around that. Had Harry been gone for that long, by the time he came back, Mark would be nearly thirty! And James and Edmund would be finishing Hogwarts! He shivered. 'I hope you make it back in a year.' He said fervently.
'Don't worry,' Harry replied reassuringly. 'I know what I am going to do.'
He turned around and left to find his wife and children.
The goodbyes were heartfelt. Daphne was apprised of the short version of the events leading to Harry's departure. The boys, on the other hand, were told relatively little due to their young age. All they understood was that their father was going away for a really long time, because of some bad men and neither liked it one bit.
'Now I want you to take care of mummy and each other, OK?' Harry said to the two boys.
Edmund and James both nodded quickly, their eyes watering and lower lips trembling as they tried to put on brave faces.
It was frankly heart-breaking for Harry. 'Also,' he cleared his throat to prevent the emotions from coming out. 'You are going to have a new baby brother or sister. I want you to look out for the baby too. You are big boys now. No more fighting, you hear? And don't give mummy too much trouble. Mark, Uncle Draco and Uncle Neville will be there along with grandma and granddad if you need anything. They will also be there to keep the two of you in line.' Giving them a stern look, he pulled them in a hug pressing his lips on the top of their heads and whispering. 'Love you both.'
Taking a deep breath, he let go and stood up. With a last smile, he left Edmund's room, pretending not to hear two silently sobbing boys.
'I had the elves pack everything for you,' Daphne said softly. 'It's the same kit we had packed when we started our world tour. Only no nappies this time, so it should be lighter.' Her attempts at humour fell flat quickly.
Harry only smiled and drew her in for a kiss. 'I will miss you, the boys, and the baby.' Pulling away, he said with determination. 'I will be back soon, though. You have my promise.'
Daphne squeezed his hand and wiped her glistening eyes with her other hand. 'It's only a year,' she said more to herself than anything else.
Stepping away, Harry waved his hand at the magically enlarged Rucksack, shrinking it. 'Even though I will be incommunicado while I am away, I will try and write every now and then.' Smiling one last time, he turned away, heading out.
As soon as he exited the house, his body just faded from view, his powers giving him total invisibility.
Turning his invisible head upwards, he flexed his legs and then shot off into the air. A Bubble Head Charm modified around his nose and mouth enabled him to breathe when he reached thinner air. As soon as he was happy with the altitude he had reached, he shot off east, a magical barrier in front of him to reduce drag and enable him to move even faster.
Harry's mouth was set in a determined line. They might have run him out, but he would be back. And he would be even more powerful than ever.
As soon as he reached the English Channel, Harry corkscrewed. With a pop of Disapparition, Harry Potter had left England.