Li Kao, personal secretary to Alexio Vasconcelos, stood in front of his boss's desk. A short, wiry man who wore asian robes, Ko placed a sealed file on the desk and cleared his throat. Alexio hadn't changed after the Council meeting and still wore the traditional robes with a formal serape draped over his shoulders and down his back instead of his typical ratty robes he wore in his private office. Alexio looked up at Kao, who pointed to the formal invitation pushed off to the side, where it had been sitting for nearly two weeks.

"You need to decide, and soon. They expect an answer," Kao said.

Alexio ignored it, scowling. He reached over to the new file instead and opened it.

"I'll decide tonight," Alexio said simply, and his secretary turned away, satisfied. The soft swish of silk announced Kao's departure while Alexio read slowly through the file. Routine requests. He thought briefly, then jotted several short memos in English and Portuguese and sealed them. As the door closed behind his secretary's disappearing form Alexio let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. He allowed himself a moment of rest.

Alexio took out his wand and warded the envelopes. These weren't wards to protect his memos, there was nothing in those memos of note. But it wouldn't do to let those spying on him know that. Alexio didn't have perfect security. Nothing ever was perfect. But between codes, wards, and obscurity it was the best he could do. He dropped the envelopes into the "out" basket, stood up, and looked out through the penthouse window over downtown Rio and Alexio Vasconcelos - secure in his private sanctum - took a moment to reflect.

Alexio stared out across the city. He never tired of looking down at it. Rio had transformed. The last five years had seen pollution drop dramatically as clean energy came online. Alexio's magic helped pay for the factories but it was pure technology, unlike most of his ventures. No doubt that was why Kao Li had sent his resume, looking for experience for a wizard who dealt with both worlds. Working with the powerful always appealed to any recent graduate, but surely Harry Potter had twisted Kao's ear, asked him to keep his eyes open. Still, Kao had worked out well. Having a diligent Englishman keep an eye on his more relaxed employees kept them diligent and taught good habits, no matter how much they grumbled. It helped immensely.

As far as Kao knew, he'd worked (and occasionally spied on) a good but misguided Wizard to help his former Headmaster.

Alexio had moved slowly. Building an empire while deflecting attention took time.

Alexio's eyes glanced around the room, such a far cry from the attic he'd lived in during his first year while learning the language and using his rather monstrous physique to explore the city and society as a muggle bodyguard and thug. Strong and silent. That work let Alexio mingle among the elite, visible but in many ways unseen by them, overlooked as servants often are. After two years, finally confident he spoke well, Alexio opened his mouth to make introductions. Which lead to deals with many, and opened up doors to the halls of power.

Alexio walked those Halls smoothly, negotiating from some and simply taking what he required from the truly evil. The world did not miss them.

For years Alexio acquired power in the shadows, never overtly. It would not do to attract non-local attention. Not until all the pieces were in place.

The light of the moon let Alexio glimpse his reflection in the windows. His somewhat youthful looks had faded into middle age. At least no lines creased across his face, they were smoothed out by his extra weight and pulled taught by his jowls. He'd let himself go, no longer the hard enforcer. Alexio didn't spend any time out on the streets down below, and had never had a taste for exercise. He still kept his head shaved - when he'd been younger the baldness helped intimidate those who might be otherwise inclined to test him. Now he felt like letting his hair grow back would be interpreted by his enemies as a sign of weakness. But his body was weakening, although at a much slower rate than a muggle. Alexio had settled into middle age a decade ago, perhaps he should finally admit it. He'd already considered embracing a softer look to go with his rounder face.

Only here, only alone did he dare to contemplate on how far he'd come from the boy who'd been Draco Malfoy. Alexio removed a few of the barriers in his mind to converse with himself and closed his eyes.

Draco Malfoy opened them.

Draco didn't flinch at the reflection. He hadn't flinched after the first few times he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, but he still felt the body he inhabited didn't match his personality, although he'd built his persona around it. Perhaps one day he'd change back, once he'd saved the world. Draco hadn't dared keep a locket of his blond hair. No traces of his former life or his youth, back when he'd been thin and handsome. But wizards had gotten quite good at plastic surgery. One day, with magic, he could have his body changed. As long as nobody at Peverell inspected him too closely. For now, he didn't look handsome, merely ominous.

Ominous had suited Draco's purpose.

Draco looked at the invitation to the Convocation, where Harry planned to resolve the final negotiations to undo the Statute of Secrecy. Kao was obviously Harry's agent, but keeping him as a personal assistant built credibility. He'd passed along some damning secrets to Harry, but not the truly important one. Harry Potter would much more easily believe in some petty corruption and abuse, some questionable ethics. True innocence was always suspicious, to Draco and Harry.

Draco respected Li Kao, formerly of House Hufflepuff and son of the now famous auror. Draco admired his drive. Of course Kao had been one of Harry's obvious moles, but Draco ensured that he (and the others) were well fed and placated, happy in their discoveries. The others he ran in circles, chasing leads that invariably led to a juicy but ultimately irrelavant morsel. Kao was kept close.

Neither Alexio nor Draco felt inclined to waste the boy's talents merely because of his split allegiance.

Alexio Vasconcelos hadn't led the local opposition against Harry Potter. But he'd aided it in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. That's what Harry would expect from a wizard who had been building his fortune and power by working between the two worlds. Once magic was revealed, his competitors would understand how they'd been beat, and be able to take appropriate precautions. The first envoy from the Chief Mugwump of England had shown up fifteen years ago, when he was still a local power. Just a friendly visit, trying to negotiate support. Alexio remembered the poor lad's look as he ranted and raved, all emotion to the boy's logic. That boy had probably never met anyone fundamentally illogical since entering Hogwarts, and he ... what was his name?

Alexio had forgotten his name.

Humbolt, Draco whispered deep inside Alexio, Horatio Humbolt.

Ah yes, Alexio whispered back.

Alexio sent Horatio Humbolt packing, angrily accosting him for daring to nit pick the actions of a great man.

The threats arrived two years later, snide insinuations that the investigations into his past had turned up the dark secrets he'd run away from Portugal to hide, and pointing out his frequent violations (or near-misses) of the Statute could be investigated more vigorously than the local government had done, but if he joined the movement for repeal... why, then he wouldn't have to break any more laws.

Alexio had allowed himself a brief smile, that day. But it had quickly faded as he realized that it could mean that the investigator believed it, or had merely wanted him to believe it. The game is played on so many levels, it gets tiring sometimes, Father. He'd filed the letter away and toned down his political maneuverings regarding the Statute, playing the part of a cowed businessman and minor Lord. Kao had been next, a bit too eager to be hired, not demanding his value, which he obviously knew.

Many times over the years Draco had tired of the game and secretly hoped that one day he'd be able to stroll into Peverell, confess and apologize. To be able to announce that he'd finally found some proof of Harry's innocence, that it was all just a mistake. For years he'd held out hope, until he finally confirmed that someone (no doubt Harry or acting on his behalf) had destroyed the Hall of Prophecy, removing Draco's last possible source for independent proof. At that point, Alexio no longer squandered any time in doubt and hope. He redoubled his efforts to build a sufficient power base and delay Harry Potter. Augusta Longbottom had never forgiven Harry, so he'd fed her information through proxies, studied, and waited. Alexio Vasconcelos had made fortunes greater than most countries and had spent most of it gaining real power. And he'd succeeded.

Millions relied on him. He'd used them, profited from them. They praised him for it.

Father would be proud, Draco agreed.

As Alexio consolidated his power, he'd consult with Draco. They tried to deduce Harry's endgame. The Chief Mugwump never did anything obviously malicious, but then again, he did nothing obvious. Alexio spent the last decade content to toss delays in Harry's way while building influence for the decisive moment. Delay still is the strongest form of denial, after all. But Alexio's hands would be tied when the Statute of Secrecy got repealed. Alexio held a comparative advantage because he skirted the Statute, whereas Harry (and especially Hermione) did not. Freed from its restriction, Harry stood better placed to use the full power of the scientific method afterwards.

Draco absentmindedly fiddled with his golden ring. It reminded him of Hogwarts, the months he'd worn the silver ring that warned him of Legilmency, before he'd finished his own training. Back when he played at being Alexio, before he'd completely inhabited the persona. Alexio never played with his wedding band in public, but sometimes when he was alone, particularly when he spent a few minutes looking at the city, he just twisted it around his finger. Alexio stared at the city, contemplating whether he should attend the Convocation.

I am still angry at Lord Potter's refusal to visit me in Rio those two years ago, Alexio thought. Declining would just be my impetuous nature, it would not arouse suspicion.



We are powerful, but not political powerful enough to require a personal visit. Harry's acceptance would have angered others, Draco countered. There is nothing to read beyond that, although the excuse would hold. Alexio's refusal is based on hubris. Our refusal ... are we afraid? If Harry has managed to unlock the secrets of the Maurader's Map, we would be revealed.

If he had done that, he would have given it to a trusted ally years ago, Alexio reminded him. But he may posses some personal magic that he cannot transfer. We cannot rule out that chance that we'll be discovered, in a situation under his control.

The security for the Convocation would be as air-tight, despite Mad Eye's absence. Alexio had spent decades neutralizing Alastor Moody, who now lived as a hermit in a secluded woods, growing his own food, killing anyone who tried to get close. Mad Eye would live forever, if he didn't starve to death. Draco knew he'd never be able to kill Mad Eye, whose security was perfect. It could be, because Mad-Eye no longer cared to do anything useful. Nudging Mad-Eye's paranoia worked well enough. Draco smiled, remembering this obvious insight he'd learned from his heist, the first one. So, for the Convocation, Harry had delegated security to the best remaining aurors. Still, they were impressive. But no security could predict everything, and again Draco had no plans to take anything out or into the Convocation. That would be impossible, just as stealing the Philosopher's Stone would have been, so many years ago.

We are at an inflection point, Draco said. Apart from advancing his plans, the repeal of the Statute will reduce Hermione Granger's influence on Harry. She will gain notoriety a second time, and helping the less fortunate will distract her. She will be mobbed by them, and her compassion will overcome her judgement for years. Her natural cautious advice to Harry will be reduced.

Fortunately Alexio didn't have to steal the security plans this time. He'd simply demanded assurances and coordination with his personal bodyguards and he'd studied them himself with Draco. They weren't complete, but what he'd been shown had been exhaustive.

Alexio had smiled at the inclusion of Basilisks. That's when they'd devised his latest plan - radiation poisoning. Still incredibly difficult to deal with, despite all the advances in magic and medicine. No, the optimal cure to radiation poisoning remained brute force. More accurately, brute time. Allow yourself to be turned to stone and simply wait for radioactive decay to solve the problem.

If we detonated our device near the Convocation, Harry would no doubt pounce on the plan of turning himself (and as many around him) into statues, Draco had declared. And so they'd gotten to work over the last year, arranging everything.

The flow of traffic on the highway below reminded Draco of a sinuous silvery Krait. Draco wished he could cast his Patronus and see it again for the first time in over three decades. Only Healani's birth, three years ago, convinced him he'd ever be able to cast it again. He'd never dared - of course - lest some unknown discovery reveal him after all these years. Assuming I am not already revealed.

Draco turned and walked away from the window and over to the table where he picked up a glass and sipped the last bit of scotch. Although Alexio never played, Draco sometimes read the daily (muggle) chess column, today's was covering one of Capablanca's great games. Draco hadn't played in decades, but he enjoyed seeing the games of the Grandmasters. Capablanca was the local favorite, of course.

Twenty days until the Convocation, plans mostly done. Draco wondered if they'd be enough. Had he missed something? The security plans probably had some mis-information. Was Potter too powerful? He'd gained 34 years of time, and spent it all wisely, and Draco still didn't know.

Lord Potter had to juggle so much more, Alexio offered. We have had more efficient use of time. And we are attacking, not defending.

Harry has his own plans, Draco answered.

They'd considered as many angles as possible. During his thuggish past, Alexio had collected curses, gathered any attack and spell he could torture out of other Dark Wizards. His politics hadn't taken much time, at least not until recently.

Draco poured another glass of scotch and considered the decision: attend the convocation or not? Both had risks.

Draco wondered how any playwright would treat this tale, if they somehow discovered it. Would they consider these thirty-five years as one unbroken path. Inevitable? Probably, but they would be wrong. But perhaps it would make a better play, which is why they would write it that way. That story had dramatic tension. Improvisation had been necessary, it could have gone many ways.

Alexio nodded, in silent conversation with Draco. There is a story, possibly even true. José Raúl Capablanca was with a gathering of experts, before he was terribly famous. And they were boasting about how far in advance they could calculation positions. And each expert added to the number. One would say, 'I see five moves ahead,' and the next would say ten, and the next would say twelve, and Capablanca said 'I see only one move ahead,' and when the other experts protested that he was much better than they were, he added 'but it is always the best move.'

They sipped whiskey.

Alexio and the small part of him that remained Draco pondered the problem. The Convocation would change the world. And, as far as they were concerned, the only conceivable spot for an ambush.

But who would ambushing who?

If Lord Potter knows, we will be captured and lose, Alexio said.

And if Harry doesn't know, Draco replied, the world would be saved. At least for another few centuries. although the casualties will be horrific.

We do not shy from such things, Alexio reminded him.

We need more time, Draco thought. Harry Potter remained too clever and increasingly powerful. The world was too important.

We do not have that luxury. We must decide. Against a clever opponent there is always risk. You taught me that.

Alexio made his decision, he walked back over to his desk, took out the elegant invitation. He quickly marked a note that he would attend, but only after his security detail had been there and returned briefing him to his satisfaction. He added a footnote stating that Alexio Vasconcelos understood Lord Potter's concerns with security, but he would not walk in blindly. He tossed the letter into the outbox, unsealed. Kao would read it, of course. And he would understand his boss' reluctance.

A powerful. arrogant man like Alexio would not be treated like a lackey, even by the Chief Mugwump of England. This he would relay to Lord Potter.

Draco sighed. There may still be some better way, but I haven't spotted it yet. Perhaps there is still time to improvise.

Perhaps he'd discover some other solution. Doubtful, but he had to take that chance.

Draco hoped that Harry Potter wouldn't spot the ambush. He'd surely work out the solution in time but he'd be busy and have no time to ponder how he'd gotten into such a dire position. Draco didn't worry about escape, Harry's own security would work against them. And of course his own wards would obliterate those who fled hastily. And on a purely magical level, few could stand up to his might.

No, Draco Malfoy hoped Harry wouldn't see the wand leveled at him and have that one second to recognize his failure. Or worse, recognize the hand holding the wand. Draco Malfoy and the man he created would never shy away from mass murder to save the world.

Still, he hoped to spare his friend's feelings.

If Draco Malfoy failed, he would fail as a Slytherin should, trying his utmost. Succeed or fail, Draco wondered if Harry would forgive him. When he realized.

He never wondered about Hermione. She would not. Perhaps after all this was over, Draco would - if he survived - try to rescue Dumbledore. He'd found some tantalizing leads over the last decade, but hadn't dared take the time to explore them fully. But he still had more pressing concerns.

Draco retreated back into the hidden recesses of his own mind as Alexio left his office to announce that he would attend the Convocation in a few weeks, and he wanted to take a small vacation and spend time relaxing with his wife and daughter.

Author's Note - This concludes the story, barring an epilogue I may write next year. I personally think that the universe has a wide variety of stories left to tell (both in HPMOR, DMPOR and related) but I have said what I wanted. I intended merely a novella at most.

(Which reminds me, thanks go out to the inestimable u/veruchai who helped proof my final five or so chapters. I should have asked for help much earlier, since my eyes gloss over my own mistakes. There are still mistakes in the later chapters and they are still my fault - I sometimes revise at the last moment. He also shed light on obtuse and unclear writing).

As the saying goes "I don't want to write, I want to have written," and pulling together over 180k words in under ten months is more than I expected. I've discovered some strengths and their corresponding weaknesses along the way, and I'm sure that others have noticed them as well. Some people are annoyed at how this turned out for a variety of reasons. This story isn't what they expected and my idea of an intellectual ambush (to put the reader in Harry's frame of mind) turned off many.

But while it may not have been the story you hoped was coming, it was the story I intended to tell. I found myself intensely interested in writing it, which made it easy - well, less difficult - to put words on the screen at a brisk pace, and I found myself adding side arcs that probably led to this looking like it would be more 'complete' than not. But I had always intended it to be what it is - an origin story. I've struggled with other writing projects and had (until this year) simply decided that I was incapable of putting together a long story. Now that I have discovered I was wrong, so now I will revisit some of my original ideas and see which hold my interest, after I take a break, and how I can pick a story that plays to my strengths and hides my weaknesses.

I hope the reasons I made the choice to have flash-forwards and show what happened indirectly are now understandable, even if you think them wrong.

As these are original works I doubt I will post them here. I will also continue writing about board games at my website (taogaming dot wordpress dot com).

I may write smaller works - and I do have an epilogue in mind. The biggest shock to me was how much fun it was to write Quirrell's lecture. If I did come back to this universe, I think that Quirrell-The Lost Lectures would be wonderful.

If you are now desperate for other HPMOR fan fiction, I recommend the sub-reddit r/hpmor to find others. If you lurk or post there, you already know that the clear best continuation (in terms of writing) is 'Significant Digits,' which is the only one I have consistently read without fear that there would be much cross-contamination (since it skipped ahead seven years). I would have read it in any case, it is so well crafted, and I've been pleased (for no rational reason) by some points of convergent evolution between our stories (totally unintended by both sides). I put ideas on paper, he is a master wordsmith.

I never felt more correct in my decision to not show Hermione's harrowing of Azkaban then after I read his version. Even if you don't read the full story, read that chapter (16).

I also would like to thank the author of Ginny Weasley and the Sealed Intelligence (which I stopped reading when I decided to make this a full fledged story) for convincing me that Lockhart could make a worth-while addition to this story.