CHAPTER 108:THE MUGGLE WAR, PT 6

Wednesday April 29th 1992, 6:03pm.

Harry was sitting in his new office, scribbling on a piece of parchment. The office was a simple stone affair, deep in the recesses of the Ministry, in the corridor leading to the Wizengamot Hall. The chambers here were not used much, these days, as most witches and wizards preferred rooms with a window and easy access to the other services higher up in the buildings. But these rooms were secure from eavesdropping, Apparating and various other hostile possibilities, and would withstand a lot of force. In the event of an attack on the Ministry, they were the safest place to be.

Pius Thicknesse – the man who had proposed that Harry could use House Vows – had arranged it. The man's first order of business had been to swear service to the Potter House and request to be included in the negotiations as the representative of the Ministry. Then he'd set up the room, haggled with Amelia Bones to have a trio of competent Aurors placed outside the door, and left to formulate a contract for the representatives of the Wizengamot to sign, which would guarantee that the results of Harry's negotiations would be followed, and could not be revoked for the duration of a year, except by near-unanimous agreement.

Pius Thicknesse, apparently, was quite tired of the political scene as it had been for almost ten years. The Senior Secretary to the Minister of Magic, he was essentially a bureaucrat, the pencil-pusher who handled most of the administrative work for the Ministry. Corruption appalled him and as a result he held a severe dislike for Malfoy, but considered Dumbledore to be hopelessly naive. The promise of a new powerful player in the political scene gave him hope, so now he leaped at the opportunity to prove himself useful and secure his position for the future – an intention he was entirely honest about.

Thicknesse had explained the exact mechanics of the House Vow. Much simpler than the Unbreakable Vow, the spell merely created a bond between the Lord or Lady of a Noble House and the "servant", allowing the former to kill the latter or to destroy their magic simply by choosing to do so. In addition, possibly to cater to the more squeamish masters who might not wish to be directly responsible for their servant's death, the master could give a binding order, and should they learn that it had been violated, punishment would be immediate without the need for a conscious decision. The bond caused a small drain on the master's magic to preserve, but the amount was unlikely to be noticeable even with a child's magic, and the drain lasted only until the bond was broken. In the event of the master's death, the bond would be passed to the new Lord or Lady of the House, provided a magical inheritance contract was in place, as was the case for the Potters. The existence of the bond could be magically verified if the master willed it, but its absence could not be confirmed, even by the servant; the bond could only be broken with the consent of the master.

While the spell itself was already bad enough, in Harry's opinion, the law added to it. It was absolutely forbidden to use the spell without a formal servitude contract in place, witnessed by a member of the Ministry. While this may have been meant as a legal protection to stop people being tricked into accepting the spell, it meant that in practice, the spell could not be used without also signing up to a host of legal arrangements. It was explicitly legal to kill, torture (although not with the Cruciatus curse) or otherwise punish a sworn servant, and a servant could never file a criminal lawsuit against their master. It was possible for the master to cancel the servitude contract, but while that came with the legal obligation to also release the magical bond, there was no easy way to confirm that the latter had been done. It was entirely possible for the Lord of a Noble House to cancel a servitude contract but keep the bond in place, unknown even to the servant, and kill them at will years later.

When questioned why he would submit to such a Vow, Thicknesse had shrugged and observed that it would not reflect well on the new Lord Potter to abuse the privileges granted by the spell to needlessly kill or hurt his servant, or to extend the servitude longer than a few days given the circumstances under which it was agreed. Moreover, Harry had little to gain in illegally preserving the bond once the contract was revoked. Thicknesse had always refrained from learning Occlumency – being able to have the truth of his words magically verified seemed to him a greater advantage than the ability to protect his mind – so he would not be able to hide it, willingly or otherwise, if Harry told him that the bond was still in place. If Harry kept the bond without telling Thicknesse, it would be a constant drain on his magic for little gain, as Thicknesse was not at all likely to be more useful to him dead than alive.

Then Thicknesse had sat down to discuss Harry's security. He had observed that there were a few people – Bartemius Crouch, for instance – who were none too pleased with Harry's proposals or his appointment as negotiator, and that some of those might seek to remove the problem. That was why he arranged the Aurors before leaving, and promised to make sure to put certain safeguards in the Wizengamot's contract.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of a visitor. Harry blanked the parchment he was writing on with a tap of his wand, sat up straighter and said: "Come in!"

Lucius Malfoy opened the door and stepped inside. He would have been checked for polyjuice and had his wand confiscated by the Aurors, of course.

"Lord Malfoy," Harry said formally, activating the privacy wards in the office with a quick move of his wand.

"Lord Potter," Lucius Malfoy nodded. "I have come to swear servitude to your House, and request to be included in the peace negotiations."

Harry stared at him. Has he gone mad, or what? The Lord of Malfoy, surely, would be able to pay someone to serve as a binder for the Unbreakable Vow...

"I would be glad to have you accompany me in whatever peace negotiations we settle on," he replied, just managing to keep the surprise out of his voice. "But are you sure you would submit to a House Vow?"

"Yes. An Unbreakable Vow is impractical," Lucius Malfoy spoke calmly. "It is too rigid, defining an exact set of conditions to be met. If the negotiations turn out differently from the way we expect, it would deprive me from the ability to improvise. In the case of a House Vow, improvising would merely place my death at your discretion."

"I suppose it would," Harry said, "But as I understand it, there is absolutely no way to guarantee that I will release you afterwards. Are you not concerned about this?"

"Not at all," Lord Malfoy stated with a slight smile. "For I am not asking you to release me afterwards. Releasing the contract would be politically prudent, perhaps, but I do not mind if the bond itself remains in place."

Harry blinked. What?

"You seem surprised," Lucius Malfoy observed.

"Well, yes," Harry answered. "I am struggling to comprehend why you would be willing to enslave yourself."

"There are few people who truly comprehend the power of servitude, Lord Potter."

Harry nodded slowly, thinking through the implications. The House Vow was a powerful way to achieve trust: when someone can kill you at will, you are very unlikely to betray them. The Vow left some wiggle room – a sworn servant could betray their Lord provided the Lord never found out – but it was too dangerous to be used lightly. A master, on the other hand, had reason not to abuse the privilege: it would be in his interest to preserve the servant's loyalty, and to not push them towards betrayal or substandard performance. To Harry, the Lord Malfoy could be an extremely useful ally, if he could have the guarantee that the man wasn't going to stab him in the back. And to Lucius, the bond would create opportunities to make suggestions expedient to him. Lucius had taken willing servitude to Lord Voldemort in the last war, and for all Harry could see, had profited from the arrangement: at the very least he had come out with all his power intact, and it was likely that many of his political opponents had been killed in the war. He had lost his wife, but for that he blamed Dumbledore, not Voldemort.

And yet, something still felt wrong. He should probably just allow the man to swear servitude and be done with it, but he had the feeling there was some deeper motive behind the man's professions.

"You must know that I do not share some ideas which are very important to you."

The man before him grimaced briefly.

"Do you believe that I agreed with the Dark Lord's ideas? No. I am well aware that our values are not fully aligned, Lord Potter. Even if my son had not told me of your beliefs, your statements with regards to the negotiations made that clear: you seek to live together in peace, not to subjugate. But in cases of importance, one must prioritize. There are two things which matter more to me than anything else in the world. The power of House Malfoy. And my son, Draco."

He paused for a few moments, but Harry didn't speak, so he continued: "You are powerful, Lord Potter. Or will be, in the near future. Anyone with any sense at all would see that. With the support of the country behind you, I have little doubt that you will resolve the current crisis to general satisfaction, a feat that will gain you a large following. I helped your rise to power by not obstructing your appointment today, but even without my help, you would have got there eventually."

"And what has this to do with your son and your House?"

"I know well that you have little reason to ally yourself with me. In the last war... well. And only this month, I had your friend sent to Azkaban – unjustly, as it turns out. My son tells me that you do not care to take sides, but I suspect that you are a lot more sympathetic to Dumbledore's causes than mine. If you continue to think of me as a potential enemy, the power of House Malfoy might fall." He shrugged. "Yet you call Draco friend. I do not ask for any favors, but I hope you will remember him, in your future plans."

Ah. "I think I can safely promise that."

"Will you allow me to swear?"

Something still felt off. No matter how plausible the explanation sounded with all that Harry knew of the man, it was still hard to believe that the Lord of House Malfoy would willingly swear himself into the service of house and submit to the whims of a child his son's age. But there didn't seem to be a good reason to refuse, so Harry nodded, canceled the privacy charms and rang the little bell on his desk, which had been enchanted to cause a ringing sound outside the door. One of the Aurors immediately came in to perform the spell and witness the oath of servitude that would seal the legal contract.

"I, Harry James Potter, Lord of House Potter, declare that I will release Lord Lucius Malfoy from our servitude contract within one week after the negotiations with the Muggle government end," Harry declared. It was the same promise he had made for Thicknesse.

The Auror nodded. "I witness this promise."

The silk-robed, white-haired killer nodded solemnly, then sank down on his knees to follow the common form prescribed by law. Harry had to fight to keep his face straight as the noble lord, without any trace of irony, looked up in subjugation to an eleven-year old child. Harry stepped in front of the desk, held out his wand, as he had been instructed, and let Lucius take the other end.

"Upon my life and magic," the Lord of Malfoy recited, "I swear service to the House of Potter, to obey its Master or Mistress, and stand at their right hand, and fight at their command, and follow where they go, at their choice or until the day I die."

Harry swallowed. "I, Harry, Lord of the House of Potter, accept your service."

"Servuro," the Auror cast. A golden band sprang from his wand, and twisted itself around Harry's and Lucius's wands. Something inside Harry tugged and Harry, mentally accepting the bond, saw the golden band sink into both their hands as Lucius did the same.

"It is done." Lucius Malfoy stood up. "Send for me, and I will appear by your side."

"Thank you." Harry didn't really know what else to say. Lucius had chosen this of his own free will, but Harry still felt guilty for accepting. Even if he ended the contract the moment the negotiations were over, Lucius Malfoy would never know for certain whether the bond was gone, since unlike with Thicknesse, Harry would have a powerful motive to keep it in place. The man would never truly be free anymore. Or had he planned something against that?

His servant bowed deeply, and left the room together with the Auror.

Wednesday April 29th 1992, 7:27pm.

"You too?" Harry asked.

"I will swear," Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore nodded, "if you will let me. I hope I am still in time to join your negotiation unit."

Harry nodded. "You're only the third. Aren't you afraid of what I might do if you give me the power to kill you with just a thought?"

"I trust you," the old wizard said simply.

Well, at least that makes one of us.

Harry considered the old man. It would definitely be a good idea to have someone as powerful as Dumbledore by his side; he was the only one who might have a chance to save the day if Riddle should end up interfering. Unfortunately, Dumbledore knew him. Dumbledore would know that Harry might hesitate to kill him or take his magic if he spoke out of turn. And he was not at all afraid of death; if Harry's proposals shocked him enough, the man might decide that the risk was worth it. Harry could avoid that by precommitting to a punishment under given conditions, but this would only work for very straightforward conditions. It would lose the important flexibility advantage Lucius had spoken of.

Would he risk an all-out war by messing up and possibly dying during negotiations?

Unlikely. Dumbledore was even willing to go along with Voldemort if it meant an end to the bloodshed. He would not take the risk of interfering with Harry unless the very fate of the world was at stake. And what was more: thinking back, he'd been treating Harry as an adult, even followed his commands, ever since he'd offered to relinquish command of the Order. Ever since Harry had told him that he didn't like his methods... Perhaps Harry should have noticed that before.

"You hesitate?" The old wizard asked.

Harry nodded. "Thinking about it. I'm not sure it really adds any value if you swear..."

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. "It would significantly compromise your neutrality if I you allowed me to join the negotiations without being sworn to you. Lucius would never accept it."

Harry nodded. He wasn't going to be stupid enough to reject Albus Dumbledore's offer anyway. And yet...

"Professor –" Harry asked, his mouth dry. "I need to know. Did you burn Narcissa Malfoy to death?" In this room, in this context of trust, with all the privacy wards activated, there could be no harm in telling him.

The old man remained silent for long seconds, a hard-to-read expression on his face. Then, he bowed his head.

"I did."

He looked up into Harry's eyes. "I did not make her suffer – not pain, at least, only fear. I used an anesthetic spell on her first – it was the only grace I could bestow. But kill her I did. It has haunted me ever since."

Harry nodded, a lump in his throat. He wasn't sure whether the formulation of his pledge to Draco quite covered this case, but the spirit of his conditions to take Dumbledore as an enemy had not been met. And without any doubt, the support of the great hero Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump, would be instrumental into securing the loyalty of a certain camp of politicians, which might be essential after the fallout from parts of the political spectrum following the negotiations. He could not afford to alienate the man any further than he already had, nor was there a good reason to.

He canceled the privacy protections, rung the little bell and held out his wand. The old man smiled somewhat sadly, knelt, and took it.

"Upon my life and magic –"

Harry thought he felt it, now. A small fraction of his magic set aside to maintain the three bonds, unavailable for other magic. It wasn't much – it probably wouldn't interfere with his usual spell casting – but still.

I should probably not do many more of these.

Although for that matter, another portion of his magic was constantly used to maintain the transfigured gem in his ring, and if magical power should become an issue...

"Professor?" he asked, as the ancient wizard stood up and the Auror had left. "Can I ask why you told me to carry around my father's rock?"

There was a slight smile, at that, although Harry did not see any twinkle in the eyes.

"Because there was absolutely no reason why you would," he answered. "Unless on some level, you trusted me implicitly."

Ah, Harry thought, glancing at the ring still around his finger.

"Even when I seemed insane to you, even when people tried to drive a wedge between us, you chose to go to a lot of effort to do something just because I might have had a reason to ask. While you did so, I knew that you still valued my counsel."

Harry frowned. Had the man been right? He hadn't really reconsidered the question whether it made sense to keep his father's rock around, recently; maintaining the transfiguration had become such a force of habit that he didn't really do it consciously anymore for most of the time, or associate the gem with Dumbledore – or even think about the stupidity of the whole arrangement at all. And yet, if he had decided that Dumbledore might mean him harm, and consciously reevaluated everything the man had told him, then he would not have continued wearing that ring. In truth, even though he had taken 'first steps" to making Dumbledore his enemy, at an emotional level he did still trust the old man, his heart if not his mind.

"That really is all?" Harry asked, removing the ring. If there was no point in sustaining the transfiguration, he might as well reserve his magic for better uses.

"There were side effects," Dumbledore replied. "While you worked on permanently sustaining a transfiguration despite your age, keeping the magic active even in your sleep, your magical strength in that direction grew – and Transfiguration is one of the most powerful and versatile magics to be adept with. I don't know in how far my nudge sparked your interest in that field, but I hope it helped a little, at least. I myself spent most of my school years sustaining a variety of transfigurations as a matter of course. However, I confess I could likely have achieved that effect simply by asking Minerva to suggest the possibility to you." His face clouded over at the mention of Minerva McGonagall.

Harry just nodded, putting the twinge of grief aside. That reasoning, at least, was remarkably rational. "Was there any similar kind of reason for the chicken?"

"Not really," Albus Dumbledore smiled. "I have long been doing things like that. You see, many people look up to me. See me as their god, in some cases. It can be relaxing to act a little strange towards children, in cases when my actions do not affect the lives of other people for once. As for why I acted that way to you –" he smiled wanly. "The hero cannot come to rely too much on others' judgment. I would have you trust me, but think for yourself. Although in hindsight I have realized that this act was not necessary in your case."

Harry nodded. He thought low enough of the former Headmaster's judgment without the help.

"Thank you, Professor."

The old wizard nodded. "I suppose I'd better get back to my work on the nation's traces. I fear I have a long night ahead."

Wednesday April 29th 1992, 8:44pm.

"Professor Snape?"

The greasy man carefully closed the door behind him.

"I have come to swear to you, Lord Potter."

Harry stared at him. "You want to join the negotiations?"

The Potions Master shook his head. "No. I wish to swear service to your House, permanently."

Harry was entirely lost for words.

"I confess that it will be distasteful, being sworn to the House of Potter," the man spoke after a while, "but I suppose it cannot be helped."

"Why?" Harry asked. "What do you stand to gain by surrendering your freedom?"

"I never have been free," the Potions Master said, almost angrily. "I have served others for all my adult life. Both of my masters treated me with some kindness, and yet –" he waved his hand irritably. "I would take the chance to serve a better master now."

"Why not just live for yourself?"

"I am not ready to live without a master. I might never be. Although as you may guess, there is more to this." He met Harry's eyes. "You realized the weakness in the mark, so to you, I can speak somewhat freely. Can you guess, Harry Potter?"

Harry thought about it. "The dark mark... does it work like the House Vow?"

"Not precisely."

"But partially? It allows him to kill you on command, without even having to point a wand at you?"

The Potions Master nodded, his mouth a thin line. "If he commands me, I must obey, or I will die. Indeed, I expect that he understands that I am not loyal to him – but his recent actions make it abundantly clear that he is unlikely to disapprove of loyalty to you. I believe he will not punish me for swearing to you. Yet having two masters provides a certain protection."

Harry considered this. "You think he will not order you to work against me?"

"There would be no point, as it would give you no choice but to kill me – and as he has nothing to gain from my death, I believe he will not try. Similarly, he stands nothing to win from giving me orders contradictory to yours, unless your commands are detrimental to him."

"Ah. So swearing to me liberates you from his control."

"In a sense, yes."

"Do you think that this reasoning played a role for Lucius too?"

"I don't know." Snape stared into space. "Albus has initially spoken very clearly of his beliefs on the Defense Professor's identity, and even though he was not taken seriously at the time, Lucius will certainly have heard the tale. He might not know what to think of it, as I also would not, given only what little information the Headmaster could divulge. However, he will certainly have taken the possibility into account, and will have noted that in his guise as Professor Quirrell, the man was pushing for you to gain influence. Whether, if he believes it plausible, he would prefer simply to follow our old master's guidance or to have some measure of protection against him I could not say for sure, although I would suspect the former is more probable than the latter."

Harry nodded. "Well. I suppose protection from a dark lord is as good as a reason as any for signing yourself into slavery. You just want me to keep the bond active, and forbid you from doing a number of things you definitely don't want to do?"

The older wizard shook his head. "I can do a lot more if you let me. I'm a moderately powerful wizard, Potter. I know you have plans to reshape the country, and I'll gladly help you bring them about."

Harry paused. He wants to actually serve me? What is this, Dark Lord Harry day?

"I know next to nothing about you, Professor," he said carefully. "You seem to think that I would be a better master than Dumbledore, and you seem to take this servitude thing a lot more serious than I have, so far – but to what purpose? What is it you hope to achieve?"

"Many things." He closed his eyes. "I was a good man once, or moderately good at least. Lily always brought out the best in me. I... I was weak, I tagged along with the other Slytherins. got intrigued by dark magic. But she always pulled me back. The way she preached about what Slytherin House was, what it ought to be –" There was a note of pain in the Potions Master's voice that sounded alien to it; it was hard to imagine it being the same acid voice that instructed children not to stir one more time unless they liked their wrists getting blown off. "I was a fool then, and I lost her respect. But it has shaped my later perceptions of the House, what it should be, and the painful reality of what it was. That's one of the things I wanted to do, to help bring back honor to the noble House of Slytherin, and since I have become more... perceptive, recently, it has become clear to me that the Headmaster has lost all hope. But you and Miss Granger were trying to do something, and you managed to bring over Mr. Malfoy and Miss Greengrass..." He shook his head sadly. "It is moot now, of course. The school is gone. But it is one of several things that persuaded me that your dreams are much like your mother's, even if slightly more ambitious."

Realization hit Harry as he parsed this information. "It was you who sent those notes to Hermione!"

Severus Snape nodded. "She was willing to do something, and I helped. I sent those notes. I pierced Jaime Astorga's shields, and watched to make sure they survived their following battles, although Miss Tonks's help made further assistance unnecessary. I had planned to use the final ambush as the perfect moment to make a vision of the ghost of Salazar Slytherin appear, but –" he shrugged helplessly. "That plan failed. And then, of course, the Headmaster asked me to protect the girl in the only way he saw, which put everything back to the status quo again."

Harry nodded. "And... forgive me for asking, but you mentioned my mother... surely you do not still love her?"

"I will always love her." His expression darkened. "I know she had her faults. Nobody is perfect, and it was foolish to put her on a pedestal for so long. But I still esteem her, and the things she believed in. She wasn't as shallow as you said, you know – she was more willing to put aside prejudices than most, even if she was sometimes too quick to jump to conclusions. When I insulted her, it wasn't the first time I betrayed our friendship, and she had always forgiven me before – but showing contempt for Muggleborns was the straw that finally broke the camel's back. She might have come to forgive me, in time, if I had shown her that I could be a better man. But I did not. Without her influence, I sank deeper into the dark arts, went along with some extremely misguided ideas, and became everything she had always told me not to be. And James – he improved." The pain in the voice was strong, now, and Harry thought that the man might be about to cry, impossible though that might seem, if his tears had not been cried out a long time ago.

"However it may be," the man continued. "I let my grief overshadow all other feelings. I followed Albus, because I thought that's what she would have wanted. I never even considered other women with feelings besides contempt. But in all that I did, I did not give one thought to what would be right for me to do."

"And what would that be?"

"I don't know, not exactly. When I was young, before everything went wrong, Lily and I spoke of many things. The war, politics, justice and compassion... She dreamed of a world without war and blood prejudice, where everyone would be treated equally. I dreamed of a world where someone like her and someone like me could be together without all the pressure to break up and go the ways dictated by our separate situations. We both wanted the same, in the end, and twenty years later, I still want to make a world like that – more realistic perhaps, but ultimately that. Unfortunately, I have always been a weak man. I cannot make her dreams, or mine, come true; I wouldn't even know where to begin. But I can pledge my life to someone better than me, who can."

Harry nodded, a lump in his throat, held out his wand, and rang the bell for the Auror.

Wednesday April 29th 1992, 10:44pm.

Nobody had brought him dinner.

Nobody had asked whether he wanted to go home or maybe to some kind of guarded hotel room to sleep.

The Aurors outside the door had changed, but they didn't really talk to him unless he asked them questions.

I guess this is what it means to be an adult. Nobody is supposed to take care of me anymore.

Should he send a Patronus and see whether Professor Snape would come and pick him up? Or maybe ask whether the Aurors would be willing to transfigure him a bed, and check whether Lucius or maybe Snape would be able to go to his parents' house to find a refreshment of clothes? Would there be a bath anywhere in this building?

The door opened slightly, and then closed again. Harry blinked. Then an excited voice squeaked from somewhere near the ground: "Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry stood up so he could look over the desk better. On the ground was a House Elf, dressed in a neat tea towel that did not look like the garment the Hogwarts Elves usually wore.

"Who are you?"

"I is Dobby, sir, Malfoy House Elf. Master is sending me to make sure Mister Harry Potter is comfortable." The Elf seemed to be positively brimming with excitement at the idea of making himself useful. "Master says to apologize for not thinking about it earlier. Does Master's master need anything?" The creature looked up with big, hopeful eyes.

Harry sat back in his chair with a big grin on his face. Goooood minion.

Thursday April 30th 1992, 9:00am.

"My greetings, prime minister."

The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom gasped as a bright silver man appeared before him. All conversation around the table – which had been tiring enough even for the early hour – stopped.

"It seems that our countries are at war," the silver man spoke, "when both sides would much rather have peace. Therefore, on behalf of Lord Harry Potter, who was elected to speak on behalf of all magic users in Britain, I propose a truce. Let us negotiate. Starting at noon, no one in Britain should use any magic that will affect non-magic users, other than in self-defense. In four hours time I will return, and ask whether you would be willing to set a time and conditions for a meeting. Naturally, the conditions are all yours to propose."

The glowing silver man bowed deeply, and moved sideways out of sight.

"I still don't see why you didn't want to give him a chance to answer immediately!" Cornelius Fudge exclaimed.

"He might feel overwhelmed, and therefore more easily reject our proposal outright if we put him on the spot," Harry Potter explained.

Lesath felt like he was soaring with pride to be part of this. This morning, he and the other temporary inhabitants of Number 12 Grimmauld Place had woken up to a letter delivered by Ministry owl, which informed them that absolutely no magic was allowed to be performed until further notice. After the initial shock, Professor Snape had explained what was happening at the Ministry, and Lesath had persuaded his Head of House to deliver him there, where he might also swear servitude to the new Lord Potter. His master had refused the servitude, however: Harry Potter insisted that Lesath could not take the contract until he was at least seventeen years old, even though he had already sworn, a vow of character as binding as any magical contract. But then, he had allowed Lesath to be of some immediate use instead: his Patronus had a more adult voice than Harry's own, so, after he managed to shape it like an adult man, had been the perfect messenger.

"And why did you tell him the conditions are all his?" The Minister for Magic was objecting. "That seems to be going a little far!"

"It establishes some measure of trust, by allowing them control. We can pose our own requests for modifications later – there is very little we need to ask for anyway."

"Should you not have at least asked for a meeting before the eyes of the country?" Professor Dumbledore asked. "That is what you suggested before the Wizengamot, is it not?"

"If I insist on that, they're going to assume that we can do something to enchant everyone who watches the events on television or something like that – which would be really interesting if we could pull it off, actually, but let's not go there. I'll suggest the possibility later, but don't want to give him the idea that it's too important. The chance that they'll go for a live broadcast to avoid deception is pretty high, anyway, and if not, they're bound to transmit the video afterwards if they're comfortable with the result of the negotiations."

Lord Harry Potter turned to Lesath. "Lestrange, thank you for your assistance. Are you available to do that again at one?"

He thought he saw the others in the room cringing at the use of his surname (at least the politicians – the Headmaster had never seemed to care much). There was something intensely satisfying about their discomfort, and Harry Potter's evident approval of him.

"Of course, Lord Potter."

Thursday April 30th 1992, 11:12am.

Harry lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of his office.

Calm. Planned. In complete control. That was the face he had to show to the outside world. But with no one there to see, he was allowed to doubt, at least a little.

What if I can't do this?

They'd accepted his expertise. They'd agreed to overlook his age, or even use it to their advantage. He had promised them, and himself, an end to a senseless war that could easily turn into a world war if mismanaged, not country on country but Muggle on Magical.

Just fix the world, Harry. No pressure.

Could it be that he was vastly overestimating himself? What if he only made things worse?

He couldn't be sure what Riddle was planning – he had a rough idea, but bits and pieces didn't add up completely, and it was entirely likely that the man would take offense. Was he just going to get himself and other people killed? And if not, was he going to ruin everything and launch the country into an unstoppable war?

There was no real answer. He had to work from the information he had, and do the best he could, adapting to changing circumstances as they came up.

Someone knocked on the door – probably Thicknesse. Harry drew himself up, sat down in his chair, and took a moment to pull the cold over himself like a mask. "Come in."

Thursday April 30th 1992, 1:00pm.

"Greetings, Prime Minister. Have you decided to meet with us?"

The Prime Minister drew himself up to his full height to address the strange creature. The people he had drummed up had debated all through lunch and although no one could quite agree on their demands, there was a general consensus that at least hearing what this "Lord Harry Potter" had to say might be worthwhile. He didn't trust that all the people in the debate were entirely on the same side – given the possibility of magical impersonification it would be insane to assume that everyone was themselves – but the decision had felt natural enough, at least, and he thought he himself believed it was a good idea. (It was very hard not to get paranoid in the presence of a magical enemy, however.)

"What exactly is it you want to discuss in that meeting?"

The glowing man disappeared briefly, and then returned. "How to achieve peace between our people. It will be much easier to speak face-to-face than using magical intermediates."

"But we wouldn't be safe if we met you face-to-face! We demand a video conference."

The glowing man disappeared, and reappeared again a minute later.

"Those terms are acceptable to us. Take whichever precautions you wish. Choose a room for the negotiations. Install cameras there. Submit the footing either only to your confederates, or to the entire world, as you wish. Allow an audience or ambassadors if you want. We only ask that you give us a few minutes before the meeting to guard the room against outside magical interference, and that you do not bring in more than forty people."

The Prime Minister looked at the others around the table. "How do we know that you will not trick us into accepting your proposals? Or subvert the cameras and make us seem to have agreed to an arrangement we have no intention of making?"

"We want peace, Prime Minister. Trickery is hardly likely to achieve that, especially since your people would likely see through it, and not accept any treaty that might result from such a meeting. Make whatever checks you deem necessary."

"Very well then." He glanced around, and saw nods around the room. "Tomorrow afternoon, at 2pm. Send this... thing to us an hour beforehand, and we will tell you the location."

The glowing man left and returned. "Thank you, Prime Minister." Then he bowed deeply, and disappeared.

Thursday April 30th 1992, 3:39pm.

"Another spell at Gloucester! Chopping hex."

"Damn it, probably just another person cooking. One day, is that so much to ask? We even listed Apparition spots to get cheap food and other commodities! Bahry, take your team over there."

Amelia Bones noted down the time and location and put it on the stack. Every 45 minutes, one of her Aurors would take the notes back in time to the special team, who invisibly investigated the disturbances just beforehand, and left an instant before the normal Aurors arrived.

"Sparkling charm down Liverpool! We have an attack!"

"Komodo, Butnaru, Goryanof! Get over there!"

"Can't!" Komodo yelled an instant later. "Blocked apparition!"

"Johnson! Do you have an exact location on that one?"

"Yes!" The Auror ran in from the alarm room with a piece of paper and flung it into Komodo's hands, just as Auror Dimitriov yelled "Illegal Apparition in Keith! Unregistered person!"

It was going to be a long day.

Thursday April 30th 1992, 6:43pm.

"My spies report that the building the Muggles will most likely use is here," Lucius Malfoy said, indicating a place on a large projected map of London. "It looks like they are ready to receive us in style. It's a palace."

"Windsor Castle," Harry nodded. "That's pretty impressive. And given its importance and location, that probably means they aren't planning to employ any weapons of mass-destruction on the area while we're there."

"Have you assembled your team yet?"

"Yes. You, Albus Dumbledore and Pius Thicknesse have all agreed to come, and taken House Vows to ensure non-interference. Two others have inquired whether further members were needed, but with Mr. Thicknesse representing the Ministry and you and the Chief Warlock representing the Wizengamot, I believe this is already fairly spread around, and we cannot bring too many who do not serve an obvious purpose. With the three of you working together and a team of Aurors on Apparition standby, I think we should be safe from Muggle attacks, especially if we check for mines or other weaponry beforehand. We should also prepare for the possibility that any wizards who do not agree with the solution we might reach choose to attack us, however. If the Muggles broadcast the negotiations live to the entire country, as I expect they will, other wizards will immediately know what is going on."

"We will employ all available resources of the Ministry to protect the castle," Cornelius Fudge instantly brought forward.

"We do not know for sure whether it's going to be there," Harry pointed out. "And the Muggles would be very put out if they got any hint of us interfering with the location beforehand."

"Well, I'm sure that we can do some decent protections at a moment's notice too..."

"I shall count on that," Harry nodded. "With one constraint: if you're setting up anti-Apparition wards, I want Lord Malfoy and Mr. Thicknesse to be able to either bypass them, alone or with someone else, or to drop the wards altogether to allow Aurors in. If two of the three are unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, they should also drop. Is that doable?"

"Yes," Albus Dumbledore answered.

"Wonderful. And in case the Muggles are brave or silly enough to have us talk with representatives who are physically there, I think it may be a good idea if we can ask Hermione whether she wants to join." Harry had given this a lot of thought over the last day, and while he didn't like putting her in danger, she was in fact one of the safest people to bring along. Any attack that a person with instant teleportation could not get out of was likely to kill anyone on the spot, and they were guarding the location to the best of the Ministry's abilities. "She will be able to bring the representatives to safety if necessary, while Professor Dumbledore may stay behind to ward off attacks." Which was part of the reason, although mostly he wanted her along because he suspected she might have valuable input. The adults could not interfere inappropriately, but that didn't mean they had to like where he was going, and they wouldn't fully understand the Muggle side of things. Hermione would be able to bring her own ideas to the table, and stop Harry from doing anything overly stupid or evil.

"I would not expect any attacks that would make such precautions necessary, Lord Potter," Lord Malfoy said with a frown. "But if you do bring her, might I suggest also bringing my son, Draco? If you, a child in their eyes, surround yourself with a guard of three adults and one other child, they will conclude the two of you are equals. If two children guard you, you are still central."

And you want your son to be at least equal to Hermione in status, Harry thought. Although the point is probably valid. "I am concerned for your son's safety, Lucius."

"Even assuming your concerns are valid," Lord Malfoy said smoothly, in a tone that suggested in the politest possible way that he didn't give this idea much credit, "we can protect him easily. An emergency portkey, perhaps. That should leave him in no more danger than the Granger girl, and I assume Albus will be shielding our group regardless. I can guarantee that Draco will not unduly interfere – and if you have doubts in that regard, he is young enough for me to silence him wordlessly."

Harry hesitated. It was a stupid risk to take, but perhaps Lucius was right that it wasn't that much more dangerous for Draco than for Hermione. There was a very good reason to include Hermione, but there was a solid political reason for Draco, too: if he wanted to keep Lucius's loyalty, Draco was the key.

"I'll think about it," he said, not wanting to commit immediately. Lucius Malfoy nodded. "I suppose I shall have to be content with that. Now, as for your clothes –"

Thursday April 30th 1992, 8:19pm.

Harry had invited her to his office.

His office.

She trudged through the stone corridors (Xare couldn't bring her to a place she hadn't seen before), through the door she had been directed to.

It was a waiting room. Two Aurors stood guard in front of the inner door, wands already pointing at her.

"I – ah – have an appointment?" she squeaked.

Twenty checking spells later, some prodding with a strange device, and her wand getting confiscated, she was finally ushered through the door.

And there, lying on his stomach on the fluffy red carpet, was harry. He was writing in some kind of notebook.

"Hey Hermione," he said happily when she came in. "Come in and sit down."

She closed the door behind her and plopped down on the carpet beside him. "Why exactly are we on the floor?"

"I got tired of sitting all day. That chair is a little too high for me." He shrugged. "Anyway, we need to talk."

"About how you suddenly seem to be Minister of Magic or something, and everyone is referring to you as 'Lord Potter'?"

"Well, not quite the Minister of Magic. I'm just in charge of negotiations with the Muggle world. I suppose I could use those to put myself in charge, but that's not really the point of all this."

"Harry! What is going on?"

"Well, first of all you should know that the Minister of magic doesn't really have all that much power. The real decisions are made by Lucius Malfoy and Professor Dumbledore, and they can't agree on anything."

"I guess I can see that," she said, thinking back of her first trial.

"Now," Harry continued. "Normally that's not much of a problem – sometimes one of them wins, sometimes the other, life goes on. But right now, we're in a crisis situation, and neither of them has managed to propose a solution that a majority will go along with. Dumbledore told me that they couldn't even propose a solution that made sense to themselves; they were fighting over the direction to look in. And that's not even going into all the chaos with their own backing being split between terror, hatred, contempt or ambiguity towards Muggles."

"So they involved a third party," Hermione said, understanding. Harry nodded. "And naturally," she resumed, "they chose an eleven-year-old child to be that party."

"You know I'm not really eleven, Hermione," he said soberly. "I'm not sure what I am, but the child-label doesn't really apply to me anymore. Even less than to you."

She nodded, knowing perfectly well what he meant. "So what exactly is the arrangement, then?"

"They voted to view me as an adult for the law, so I am now Lord Potter," he ticked off. "I have a seat in the Wizengamot. They followed my suggestions to put the country under a trace to guarantee everyone plays nicely. And they gave me complete rights to negotiate with the Muggle government and make any promises on behalf of the wizarding community of Britain that I deemed necessary. They said they'll stick to it, too."

"Oh." She considered the list. "That's quite a bit. Are you sure they will stick to it?"

"The Minister's Secretary has written a contract on those lines, and then got most of the Wizengamot to sign it. It would take a 90% majority of the Wizengamot to go back on anything agreed upon with the Muggle government in less than a year. Given that it's hard to get the Wizengamot to agree on anything, such a majority is very unlikely to happen, especially since going back on the contract means war, which more than 10% will probably consider a sufficiently terrifying prospect to go along with pretty much anything. And they can't just ignore an agreement sealed in that way without uprooting the foundations of the current government, which includes their own seats of power."

"Right," she nodded. "And this is absolutely not going to end with you putting yourself in charge of the entire country?"

"Would I do that?" He asked innocently.

She felt a feeling of panic rising in her chest. "Harry..."

He grinned. "I take it you don't trust me at all."

"Not on this." She didn't have nightmares about him threatening to kill off half the Wizengamot for her anymore, but that was only because Xare stopped that kind of thing.

"You're probably right about that." He heaved a deep sigh and rolled over on his back. As though by an unspoken command, the lights in the room dimmed to not shine in his eyes. "But I'm not going to do that. I will be responsible for getting a binding deal with the Muggle Ministry that is to the benefit of both our people, though."

Hermione contemplated this, only a little relieved. "That's still an awful lot of responsibility. I wouldn't like to be in that kind of position."

"Well, that's really inconvenient because –" he stopped himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. Well, there is something. I wanted to ask whether you're willing to come along, tomorrow. There are going to be three adults to help me with the political aspects, but none of them are Muggleborn and I think you could have some good feedback. Besides, if it all goes to hell, I think you and Xare may be needed."

"What? Why?"

"Well, for a start, I'm afraid that there's a reasonable chance that Riddle – You-Know-Who – may end up making an appearance. The Aurors are doing anything they can to avoid interference, but, well... In case they fail, I need someone to get any Muggles who may be in the room out of there immediately while Professor Dumbledore keeps him distracted."

A shiver ran through her body. "You want me to face Voldemort?"

He winced as she said the name and she felt the shiver in her own body too, but he didn't mention it.

"You have faced him several times this year, Hermione," he reminded her instead. "You stood up to him in our first Defense class. And later, you and Draco tried to get him to ban traitors."

She looked down. "I still can't really think of him as the same person as... as You-Know-Who."

He snorted sadly. "And you at least always thought he was evil. I have a lot of trouble with it too." He sighed. "But anyway, that's the world we live in. Will you come?"

Her stomach wrenched. It was scary. Terrifying, even. If Voldemort – Quirrell – came, wouldn't she be the single most defenseless person in the room?

No, she realized. That would be the Muggles.

"Fine," she said, hugging her knees. "I'll go. Who else is coming?"

"Professor Dumbledore," he ticked off. "Pius Thicknesse – he's the Minister's Secretary. Lucius Malfoy."

"Lucius Malfoy?" She knew all the stories about the man, and she remembered, the ice-cold voice sending her to Azkaban... "Couldn't you ask for someone else? Anyone else?"

"I chose to include him, actually."

She stared at her best friend. "What in the name of... of I don't even know what, possesses you to choose to bring along Lucius Malfoy?"

He held up his hands. "I know he's evil, Hermione, you don't need to lecture me on that. He's tortured and killed a lot of good people – Dumbledore has done some of that too, mind, but not as much, I suspect. Anyway, the reason I'm bringing Lucius along is that he will be useful. He will bring valuable points which can help us avoid alienating a certain side of the political arena, and just his inclusion will already appease a lot of powerful people. I couldn't just push him by the sidelines without generating heat for the treaty we're going to make. But he's under a charm that enables me to kill him at will, so I don't think he is likely to do anything that would cause problems."

"Would you kill him if he did?" she asked quietly.

There was silence, for some moments.

"Probably not," Harry admitted. "But there's a way to twist the spell so my choice is not required. If he does something out of line, I can order him not to interfere again on pain of death, and then if he does, it will happen even if I don't do anything else – it's entirely his choice between life and death. And I wouldn't necessarily have to kill him; they all swore by their life and magic. I can burn the magic out of them."

She nodded. "That's something at least."

"He also suggested I bring Draco," he added.

"Draco?"

"I'm not sure I want to do it. It just seems like an unnecessary risk – the problem is that to Lucius it doesn't seem that dangerous. With Dumbledore protecting the group, we don't really have much to fear from the side of Muggles, and he doesn't see Riddle as a threat. In fact, he's probably right about that – with regards to Draco, at least. Even if Riddle ends up interfering, we already know from before that he doesn't want Draco dead."

"But why would you bring him in the first place?"

"Partly as balance for you – three children and three adults looks better than two children and three adults, especially if one of the children is the main negotiator. But more importantly, for political reasons. Draco is likely to have some useful ideas to add to the discussion, and if he manages to make a good impression tomorrow, it will really help his future influence. Lucius wants that, of course – and I'll lose some of his support if I exclude Draco while still including you – but I actually agree on the point that it's useful. If I can help putting Draco into a position of future power, would that be worth a relatively small risk, if he himself is willing to take it?"

She shifted against the wall. "You want to put Draco into power?"

He nodded. "He's been trained in politics for all his life. He knows all the machinations and the people, and, by virtue of his birth, automatically comes with a fair bit of support from the older families. In a few years, he'll be perfectly placed to lead Magical Britain."

She felt her heart skip a beat at the prospect. "Harry, I'm not sure this is a good idea." She'd been... conflicted about him, lately. He had been helping her, had actually confessed under Veritaserum that he hadn't been plotting anything sinister. He couldn't be completely bad, and yet... "Do you know what he said – do you have any idea –"

"Yes."

"You don't," she said firmly. "You cannot possible know what he's been telling the other Slytherins he would do to me, given the chance." She hadn't told him, when Daphne had quietly informed her, because it was just too horrible to talk about. But if Harry was really convinced that Draco was a good person, good enough to put in charge of the entire country, she had to warn him, before he made a big mistake.

There was a short pause. Then Harry nodded. "I can make a good guess. Rape?"

She nodded, shaking. "And then Obliviate me, and do it again. He said he'd make it his Christmas Treat."

Harry closed his eyes. "When was this? At the start of the year?"

"I don't know," she said, trembling, as the conversation came back to her. Daphne had told her only after Draco had picked her up from the ground, but the girl hadn't named a period. "Does it matter? Don't say it's because he didn't know me at the time, that he turned nicer when he did, because that makes no difference. If you can think of doing that to someone, whether you know them or not, you're evil, Harry."

"I wasn't going to," he said, scrabbling up to sit next to her so he could put an arm around her and give her a comforting hug. "I know he thought like that at the beginning of the school year. He told me he was planning to do it to – to a ten-year-old girl."

"And you still made friends with him? And want to put him in charge?" Her voice rose to a shriek.

"Hermione, it's not like that. I don't think he changed just because he got to know you, although that certainly helped. I think he just got a lot better and more aware of other people's value over the year. I may have helped a little, of course."

She frowned at him. "You really think you can change someone like that?"

"He was never really a bad person, Hermione. He was just raised to think that, well, that that sort of thing is what the cool kids do when they grow up. He's spent the first eleven years of his life being raised by Death Eaters! Of course he's going to have some twisted ideas. It would've required a supernatural intervention for him to have your morality given his environment –"

Hermione bit her lip. It was such a stupid, such a Harry explanation. The situation was so obvious. If you fantasized and bragged about raping little girls, you were a rotten person inside, plain and simple. It didn't really help if you were from a family of Death Eaters and considered it completely normal that your father regularly murdered people either.

And yet.

Draco had helped her. He'd started working together with her for his own sake, but when he'd caught her on that roof, she'd had to tell him twice to let her go. And then he'd picked her up from the ground, and he had testified under Veritaserum that it hadn't been a plot, he really had just been kind – or at least trying to show the Slytherins a better way, as Harry had told her. And then, in that last trial, he had willingly come to her and Harry's aid, asked for Veritaserum and testified that he believed in her innocence.

"I always thought good and evil were easy," she complained quietly.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, that's probably not entirely true in the real world. But is it really so hard to believe that people can change?"

She sank bank in his comforting arm. "No. I guess not."

They sat in silence for a while. Finally, she got up.

"I had better get back. The whole escape plan in Grimmauld Place is focused around me, so the others feel a lot safer when I'm there. But this office is not phoenix-blocked, is it?" He shook his head. "Good. Just send me your Patronus when you need me."

At the door, she turned around one more time. She couldn't quite put in words everything she wanted to say, all her worries of everything that could go wrong, but she couldn't just leave either. He looked so tired and burdened, this ruler of the country, as he pulled himself up and sat behind his desk to receive whatever important visitor would come next. And yet she knew only she was allowed to see him like that; soon enough he'd be wearing the cool mask again in which he had twice faced down the Wizengamot.

"Take care, Harry," was all she knew how to say.

He watched her go, nervous but determined to do what she could to make things better, the phoenix on her shoulder.

He hadn't told her.

He had wanted to tell her what he'd done to her today. She had the right to know, if anyone. But she couldn't guard her mind, and she might be in mortal danger if anyone of ill intent should find out about the arrangements he made in a private meeting with the manager of Gringotts in the afternoon.

It had taken him only minutes to figure it out, after Lord Malfoy had left: the obvious way to end a House Vow was to end the bloodline. And it was not too long after that when Thicknesse had sought him out to discuss the rather great likelihood that the peace negotiations would take too long to resolve in one go, and the question of what should happen if he died in between sessions. There would always be some who might be less than pleased with his choices in the first session, so the number of people wanting to kill him was likely to go up astronomically.

Both questions had the same solution: naming an heir. If he died, the heir would inherit any magical family effects, such as the bond, and that would work even if it wasn't a blood-heir. Pius Thicknesse would adapt the contract to specify the "Head of House Potter" as negotiator, without specifically giving a name.

Harry had made a list of possible heirs, who would inherit under the circumstance that he would die childless. Amelia Bones was at the top of the list, along with a number of other sensible, powerful witches and wizards, who would likely be able to ward off attacks on their person. He had chosen not to reveal the names on the list; the goblins would reveal the length if anyone should ask, but not the contents. That, hopefully, would stop people from killing him, as his enemies could not hope to get him and all of his potential heirs who might be even worse. Even if they did, it would mean that at least the negotiations would fall to a competent person.

And in his will, he had left every single one of these people a letter, to be given only if they inherited, instructing them to let Hermione Granger take the final decisions, but never to let anyone know about this for the sake of her safety.

There were other things in his will, Open lines of research that he thought should be pursued. Money to be given to his father, Hermione, and to science funds. A wish to be indefinitely preserved under the anti-decomposition charm until they could revive him, even if the possibility of that might depend on the particulars of his death. Once he had started to write things up, there had been a lot of aspects to think of, even though thinking of the possibility was so uncomfortable that he really didn't want to.

Still, he had. He wasn't planning to get himself killed, of course. But he had to be prepared.

Friday May 1st 1992, 2:03am.

Don't be so sure that there will be other choices beyond this one. There is no road-sign set, to mark the place of your last chance to turn back. If you refuse one chance will you not refuse others? It may be that your fate is already sealed, even by doing this one thing.

Harry turned and twisted in his sleep, on the camping bed Dobby had brought him, while a trio of Aurors still stood guard outside his door.

Professor Quirrell is sucking you into the darkness, Harry, he really is.

While he was awake, he could rationalize what he was doing. Promise himself to follow Hermione's morality. Make plans for the future of the world – a good, humane future, with all darkness eventually banished to oblivion.

I wonder whether there will come a day when I regret not killing you when you were in my power, Mr. Potter.

But his half-sleeping mind kept bringing back warnings. Kept reminding him of all his mistakes that might just mark the fork in the road to his becoming a Dark Lord greater and more terrible even than Voldemort.

Upon my life and magic, I swear service to the House of Potter –

Half asleep, half dreaming, Harry's mind played out a vision of the masses bowing down to him, hailing him as their leader.

And he was about to betray them all.