Reading Time: 130 Minutes

Title: Only Time
Series: Heart & Soul
Series Order: 3
Author: Keira Marcos
Fandom: Harry Potter
Relationship: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Genre: Romance, Time travel, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fantasy
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Discussion-Murder, Discussion-Child Abuse, Murder, Character Death, Ritual Sacrifice, Bigotry, Grammarly Beta
Author’s Note: This has no beta, no alpha, and I literally couldn’t be fucked to do any of that right now. Your feelings regarding my typos are yours to manage. Do not send me a single message (on any platform in any fashion). If you can’t accept this FREE entertainment gracefully then you can just fuck off.
Word Count: 122,430
Summary: Cast into the past against their will, Harry and Draco are forced to face the enemies they had left behind them. They have no choice but to start over even as war begins in Britain.

* *

Chapter 6­

“It’s a good space,” Ragnok declared. “The wards have already invested themselves in your preferences.”_­

“I noted that,” Harry said. “It wasn’t true in the future, but by the time I purchased the property, the original preservation charms had failed. Razel had to send in a team to cleanse the property and prepare it for occupation. I did submit a list of requirements for the wards, so it could be that they had to be replaced.”

Ragnok hummed. “Razel wouldn’t have sent anyone he didn’t trust to your property, Lord Braemar.”

“True,” Harry agreed. “You might have—just to amuse yourself at my expense, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Ragnok snorted. “Like that, was it?”

“It could’ve been worse,” Harry said. “But we worked through our issues, I thought, and I had no problems doing business in the bank. You even let me go on a buying trip to get dragons in Romania.” He made a face.

“What?”

“I just realized my favorite dragon won’t be hatched for another ten years,” he admitted. “A Chinese Fireball named Marigold. She guarded my vault for me.”

“I’ll make a note and ensure she’s purchased when the time comes,” Ragnok said. “A little bit of home now and again will help the two of you settle.” He looked around the basement. “Like this place. Some would’ve avoided returning to a personal property like this, but I think you’ve made the right decision for your mate and yourself.”

“Fortunately, for me, his veela nature was largely subdued in the future. We had a mate bond, but that was the extent of it. He hadn’t nested in our home much at all. I did most of the decorating and furnishing. So, he’s not upset to have lost any material possessions that I’m aware of. He is quite enamored with the trunk we found in the Peverell vault full of stuff for a baby.”

“You have as much as a year or so on that based on his magical aura,” Ragnok warned. “Male veela will get utterly vexed if their desire for children is ignored. You could forestall it with adoption if you don’t wish your mate to be physically vulnerable. War isn’t the best time to have a child.”

“He already ordered me to get rid of Voldemort and all of his followers as quickly as possible, and he meant it. It’s awful, really, because I’ve already fought this war once, and it was traumatic as fuck.” Harry leaned against the wall and focused on the stone floor. “I feel like there was a circle here before. Do you feel it?”

“Yes, it could be the ley line running through the property, or perhaps the stones were once part of an outdoor circle, as not all of them feel the same.”

“No, agreed,” Harry said and nodded. “Well, I’ve approved the structure that Razel had commissioned. So, if you can get a team in here to build the circle as quickly as possible, I would appreciate it. I have a few rituals that I’d like to conduct within the month.”

“You could build this yourself.”

“I could,” Harry agreed. “But it would take me a couple of months on my own, and that’s if I don’t go to work. Croaker expects Draco and me both to be in his office first thing in the morning. I’ll spend most of the next week in meetings, I’m sure, as the minister has been told that Croaker recruited two war mages from abroad to join the DOM. Apparently, Barty Crouch is irritated about the whole thing as he thinks war mages would be better placed in the DMLE.”

“You’d be utterly useless in the DMLE, but you already know that. I know you’re not going to let Crouch or anyone like him turn you into a figurehead. Have you been paying attention to the news?”

“I’ve read the articles published about the Braemar title published in the Daily Prophet and the Wizarding Times. I sent an Op-Ed to the Times and a threatening letter to the other.” He grinned when Ragnok laughed. “I’m tempted to buy a controlling share in the Prophet and destroy those bastards’ lives.”

“Mahal’s nutsack, lad, you’ll turn my head.”

“Your wife would ruin me and let me live with the consequences,” Harry said dryly. “I’d rather wrestle a dragon than pick a fight with Lenore.”

“Wise beyond your years,” Ragnok said and nodded. “We’ll leave the warding scheme on the circle open so that you can review, make changes as needed, and seal the ritual space yourself. It will respond better to your ownership if you do that.”

“Agreed, I’ll only be using it for personal magic, but I’d like to see it become a family circle that will embrace my children and grandchildren.”

“Then I’ll oversee the construction myself,” Ragnok said. “If you’re thinking of making this place your family seat, then you’ll need to think about expansion. You can either build to match or buy a structure to attach to what is already here.”

“And by structure, you mean castle.”

Ragnok grinned. “Or perhaps a few towers similar to this one to blend together. With the right planning and construction, it could turn out to be a beautiful expansion. No need to be haphazard about it like some wizards are.”

“I’ll ask Draco. I think that might become something he cares about a lot,” Harry said and checked his watch. “He should be returning in a few hours, and furniture delivery will start soon. He took himself off to France to shop with Louis Bertrand. I imagine they made a list of people they needed to be snotty to before they stepped foot in the shopping district.”

“Sounds about right,” Ragnok agreed. “Louis is known for having standards and for expecting everyone around him to meet those standards.”

Harry really didn’t see much wrong with that, but maybe Draco was rubbing off on him in more than one way. He pressed his lips together to keep from grinning at the imagery that flickered through his mind. The look Ragnok sent him to told him he hadn’t completely succeeded in avoiding looking smug as fuck.

“I’m glad I have no idea why the men and women who mate veela are so eager to indulge in such a thing,” Ragnok said dryly. “Regardless, I’ll bring a team in and take care of the circle personally. I expect you to add your family crest to the exclusive customer wall in the bank.”

“Like you need the advertising,” Harry said but nodded. “I honestly don’t even know what it looks like.”

Ragnok sighed. “Speak with Razel. He’ll teach you the spell that will summon the crest. Do you know how to use the signet on your ring?”

“No, I’ve never had to.”

“Razel can show you that as well.” Ragnok made a face at him. “Why on bloody earth did you seal your title in the future? I hope I argued like hell against it.”

“You argued briefly against it,” Harry admitted. “But you came to realize that the fame I suffered with was suffocating, and the mythos that Dumbledore had created around me as a child practically nullified the title.”

“The Braemar title was nullified by fucking propaganda?”

“Utterly,” Harry assured. “You can ask Draco about it—he studied the whole thing extensively. Dumbledore didn’t know about my potential to claim the title and never expected I would do what he failed to do. But he did see a path to power through me and through my defeat of Voldemort. I wasn’t the first, and I wouldn’t have been the last to be used by him if he hadn’t gotten himself killed.” He checked his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I have a meeting I can’t be late for.”

Ragnok raised an eyebrow.

“The Queen of Loch Ness hardly tolerates tardiness,” Harry said, and Ragnok laughed. “And she outranks you.”

“Certainly,” Ragnok agreed a waved a hand. “Give Mora my best.”

Harry nodded and went up the narrow stone staircase and into the ground floor of the peel. He paused briefly in the open door that led outside; several dverger were in the courtyard, preparing for the portkey arrival of several crates. He’d purchased a stove and cooling cabinet in Italy since he’d quickly realized that Britain was a good twenty years behind the rest of the magical world on any sort of innovation. To further their backstory, there were also four crates of furniture coming from France to imply that they were moving at least part of a household.

He cleared his throat, and the dverger called Sharprock turned toward him. “I’ll be having a conversation out on the loch with the queen. I’m a parselmouth. If any of your people will have a problem with it….”

Sharprock shook his head. “No, Lord Braemar, it won’t be a problem. I’m sure Her Majesty will be relieved to have someone close by that she can communicate easily with.”

“I hope so,” Harry said and cast a look over the expanse of water that practically surrounded his home. “Happy neighbors are the best sort.” He grinned when Sharprock laughed.

He left the courtyard and walked down to the beach. Once there, he sat down on the large rock that he’d often sat on in the future. He hadn’t expected it to be missing, but he was glad to see it anyway. Harry took off his boots, tucked his socks inside them, and leaned back on the rock as he waited.

Mora rose gracefully out of the water a few minutes early, which was probably in response to his own early arrival. He’d sent her a message via a charmed bottle to the merpeople’s village shortly after they’d returned to Britain to let her know when he would be available.

“Good afternoon, Lord Braemar.”

Harry slid down off the rock and offered her a bow. “I am honored to meet you, Your Majesty.”

“I am pleased to see a speaker living on this land. I didn’t like the last magical family to live here—they didn’t respect me or the loch.”

“I’m sorry for the unpleasantness. I intend to entail the land to my title, so it will remain with my family from now on. Parselmagic is deep in my magical line, and I expect to see it passed on to my children and grandchildren in the future.”

She moved closer, leaned down, and pressed her snout against his chest. He remained as still and held up a hand when he heard one of the dverger call out to him. Mora inhaled gently, just as she had in the future, and he relaxed as much as he could. The first time around, he’d nearly had a heart attack during her inspection.

Mora lifted her head and stared into his eyes for a long moment, then slid back into the water. “Your magic is lovely, Lord Braemar. Congratulations on your mating—your veela is welcome in my waters as well, should he be concerned. I will make certain that the merpeople know they can not bother him.”

“Is that a potential problem?” Harry questioned.

“The veela have a hostile history with merpeople,” Mora said. “Fights over territory and resources were common hundreds of years ago since veela are inclined toward the same diet as mers. Fishing is common in the loch because of the Muggles, so the merpeople have adapted strategies to protect their village and their young from such things. They didn’t always adapt quickly to the way veela hunted.”

“I see. I’ve never heard anything about that. I doubt he has, either. Should I avoid fishing in the loch? I can certainly purchase my own food if it’s a problem.”

“It would be best if neither you nor your mate feed from our waters,” Mora said. “From a political point, it would set you apart from those who use and abuse our home for their own gain.”

Harry nodded. He’d never fished or gathered food from the loch in the future, but mostly that had been because he’d gotten very used to grocery delivery. Now that apparently wasn’t even a fucking thing, which was annoying as all hell. He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath.

“Are there any issues—magical or otherwise—that need my attention?” Harry questioned. “If you wish, I’ll register as your representative with the British Ministry for Magic so I can handle any situations you might have.”

“The Muggle repelling charms around the merpeople’s village are eroding and have been for a decade. No one has bothered to check on us in that long. The cave system my people live in is secure and hidden, but I would not be opposed to an inspection when you have time. You may swim in the lake in your animagus form. I will tell the others not to worry about being your prey.”

“I’ve never eaten in my form, so they certainly have nothing to worry about,” Harry assured. “I don’t have time today, but if you’d like to set aside some time to introduce me and my form to your guard—we can arrange that.”

“It would be best. Is your mate similarly gifted?”

“He is a dragon animagus, but he will have no interest in swimming in the loch,” Harry assured. “He’s a Ukrainian Ironbelly.”

Mora snorted, and the water stirred around her. “I bet he’s a feisty one.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, he is.”

“I agree with your idea to register at the ministry as my representative,” Mora said. “If they question it—remind those nitwits that you could not register if your intent did not match my own due to the magic that governs the loch.”

“I will tell those nitwits all about themselves,” Harry promised, utterly delighted at the prospect.

* * * *

Harry’s preferred market was Snatchbottom’s. Fortunately, it had been in business for several hundred years because every wizard had his limit, and that would’ve probably been his. It would’ve been a one Englishman-riot in the making. While his title had been announced, there had been no pictures published, so he was meandering the aisles with a charmed shopping tote in hand. The kitchen was bare, so he needed to buy everything from pantry staples up.

The store was currently being run by three Snatchbottom sisters—Maisie, Rosemary, and Winifred. It was weird to see them so young as they’d all three been in their eighties when he’d met the first time. Harry figured that time traveling thirty-one years into the past was going to be fucking with him and his perceptions for years.

“Sir?”

Harry turned and found Maisie Snatchbottom standing a meter or so away from him. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Can I help you with something?”

 “That’s my line.” She clasped her hands together with a grin as he laughed. “I noted that you’re precariously close to topping out the expansion charm on that tote.” She offered him another tote.

“Oh, I hadn’t realized. My apologies,” Harry murmured and accepted the second tote. He hesitated only briefly before passing the first one her way when she held out a hand for it. “I won’t need it packed for preservation. I’ll be going straight home once I finish.” He glanced at his new tote. “I expect I’ll fill this one up as well. My husband and I recently moved here from abroad, and our kitchen is utterly bare.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. “Let me know if you need anything else or an additional tote.”

“Actually, I’d love to purchase several loaves of bread from your bakery area. One rye, two sourdough, and one whole wheat.”

“We have some fresh blueberry scones.”

“Yes, a dozen, please, and six croissants if you have them.”

“I’ll put them with the rest of your order…mister….”

“Oh, pardon me,” Harry said and held out a hand. “Hadrian Peverell, please call me Harry.”

“Peverell,” she repeated weakly as she took his hand. “I…” She looked around with a flushed face. “Sir, if you’d said, we could’ve closed temporarily so you could shop in private.”

“Oh no, please, I can’t see needing such a thing ever,” Harry assured. “If there comes a point when it’s a hassle of some sort, I’ll wear a glamor or hire someone to shop for me.” He looked around. “Though, I enjoy picking out my own food.”

She nodded. “Very well, I’ll keep an eye out and send anyone who bothers you on their way. Thank you for shopping with us, my lord.”

Harry watched her hurry away, probably to tell her sisters, and wondered if that would go better or worse than it had last time. He’d rarely come into the market since they had delivery, but sometimes he’d show up around lunchtime to get a sandwich from their deli counter. They’d be nice and quite chuffed, to his embarrassment, to have lunch with the Man-Who-Conquered. He figured that was only slightly better than the Boy-Who-Lived. He hated that shite and would cheerfully curse the hell out of the first person to try to stick him with some kind of made-up moniker again.

He headed for meat and seafood, where Rosemary Snatchbottom was bustling around behind the counter. He waited patiently until she noticed him, and she offered him a bright smile. Her sister hadn’t gotten to her, he thought with some amusement.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. My husband and I have what some would call excessive protein requirements due to our animagus forms,” he said, and she gave a knowing nod. “I’d like to set up standing a weekly order for beef, chicken, and seafood. But today, I’ll settle for two porterhouse steaks, a kilo of bacon, and a roasting chicken.”

“I’ll get that started, sir,” she said and put a piece of parchment on the counter. “Fill this out for your standing order. When will you want to pick it up?”

“I was thinking on Saturdays, barring complications.”

After the meat counter, he meandered into the deli area and picked up a whole damn smoked ham because it smelled great, would keep forever due to magic, and it looked absolutely delicious. Winifred Snatchbottom had also managed to talk him into eating a sandwich while she tried to grill him about his fancy husband. Harry was seriously going to have to read the Prophet to see what information the DOM had planted. Also, he couldn’t wait to tell Draco about the whole fancy husband thing.

“I’ve made a lobster roll for your man,” Winifred announced and placed it on the counter. “He’ll be famished after his shopping trip. You’ll tell him that there are plenty of places to shop here—he didn’t need to take himself all the way to France.”

Harry grinned at her. “I’ll bring him around next time. I think, mostly, he wanted to spend time with family.”

“You do that. Family is important, so he’s forgiven,” she declared.

He figured, out of all of them, she’d be the least impressed with his title. Winifred Snatchbottom, in the future, had been the most subdued by the war. While she’d certainly been kind to him, Winifred never really bought into the hype that surrounded him. Harry had honestly appreciated that on a level he could rarely speak to. He picked up the lobster roll and added it to his tote.

“How about a second one and a couple of jacket potatoes. It’ll be dinner. I think after I finish putting all of this stuff away that I’ll be beyond cooking.”

“Good thought,” she said in agreement and left him to make another sandwich.

At check out, he mentally ordered his money purse to produce the total and poured a little over 400 galleons into the receiving basket. Maisie pulled the basket across the counter to her with a shaky intake of breath.

“Is there….” Harry looked around and considered the fact that he’d just spent as much as the store probably made in a whole month. “Do I need to escort you to the bank, ma’am?”

“I’ll contact the bank and have it picked up,” Maisie said. “It’s just…this is half a year’s profit for us.” She blushed. “We don’t often have someone come in and stock a kitchen from the ground up.”

Inflation, Harry thought and flushed. “My apologies. I didn’t think….” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you floo them now, and I’ll wait until someone arrives from the bank to handle your deposit?”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you,” she said and poured the money into a bank pouch and sealed it quickly with her fingers.

“Please, I insist. I did this quite thoughtlessly, and times aren’t safe as they should be,” Harry said.

She smiled and nodded before she tucked the bank bag into a small vault box behind her. “I’ll go do it now. Thank you.”

“I’ll go sit at one of the tables outside. You have a lovely patio, and the warming charms are well done. Please let me know if anyone makes you nervous,” Harry said with a glance around the store. There were several customers, but none of them looked like a problem.

Twenty minutes later, Razel showed up with two guards. His account manager raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry shrugged helplessly, which made Razel laugh.

“Spreading the wealth, I see,” Razel said dryly.

“My kitchen is completely empty. I had to buy everything—plus they had a dverger-made set of pans that really appealed to me. I didn’t realize I’d spent so much and what it would mean security-wise until after the fact.” He glanced back toward the front door, and he noticed the crests etched into the glass. “Your father said you’d teach me how to add my crest to places?”

“Of course.” Razel inclined his head toward the window. “There will be a rune attached to the glass. You’ll press your thumb against the rune, push with your magic, and perform the spell, which is wandless. Familia insigne.” He looked around the small shopping district tucked into the small magical enclave of Hogsmeade. “It’ll increase their business a great deal if you are an acknowledged patron, Lord Braemar.”

“They’re my favorite witches,” Harry said seriously. “If I weren’t married, I’d be spoiled for choice.”

Razel grinned. “Any one of those witches would ruin your whole damn life.” He waved a hand toward the window. “Let’s take care of this now so I can fix it if it doesn’t place correctly. I’ll speak to the sisters about an account manager and auto-deposit, considering the boon you’re about to give their business.”

Harry followed Razel to the window and did as the dverger instructed. A family coat of arms appeared with a dragon in flight over what looked like a stylized version of his own damn peel. He stared for a moment and focused on Razel. “Can a family seal change?”

“Yes, depending on the current earl’s influence over the family magic,” Razel said with some amusement. “It’s lovely. It’ll look great on the wall at the bank, so I expect you to show up as soon as possible to add it.”

Harry touched the coat of arms briefly and let his fingers glance over the family motto. Amor Sine Timore. “Love without fear.”

“Is that yours or another before you?” Razel questioned curiously.

“Nothing influenced by my magic would be this sweet, I’m afraid,” Harry said and took a deep breath. “Some would say I was born with war in my heart, and it is certainly my fate. For the longest time, I didn’t believe that I’d ever know what it would mean to be loved.” He cleared his throat. “There is nothing more powerful in the world than love.”

“I would agree.”

Harry barely refrained from flinching. He hadn’t heard that voice in the better part of a decade, and he’d never wanted to hear it again. But he turned and faced Albus Dumbledore and hoped his hatred wasn’t blooming all over his face. His jaw clenched painfully as he pushed his magical response down, and Razel shifted closer to him with a little sound of shock.

“I’m Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Harry didn’t take the hand offered. “Forgive me, Mr. Dumbledore, but I refrain from shaking hands for security reasons. One can’t be too careful in these times.” Dumbledore’s hand dropped, shock rolling over his face in a tidal wave. “I’m Hadrian Peverell.”

“Yes, I heard you were here,” Dumbledore said. “I’d thought to introduce myself since I was nearby. The Prophet didn’t mention you were already living in Britain.”

“I hadn’t intended on making a formal announcement,” Harry said easily. “But I will be taking my Wizengamot seat with the next session.”

“I’ve heard that you’ve spent many years away from Britain, Lord Peverell,” Dumbledore said stiffly. “Perhaps you should wait until you have a full grasp of the political situation before assuming your seat. I could offer you some much-needed council.”

“I prefer Lord Braemar,” Harry said evenly. “As I’m sure you’ve read in the paper. I was very clear on it. While I appreciate that I have a lot to learn, I fail to see how the headmaster of a magical secondary school could advise me on the workings of my noble title.” He checked his watch. “Please excuse me, my husband is expecting me, and there is no need to cause him unnecessary worry.” He turned to Razel. “I’ll make an appointment, Master Razel, to handle the business we discussed.”

“Perhaps, we could make an appointment to speak as well, Lord Braemar,” Dumbledore interjected. “You can owl me at the school. I look forward to hearing from you.”

Harry watched the old wizard walk swiftly away like he’d won something and briefly considered cursing him in the back on the street. He squinted and pressed his lips together briefly to keep from frowning.

“One day, I’m going to make that arsehole bitterly regret every single moment of his existence,” Harry muttered.

“I like you a lot,” Razel said. “For a wizard.”

* * * *

He had most of his purchases put away by the time the wards signaled that Draco had returned. Harry tucked the sourdough into the bread box and closed it. The kitchen still wasn’t complete, but it was better. Draco entered the kitchen with a trunk and set it on the table they’d purchased in Rome.

“What’s that?” Harry questioned.

“Dishes and flatware—formal dining and every day,” Draco said. “I saw something I liked, and I figured you’d like it as well. I went with dark blue stoneware for every day. The formal set is porcelain since you told me that you thought bone china was unethical.” He smiled and waved a hand at the box. “Black with gold accents.”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry said. “Winifred sent me home with lobster rolls for dinner. Want to have a picnic in our very sparse living room?”

“We’ve got a fireplace and thick rug with a fantastic comfort charm,” Draco said with a grin. “What more do we really need?”

“Go get changed, and I’ll set up. Wine?”

“Water and maybe some tea after,” Draco said and yawned. “I got run into the ground by a man three times my age. Louis Bertrand is a champion shopper. I bought some more casual clothes and two new suits for you. Oh, and a winter cloak that you will absolutely love.”

He put everything on the tray that came with the tea set they’d picked up in Italy and carried it to the fireplace. By the time he’d pulled off his boots and got settled, Draco had returned dressed in pajama bottoms and a dressing gown. He almost wished he’d taken the time to change clothes, too, but he was hungry, and he made a habit of avoiding that sensation as much as possible. Eating on a schedule helped with that, but his schedule had been fucked over repeatedly since he’d woken up in the past.

“Don’t be mad, but I kind of want to marry whoever made this,” Draco said after a bite of his sandwich.

Harry grinned at him. “She’d chew you up and spit you right out.”

“Something is on your mind,” Draco said and pointed at him with a crisp. “What is it?”

“Dumbledore.”

“Ah, that market is in Hogsmeade,” Draco said.

“Yes, he got word that I was at the market because I made a pretty dumb mistake.”

“What sort of mistake?” Draco questioned with a frown.

“I spent 400 galleons and some change at once,” Harry said, and Draco continued to frown. “With inflation, it was like I dropped 1400 galleons on a small business in an hour and a half. Rosemary Snatchbottom said that was as much as they made in six months.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Draco muttered. “I hadn’t…I mean, I did notice that I was getting very good deals on things today, but I just assumed Louis knew where to shop.”

“I imagine you spent quite a bit at today’s standard,” Harry said. “I stayed at the market until she arranged for a deposit at the bank. I felt foolish for it—because that opened the market up to a real problem. I don’t know what the theft and robbery stats are right now, but with Death Eaters running around—I had no business putting that kind of target on those witches’ business. I should’ve spread the shopping out or ordered most of it in advance so they could make arrangements.”

“Live and learn,” Draco said. “You made it right before you left.”

“I’d rather not get a reputation for being irresponsible with the safety of others,” Harry said. “Dumbledore showed up, as I said, and introduced himself. I didn’t shake his hand, and that shocked and offended him since I said I didn’t shake hands due to security concerns.” He grinned when Draco laughed. “Anyway, the real take away from the conversation is that he doesn’t want me to take my Wizengamot seat without his personal council.”’

“Interesting,” Draco said. “And not surprising. He has finely honed instincts for seeking out and neutralizing those with power more than himself. He thinks you’re young, gullible, and open to his manipulation due to his reputation as the so-called leader of the light. He’ll certainly try to groom you to follow his lead, which would further his own reputation and create a public sort of mentorship between the two of you.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think that setting yourself against Albus Dumbledore at every single turn is the most fun you can possibly have in this day and age, and you should take it on as a second career,” Draco said. “He’s not become the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and we should work hard to make sure he never gets there. Louis has already agreed to ruin any chances he has of becoming Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. He said, upon reflection, that he can see the inroads that Dumbledore has been making on that front and that he started building support for himself within a month of him joining as Britain’s representative.”

“Well, I really hope to find a reason to take him out before that’s an issue,” Harry said roughly. “He’s as much a threat to Britain as Voldemort is, and you know it. His backward and corrupt vision of magic would have this country stagnate for generations. He personally sat in opposition to dozens of moderation proposals brought before the Wizengamot. Plus, he’s been the de facto Minister for Magic since he defeated Grindelwald. He just lets someone else pretend to be in power. I think even Fudge did exactly what Dumbledore wanted nearly all the damn time. Even running him out of Hogwarts during our fifth year worked out in his favor.”

“Yeah, it did,” Draco said and sighed. “The more I realize about that old bastard, the more I regret not killing him myself that night.” He frowned. “I didn’t…because of you, you know.”

“You knew I was watching?” Harry asked in confusion.

“No, I just…. I thought there would be no coming back from murdering Albus Dumbledore. I wished, in that moment, that I had let you help me when you tried. It was the hardest moment of my life, and I regretted every single thing I’d done that led me there. I was prepared to throw myself off that damn tower rather than face what was to come.” Draco cleared his throat. “No matter how he died, everything in my life changed that night, and there didn’t seem to be any way out.”

“It was a hard time,” Harry said.

“And another version of it looms large in front of us.”

“Well, we aren’t a pair of naïve boys letting others drag us around anymore,” Harry said. “Men like Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle can’t begin to prepare for the threat the two of us are, you know. We know their goals, their plans, and their methods. Dumbledore suggested I owl him for a meeting. I’m going to offer to come to the school for a chat.”

“What the fuck for?” Draco asked with a frown.

“Because there’s a horcrux in Hogwarts, and I want it,” Harry said grimly. “That old bastard is going to invite me right in. Once I get in, I can make sure the Chamber of Secrets never gets opened again and pick up the diadem from the Room of Requirement. The fact that the Malfoy vault only held gold is a concern. I need to secure the horcruxes that I can as soon as possible, especially with the diary unaccounted for.”

Draco exhaled sharply. “I can’t wait to hear you lay out this plan for Croaker.”

Harry just raised an eyebrow and fixed himself a cup of tea. He knew Croaker would agree because getting one over on Albus Dumbledore was practically a hobby for Jonah McGregor and had been for decades.

 

Chapter 7

Draco stared at the list of ministry employees that Croaker had pushed across the table within moments of them sitting down. He picked up the quill and started circling the names of men he knew to be Death Eaters. Tom Riddle rarely allowed witches to join his ranks officially, a mixture of sexism and his own desire to be surrounded and served by other men. There were some already circled or crossed off, probably from the list that Harry had generated while he’d been asleep.

He shoved the list across the table back to McGregor and watched the man read through it. Fury and shock drifted equally over the man’s face as he read.

“Augustus Rookwood,” Croaker said flatly. “Is an Unspeakable. There is no way he’s a Death Eater.”

“Is he?” Draco questioned. “Did you swear him in yourself?”

“No, he was sworn in several years before I became the director,” Croaker murmured with a frown and touched a thin platinum bracelet on his wrist. He took a deep breath. “Do you know who the previous Croaker was?”

“Rupert Parry,” Draco said. “He was hit with a dark curse that caused a form of dementia that couldn’t be reversed. He’ll die a few years from now in the spell damage ward of St. Mungo’s. The curse was never identified, by the way. Rookwood is a first cousin to Parry, and he used that connection to manipulate and control Parry. He was never sworn in, but the records were falsified on paper. If you check the oath stone, you’ll find he’s missing entirely. All of his connections to the department, to you, and to the communication system were manually created.

“Shortly after Tom Riddle was resurrected in 1995, Rookwood cursed you as well. It was a subtle manipulation curse, but when combined with everything going else in the ministry, you were basically useless during the course of the war. You weren’t freed from the curse until nearly a year after Voldemort was defeated when your new Head Unspeakable, a man named Thaddeus Banner, had you examined by his wife without your knowledge. They basically had to take you hostage to heal you.”

Croaker’s jaw tightened. “What you’re saying is supposed to be impossible.”

“It would’ve been impossible if Rupert Parry hadn’t been deeply manipulated magically by a member of his own family,” Draco said. “And that’s the rub, McGregor. We naturally want to trust the members of our family, but it can leave us vulnerable to manipulations. It didn’t help at all that Rookwood was already an employee with the DMLE and had straddled the line between the two departments at will. He’s currently working for Barty Crouch, right?”

“Yes,” Croaker said shortly and stood. “Revealing him would undermine the whole department for the ministry and the public at large.”

“So, kill him,” Harry said from where he lounged at the end of the table.

Draco’s gaze drifted over Harry taking in the charcoal grey suit he was wearing. He’d chosen to wear a black shirt and a dark red tie despite Draco’s suggestion of a white shirt, and Draco had to admit that the look worked. It probably worked too well, but that was neither here nor there. His mate got attention whether he worked for it or not. That had always been particularly annoying.

“Kill him,” Croaker said. “Just like that?”

“Bring him down here, interrogate the shite out of him under a seal, and toss his arse through the Veil,” Harry said flatly. “In a week or so, someone will probably report him missing. There are already dozens of missing people in the system. He’ll be chalked up as a casualty of the war and the probable victim of Death Eaters.” He stood and straightened his waistcoat. “You were much more mercenary in the future, Jonah. I’m not saying I want you to end up a bitter old man before your time, but we’re at war, and the only good Death Eater is a dead Death Eater.”

“And you’ll take that policy into the field, I assume,” McGregor said.

“Unless you order otherwise, yes,” Harry said mildly. “But Draco has revealed a security concern that I’m sure was addressed in the future. The oath stone needs to be checked to make sure the records for active Unspeakables match.”

Croaker checked his watch. “I don’t have time for that before the minister arrives for the meeting he insisted on having. I haven’t revealed the names of my two recruits, so he’s in for a surprise. I’ll be introducing him to Harry first, for my own amusement, and saving Draco for last. Moreover, he’s going to be very irritated to learn that your employment contracts have a privacy clause that will prevent him from revealing that you’re working for the ministry in any capacity.”

Draco considered that the best part of the contracts they’d signed in Rome. It had been the only thing Harry had insisted on with both organizations, as they had also signed contracts with the ICW.

“I won’t be a tool for propaganda again,” Harry said roughly. “It’s no kind of life, and I have to think about my family.” He focused on Draco. “When this war is over, and it will be over sooner than anyone thinks, we’re going to have the kind of life we wanted but were denied in the future because of unreasonable fame and the machinations of old, terrible men.”

“I don’t begrudge you that, Harry,” Croaker said wearily. “Honestly, I’d be furious if you just walked away from the whole mess today, but I would understand it. Armand and Dorcas are preparing an orb for you to fill since the security magic required broke the first two orbs Armand tried to create. We need to know everything you know about Tom Riddle.” He paused. “I can’t begin to be the leader you need if I don’t know what you’ve come out of. I hope you get that.”

“I do,” Harry said quietly. “I’ll be explicitly honest in the creation of the orb. But you won’t thank me.” He pulled on the mid-thigh length suit jacket and fastened the two buttons in the front. “What kind of attitude problem would you like me to give Barty Crouch, Sr.?”

Draco laughed.

“Bored and better than him,” Croaker said quickly and grinned when Harry laughed. “The less interested he is in the two of you, the better. Your qualifications are going to be a real bee in his bonnet, considering your stipulation that you’ll never be forced to work with the DMLE in the field. He’s going to be insulted.”

“The lax standards at the auror academy right now are a real problem,” Draco said. “They have eighteen-year-old kids straight out of Hogwarts in uniform—each of them thinks they’re prepared for war when it couldn’t be further from the fucking truth. It’s obscene. The minimum age to go to the academy should be twenty-one at the earliest, and the course should last a whole fucking year. Field aurors are poorly trained, barely educated, and used as cannon fodder. Hell, Crouch has no business being the Director of the DMLE. He doesn’t even have a mastery in law.” He waved a hand in frustration. “He’s deeply inferior.”

“I adore you lads,” McGregor said with a laugh. “It’s like the Lady herself just dropped a pair of vicious dragons into my life as a gift.”

“Well, more like Varda,” Harry said dryly and shrugged when McGregor’s mouth dropped open. “We’ll get to that after we deal with the minister and Crouch.”

* * * *

Draco liked Dorcas Meadowes. She had a graceful way about her that was both highly magical and comforting all at once. Every single person around her made way for her in a way that spoke of respect and, in some cases, infatuation. He didn’t know if she was attached to anyone, but it certainly wasn’t for the lack of opportunities. He settled into the conference table beside her, and she motioned toward the tea service as she continued to make notes in a black leatherbound journal.

“How was Rome?”

“Warm, sunny, and lovely,” Draco said. “We rented a villa on the beach. I’m already missing it.”

“I bet,” she said with a laugh and tucked her quill into the journal before closing it. “I’ve reviewed all the certifications and documents that Supreme Mugwump Bertrand prepared and filed them with your records here at the ministry. Normally, new Unspeakables are assigned mentors for mastery work, which neither of you need. You’re the first two assets we’ve recruited outside of ministry service for more than a decade. The path to the DOM is nearly always through service in the DMLE.”

“I was a direct recruit from the academy the first time around, and Harry went the traditional route for as long as he could stand it,” Draco murmured, but then sat back with his tea as the door opened, and Harry entered with Croaker and two other men.

“Minister Minchum and Director Crouch meet my husband and the Consort of Braemar, Draconis Peverell,” Harry said as he shed his jacket.

Draco gave both men a nod but stayed seated. He was relieved that neither appeared intent on offering him a hand. It wasn’t in his nature to encourage anyone but his mate to touch him freely.

“You might have mentioned that he’s a veela,” Crouch said with an edge to his tone that Draco found difficult to ignore. It didn’t sound exactly like disapproval, but there was a chastising element that he knew would set Harry’s teeth on edge.

“My partner’s magical circumstances are obvious to anyone who meets him and hardly something I discuss at length,” Harry said easily and sat down in the seat next to Draco. “He’s always cloaked in the field, so it doesn’t matter at all. The robes we wore while working at the ICW are designed to hide magical signatures. I’ve been assured the same is true of the hood magic deployed by the DOM.”

Draco ran his thumb along the bottom of his house ring and just smiled when Crouch frowned. “He’s not concerned about my being noticed, love. Director Crouch thinks I’m too delicate to work in the field as an Unspeakable.” He watched Crouch shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

Harry frowned, then sat as Draco shrugged at the look Croaker sent him.

“His qualifications speak for themselves,” Dorcas said stiffly. “He’s a war mage, Director Crouch, and holds two masteries. You’re the last one that should be questioning Consort Braemar’s qualifications to do his job. You never bothered with a single mastery and only took four NEWTs at a local level. He has ten international NEWTs.”

Draco shared a look with Harry and plucked a cup from the tray, which he sat down in front of his mate. He poured tea and set aside the pot as Harry added sugar to his cup. The minister cleared his throat, and Draco barely refrained from making a face as he turned to focus on the man. He realized, then, that he’d much prefer to micromanage Harry’s tea experience than talk to anyone in the room.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Minister Minchum. I can’t imagine you taking the time to have tea with all new employees at the ministry, so I’m left to assume you have a specific purpose for this meeting.”

Minchum cleared his throat. “As I was explaining to Lord Braemar, you were both hired and contracted without a discussion with my office by Croaker. While he certainly doesn’t need my permission to recruit to his department, I would’ve appreciated a voice in the contract negotiations. Your desire to work in secret doesn’t align with my thoughts on how your employment could benefit the ministry itself.”

“Propaganda is a tool to be utilized by the timid on the weak,” Draco said mildly and watched Minchum’s eyes widen in shock. “I would never participate in such a campaign, and I would hope you wouldn’t think to degrade and insult my lord and husband with such a disgusting agenda.”

“As I explained to the minister,” Harry continued after a moment of stunned silence. “We’ve worked in secret for the ICW for years with no issues, and I wouldn’t have signed a contract with the British ministry without a privacy clause. I see no benefit in working in the public eye with the DMLE to us or the war effort, and I won’t reopen contract renegotiation. Since we are still employed by the ICW, we can simply return to active duty with that organization if that is a problem.”

“Master Ito didn’t release you from the War Mages Division?” Crouch questioned with a deep frown.

“No, we are considered in individual reserve, and we’re subject to assignments for the War Mages Division if the need arises. Louis Bertrand is relieved by our move to Britain,” Draco said. “He has such assets spread out all over the planet to be activated as needed to protect our world from any threat.”

“And Bertrand has no issues with the two of you working for the organization entirely in secret?” Minchum questioned.

“My cousin doesn’t involve himself in our personal choices and has no issues with our desire to keep work entirely separate from the rest of our personal lives,” Draco said evenly.

“Cousin?” Minchum questioned, face going ruddy with temper. “You’re a Bertrand?” His nostrils flared, and he turned to glare at Croaker. “Did you know that?”

“I’ve not taken the time to request a family tree from either of them,” Croaker said dryly. “The Bertrand family is huge, Harold. Louis must have two hundred cousins.”

“More than,” Draco said. “But that’s neither here nor there.”

Minchum frowned and waved a hand at Harry. “And you? Are you hiding anything on that front I should know about? Any famous, well-connected relatives that will take me to task if you get a hangnail on assignment?”

Harry stared. “Relax, Minister Minchum, if my mate comes to harm in the field, you won’t be the one Louis Bertrand will be hunting like a dog.” He took a sip of tea. “But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that Armand Deering is my maternal uncle.”

Draco barely contained the laugh at the horror that briefly flashed over Minchum’s face.

“I only mention it because I recently accepted the Deering family as a cadet branch of the house of Peverell, and it will be announced, per protocol,” Harry continued without acknowledging the minister’s reaction. “I have a lot of distant relatives in Britain, as you must know, since everyone and their brother has tried to claim my title repeatedly over the last few hundred years. I can expect to receive many requests from ancient families wishing to officially join the house of Peverell. Be assured that I will take great care with those decisions. It’s important to me that I surround myself with strong, honorable people.”

“Armand Deering is a dark wizard, and you clearly don’t intend to serve the public good,” Minchum said huffily. “So, pardon me if I find it difficult to believe you’re going to make good decisions.”

“It must be suffocating,” Harry said mildly. “Having such a narrow and ugly view of magic.” He stood, and Draco left his chair as Harry offered his hand. “I’m finished with this conversation, Minister Minchum. I’d thank you for avoiding offering any sort of opinion on how I manage my ancient and noble house going forward.” He turned to Croaker. “We’ll start working on that project you approved, sir.”

“Of course, Lord Braemar, we can meet in two hours to discuss the plan,” Croaker said easily.

Harry said nothing until they were in the office space they’d been assigned. He shut the door with a frown and ran his fingers along the security runes to engage them.

“That motherfucker is going to really regret that entire conversation,” Harry said darkly and dropped down in his desk chair. “When’s the next election for minister?”

Draco laughed. “He was just recently elected, but he’ll be replaced by Bagnold in three years.”

“The hell he will,” Harry exclaimed. “That witch is awful, and she’s the bloody reason dozens of Death Eaters went unpunished after the war the first time around!”

“Well, we can work on that, but I’m not sure who would be a good choice to replace her. Plus, we need to make sure Fudge never gets near the office. He’s a dumb bastard and a coward.” Draco leaned a hip on Harry’s desk and stared. “Don’t let men like Crouch get to you.”

“I don’t like to see you be treated like a….” He took a deep breath. “Some expensive, delicate toy that I should keep at home.”

“Well, get used to it because that is exactly the kind of image the Veela Council invested themselves in projecting for decades because they believed it would protect those that left the enclaves. And maybe it does, I don’t know for certain, but those views won’t lose popularity until the late 1980s.”

“I won’t tolerate anyone treating you like an object, so I really hope you aren’t gearing up to tell me I should.”

“I wouldn’t, no,” Draco assured. “But men like Crouch and, to a lesser degree Harlan Giles, are going to get in your face on the regular on the subject of me in some fashion or another. Even a magical marriage won’t stop the overt interest. I have my allure on lockdown, but I can’t control how I look, Harry. I mean….” He sighed. “As I already said, I could wear a glamour whenever I leave the house.”

“No, for fuck’s sake.” Harry snapped. “We already decided it would be too magically taxing. I’ll keep my temper in check, but don’t expect me to be polite to these arseholes.”

“I never expect you to be polite, you were raised by Muggles, and it shows,” Draco said dryly and grinned when Harry huffed at him.

* * * *

“Dumbledore is an accomplished legilimens,” Croaker said with a frown and shared a look with Armand. “And doesn’t need a wand for a passive scan.”

“You’ve not had a chance to look at the warding scheme on the hood that I wrote out for you,” Harry noted and focused on Armand even as Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “Try it. Brute force, give it all you got.”

Armand’s gaze narrowed, and he drew his wand. “Legilimens!”

He’d expected Armand to infuse the spell with parselmagic, so he didn’t bother to appear surprised. He’d chosen Armand for that exact reason because proving the magic against him in such a circumstance would make the point quickly. Magic streamed at him for several moments before Armand lowered his wand with a frown. The older wizard stared hard, then stowed his wand.

“Can it protect you from the Imperius?” Armand questioned.

“No, but you certainly spent years trying to perfect it. The mental ward on the hood was so robust that most Unspeakables could use it to retreat and fight off an Imperius if they were given enough room and time to work on it. I’ve personally never had a problem fighting it off. I’ve been hit with all three Unforgivables and have only suffered any sort of ill effect under the Crucio, and the last time I got hit with that one…it wasn’t that bad.”

That earned him a dirty look from Draco, who’d witnessed that particular event three months into their partnership.

“It’s true,” Harry said with a laugh. “I mean, the wizard who did it certainly suffered more since Draco…broke all of the bones in his body at the same time.”

Draco shrugged. “It was just a bludgeoning hex. It’s not my fault he was a weak bastard. A properly trained fifth-year Hogwarts student could’ve deflected it.”

“I seriously doubt it,” Armand said. “If there’s anything worse than a furious veela, I don’t know what it is.” He turned to Croaker. “I want the warding report Peverell gave you, Croaker. We need to work all of the modern protections they have into the medallions of our people as quickly as possible.”

“Speaking of our people?” Harry prodded and focused on McGregor. “Was Rookwood the only one?”

“No,” Jonah said flatly. “There are three, and all of them are in custody for interrogation. All were supposedly inducted into the division under Rupert Parry. Rookwood has the dark mark. The other two appear to have been planted by Barty Crouch.”

“Plants?” Harry questioned. “Was he investigating Parry? If so, why are they still in place?”

“He couldn’t very well pull them without revealing what he’s done. And no, I don’t think he was investigating Parry. If he were, the fact that he managed to get one asset into place would’ve been enough to end the investigation and see Parry replaced. They were transferred into the department nearly six months apart, and the first thought she was the only one. Since it was done during Parry’s leadership, I’m left to assume it’s a bit of empire-building and gross assumption on Crouch’s part that he has the right to monitor the Department of Mysteries. Since we are a body of the Crown and officially part of the Her Majesty’s Secret Service, he absolutely does not have that right.”

“That’s going to be an interesting conversation for you, Crouch, and the minister,” Harry said. “I’ll send Dumbledore a letter and get an appointment. I plan to imply that I missed out on attending Hogwarts and always wanted to see it. He’ll see that as a route to endear me to him and invite me to visit so I can tour the school.” He made a face and turned to Draco. “I guess we need a personal owl.”

Draco realized how big of an issue that was for Harry, so he just nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Is an owl a problem?” Dorcas questioned, her gaze drifting between them.

Harry cleared his throat. “My first familiar was an owl. I got her when I was eleven. She was killed during the war, and it was magically wounding because of the depth of my magical attachment. I was raised in abusive circumstances and didn’t know I was magical until I received my Hogwarts letter. My owl was the first friend I ever had, really, and she came to represent magic for me in the month between getting her and school starting.”

Draco curled his fingers around Harry’s wrist briefly. “He has a broken familiar bond as a result.”

“I can’t imagine that James Potter would’ve died without a will—there is a finely honed process for placing the heirs of ancient and noble houses in proper foster situations in the event of parental death,” Armand said coolly. “Just how did you end up in an abusive household?”

“Dumbledore gave me to my Muggle aunt, and she hated magic because she didn’t have it,” Harry explained. “Starvation and general neglect was her go-to solution to dealing with a child she was forced to take and couldn’t stand to look at.”

“That’s infuriating as hell,” Dorcas said. “Like I needed another reason to loathe Albus Dumbledore.”

“He’s a corrupt old man,” Draco interjected. “Vain, dark-minded, bigoted, and ultimately deeply selfish. It’s good to remember the man was raised by a racist who died in Azkaban while serving a life sentence for torturing Muggles. Dumbledore and Grindelwald were passionate and dedicated lovers who had the same vision for our world until they had an argument and Dumbledore’s sister was killed.” He glanced toward Harry because his mate had very definite opinions about the death of Arianna Dumbledore.

He noted that Armand Deering was leaning against the wall while his magical aura drifted around him.

“Relax, Armand,” Harry said mildly. “You’ve already set me to rights—mind and body. I had extensively healing with the Glain Neidr. I am the wizard I am today because of that process and you.”

Armand glared briefly but nodded.

* * * *

Eeylops Owl Emporium was pretty much the same, which Draco found to be relieving. Harry was clearly uncomfortable, and the desire to ease him was overwhelming. It made concentrating on the task at hand very difficult. Picking the right bird to represent their family was important, and he knew that Harry really had no clue about the whole process. He’d avoided any discussion of getting an owl in the future, especially after they had to place Thicket with a breeder for her own sake.

Harry walked away from the owls and went to browse the perches and cages. Draco watched him for a moment, then sighed before focusing on the store owner who was coming his way.

“Good afternoon, sir; I’m Cully Brightman,” she said and offered him a smile and her hand.

“Hello, Ms. Brightman,” he said and took her hand carefully. “Draconis Peverell, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her eyes widened, and she flushed as she looked at their hands.

She released him immediately. “My apologies.”

“It’s fine—you’re not offensive in the least. That’s not always the case. Some people strive to touch a veela, assuming even that will be physically or magically thrilling.”

She grimaced. “Some people are just disgusting.” Cully smiled then. “Welcome to my shop,” she said. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Large, well-mannered, I’d prefer that he not accept treats during deliveries; temperament isn’t super important as long as his manners are on point,” Draco said as he glanced around the selection of owls. “Mature, of course, as we have immediate mail needs. Physically and magically robust as he’ll have to be able to wear heavy wards without getting disoriented.”

She pursed her lips. “I have one bird that might work. He’s an import from South America and, so far, has refused all offers for a home. I can’t guarantee he’ll accept you. He’s not an owl.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Pardon me?”

“I have a few exotic birds for households who need something a little more formidable,” she said with a smile. “Tropical birds were popular for a while, and as long as they are warded so Muggles can’t see them…no one makes a fuss. But this guy was for sale in a shop in Brazil. The shop owner and I exchange birds every once in a while, especially if the birds have been in the shop for a while. A change of scenery is normally just what they need. His name is Kaiser.”

“Kaiser,” Draco said in amusement as he followed her through the shop and into a small room where the more exotic birds were apparently kept. He’d never been in the room, ever, so he was kind of excited.

Kaiser was a bloody harpy eagle. He stared at the bird, and the bird stared back with dark amber eyes. Mostly grey with a little black mixed in, Kaiser’s head feathers were slicked back a bit as if someone had tidied him up for display. Draco had a feeling the bird had done it himself.

“What’s his story?” Draco asked curiously as he stepped forward and gently touched the eagle’s chest, then stroked the silky feathers he found there. “I didn’t know that harpy eagles, magical or not, were interested in living with wizards.”

“Most don’t,” Cully said. “But this guy lost his mate, and I think he sought shelter with humans for protection. He brought the mate to my friend for healing, but nothing could be done for her. Kaiser left and returned with an egg which he took care of and hatched himself. His daughter is also here, but she’s in the creche. You’ll have to take them both, as he won’t part with her until she’s ready to be on her own. Her name is Hayle, and she is just six months old. Normally, I wouldn’t have a bird that had been in Julio’s shop so little time, but when it came time to exchange, Kaiser insisted on coming with me.”

“Do they mate for life?”

“I don’t think so, but they are monogamous. I can’t say for certain if he’ll ever have the desire to mate again. If he does, he’ll make that clear, and we can arrange a few…dates.” She grinned when he glanced her way. “There are roughly twenty-two female harpy eagles in Europe that I’m aware of. I could ask around for more if needs be. He’s a very good and attentive parent, so you wouldn’t be required to take care of his daughter.”

Draco nodded and focused on Kaiser, who was still staring at him. “We live in Scotland, on the shore of Loch Ness. The property is large and heavily warded. You’d have plenty of hunting opportunities and an aviary to yourself as we have no other birds currently. My mate is a nobleman, and that comes with security concerns, so you would be warded to prevent tampering with our mail and to protect you from harm. We’ll see that your daughter is similarly protected and cared for. If you can’t hunt for some reason, food will be on hand for you and your child. You’ll both have to be contained for the trip home, but we won’t make a habit of asking you to sleep or travel in a cage.” He turned to Cully. “How much do you suppose he understood?”

“Most, if not all,” she said in amusement and inclined her head toward the bird.

Draco turned and found that Kaiser was offering a single foot. The claws were massive, but his coat was lined with dragonhide, so he didn’t hesitate to offer his arm. He took the weight of the eagle with no issues and estimated he weighed close to four and a half kilograms and just under a meter in height. The bird was much too big to carry any sort of distance but not quite as large as he would’ve expected in other circumstances.

“He’s small for his species, right?”

“Barely breed standard,” Cully said. “Apparently, his mate was on the small end as well, which could explain her death and his retreat from the wild.”

“Muggle hunter looking for a trophy he could manage?” Draco questioned. “Or maybe an egg collector thinking they’d be able to get past them because of their lesser size comparatively.”

“Julio thought an egg collector as well,” Cully said. “Well, let’s go meet Hayle and set up transport. I can’t believe this. Julio will be thrilled as he was worried that Kaiser was going to be here until his daughter was mature.”

Harry was standing just short of the room when they emerged. Draco watched his mouth drop open and barely refrained from laughing. “Harpy eagle.”

“Well, I know that much,” Harry muttered. “He looks like a toddler in a bird suit. Are you…sure?”

“I’m so sure I’m adopting his baby, too,” Draco confessed and flushed when Harry’s expression immediately shifted fond. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re going into the creche to collect Kaiser’s daughter then Ms. Brightman is going to help us prepare for transport home. Until he gets settled and comfortable, we should be prepared to feed them both.”

“I’ll floo the Snatchbottoms and add a side of beef to Saturday pick up,” Harry said and followed them toward the creche.

Once in the creche, Kaiser lifted off his arm and sailed across the room to the back, where a fluffy white chick was nestled in a large nest. Draco followed because he couldn’t help himself and barely refrained from picking the chick up.

“She’s adorable.”

“The females get huge, right?” Harry questioned. “You’re ridiculous. They’re going to be the scourge of the loch. They’ll spawn some weird urban legend that will make Nessie look like a reasonable situation to the Muggles.”

Kaiser clicked gently at Hayle, and she whistled in response.

“Oh my god, I love her,” Draco said and flushed when Cully Brightman and Harry both laughed at him. “Shut up, Harry.”

Harry grinned and turned just in time to get a chest full of owlet. He caught the tiny bird as gently as he could with a shocked sound and stared.

“Oh, Lord Braemar, I’m so sorry,” Cully said urgently and went to take the owlet.

“No, it’s fine,” Harry said quietly as he shifted the little owl in his hand and helped her sit up from her undignified landing. It was a snowy owl. Draco stared, heart in his throat, as Harry gently stroked the owlet’s face.

“Harry?”

Harry cleared his throat. “I…I realize she’s much too young to carry mail, Ms. Brightman, but we’d like to take this owl home as well.”

“She hasn’t started any training…” the woman trailed off as magic drifted visibly between Harry and the owlet. “Oh. Well, of course. I can give you the name of a person who can come to you and train her at your leisure. She’s twelve weeks old and left her mother’s nest about fourteen days ago. Snowy owls are prone to leaving the nest early due to their circumstances in the wild. I was going to send her and all of her siblings for training in just a few weeks.”

Harry nodded, but he stayed focused on the little bundle of feathers in his hand. “How long do magical snowy owls live?”

“Upwards of seventy-five years in the wild barring injury or illness and over a hundred if they are part of a magical household,” Cully said curiously. “Why?”

“Just wondering how long she’ll live,” Harry said quietly. “How do older adult owls end up back in your shop?”

“They’ll return here on their own to be adopted again if their owner dies and there’s no one else in the family they want to stay with,” she said. “It’s always nice to see an old friend again and give them another home. It’s happened more than I’d like recently, though, what with the attacks.” She smiled sadly. “I’ll get you a pamphlet on feeding her at this point in her development, and we’ll get everything squared away. She’ll enjoy the security of a cage.”

Draco watched the witch leave and walked to stand with Harry. “Is it.…”

“I don’t know,” Harry said hoarsely. “I feel like I know her, but she’s so young. I have no idea how old Hedwig was when I got her. Do I have any right to take her?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if I’m born again? She meant so much to me when I was little…I’d hate to take that from him.”

“Hey, listen,” Draco said urgently. “That boy will grow up with both of his parents in the magical world as the heir to an ancient and noble house. He’ll grow up loved by his family, and there may even be brothers and sisters for him. Harry Potter, if he exists again, will have nothing of the misery you had. He won’t need the love and attention of a post owl.”

Harry took in a ragged breath. “Promise?”

“I fucking swear it,” Draco said fiercely.

 

 

Chapter 8

Hedwig wiggled eagerly under his hand and splashed in the water he was using to clean her up. She’d managed to find the only pile of dust in the aviary and wallowed in it happily while they’d set up Kaiser’s nest. Once they’d gotten home, Kaiser had picked up his child and unceremoniously dropped her into Draco’s hands, much to his mate’s delight, so that situation was going well.

“You know, a lady wouldn’t take a dirt bath,” Harry told her gravely. “You had a great deal of dignity when I met you the first time.”

He got a sharp little bark in response.

“You look like a common screech owl right now,” he said mildly. “I bet your ancestors are genuinely appalled.” She flicked her little wings and sprayed water everywhere. “I don’t think I’m prepared for the role reversal here.”

Draco came to stand beside him at the sink. “Are you going to check the work in the cellar?”

“They’re finished,” Harry said. “I just need to inspect the circle and close it so it’ll accept the warding on the property.” Draco nodded and leaned against the counter. “How are they settling in?”

“Kaiser is hunting, and Hayle is taking a nap. I finished cleaning up the aviary, so we won’t have anyone else wallowing around in dust,” Draco said, and Hedwig barked at him. “Look at her little attitude problem.”

“It’s a comfort to know she came out of the shell this way,” Harry said in amusement. “Did you finish your research on marriage rites last night?”

Draco had stayed up long after Harry had gone to bed, but they’d both woken up late and hadn’t had time to discuss it before going to work.

“I did,” Draco said. “There are four rites specifically created for soulmates. The most robust entwines the marriage with the soulmate bond. It doesn’t result in an eternal marriage, but some theorize that the ritual is the reason why a soulmate bond for most pairs is recognized magically as a marriage as soon as it fully settles.

“So some other version of us once did that ritual,” Harry murmured as he snagged a thick hand towel from the counter and wrapped Hedwig in it. “What does it entail?”

“It’s blood magic,” Draco said, and Harry just nodded as most of the oldest ritual marriages were. “And it allows for the exchange of magical gifts. Since you’ve offered me parselmagic, it seems like the proper time to do it.”

“Agreed,” Harry said. “What would you offer in exchange?” He certainly knew what he wanted but wouldn’t push the issue.

Draco eyed him in amusement. “Well, since you can sprout wings of your own….” He trailed off when Harry laughed. “I did think you would be most interested in veela fire.”

“I can’t say I’m not,” Harry said as they left the kitchen in favor of the living room, which now had a large comfortable sofa to go along with the rug and fireplace. “Being immune to fire would be a handy field skill, and also throwing fireballs at people amuses the dragon in me.” He focused on Hedwig so he could make sure her fluffier feathers were dry to prevent her from getting a chill.

“You’re not going to have her trained are you,” Draco said in amusement.

“Not for mail, no,” Harry said. “I’m going to train her for work—spying, sabotage, etc. She’s very smart and would be wasted as a post owl, considering how our familiar bond is rapidly repairing itself. I always felt like delivering letters bored the shite out of her anyways. She and Anwen can be partners in chaos and mayhem.”

“Will we wake the coatls up after we marry, or did you want to wait a while?”

“Oh, I can’t let her sleep,” Harry admitted. “My bond with her is achy even now. I think it will start to hurt if we wait much longer. What will you name the twin?”

“Adain, if she agrees,” Draco said. “I’ve not had a chance to review what Armand gave me regarding magical twinning. I hope they can accept the duality of their circumstances without magical inducement.”

“Anwen is easygoing for a snake,” Harry said thoughtfully. “And she seems to adapt quickly to change. I think, ultimately, she will find comfort in her new circumstances. She’ll never be alone again, and that’s always been a problem for her. Probably since she was separated from her mother all those hundreds of years ago.” He focused on the owlet sitting calmly in a towel in his lap. “Is it wishful thinking? Did my broken bond latch onto her out of familiarity and coincidence?”

“No two magical creatures are the same,” Draco said. “Even if Harry Potter is born again, he won’t be you. You won’t even have similar magical signatures, Harry, because that’s the nature of magic. Does she like feel your Hedwig?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted and rubbed his thumb over the top of her little head. She opened her mouth wide as if she were yawning, then she huddled down in the towel with a little huffy sound. “The moment I touched her, relief settled on my bones. I don’t think I realized how much her loss still hurt magically. Maybe I just grew used to it?”

“It makes sense, no matter how terrible it is,” Draco said and shifted closer. He reached out hesitantly and ran a gentle finger along the curve of Hedwig’s wing. “I was jealous.”

“What?” Harry questioned.

“Everyone at school knew she was special, and it got around quickly that you had a familiar bond. I asked my mother if I could have a familiar, and she had to explain that she couldn’t just go out and buy me a familiar but that she’d take me to the pet shop so I could try. Of course, I insisted on visiting the owl shop first, but none of them were interested in me. Then we went to the regular shop, and I picked up practically every animal in the place, including a couple of toads.”

Harry laughed. “I can picture it. You must have been so put out.”

“I was, yes. My mother spoiled me rotten, normally, so I was really upset that she couldn’t make it happen for me.” Draco sighed and propped his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ve never tried as an adult.”

“Are you worried that Anwen’s twin won’t accept you?”

“It’s the parselmagic that will draw her in, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Snakes are happy to bond with parselmouths, and Anwen was profoundly lonely and eager for a magical connection when I opened the box. It will be the same with the twin, so you must open the box and touch her first. I realize it might not be the…magical experience you’d want….”

“I get all of my epic magical experiences from you,” Draco said in an amused tone, and Harry laughed. “I had romantic ideas about the whole thing when I was a boy, but now I’m more interested in exploring parselmagic and the connection I can create with her because of the gift.”

“Most wouldn’t see it as a gift,” Harry said. “I’ve rarely had a kind reaction when it comes to being a parselmouth. I can’t expect it will be any different going forward without a large amount of education. I considered, once, taking that on as an issue but then I realized I wasn’t all that interested in teaching people to just be decent. I saved all of those vicious, backward people from Voldemort, and they still had the gall to be appalled by a magical gift I was born with. Fuck them.”

Hedwig barked sharply in clear agreement.

Harry grinned at her.

“I’m beginning to get a very clear picture of how the two of you were so compatible from the very start,” Draco said in amusement. “I set one of her cages up in the bedroom.”

“I….” Harry hadn’t really considered any of that. “I get that she wouldn’t understand it…but we fuck in that room, and she’s a baby.”

“We’ve fucked in every single room in this place,” Draco said in amusement and laughed when Harry flushed. “Besides, her cage comes with a cover charm. I’m going to overlook the fact that you’ve fucked me like a Spartan on more than one occasion with Anwen wrapped around your neck.”

“That’s different,” Harry muttered.

“Not different at all.”

“Super different,” Harry declared and stood from the sofa. “Anwen is hundreds of years old and slept through the whole thing. Plus, most of the time, I forget I’m even wearing her unless she speaks to me or moves.”

“I don’t know if I want to understand that or not,” Draco admitted.

“Should we wait for the exchange of magical gifts?” Harry questioned. “I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured….” He trailed off when Draco shook his head.

“It’s not pressuring at all. I look forward to the exchange and learning about parselmagic. You’ve never really shared anything about it with me. It’s always felt separate from what we have. Not exactly untouchable, but I never felt particularly comfortable asking you about that.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Harry murmured. “Let’s put this one to bed, and we can figure out something for dinner.”

“I set up the second owl cage in the kitchen since you favor that room.”

Harry flushed because he’d bought three cages. He had no excuse for himself on that point. “I just wanted to keep her close.”

“You owe me no excuses, love,” Draco said. “I set up the third in our office space. It’s the biggest one, so I figured that would be best used there just in case we need to bring Hayle down from the aviary.”

“She won’t fit in it long,” Harry said wryly. “I suppose we could build a cell in one of the corners for your giant ridiculous bird.”

“She’s hardly giant.”

“She could end up over two meters tall.”

Draco huffed. “That’s just extreme cases. Magical versions rarely get that big.”

Harry just shook his head and headed for the kitchen. He tucked Hedwig into the cage where they’d installed a magical nest that was charmed to keep her comfortable and hesitated only briefly to shut and lock the door. She was really too small to wander around the house. Especially since snowy owls were fond of hopping around on the ground as owlets.

“She’s fine,” Draco said.

“I know,” Harry said and hooked his fingers on the cage. “I just didn’t expect anything like this. Even when we woke up in the past, I never really thought about the prospect of getting her back. I mean, how could I have possibly planned to find a single female snowy owl in Europe? I never even knew where she came from or how old she was—she was a gift from Rubeus Hagrid for my eleventh birthday. I assumed he bought her from the owl shop on Diagon Ally, but he could’ve easily bought her from some shady wizard on Knockturn Ally.”

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, then blew air out between his lips. “You know what? You’re absolutely right. There’s really no telling where she actually came from. But I would’ve certainly helped you look for her.”

“Why don’t you open a bottle of wine, and I’ll figure out the food.”

“We should have some beef stew left,” Draco pointed out. “And we have those clams you mentioned using for a chowder.”

“Let’s save the chowder for the weekend,” Harry said. “We’ll have the stew, so pick a red wine, and I’ll warm everything up.”

* * * *

Harry tucked his socks into his boots and left them by the stone stairway that curved down the wall through all four floors of the peel. He let one toe brush against the edge of the carved stone floor, and magic danced easily along the runes that encompassed the circle. He hummed under his breath and walked the entire circle, touching the anchoring runes with his toes as he went. Each time he touched the spellwork, magic drifted throughout the circle. Harry could feel the magic starting to pile.

“How does it feel?” Draco questioned from his place on the steps.

“Ragnok brought his A-game,” Harry said thoughtfully. “I’ve rarely seen rune work like this outside of the bank. It’s embracing the Peverell family magic like a lover.”

He pulled a platinum rune quill from his dimensional store as he stepped over into the circle and walked to stand in the middle. Harry watched the magic that the circle had already gathered from him and the ley line that was empowering it to swirl around him for several moments before he exerted any sort of control over it. He reached out mentally to touch the magic with his intent, and everything stilled in the circle; the streams of magic hung unnaturally around him as if frozen in time.

He sat down, folded his legs into the lotus position, and carefully carved the rune sequence on the center granite altar stone that would entail the circle to the Peverell line. Family circles were rare in the modern age, but he wasn’t put off by that. The workings of their family magic were no one’s business, at any rate.

“Okay, I’m ready for you,” Harry said and looked up to watch Draco tuck his boots next to his own abandoned shoes.

Draco stepped over the circle’s boundary and walked across the stones until he could sit across from him. “How does this work?”

“The mate bond we created in the future entrenched you in the Peverell magic,” Harry said quietly. “I had the hook of the Potter family magic, but when I claimed the Braemar title, it was subdued. I think we would’ve had to have a marriage bond for the Potter magic to welcome you. Potters marry tend to marry young, and I think that’s why. I’m not sure how one would go about changing such a thing within the scope of family magic.”

“It would take an immense about ritual work,” Draco said. “My father researched it once as he wanted to entrench some pure-blood nonsense into the family magic. Ultimately, he realized he would end up excluding me from the house of Malfoy because Arcturus Black married a half-blood—a profound love match from all reports.”

“I knew about his wife,” Harry said. “I read about her in the Black family grimoire, which I only read because I wanted some sort of connection with Sirius. It didn’t give me that because my godfather never had a chance to claim the title and had never added anything to the grimoire. Arcturus was furious the last years of his life over how his family fell to the dark and specifically to Tom Riddle, whom he loathed.”

He pulled his athame out and set it on the altar stone. “What will we need for the marriage rite?”

“Just a few potions for purification purposes, which I’ll want to brew personally, so we need to set up the lab,” Draco said and glanced across the cellar to the area they’d already set aside and warded for a potion’s lab. “I need to do a big shopping trip for that as we have to start from scratch. It’s going to cause another stir.”

“Perhaps we could get the bank to source most of it for us,” Harry said. “We’ll buy some equipment tomorrow on the ally, giving the impression that we brought a lab from abroad and need to supplement or replace some things here and there.”

“I’d like to visit the Longbottom farm and buy some ingredients,” Draco said. “I never got to go personally in the future, as neither Neville nor his grandmother was comfortable around me. I had to send an agent to purchase for me, which was disappointing because they have the most extensive ingredients farm in the entire country. I’ll make a list of the bank and another for our personal shopping.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said. “Okay, we’re going to add blood to the altar stone, which will establish the family line so our children and grandchildren will be welcome in the circle from the moment of their birth.”

“Sounds lovely,” Draco said. “The Malfoy circle was broken before I was born, and my father refused to discuss the circumstances. I know they used a ritual room at the bank for my conception, so it was broken before even that.”

“Depending on the construction, the dark mark your father and grandfather were branded with could’ve offended the magic of the family circle so much that it broke in response. To have father and son both corrupted would’ve been an immense burden.”

The blood in the wand hand was always the richest source of magic, so he stored his quill, picked up the athame with the left hand, and carefully cut his palm. The blood misted and was immediately harvested by the rune sequence. He made the same cut when Draco offered his hand then set the ritual knife aside. The smell of blood was distracting as fuck, so he pulled his wand as soon as the harvest was complete and healed them both with a soft hiss.

He put his healed hand on the stone and hissed, “In rebus magicis.” Magic sparked off his hand, ran along the lines of the circle, and all of the runes flared brightly before taking on a soft glow.

“You’re really hot,” Draco said.

It sounded like a complaint, so Harry laughed, cleaned the athame with a silent spell, and stored it and his wand in his bracelet.

“Lucky you,” Harry said and leaned back on his hands and grinned when Draco huffed dramatically. “Come here.”

Draco stared at him for a moment, then rolled to his knees. He crawled across the altar stone and slid astride Harry’s lap. Harry sat up fully, cupped Draco’s arse, and sought his mouth in a soft kiss. Harry held the back of Draco’s head with one hand and sighed as his mate’s mouth left his. Draco nuzzled against his jawline and buried his face against Harry’s neck.

“You know, traditionally, a family circle like this is sanctified with sex.” He grinned when Draco laughed and sat back. “Seriously, though. Sex magic is considered the purest form of magical communion.”

“You just want to fuck me on this stone floor like a caveman,” Draco said in amusement and just grinned when Harry shifted their positions and put him carefully on his back on the altar stone.

Harry raised an eyebrow and slid his hands down Draco’s thighs as he settled on his knees. “The comfort charm on the floor is robust for a reason.”

He unbuckled Draco’s belt, pulled the leather free, and tossed it aside.

Draco wet his lips. “Are you a wizard or not?”

“The last time I banished your clothes, you cursed me out,” Harry said in amusement but pushed with his magic and cast a silent, wandless banishment charm that whipped their clothes off in multiple directions.

“You tore my favorite trousers,” Draco said. “I haven’t owned these new ones long enough to give a single fuck if I ever see them again.” He spread his legs wide open, and his breath hitched as Harry’s hands clenched on his thighs. “You didn’t perform the communion spell.”

“Push your magic down into the altar stone,” Harry ordered lowly, and Draco’s skin took on a moon-bright glow. “Perfect, darling.” He wet his lips and took a deep breath. “Magicae communionis.” The dark blue spell swirled out of his chest, and Draco gasped. “It’s okay. Just let it work.”

“You just cast directly from your core, and you want me to relax?” Draco asked in shock, but he stayed still under Harry’s hands, which he appreciated.

The spell drifted around them, swirling through the glowing runes on the floor until the whole circle was lit under them. Harry lowered his head and licked up the length of Draco’s hard cock, sucking in the head as soon as he could. He took his time because he loved it, and Draco would take anything he wanted to give him. It was an enthralling and often overwhelming situation. It left him spoiled for choice on the regular when it came to the pleasure of his mate’s embrace. Veela were creatures of excess and indulgence; it left Harry feeling greedy, but he was beyond being ashamed of such a thing.

The air grew heavy as Harry moved upward between Draco’s thighs and braced his body over his mate with hands on either side of Draco’s head. Harry pressed his aching cock against Draco’s and brushed their mouths together in a gentle kiss.

“We’re going to make our family in this circle,” Harry murmured against Draco’s jaw, and his mate shivered under him. “I’m going to fill you up with my baby the first chance I get.”

“Harry,” Draco said, a demand and a plea all at once, as he fisted one hand in Harry’s hair. “Please.”

“I’ll give you everything you need,” Harry promised as he slid a hand under his mate and activated the prep rune on Draco’s lower back.

Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist eagerly and groaned softly as Harry thrust into his arse. He kept his pace slow and measured. Things had been so hectic and difficult since they’d fallen through time that sex had been hurried and often just short of brutal the few times they’d managed to make it happen. There was an immense amount of hunger burning between them, and it seemed to grow with each passing day. Part of him thought that it was the soulmate bond they hadn’t been allowed to create in the future, but if anything, that bond layered on top of their mate bond had only ramped up all of his already primed instincts.

Draco spilled messily against his own stomach and cried out as magic rained down on them. His blunt nails dug into Harry’s back as he continued to shudder and rock into each press of Harry’s cock.

“Fuck, yes,” Draco said between one ragged breath and the next. “I love you.” He arched up off the stone floor, and magic heaved up from the floor and grew heavy against their bodies.

Harry pressed his cheek against Draco’s and shook through his own orgasm, and swallowed hard as his emotions got the better of him. He worked pretty hard to keep all of that in check because a temper wasn’t his only issue—a leftover from his childhood and the war itself. Draco held him tight and whispered his love fiercely against Harry’s bearded cheek over and over again.

* * * *

Fawkes brought Dumbledore’s response. Harry was pleased to see the bird but kind of irritated by the display. The old bastard could’ve easily used Kaiser to respond but had clearly wanted to put the phoenix on display. He really didn’t think Fawkes was the normal method by which Dumbledore delivered his correspondence. He stroked Fawkes face gently and sighed.

“Is something wrong?”

“Just a very tired, eternal creature,” Harry murmured. “There are some strawberries in the cooling cabinet.” He let the phoenix perch on the back of a kitchen chair and set the parchment he’d delivered aside. “And he’s been tethered.”

“Tethered?” Draco demanded. “You mean that old bastard keeping him hostage?”

“I don’t think Dumbledore did it,” Harry murmured. “But he certainly reaps the benefit of it. There’s no single way the git didn’t notice this. It’s obscene.”

“How is the phoenix tethered?”

“To the school head position,” Harry said and sat down wearily. “I can’t believe I never noticed before.”

“Maybe the tether was destroyed before you met him,” Draco proposed. “Or before you were magically aware enough to see it. Did you ever know of him taking a Killing Curse?”

“I watched him have a burning day once, and he took a Killing Curse for Dumbledore during a duel with Voldemort in 1996,” Harry said and stared at Fawkes. The bird stared back as he grimaced. “I’d like to destroy this tether, but it would certainly come back on me if I did it today. Plus, it feels hundreds of years old. I should figure out who did this and curse their afterlife.”

Draco grinned then tilted his head. “Wait. Can you do that?”

Harry quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. “It’s worth trying at least once.”

He turned toward Fawkes and watched Draco feed him several strawberries. The bird clearly appreciated the attention. Harry took a deep breath when Fawkes shook himself gently, and a feather fell free. He picked up the feather and sighed. “No payment was required, old friend.” He stored the feather to avoid offering insult when Fawkes clicked his beak at him. “Come back in a few weeks, and I’ll remove the tether—this will protect us both. I know you’re the guardian of Hogwarts, but you might not be safe there until Dumbledore is gone. He won’t know where to search for you, and you’re welcome to perch in our aviary if you have nowhere else to go. Just be sure to make friends with Kaiser and Hayle, as they were here first.”

Fawkes inclined his head and apparated away in a burst of fire.

“One more exotic creature, and we’re going to have to get a freaking keeper’s license,” Draco muttered.

“I just thought I’d buy as much land around us as I can and declare the entire area a preserve,” Harry said and grinned when Draco rolled his eyes. “I think it would put Mora’s mind at ease. Besides, you started it.”

“You started it,” Draco argued. “With that silly coatl you wear around like an accessory.”

Harry touched Anwen, where she was wrapped around his wrist, and shrugged. “You know…I thought she was too small when I first saw her. I’d never really studied them and didn’t know they can change their size at will like a magical viper. Of course, her upper limit isn’t anywhere near a viper’s, but it was a surprise the first time she expanded. Magical snakes like to keep secrets and surprise you.”

Draco made a face. “Like what?”’

Harry laughed. “You should find out for yourself. Trust me, I’d never give the twin to you if I didn’t trust Anwen implicitly.”

“I do trust you,” Draco said easily and smiled beautifully when Harry focused on him. “This isn’t something we could’ve ever planned for, but there’s no one else on this Earth that I would have with me. And honestly, I’d have said it before I knew you were my soulmate. I’ve always known that I could trust you to do the right thing. Though, when we were younger, it was extremely frustrating.”

“Why?” Harry questioned.

“I felt like you were too good for me,” Draco admitted and flushed. “Sometimes, I still think that.”

“Well, that’s dragonshite.” Harry snagged his hand, pulled him close, and pinned him to the kitchen counter. “Since I know you have zero self-esteem issues, I’m a little confused as to where this could be coming from.”

“My father was a monster,” Draco said quietly. “And a serial killer. I once thought there was nothing worse than a Death Eater, but I was wrong. There was something so corrupt in him that not only did he kill and torture both the living and the dead…he was prepared to violate the will of Fate and Magic herself to go back and do it better.”

Harry huffed. “You know, I never really considered that. I mean, that was ambitious as fuck.” He ran his thumb along Draco’s cheekbone and took a deep breath. “But I see nothing of him when I look at you, and I never have. Even at your worst, you desperately wanted to do the right thing.” He clamped his hands on Draco’s hips and pressed a soft kiss to his mate’s mouth. “Now, let’s go to work and make a wish list of things we want to do while we’re at Hogwarts this afternoon. We should be prepared to drop some surveillance charms. I wish I had time to cultivate a spy amongst the portraits, but I have no history with any of them at this point.”

“I could place a portrait into the castle of my own design, something enchanted to spy,” Draco said. “Animation spells and a personality enchantment would mimic a living portrait. Dumbledore doesn’t pay attention to the wards or what is brought into the school. We know that already.”

“How long would that take?”

Draco shrugged and relaxed against the counter as Harry rubbed his thumb along the edge of his hip bone. “An hour, maybe less, depending on the size of the portrait. I can pull several images from a Muggle art book to make something that looks original, then do the enchantment and imbed the personality matrix pretty easily.”

“Most of the portraits in the school are male,” Harry said. “And snotty, blood purists.”

Draco laughed and shrugged.

* * * *

Harry watched the gates open, and his stomach tightened. Draco squeezed his hand gently.

“What’s wrong?” Draco questioned.

“I feel unwelcome,” Harry admitted and took in a ragged breath. “And that’s a fucking first. Even when it was full of Death Eaters, Hogwarts felt like a home to me.”

“Currently, the school is under Dumbledore’s domain,” Draco said thoughtfully. “And you resent him, Harry. It makes sense your magic would respond in kind and make you leery of being in a space he can exert absolute control over.”

“She’s a hostage,” Harry said flatly as he stared at the castle. “He ignores Hogwarts’ wishes and violates her founding principles. I want to murder him for that alone. There are children suffering in this school right now because he doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself.”

“The magic of Avalon clearly agrees that Dumbledore is a problem because I’m not even getting a mild warning about the thought of killing him, and I haven’t seen I woke up,” Draco said. “And that’s telling. Politically, I think it’s best if we leave him place for the moment. His mere presence in Britain is largely keeping Riddle in check.”

“I know,” Harry said and sighed. “Well, let’s get this ridiculous conversation over with. I expect this will be the last civilized conversation I have with Albus Dumbledore. The editor of the Wizarding Times let me know that my op-ed will drop tomorrow, and after that, Dumbledore will realize that his only method of controlling me will be through outright aggression.”

“Which is not in line with his established public persona,” Draco murmured. “Very well, love, let’s go talk to an old wizard who doesn’t know how to mind his own business.”

“Have you decided where to put the portrait?” Harry questioned.

“Well, he’ll have free rein of the place no matter where I stick him, but I was thinking probably near the Room of Requirement since we’ll have to go there anyway. Francis Sterling Wrightford, III can keep the trolls company.”

The portrait, which bore a striking and amusing resemblance to the actor who played Count Rugen in The Princess Bride, was genuinely awful. Draco had created a personality that would make people shy away from interacting with the portrait, which was the point. Of course, he was charmed to only be visible in his own portrait, so when he was moving about and spying in the castle, no one would see him. Dorcas Meadowes had added that particular feature as she’d been amused and thrilled with the project the moment it was proposed. They were already planning to create more so they could develop a spy network in the ministry.

They walked silently past Hagrid’s hut and all the way to the front doors, which opened under the hands of Minerva McGonagall. Harry blinked at the sight of her and cleared his throat. Honestly, she was a beautiful woman and, in her early forties, was probably turning heads all over Britain. She stepped forward with a smile, and Harry shared a startled look with Draco, who looked equally gobsmacked.

“Good afternoon, Lord Braemar,” she said warmly and offered her hands in greeting. “Consort Braemar. I’m pleased to welcome you both to Hogwarts. I’m Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.”

Harry released Draco’s hand, took hers in his gently, and watched her eyes widen slightly. “It’s a pleasure, Professor McGonagall. Please call me Harry.”

She smiled and turned to greet Draco as soon as he released her. “I’m told neither of you attended the school. If you have time this afternoon, I’d be pleased to offer you a tour.”

“I’m afraid we have appointments well into the evening,” Draco said as he took her hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“I imagine you’re going to be inundated with invitations,” Minerva murmured with a grimace.

“Yes, we’ve been press-ganged into attending a dinner party with people we’d rather not know at all later in the month as well. It’ll be our first purely social appearance.”

“Such is politics,” Minerva declared. “Well, come along then; Albus is in a dither about you both coming to have tea with him. I don’t think he realized you were married until it was reported in the Prophet, Lord Braemar.”

“Harry,” he corrected and grinned when she sent him a look he knew all too well. It was a relief to see a little bit of the older version in her. “Please, I insist. The title is a recent development for me.”

“Something to get used to,” Minerva said as she led them up the central staircase. “Mind the trick stair.” She frowned as she stepped over it. “Albus refuses to fix it. He says it’s part of the charm. I think it’s ridiculous.”

“I find that people tolerate a lot of insane things in the name of nostalgia,” Draco said. “How long have you been teaching here?”

“On and off for years,” Minerva said. “I recently left ministry service to return to the school full-time. I’m not on board with the approach Barty Crouch is taking to the attacks and the Death Eaters if I’m honest, and the school needed more security. On the whole, I prefer children to most adults I know.”

It was odd to be treated like a contemporary, and Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. Minerva McGonagall was only about sixteen years older than him at this point in her life. It made him sad, in a way, to have lost the relationship he’d enjoyed with her in the future. Though neither had ever expressed it, there had been a distinctly maternal vibe between them after he’d left Hogwarts, and she’d no longer been twisted up in Dumbledore’s manipulations. She turned the corner, and the collar of her dress shifted in such a way that he saw a very familiar mithril chain.

He cleared his throat and inclined his head toward her collar when she looked his way. Minerva stopped and touched the chain; her eyes went wide, and she adjusted it carefully.

“I have it charmed so no one unauthorized should see it,” she said and wet her lips as they came to a stop several meters away from the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore’s office. “I was assured it was working correctly.”

“Then it certainly is,” Draco said quietly.

She glanced between them and nodded. “Then I suppose I will see you at dinner later this month.”

“Yes, I think you will,” Harry agreed. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to let him do any of the cooking.”

Her eyes went wide, and she laughed despite her clear effort not to. “Yes, well, come along and ruin Albus’ day. He actually believes he can boss you around, Lord Braemar, so I look forward to seeing a memory of you making it clear that he will not.”

“Is there anything I can do to convince you to call me Harry?” he questioned.

She glanced him over in frank inspection. “You’re a married man, so no.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “I beg your pardon.”

Minerva grinned and strolled to the gargoyle. “Good to see living abroad so long didn’t take too much Englishman off the top.”

Draco laughed as Harry tugged him toward the entrance to the tower. Harry refrained from patting his face, which felt hot. She offered them a little wave as the gargoyle started to slide close.

“I cannot believe….”

“I can,” Draco said. “Merlin, Harry, you’re very attractive, and frankly, we’re just on opposite ends of the same peer group with her. No one would blink an eye if you dated and married a witch or wizard of that age. She’s still in her childbearing years and beautiful.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry muttered. “And I noticed.” They entered Dumbledore’s office, and Harry noted the man was standing near the telescope, back to them. It looked like it what it was—pure, goddamned theatrics. He hated that shit. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore turned to them and smiled. “Ah, I hope Minerva managed to get you here without a herd of children running you over.”

“We didn’t see any students,” Harry said stiffly and checked his watch. “Wouldn’t they be in class at this point?”

“Fifth and first years have a free period around this time of day,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “Come sit. I’ve arranged tea for us. I hope you’ve had a less stressful day than the day of our meeting. I’ve heard that you’re still setting up your household.”

“Yes, we rented space in Rome, and it was furnished for us,” Harry said. “Mr. Dumbledore, meet my husband, Consort Braemar.”

“It’s an honor, Consort Braemar,” Dumbledore said easily with an incline of his head that looked respectful. Harry wanted to punch him in the throat on general principle. “I’ve ordered prawn sandwiches for tea. I’ve heard that veela prefer seafood above other proteins.”

“Thank you,” Draco said and shed his long coat. Harry followed suit and let Dumbledore’s coat rack collect the garment. “Tea and prawn sandwiches sound perfect after our morning.”

“I’ve always found shopping to be tedious,” Dumbledore said and motioned them to the round table tucked near the back of the office next to a large set of bookshelves. “What was on the agenda today?”

“I’m a potions master,” Draco said. “We needed to replace some equipment that didn’t travel well. Just a few cauldrons and the like. We’ll be visiting Longbottom Farms this afternoon to replenish some ingredients.” He sat down, and Harry followed suit in silence. He felt completely off his stride and agitated. Draco put a hand on his thigh and squeezed gently. “My husband worked as a rune master before accepting the earldom—so we’re adjusting to our new circumstances the best that we can.”

Harry focused on Dumbledore and mentally floundered for a few moments because he was sure the man had asked a question, but he’d missed it entirely. “I might still take private commissions just to keep a hand in.”

“That’s good to hear. Runic magic is fast becoming a lost art in Britain,” Dumbledore said as he poured himself some tea. “Perhaps in the future, you can take an apprentice or two. If you wish, I can keep an eye out for promising students to send your way.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to mentorship,” Harry allowed. “Perhaps I’ll register with the ministry at some point. Things are hectic currently, and I have a great deal of work ahead of me considering how long the Peverell title has been in stasis.”

“The claiming was a surprise to many,” Dumbledore said.

“It had to happen eventually,” Harry pointed out. “The title was never rejected through the paternal line, and there were attempts at claiming on a yearly basis for several hundred years. The magic was primed to accept an heir. I barely managed to get the entire claim out before the ring appeared on my hand.” He watched Dumbledore’s eyes widen at that, and he pushed his own amusement down. “I’ve noted that most have asked the how. My father descended almost directly from Cadmus Peverell in a line that fell to squibs in the 1800s. He was born with magic but did not attend Hogwarts, nor did his father before him.

“When he married my mother, Corinth Deering, his only stipulation regarding children was that they be educated privately. She agreed as she was on the run from Grindelwald for reasons I was never told. Unfortunately, children did not come easily to them or quickly. I was born late in their lives. They passed before I went to Rome to study.”

Dumbledore sighed. “It’s a terrible loss to suffer as such a young man, Lord Braemar. Family is so important, and yet, often, we find ourselves torn away from it before we are ready to make our way in the world. I remember Corinth Deering. It was believed she was killed. I’m glad that she was able to hide away in the Muggle world and find some bit of happiness in that life. I checked the records for the school when you mentioned that you didn’t attend Hogwarts. It’s odd that you were both born in Britain and never invited to Hogwarts. The enrollment magic should’ve at least picked you up as a potential Muggle-born student.”

“I grew up isolated on an unplottable estate,” Harry said easily. “My parents made sure I was never invited to any magical schools though I’m not sure how that was accomplished. I didn’t leave the estate until I was well into my late teens.”

“A Fidelius would certainly have hidden you at that level,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “It’s powerful and ancient magic. I wonder what your parents feared so long after the capture of Grindelwald.”

“They lived in their own world really—content with one another and with educating me,” Harry said simply. “I never pressed for information, and now I can’t. Perhaps neither wanted the notoriety that would’ve come with claiming the Peverell earldom, something I was practically compelled to do the moment my family name was revealed in the bank.”

“It would be daunting for many,” Dumbledore allowed and focused on Draco.

“I was raised in France after my parents were killed,” Draco said simply. “I was invited to Beauxbatons, of course, but chose to be educated with a small peer group due to my veela heritage. I don’t remember an invitation to Hogwarts, but I’d have never been allowed to attend due to my veela blood and magic. I didn’t venture away from family at all if I could avoid it until after my heritage had fully settled. Though I’ve heard, over the years, that an invitation to Hogwarts is actually quite rare due to the limited number of students allowed since you became headmaster.”

“Your name prior to marriage wasn’t announced in the paper, but I could find only one Draconis on our books, and that was over a hundred years ago,” Dumbledore said cheerfully, ignoring the thinly veiled accusation of elitism. “He had dreadful grades.”

Draco laughed. “Bertrand is my family name.”

Harry watched alarm filter across Dumbledore’s face by degrees. Louis Bertrand was currently the most famous member of the family, but certainly not the only one to garner international recognition.

“I moved to Rome to apprentice under my cousin, Louis, after my majority,” Draco continued, blithely ignoring Dumbledore’s reaction. “I recently just finished my second mastery, in fact.”

“What did you settle on?” Dumbledore asked curiously. “Supreme Mugwump Bertrand has several, from what I heard.”

“Ah, well, I took masteries in potions and charms.” Draco stirred his tea, drawing attention to his house ring, which glinted with magic as he moved. “I understand you have many masteries yourself, Headmaster.”

“Minerva likes to tell me I’ve overeducated myself,” Dumbledore said with a bright smile and an eye twinkle.

Throat punching immediately went back to the top of Harry’s personal agenda. He let his fingertip graze the edge of the plate holding the sandwiches, then selected a cup which he turned over, and Draco reached for the teapot. He poured tea for them both. Harry touched the cup, and his medallion remained still against his throat. Whatever Dumbledore’s game was, he hadn’t made the mistake of trying to potion them. The magic on his medallion would protect him from passive legilimency, so he wasn’t sure if the old bastard had tried it.

“The next Wizengamot session is just two weeks away,” Dumbledore said as he fixed himself a small plate. “Have you notified the Chief Warlock that you plan to take your seat?”

“I accepted his invitation to take the seat,” Harry said and watched Dumbledore consider a response. “He was pleased with my desire to attend to the duty of my magical house. I’ve also named my husband as my only legal proxy. I have to go to his office within the next few days to register all of that and file a few parchments regarding fees associated with membership to the house of lords.”

“What are your most pressing concerns?”

“The ongoing campaign of terrorism that Voldemort is undertaking should be everyone’s most pressing concern,” Harry said dryly. “Beyond the fact that he’s hurting and sometimes killing innocent people, the entire situation is an international embarrassment. The British Ministry of Magic is allowing the Death Eaters to run around unchecked is disgusting and horrifying. It makes the government look ineffectual and weak. I’m sure you’ve heard that conversation taking place repeatedly at the ICW during your work there as the country’s representative.

“Frankly, there’s going to come a point when the ICW and the Magical Protectorate will have to act to protect the secret of magic and the world at large. Voldemort doesn’t need to become the threat that Gellert Grindelwald was on an international level.”

“There are delicate situations and politics to consider,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Many ancient and noble houses are deeply entrenched in the belief that blood matters and that pure-bloods are superior.”

“You’ll find that I rarely take the time to educate fools,” Harry said and took a big bite of his sandwich as Dumbledore gaped at him. He chewed and swallowed in the silence that followed. “Excellent prawns. Are your kitchens stocked from Snatchbottom’s?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Dumbledore admitted. “The house elves take care of food purchasing. I’m sure they source the best ingredients for the children. They take nutrition and quality very seriously.” He cleared his throat. “It’s important, politically, to make the right choices, Lord Braemar. You’re already working at a deficit due to the family connection to Armand Deering.”

“Am I?” Harry questioned and smiled. “My uncle is an internationally known, award-winning scholar and researcher. He’s also the high warlock of a very well-regarded conclave that has received many accolades for their work in healing and spellcraft. Frankly, outside of Britain, my uncle is well-liked, popular, and his company is coveted.

“As far as I can tell, the biggest issue Britain seems to have with him is that he’s a parselmouth. The prejudice against parselmagic in the UK is disheartening and speaks to a deep, profound ignorance that I would hope a man of your position would be working to fix. Instead, you seem content to speak of my uncle as if he’s the devil himself.” Dumbledore flushed. “It’s like the entire country has forgotten that every single bit of healing magic we have today was created by parselmouths. Not a single spell that could be used to save your life is bereft of the craft of the serpent.”

“I mean no offense, of course,” Dumbledore said stiffly. “I am but one man and cannot change how Master Deering is perceived. Award-winning, you say?”

“The man has been awarded three Aristotles,” Draco said mildly. “For his work in ritual magic and spellcraft. Armand Deering is without peerage and is responsible for the creation of many spells that many people in Britain use today without a single thought to the origin. He created the spell that modified the Patronus Charm to allow for the passing of messages ten years ago—earning him that third Aristotle.”

“Fascinating,” Dumbledore said and pursed his lips. “I had no idea. I frankly did not think him capable of producing a Patronus due to his entrenchment in parselcraft. It’s a dark art.”

“For an educated man, I find your ignorance on the subject of parselmagic profoundly insulting,” Harry said mildly. “How can a dark art be inherited? Is it not intent and outcome that brands a magical act light or dark?”

“I’ve lived a long time,” Dumbledore said. “Experience has taught me that there are things beyond my understanding. I’ve never met a parselmouth I could or would trust, Lord Braemar. If someone is born with parselcraft, then they are born with darkness already in their magical soul. The only thing I can do is to mitigate the damage they will eventually do to anyone they encounter.”

“Have you met Hiro Ito, the current high warlock of the War Mages division of the ICW?” Harry questioned.

“Yes, unfortunately,” Dumbledore said and frowned at his tea. “I immediately protested his position in the organization. Beyond the fact that he’s a parselmouth, he’s lived for thousands of years due to drinking from a philosopher’s stone. I was horrified to realize that there was more than one stone in the world and that my dear friend Nicolas was not the only one to succeed in making one. Frankly, Lord Braemar, I consider Hiro Ito to be an abomination—his existence is a crime against magic.”

Harry shared a startled look with Draco and set aside his half-finished sandwich. What little appetite he’d had when he sat down was completely gone. “You live in such a small world, Mr. Dumbledore,” Harry said, and the older man’s eyes widened slightly. “A small, ugly world that I find genuinely distressing. I’m grateful, more than ever, that I was educated privately and went abroad for my mastery-level tuition. Magic moves throughout our world in rich and amazing ways. I’m comforted by the fact that I was allowed to experience that in a way that left me open and broad-minded. If you represent the kind of wizard I can expect to interact with on a daily basis in Britain, I fear for my patience and my temper.”

Draco laughed. “Oh, love, I already fear for both of those things regardless of where we’re standing.”

Harry huffed at him and picked up his tea.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “I noticed that Consort Braemar is wearing a house ring. That might make taking a wife in Britain difficult. Traditionally speaking, triad marriages are frowned upon.”

“I won’t be taking a wife at all,” Harry said. “So that’s not a concern for me. I had the great fortune to meet and marry my soulmate. We have a profound bond due to his veela nature that would never tolerate a third.” An emotional response that Harry couldn’t quite figure out drifted over the old man’s face. “I realize some people in Britain might be preparing a campaign to gain control over me and my magical legacy in some fashion or another. For many families, that might include trying to sell me one of their daughters. I will not tolerate such machinations with any sort of grace and won’t pretend otherwise.”

Dumbledore grimaced and sighed. “I’d say no one would begrudge the fact that you married your soulmate, but I would be lying. Most don’t respect such magic in Britain, and many pure-blood families have engaged in an active campaign to destroy the beauty of it for their own obvious reasons.”

“I find that most people in Britain simply don’t respect magic at all,” Harry said. “It’s a shame, and while I don’t pity them, specifically, I do fear for their immortal souls. What punishment will they face when they stand before the Lady for their blasphemous actions and opinions? Judgment is delivered upon us all in the end.” He smiled when Dumbledore blanched. “Thank you for tea, Mr. Dumbledore, but we have several afternoon appointments that need our attention, and I’ve been told that keeping Lady Longbottom waiting is akin to the worst sort of sin.”

“Certainly,” Dumbledore said stiffly. “I’d do a great deal to avoid crossing that particular witch.”

 

 

Chapter 9

Minerva met them at the bottom of the stairs. Harry was grateful they wouldn’t have to deflect her with magic. He activated the privacy feature of his hood, and her head jerked in his direction briefly as they walked away from the central staircase. They rounded the corner, and he felt a shift in the wards around him. She offered him a little smirk when he glanced her way. Honestly, at her current age, she reminded him so much of Hermione that it kind of hurt.

She motioned them to follow her into what looked like a narrow crevice, and quickly they were tucked into an alcove. Minerva turned to face them and crossed her arms.

“We can speak freely in this space. I’ve created a dimensional pocket in the wards with Hogwarts’ permission. Albus is unaware of it, and she’s assured me that he will remain unaware of this place and of my activities in general. She’s brassed off at him because he ignores her. I didn’t realize any of this until I returned to the school wearing an Unspeakable medallion.” Her fingers glanced over her collar, and she adjusted it again. “I think it’s protecting me from the charm work that Albus has thrown all over the place to make the staff ignore the castle and the wards.”

“Makes sense,” Harry said and took a deep breath.

“Well?” She prodded.

“Leviathan,” Harry said.

“Helios, at your service.” Draco offered her a short bow, which made her smile.

“Medusa.”

“Beautiful, deadly, and powerful,” Harry said. “Well chosen.”

“The job and education background were equally appealing,” she said. “Why did Croaker send you? I’ve not finished my report, so he has no idea how…bloody wretched the ward situation is in the school.”

“Dumbledore is making a play to control the Braemar seat within the Wizengamot. He invited me here for a conversation, so I took the opportunity to get a personal read on him. I was just relieved to find the food potion free,” Harry admitted.

“He had charms all over the seats and table, though,” Draco interjected. “Nothing that would impact us because of the warding on our medallions, but he was probably really surprised to find that you weren’t remotely interested in hearing his opinions. The charm work looked like a mixture of loyalty and behavioral adjustment. He’ll probably blame the house rings we were both wearing.”

“We have a few additional reasons for being here,” Harry said. “We need to retrieve something from the Room of Requirement, there is an urban legend of sorts that Croaker would like me to investigate, and we’ve got a portrait to add to the matrix within the castle for intelligence gathering.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Croaker agreed to leave Albus to me.”

“Professor, with all due respect, you have the children of Death Eaters in this school and a headmaster who doesn’t give a damn what they get up to. Moreover, we both know Voldemort will start recruiting from the student body sooner rather than later. There could already be marked students.” Harry watched her eyes darken with fury. “Also, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that Dumbledore would and certainly could destroy you in a prolonged fight. So, if you have to draw your wand on him—kill him.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Is it…. Can it be that bad?”

“Avalon has declared Albus Dumbledore her enemy, and you know your duty,” Harry said. “If you can’t do it when the time comes—retreat, and I’ll do it for you.”

She glared at him. “I can handle myself.”

“You can,” Harry agreed. “But the man is your mentor, and I understand the war being fought in your heart in this moment. You see one thing and know another. Experience and memory would tell you that you can trust him with everything. That is a lie.”

Minerva nodded and lowered her gaze. “Of course.”

“And you should create several spaces like this all over the school so you can have…more than one safe place to retreat to, just in case,” Draco said. “Probably at least one on each floor. And if you can carve out a spot in the castle that would allow you to apparate or portkey out, that would be for the best.”

“I’ll work on it—Hogwarts will allow me a lot.” She cleared her throat. “Now, I have no idea where the Room of Requirement is or how to access it.”

“I know both,” Harry said. “And I can’t say how. I offer my apologies for the secrecy.”

“I’d settle for a demonstration,” she said and motioned them out. “Albus has no idea where it is either and has searched for it for decades. I don’t believe Hogwarts wants him to know. I can’t guarantee she’ll let you enter it either.”

He left the alcove with Draco’s hand in his, and they walked quickly to the dancing trolls tapestry. “You walk in front of this tapestry back and forth three times, thinking about what you need.” She scrunched up her nose and glared at him. “I promise, I’m not having you on.”

He laughed when she waved a hand at him, so he did the walk thinking about the room of hidden things. After his third trip, a door shimmered into place, and Minerva huffed a little under her breath. He opened the door and inclined his head so she walked in ahead of them.

“The best part of this is that you can use this room to go anywhere in the castle,” Harry said as he shut the door. “Just walk back and forth in front of this door while you think about where you need to go, and it’ll produce a door to that area of the school.”

“Fascinating,” Minerva murmured. “You’ve chosen a junk room?”

“There’s something in this room I need to retrieve,” Harry said and pulled a pouch from his dimensional store. “I can’t discuss the specifics of the mission.”

She nodded and looked around. “Is all this stuff conjured?”

“This iteration of the ROR is called the Room of Hidden Things,” Draco interjected. “I do not know if it only contains things that were hidden specifically in it or if the room puts everything that is hidden in the school here, eventually. Considering how powerful the enchantments and charms are—it could be harvesting hidden things from anywhere in the country.”

Minerva huffed. “Merlin, let’s keep that theory to ourselves. I don’t want a bunch of idiots showing up here to look for things they forgot they hid away.”

Harry turned to Draco. “Can you put the portrait in here and attach it to the matrix?”

“I can try,” Draco said. “Professor, your ward access would be beneficial in this, I believe.”

“Yes, of course, Consort Braemar.”

Harry watched them for a moment before walking away. The room looked different, but then it clearly collected a lot of shit in the thirty years in between his visits. He strolled through the aisles, and a glint of gold caught his attention. He stopped in a collection of little hand mirrors. Some were plain, and others ornate. There were probably over a hundred of them, and some looked to be antique. He briefly considered the ethics of taking them but then shrugged and pulled out a second pouch. He threw the whole lot in and tucked it back into his dimensional store, then resumed the search for the horcrux.

There was a time when he’d have been able to walk straight to it, as the one in his scar had created a connection between him and the other horcruxes. Even years later, it was hard to grasp that he’d spent so many years with a piece of Voldemort attached to his magical core. It was galling and a genuine crime in his mind. In the end, Harry knew that Dumbledore’s crimes were vast, but there was something insidious about leaving a horcrux in a child. Especially when it could’ve been easily removed in ritual. The dverger had a well-honed process in place for it as horcrux magic was ancient, and they encountered it regularly in the tombs of magicals.

He turned a corner and spied a pair of communication mirrors sitting on a shelf. Considering the project he had in mind for the compacts, it was an exceptionally lucky find. Harry picked them both up and stored them.

“Thank you.”

A shimmer of magic drifted around him, and he was treated with a brief connection to Hogwarts herself. It was a mere shadow of the relationship he’d enjoyed in the future with the castle, but it eased the lonely ache in him that had developed when they’d appeared in front of the school. Harry let his fingers drift across the stones of the wall near him. A gentle swish of relief was his reward.

“Harry?”

He turned and found Draco standing a few feet away with Minerva McGonagall at his side. Harry cleared his throat. “I haven’t found what I was looking for.”

“The wards shifted, Lord Braemar,” Minerva said stiffly. “I can’t see how Albus didn’t feel it.”

“Will he even care?” Harry questioned and watched her process the question. “Want to make a bet on it?”

“If I win?”

Harry grinned at her. “I’ll never ask you to call me by my given name again.”

“I suppose, if you’re right, I could be persuaded to call you Hadrian,” she said and marched off back the way she came. “Consort Braemar, you have a task to finish.”

Draco stared pointedly at Harry for a moment, shook his head, and walked away. Harry tucked his hands into his coat pockets as he walked further into the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glint of magic and felt a jolt of magic slither down his spine. He focused on the diadem with a sigh. There was compulsion charm, but it had been eroding for years. It certainly hadn’t been active when they’d found it the first time. The moment had been hectic and dangerous, but…not so much that he wouldn’t have noticed an active compulsion charm. Harry had always been sensitive to such things. He had to wonder if it had been due to overexposure or merely just a function of his own magic.

He plucked up an old broom and used it to hook the diadem, which he dropped into the warded pouch he’d created for the horcruxes and stored the whole thing. Then he took a moment to study the broom. It was an older model comet, but it was in very good shape. It was certainly better than any of the ones he’d seen belonging to the school while he was a student. He walked back to the front of the room where Draco and Minerva were standing, having a conversation with Francis. From the look on her face, she wasn’t thrilled with the portrait.

“I can’t see why you made him so disagreeable,” Minerva exclaimed.

“So no one, not even other portraits, will want to talk to him at all,” Draco pointed out reasonably.

“I’m a perfectly good wizard,” Francis said snottily from the portrait. “I won’t have some woman complain about me.”

“Watch your mouth,” Harry snapped at the portrait, and it reared back in shock. “You’ll be polite to every single witch in this castle no matter their age, station, or blood status. I will come back over here and set you on fire myself if you’re an arsehole.”

The portrait glared at him and then huffed. “Very well, Lord Braemar, if you insist.” Francis flounced out of the portrait.

“I hate him,” Harry muttered and turned to Draco. “Who the hell did you copy anyway?”

“Oh, he’s a mixture of a few wretched people I wish I’d never met,” Draco admitted and shrugged when Minerva laughed. “Did you get what you needed?”

“I did, yes.” Harry held out the broom to Minerva. “I’ve heard some discussions in the ministry, obviously the parents of students here, that the school brooms are awful and pretty much always have been. There are quite a few in this room. Some are serviceable as is, and others are quite old—so old that they might be very valuable to a collector. You could use the funds to make good, safe broom purchases.”

Minerva took the broom and looked around the room. “I could, yes. Thank you, Lord Braemar. I’ll speak with a few professors, and we’ll do a survey to see what else we can sell from the room to fund various activities and clubs within the school. There is no formal budget for such things.” She pursed her lips. “Do you suppose I could get nicked for peddling stolen goods?”

Harry grinned. “I’ll bail you out.”

She scrunched up her nose in ire. “Stop flirting with me in front of your own husband.”

“If you think that was flirting, you really need to get out more,” Draco said. “Though he does do that stupid thing with his face, and people just fall all over themselves.”

“What stupid thing with my face?” Harry questioned.

“I suppose he means that ridiculously charming smile of yours,” Minerva said with a look of disgust. “Between the two of you, I despair for witches and wizards all over the British Isles.” She waved a hand. “If your business is done, we can leave.”

“I’m finished with the room,” Harry said. “And we’re due at the Longbottom estate in a few hours. But I need to go down into the Chamber of Secrets to handle a problem that is a thousand years in the making.”

Her gaze narrowed. “The Chamber of Secrets is a myth.”

“No, ma’am, it isn’t,” Harry said. “In circumstances, I can’t speak to, I discovered that the Chamber of Secrets is real and that Salazar Slytherin left a basilisk in it. It was that beast that killed a young witch in this school years ago.”

She put a trembling hand on her breastbone. “Myrtle Warren.” She took a deep breath. “She died in a girl’s bathroom.”

“Then we’ll probably find the entrance there.”

“Rubeus Hagrid was accused of causing her accidental death with an exotic pet—if he didn’t, then his expulsion was not appropriate,” she said quietly. “How can I rectify that if you take the basilisk away?”

Harry considered that and shrugged. “Let’s get him pardoned for his youthful mistake so that he can provide additional security for the school as a wizard with the wand rights appropriate to his abilities. The staff can tutor him, as time allows, and have him take whatever testing he needs to go forward in the career of his choice. He’s certainly suffered enough for Voldemort’s actions because he was the one that opened the chamber and killed that little girl.”

“Your local and international connections are quite extensive,” Minerva said with a little sniff. “Hiring you both was well done. I’d tell McGregor that, but he’s rarely right, and there’s no need to allow him to develop any sort of sense of accomplishment.”

“I can enter the chamber from outside of the castle,” Harry said. “But I need you to stand guard over the bathroom where Mrytle died in case the snake tries to come up through the sink to escape me. It’s not without risk. She’s at least a thousand years old and fully mature.”

“Bigger than a dragon, then,” Minerva said quietly. “I have an animagus form, and I’m color blind when I’m transformed. A basilisk requires a full visual spectrum in its victim in order to petrify or kill. Which makes the rooster, its only natural enemy, a quandary, to say the least, since chickens have superior vision even when compared to a human.”

Harry nodded. “Can you get a house elf to bring you a rooster?”

“Yes, I’ll summon one once I’m in place,” Minerva said. “When you’re finished, call for Elsie. She’s my personal house elf, and I’ll tell her to listen for you.” She paused. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out, Lord Braemar, that you have a duty to the House Elf Enclave as a peer.”

Harry nodded. “I’m aware, but I have to make considered choices on that front because of our work. Also, I plan to lobby for extensive legal reform regarding the use of house elf labor in this country. I can’t be perceived to use one as a slave and be taken seriously.”

“No, certainly not. Elsie is a member of my household and my family. I helped her birth both of her children,” Minerva said, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at her. “And drove both her and Poppy Pomfrey insane in the process. Shall we get started?”

“Yes, we’re due at the Longbottom estate for a meeting with the Dowager Longbottom in just three hours.”

“Merlin, don’t keep that woman waiting,” Minerva muttered as she headed toward the door. “She’ll have you killed, transfigured, and put on her hat.”

Harry exchanged a look with Draco as they walked out of the room. He felt magic shift behind him as the door swished shut and disappeared.

“Merlin’s pants!”

Harry turned, wand flicking into his hand in an instant. His stomach lurched in horror when his own mother gasped in shock, and James Potter tucked her behind him with one hand while he used the other to draw his own wand.

Harry cleared his throat. “My apologies. You startled me.” He stowed his wand just as an impossibly young Sirius Black joined James and Lily.

Minerva cleared her throat, and all three students flushed.

James put away his wand. “Yes, well, you…shouldn’t just draw your wand like that.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You think I shouldn’t draw my wand in a country being held hostage by domestic terrorists when I’m startled? Seriously, lad?”

James flushed. “You scared Lily.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Lily denied hotly. “Don’t put words in my mouth, James Charlus Potter!”

“Children,” Minerva said lowly, and all three straightened up. “Allow me to introduce Hadrian Peverell, Earl of Braemar, and Draconis Peverell, Consort of Braemar.”

James’ mouth dropped open, and he shared a horrified look with Sirius as he quickly stowed his wand.

“Gentlemen, these three are Sirius Black, heir of the house of Black, James Potter, heir of the house of Potter, and Lily Evans, the brightest witch of the age. I’m continuously puzzled by her association with these two.”

“We’d get into so much trouble without Lily around,” Sirius said earnestly and glanced toward the troll tapestry. “You just came out of a room that doesn’t exist.”

“Did we?” Harry questioned and shared a look with Draco, who grinned.

Lily’s gaze drifted between him, the wall, and the tapestry. “Oh.”

“Oh?” James questioned. “What?”

“I wish you’d read, James,” Lily muttered. “Honestly.”

Harry laughed and caught Draco’s hand in his. “Happy hunting, gentlemen.” He inclined his head toward little. “Miss Evans, it was a genuine pleasure.”

She smiled brightly. “Thank you, Lord Braemar.”

Minerva quickly escorted them to the front doors of the school, sour expression firmly in place. Dumbledore didn’t appear, so Harry figured he’d totally gotten away with his little interaction with the castle’s wards. He offered her a smirk, and she huffed dramatically as she closed the doors on them.

“You know…if I were single. I might give the old man a run for his money on that subject.”

Draco snorted. “I don’t think you’d last a day if I’m honest. There must be a reason there isn’t a line of wizards outside the gates waiting for a conversation with that witch.”

“She’d probably give them detention, ruin their self-esteem, take house points if they ever sorted at Hogwarts, and write letters to their mothers detailing their inappropriate behavior and how she’d not be having another single moment of it.” Harry laced his fingers with Draco’s as they walked.

“You seem more relaxed.”

“It was nice, that small connection with the castle,” Harry admitted. The gates swung open as they approached, and he pulled Draco close as soon as they were outside the ward boundary. He apparated to the tunnel entrance of the chamber deep in the forbidden forest.

The gate was ajar. Not a surprise, the snake had to be feeding in the forest on the regular and had been since Tom Riddle had woken her up when he’d been in the school as a student. He pulled his staff and turned to Draco.

“Whatever is on your mind….” Draco said.

“I want to go in by myself,” Harry said. “So you can stay out here and have the room to transform if needed. You’re about her size in your animagus form. If I can’t contain her, then we have to kill her. And I’m certainly going to work hard to make sure that snake doesn’t try to run in Minerva’s direction. It would be a big fucking mess and total chaos. And yet, now that I’m here, I just can’t leave this fucking snake around these vulnerable children. I feel weirdly conflicted.”

“Risking her breaking out of the chamber is as much of a threat as leaving in her place,” Draco speculated. “We’ve already made changes that will make Riddle reckless, and he might see this basilisk as a handy distraction at some point. He could hold this school hostage with her and, in doing so, would have some very powerful people by the short hairs. But it might just be the adoption and not your oath as an Unspeakable.”

Harry frowned. “What?”

“Harry,” Draco smiled. “You have two very vulnerable children in this castle that are part of your magical house. You’re the patriarch, and that kind of magical duty can be profound when a wizard is as honorable and protective as you are. If this snake posed a threat to the Deadmarsh brothers, you’d probably tear this school to pieces to get to it.” He took a deep breath. “Plus, no matter how muted the connection is now—your parents are in that school, and you just came face to face with them.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly. “Do you agree with the plan?”

Draco looked around. “I have the space to transform. It’s clear she made room for herself to enter and exit the chamber decades ago. Some of these broken trees are only alive because of the ley lake the school and forest sit on. Your first order of business will be to blind her if she fights you.”

“Do you think she won’t?” Harry questioned.

“She might see you as a source of help and sanctuary,” Draco said with a shrug. “You’re magically compelling; there’s no reason to think she’d be immune to an adult parselmouth with your magical power. You have the trunk we made to contain her, just in case?”

“Yeah, but I….” Harry took a deep breath. “You’re right—I should give her a chance. I just don’t have good memories of her.” He shed the formal robe he’d worn for appearance’s sake and stored it in his bracelet. “Elsie!”

A house elf appeared in front of him dressed in a little tartan dress and short black boots. She quirked one little dark green eyebrow at him. “Lord Braemar be needing my help?”

“I wanted to make sure your mistress was ready and to let her know I’m about to enter the chamber.”

She nodded and popped away.

Harry disillusioned himself and watched, in amusement, as Draco leaned on a tree not far from the entrance. The walk down the tunnel wasn’t taxing, and the light his staff was emitting, though shrouded by his own charm work, still worked from his perspective. He found her coiled up in a pile in the nest that had clearly been built for her. The statue door was obscured entirely by her bulk.

Her plumage quivered, and she lifted her head. Objectively, she was a truly stunning creature, and he hoped that he could save her from herself and the manipulations that Tom Riddle had left behind.

“Speaker, why do you hide from me?”

“You’re very dangerous,” Harry said in amusement. “And I know you’ve been misused in the past.”

“You mean the pretender? Yes, he tricked me. I have promised to eat him whole should he ever return.”

Harry laughed but moved around the large room, stepping over her slowly flicking tail as he did so. “Because of the pretender, you have become a threat to the school you were originally tasked with protecting.”

“I didn’t mean to kill the girl,” she hissed and tucked her head into her coils. “Do you intend to execute me for my crime?”

“I accept that you were misused and made a mistake—the murder is Tom Riddle’s fault in the end.” Harry ended his disillusionment charm and leaned slightly on his staff.

“You are very powerful.”

“I know you find that very attractive,” Harry said. “But I have a mate that I must protect, and we know that creatures such as you could never tolerate such a thing. Perhaps there is a wizard that can take Salazar’s place in your life, but it isn’t me.”

“It could be you,” she responded, tone petulant.

Harry laughed. “I would not part with my soulmate for any reason.”

“Soulmate magic is profound. I have not chosen to use my death stare since the girl died. It is the promise I made to her to atone for my actions. I petrify my kill for hunting. If you do not intend on killing me and I cannot stay here, where will you take me?”

“There is a preserve in Japan made for creatures such as yourself—you will be treated with great respect and kindness provided you treat those who watch over you with care.” Harry watched her process that. “You’ll be placed in a trunk and kept in stasis for travel, so you’ll go to sleep right here and wake up in Japan. I will make sure you end up in the hands of an honorable wizard or witch.”

“I’d prefer a wizard,” she said. “My name is Kazumi.”

“I will make sure your preference is known.” Harry pulled the trunk from his dimensional store and opened it. “It’s bigger than it looks.”

“I understand such magic.”

Harry watched Kazumi nudge the trunk with her nose then she flowed into it with a pleased hiss. Since he’d enchanted the trunk himself, she probably felt a great deal of comfort in his magic. He closed the lid and let himself relax as he stored it. Since it felt doable, he apparated back to the entrance.

Draco put away the book he was reading. “I take it went well?”

“Very well, she was open to the move and feels contrite for the death she caused. She called Riddle the pretender. It’s clear she’d shaken herself free of whatever magic he managed to put on her. It makes me wonder just how powerful Ginny was before she was possessed by the diary. She clearly cast on that snake at some point because her behavior was much different today.”

“Well, she was the seventh child with two pure-blood parents. Considering she was also the first female to be born in that line in hundreds of years. There is a unique power in the seventh child if they are cultivated in a certain way.

“You mean in ritual.”

“Certainly,” Draco said. “The snake didn’t put up any sort of fight?”

“No, I think she’s bored,” Harry said. “And ashamed of the behavior that was forced on her. She was meant to be a protector and was led astray by Tom Riddle.”

“What will you do with her?” Draco questioned.

“Now that I have in stasis, I feel comfortable contacting Hiro Ito and asking for his help. He will be very willing to come here and take care of her.” He paused. “But I suppose I should talk to Armand about her first?”

“Family politics being what they are,” Draco said. “Did you strike a bargain with her already?”

“I said I would send her to a preserve in Japan where she would be treated with kindness and respect if she behaved, and she agreed.”

“Then a discussion hurts nothing because he can’t very well ask you to violate the terms of such an agreement.”

“Elsie!” The house elf appeared in front of him and looked him over in an overt manner. “I’ve finished my business and will be leaving now.”

“Mistress be pleased you not get your fool self hurt,” Elsie said and popped away.

Harry grinned and offered his hand to Draco, then apparated them straight into the landing zone in the DOM. “Also, just so you know, before I kill Albus Dumbledore, I want to ruin his entire goddamned life.”

Draco grinned. “That’s my man.”

Harry laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his husband’s unresisting mouth.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked as they moved down the hall and into their office, which wasn’t far from the apparition point by Harry’s on request. He closed the door and activated security. “It had to be hard to see the three of them standing there.”

“I thought it would be difficult, if not outright impossible, to be in the same space with my parents. But my emotions concerning them feel distant and manageable. I’m not sure if it’s the adoptive connection between myself and Armand or if I’m getting a leg up on that front by Death herself.”

“I hope it’s the adoption,” Draco admitted. “Because Narcissa Black is nineteen years old right now and in the midst of negotiating an apprenticeship with a potion’s mistress. Her parents eventually destroy that opportunity for her so they can marry her off. Lucius was their second choice.”

“Who was the first?”

Draco cleared his throat. “Merlin, Harry, do you even have to ask? They tried to give her to Tom Riddle and that dark bastard he’s married to.”

“Would it draw too much notice if we just start killing off every wizard your wretched grandparents think about selling their daughter to?” Harry questioned. “Because I’m not above it.”

“I mean, Tom Riddle and Balthazar Rosier are already on that list,” Draco said in amusement. “And Riddle soundly rejects their offer anyway. He has no use or interest in actually having a wife. I’m unsure about Rosier, but we already know the lengths Riddle will go to keep a spouse at his side. I doubt Rosier can even get an erection without Riddle knowing about it. Killing that guy could be considered a mercy.”

“I deal death, not mercy,” Harry muttered and dropped into his chair.

Draco snorted. “Shut up, you dramatic old arsehole.”

“Sometimes I feel really old,” Harry admitted and propped his feet up on the corner of the desk. “I pilfered some compact mirrors from the ROR and a set of communication mirrors. I’d like to work on the whole set to create a network. I’m going to write a proposal for McGregor. It’ll be a long-term thing.”

“You mean like a magical network set up like a cellphone network,” Draco said.

“Something private for now,” Harry said. “Just for the DOM field assets, but I’d eventually like to find a front for the project for public consumption. Depending on the demand and magical burden of creating and maintaining a network that large—I was thinking the best choice would be Gringotts.”

“It would be a life-changing innovation,” Draco admitted. “Was it on your radar in the future?”

“There were too many laws in place designed to prevent exactly that kind of innovation in Britain,” Harry admitted. “Nearly all of them authored or, at least, backed by Albus Dumbledore. He was adamant about the magical world staying exactly as it is for as long as possible. It’s like Dumbledore is stuck in a single moment, and he can’t tolerate anyone or anything moving on from it.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Of course, love, always,” Harry said with a smile as he dropped his feet from the desk and sat up straight.

Draco leaned on the desk near Harry’s chair and took a deep breath. “Have you ever had a conversation with the goddess of death?”

“In this life?” Harry clarified, and Draco nodded. “No. I’ve entreated, pleaded, and on one outrageous occasion, demanded her attention. Varda has never appeared before me or communicated in any overt manner with me that I can remember. There have been times, however, when I felt her presence and heard a distant sort of laughter. She clearly finds me more amusing than not, no matter my behavior. I think, honestly, I exist on the goodwill created by other versions of myself throughout the centuries. Why?”

“Do you believe any punishment should be eternal?” Draco asked.

Harry sighed. “I never should’ve told you about him.” He watched Draco’s eyes darken, and his cheeks flush. “It’s not for me to say, love. I cannot go against the will of my patron in any single way. While Death cannot act on this plane directly, she could and certainly would punish me horrifically if I were to betray her. We already know this.”

“I’ve not met Vasco Huaman, but I can’t expect that to remain true,” Draco said. “And I admit I do think about him now and again since you spoke of him. He’ll come here and beg you to kill him. I already know you’ll decline.”

“I can’t kill him, love,” Harry said quietly. He reached out and took Draco’s hand in his and found it chilled. “Listen, I’m going to say something to you that you can never repeat.” He waited until Draco nodded. “While I’ve always been the Master of Death, I was not the first. I’m not even the tenth as the Master has walked this Earth as long as magic has existed, and I feel as if my soul is just a few thousand years old. When one falls or is allowed to rest, another is created to take their place.”

Draco stared. “Where are the others?” He paused and took a deep breath. “Huaman was once the Master of Death.”

“Yes, not the first, as that master was granted eternal rest for his service. I don’t know how I know this; I can’t explain how or why the information came to me. I just one day knew it. Varda gives me the information she wants me to have exactly when she wants me to have it. Sometimes, she takes that information back when it no longer serves her goals. I have no choice but to accept her actions as I have no defense against her and never have.” He watched Draco pale. “As I told you, Vasco betrayed Varda. He turned from his path, and he will be punished for as long as she wills it.”

“How much longer will you be the Master of Death? Do you know?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Eventually, no matter the strength of the eternal soul, I will grow tired. If I have served her well, she will reward me. If I have not—I will return to the service of Zirnitra, and from there, my fate will be his to decide. Did you ever hear the story of our creation?”

Draco shook his head. “My parents weren’t religious, and such things aren’t taught outside the home for obvious reasons.”

“Much of what I’m about to tell is information lost to time. Two deeply magical creatures were born—one on this world and one in a very near dimension. They were brothers, bound by magic but separated by means they did not understand. Individually, they studied, and each grew so powerful that they could not be contained in the body of a mortal. They sought a higher plane of existence at nearly the same time and finally met. One was named Zirnitra, though many in his time called him the Black Dragon because he could shift into one. The other was named Manwë, and he claimed to come from the middle. The middle of what is anyone’s guess.

“Zirnitra loved but one his whole mortal life, and when she came close to death, he asked her to join him in his immortal existence, and she agreed. The goddess Hekate was created in her death. Hekate was captivated by the mortal life she left behind, and eventually, her fascination grew so ardent that she started to bestow magical abilities on her most faithful acolytes. Zirnitra loved her, so he indulged her in this and dedicated himself to protecting her and the magic she gave us.

“Manwë saw his brother’s joy and contentment in his love of Hekate and sought such for himself. He found that love in a deeply magical and powerful creature known as Varda, whom he married. She was an Ainur, a species created by Eru, a deity who even to this day watches over all the dimensions where magic is free to flow.”

Draco exhaled sharply. “I…our goddess of death is a magical creature from another dimension?”

“She is everyone’s goddess of death,” Harry said in amusement. “Some would have you believe she is cruel and ugly, but that could not be further from the truth. When she walked amongst mortals on Manwë’s middle world…her beauty enthralled any who crossed paths with her. If you asked a dverger who Varda is, they would tell you she is the Lady of the Stars, for they believe that stars burn for her and by her hand.”

“Muggle science would say differently.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed. “It’s not a literal truth, but a metaphorical one. Life is energy, and Muggle science would also tell you that energy cannot be created or destroyed—merely transformed.”

Draco frowned as he considered that. “So, in that vein, a spell is just the transformation of magical energy.”

“Or a conversion, depending on the magical act,” Harry said. “At any rate, Varda is known as the goddess of death on many worlds, not just ours, and that is because of her unique relationship with the energy of magic which she directs by the will of Eru. Hekate, our own goddess of magic, once handled death magic on Earth, but as magic spread here in a way it did nowhere else under Eru’s domain, Varda took up the mantle to ease her sister-in-law’s burden.

“Varda assumed control of death magic well over 50,000 years ago on this world, and I don’t know what happened to the middle world. I know the Zirnitra still has influence on this world, and so does his wife. I’ve no memories or instinctual response to the Manwë, so I don’t think I’ve ever encountered him. There are others…many others actually…immortal beings who don’t exist on our plane but interact with it as Eru demands.”

“Why would this entity even care?” Draco questioned.

Harry grinned. “We are all his children, Draco. We have our magic by the grace of Hekate, but only because Eru allowed it here.”

“He didn’t allow it to spread on the middle world and now it’s…gone,” Draco speculated. “Fallen away to nothing?”

“I really don’t know,” Harry admitted. “I remember reading a book once, about five hundred years ago.” He paused when Draco gaped at him. “I know. The thing is that that’s all I remember from that life. Either it was short or the most boring reincarnation experience of my existence. At any rate, I read a book about the middle world written by a dverger scholar. Some say the dverger come from that world—that they are refugees and the only ones to make it out before that world’s time ended.”

“Have you ever asked?”

Harry grinned. “A few years ago, I was knee-deep in a barrel of ale with Ragnok, and I asked him what he remembered about the middle. He gave me a dirty look and asked me if I thought he looked like he was 5,000 bloody years old. Of course, being an asshole, I said that he did look old as fuck, and I had no way of knowing what that translated into for a dverger. At any rate, he said that was all myth and legend, and they had no way of knowing for certain where they came from. Their patron is a god named Mahal, and they are satisfied with his care.” Harry shrugged.

Draco made a face. “Religion makes me uncomfortable.”

“I can’t say I have a great relationship with it because my Aunt Petunia often used the church to terrorize me. She once threatened to call a priest and tell him I was a freak who needed to be burned at the stake. I was six. Of course, I had no idea I was magical at the time or the historical meaning of that threat.”

Draco frowned. “How old is that wretched bitch right now?”

“Seventeen or so, just getting started on her bitter, normal life. She already hates Lily for being magical. It only gets worse.” Harry waved a hand. “But Petunia Dursley will never do to anyone else what she did to me. I’ll make sure of it. One way or another.”

A sharp knock on their door ended their conversation, but Harry had a feeling that Draco would return to the topic of Vasco Huaman eventually. He really had no answers for him. He flicked a bit of magic across the room and disengaged the security runes. McGregor immediately opened the door.

“Minerva just floo’d me and cursed me out for sending two Unspeakables to the school without telling her.”

“I hope you told her about herself regarding the medallion. She can’t only depend on the magic she’s using to hide it. Dumbledore has mage sight,” Harry said dryly. “Also, how did you get her to swear in?”

McGregor made a face. “I got down on both knees for that woman, in the middle of a fucking field in Scotland, and poured my heart out in an apology that lasted twenty-two minutes. Then when I was actually literally exhausted from it…she just looked down that pert nose of hers and said if that was the best I could do that she would accept it on a conditional basis.”

Harry grinned.

McGregor huffed. “You sorted into Gryffindor, right?”

“Of course he did,” Draco said sourly. “I put it down as one of my worst days at Hogwarts.”

Harry stared in shock. “Voldemort fucking invaded the school.”

Draco shrugged. “I said what I said.”

McGregor laughed. “I need you both in the workroom. We’ve got the portrait network set up, and Francis is connected. We have six more in progress, and Dorcas wants you both on the construction team. The ones we place in the ministry will have to be utterly invisible—even to mage sight.” He quirked an eyebrow at Harry. “She thinks you can probably swing that with the Elder Wand.”

“She’s not wrong,” Harry admitted.

“She rarely is, lad,” McGregor said dryly.

 

Chapter 10

The Longbottom estate was officially called Greenwood. Harry let his shoulders relax as the gates opened under the hands of a house elf. She looked to be in good health and offered them a cheerful bow.

“Lady Longbottom meets you at farm entrance.” She gestured toward a path that led to a large greenhouse.

“Thank you.”

“It be Nema’s pleasure, Lord Braemar!” The house elf popped away as they stepped across the ward boundary.

“Did you want to employ a house elf?” Draco questioned. “They’d be able to watch over the property and creatures when we’re not there.”

That was the only part that really appealed. Harry frowned as they walked, letting his fingers clench briefly in Draco’s grip as they did so. He knew that house elves needed a bond to function outside of their enclave, but he’d never considered bonding with one after Dobby died. He hadn’t had a bond with the elf, but he was probably the only one Harry would’ve offered such a thing to.

Draco cast a small privacy charm as they walked. “Do you want me to find him?”

“No,” Harry admitted. “He won’t end up in your father’s hands, and that’s enough. Do you know where Dobby came from?”

“My maternal grandparents paid the enclave fee and gave his bond to my parents as a wedding gift,” Draco said. “My mother was really upset when you tricked Lucius into freeing him. I was relieved because my father was cruel to him on a regular basis. I was the one that sent him…to take care of you.”

“Oh, I know,” Harry said dryly. “And I forgive you.”

Draco laughed. “How did you know?”

“Hermione figured it out.” Harry shrugged.

“Of course she did,” Draco muttered. “I miss seeing her face in our floo.”

Harry cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I do, too. I hope our disappearance didn’t hurt her so much that it troubled her pregnancy.”

“She probably came to Britain to investigate the ritual itself,” Draco said. “She might even be trying to figure out how to get us back, and we can’t even send her a message telling her we’re okay because we’re in an alternate universe now.”

“I wonder when the split happened,” Harry said. “Did it start with our landing or with the first overt act that changed the future as we knew it to be? I mean to say, is Armand really the author of it all?”

“Because of Lucius?” Draco asked and shrugged when Harry nodded. “Maybe it could’ve been the moment you sent him to protect Patrice from Lucius. The moment you warned him, Harry, you changed our path irrevocably. You saved that sweet, beautiful life, and the fact that she walks in this world means our future will be nothing like we had before.”

“I don’t regret it,” Harry admitted. “How could I? I’m really looking forward to meeting her. I thought we could invite them all to dinner when the boys are home for Yule.”

“I can’t imagine she’ll wait that long,” Draco warned. “Not with knowing you to be family since you’ve accepted the house of Deering as a cadet branch. So, maybe sooner rather than later to avoid insulting. Then we can meet the boys over Yule. Maybe we could plan a Yule party of sorts. It’s important to create a certain sort of image for us both.”

Harry nodded. “Ragnok suggested I buy the better part of a castle to add onto the peel.”

“If done well, it could look as if it were always one large structure,” Draco said. “And we’ll need the room if you want…more than one child.”

Harry stopped and pulled Draco close because the other man’s tone had been a little off. The privacy bubble popped due to the contact. “Hey.”

Draco pressed his lips together. “It’s just you didn’t say how many you would be willing to tolerate.”

“Tolerate?” Harry questioned in shock. “Draco, we can field an entire quidditch team if you want.”

Draco’s eyes widened a little, and he laughed. “Well, if we’re going to have that many, then we definitely need to get at least one elf, maybe two. I was just concerned that you might be put off the physical part of the whole thing. There will come a point during the pregnancy when sex will be deeply undesirable for me. Plus, recovery and the fact that I won’t want to work in the field for months, if not longer, after the birth. I’ll want to breastfeed.”

Harry pulled him closer still, kissed Draco’s mouth, and sighed. “I love you, and I certainly enjoy having sex with you, but if you decided that you’d rather not ever have it again, I would not stray from your side, and I wouldn’t resent you for it.”

Draco huffed. “Well, I’m not saying that.”

“I’m just saying that it isn’t and never has been a requirement for me. I can take care of my own needs and will when necessary. Don’t worry about this, love. I’m looking forward to all of it—even the messy parts. I’ve already started planning their warding schemes.”

“Warding?”

“Our children will be filled to the brim with veela and parselmagic,” Harry said dryly. “I’m going to ward them thoroughly within hours of them coming out of the womb. I won’t have them open to manipulation by anyone, ever.”

Draco smiled and kissed him. “Thank you. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

“Well, you’re both quite charming, but I’m tired of waiting.”

Harry turned and found Augusta Longbottom, the Dowager Countess of Greenwood, standing not far from them with her hands on her hips. He smiled. “Good afternoon, Lady Longbottom. I apologize. We’re still in the honeymoon phase. He’s an impossible distraction.”

Augusta raised a dark brown eyebrow at them. “Minerva already warned me about you, Lord Braemar. I won’t have you flirting with me.”

“I just smiled,” Harry said in his defense, and Draco laughed as he pulled them along the path toward the greenhouse.

Augusta looked to be in her mid-fifties. He knew that she’d been widowed shortly after the birth of her son, Frank, but not much else. Neville had rarely confided in Harry about his family, and that was probably his own fault. He’d allowed Ron Weasley to basically dominate all of his time at Hogwarts, and his friend group had been very small as a result.

“Just putting you on notice,” Augusta said tartly. “Now, I’ve prepped the ingredients that you mentioned in your letter, Consort Braemar.”

“Oh, please call me Draco, Lady Longbottom,” Draco said as he released Harry’s hand and shed his cloak upon entering the greenhouse. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your farm. You have the oldest devil’s snare in Britain, correct?”

“Yes, and she’s a beast, too,” Augusta said proudly. “We keep her confined to greenhouse three. I can get you some cuttings if you’d like, but she won’t tolerate a visit from anyone outside the family.”

“Sounds great.”

“I’ve heard you’re building a family seat, Lord Braemar. Do you have a greenhouse? A personal greenhouse is a nice wedding gift for a potions master.”

Harry laughed as Draco grinned at her. “Is it?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” Draco admitted. “We could grow herbs for the kitchen as well. I wouldn’t want a large operation, but a few mainstay potions ingredients plus an herb garden would be lovely.”

Harry nodded. “Of course, if you’d like.”

“I’ll prepare a box with everything you need,” Augusta said cheerfully, and Harry wondered how much that would cost.

“Nothing dangerous, please,” Harry said. “Plus, if there is anything that the merfolk would want to trade for in the future…they’d probably appreciate it if you grew it, Draco.”

“I have a nice gillyweed pond,” Augusta said. “They use that for the base of most of their own medicines. A local source would certainly help with relations. The plesiosaurs are fond of mint as a treat. If you grow it along the shore, their children will come to steal it. It’s a good exercise for them if you’ve warded to protect them, as your duty would dictate you do.”

“I have,” Harry said. “I extended my ward line out across the loch, near our home, to include the nesting grounds for the plesiosaurs and the merfolk village. A family of kelpies has already moved into a little alcove tucked up under the shoreline.”

“Good, good,” Augusta said as she walked away. “They’ve not had a proper benefactor in over a hundred years.”

Hours later, Harry found himself planting a rowan tree in what would become the courtyard of their home. It was several years old already, and it was the only one from the tree farm on the Longbottom estate that Draco approved of. Augusta hadn’t taken his pickiness as an insult. She’d just tromped around with him through the trees and let him touch each one like that was a reasonable thing, and maybe it was. He didn’t know enough about the whole thing to really have an opinion. Potions remained one area of magic that he was utterly uninterested in, which was a shame since Lily Potter was apparently very talented with the art.

Draco watered the tree with a charm after Harry moved the dirt back into place.

“Go ahead and pick out where you want the greenhouse built, and we’ll commission it through the bank,” Harry said, and Draco offered him a little smile. “Did you get everything you need?”

“Between Augusta and the bank? Yes. I’m going to go down and set up so I can start our potions. I’ll need a blood sample from you later on.”

“I’ll put on dinner, then come down and help you,” Harry said and followed him into the tower.

Draco hummed under his breath. “No offense, darling, but I’d prefer you keep your hands out of my ingredients.”

Harry laughed. “I can do basic prep and storage tasks, you know.”

“I know you think you can,” Draco said in agreement and laughed when Harry sighed dramatically. “But I also know you hate it, and there’s no need for you to do shite you hate at home.” He turned and pressed a kiss to Harry’s mouth. “Can we have that salmon and maybe a risotto?”

“I see your game,” Harry said dryly. “But, yes.”

They separated in the kitchen as Draco retreated to the cellar. Hedwig barked from the cage, and Harry opened the door, checked to make sure the cleaning spells were working, and held out a hand for her. She hopped onto his fingers quickly and bobbed excitedly. Harry laughed and rubbed her head with his thumb. He pulled out a container of cooked bacon from the cooling cabinet and gave her several pieces. It was by far her favorite treat.

He put her on the back of a chair, washed his hands, and started to pull out what he needed for dinner. “We planted a tree in the courtyard today.” He glanced at her when she barked. “It’s a rowan. You’ll like it. Maybe one day you can build a nest in it and have babies.” He paused. “Or you can nest in the house. I don’t care either way. We went to the Longbottom estate, and I encountered yet another woman I’ve only ever known as elderly, and honestly, Augusta Longbottom is a lovely woman with a charming personality despite her overt attempts to appear cranky and unreasonable, and I’m weirded out. It’s only going to get worse, as I realized earlier that Amelia Bones is just thirty right now. I bet she’s going to be hot because she carried beauty well into her older years.”

Hedwig barked at him sharply and clicked her beak when he looked at her.

“I know I’m married; don’t sass me. I can look.”

She chuffed and barked at him again.

“Even if I were single, I did promise Draco I wouldn’t bang anyone he’s related to, and he’s related to practically everyone. Now it’s even worse because the Bertrand family take pride in breeding far and wide.” He waved a hand when she barked at him again, and he tossed her another piece of bacon.

Hedwig caught the bacon, and Harry focused on seasoning the salmon. A sharp knock on the door that led out to the courtyard, and spotted an owl sitting on the perch they’d left near the door for deliveries. He snagged a treat from a bag he had tucked on a shelf near the doors and went to retrieve the letter. The barn owl accepted the treat and flew off. Harry put the letter on the small table by the door, washed his hands again then returned to his cooking prep.

“She didn’t even look at the fish,” Draco said.

Harry looked up and found Draco leaning in the doorway that led to the cellar stairs. ‘What?”

“Hedwig. She just sat there on the back of the chair and ignored the salmon filet you left on the prep board. Was she always like that?”

“She never stole food from me,” Harry acknowledged. “It wasn’t something I asked of her or reprimanded her for then or now.” He flushed. “Once, in the summer after fourth year, she stole food for me.”

“How?” Draco questioned.

“Dumbledore had members of the Order of the Phoenix watching the house. He said it was to protect me, but really it was about keeping me hostage. Regardless, I looked outside and saw Arthur Weasley down the street on a bench. He had a sack lunch from the Leaky Cauldron. I told Hedwig that I wished I had a sack lunch, so she went and stole his. I tried to throw it back down to him, but he just laughed and told me to keep it. It had enough preserved food in it to feed me for a week.” Harry focused on the board. “Looking back on it, he clearly brought it for me and was sitting there trying to figure out how to get it to me without interacting with the Dursleys. But she just stole it because I wanted it.”

Draco nodded. “She was very attuned to your needs. Familiar bonds are special for a reason. I’m just amazed by her self-control at such a young age,” Draco said and went to the smaller cooling cabinet they’d had a wine rack installed into. He pulled out a bottle of white wine, and Harry went back to working on the food.

“Go ahead and open that—I’ll want to use some in the risotto. What veg would you like?”

“Roasted brussels sprouts,” Draco said. “Or maybe some of those lemon sugar peas?”

“I have the ingredients for both, so the choice is yours,” Harry said and motioned toward the cooling cabinet.

Harry wasn’t all that surprised when he went with the sugar snap peas, as Draco favored the tartness of the lemon-based sauce with fish dishes.

“Who is the letter from?”

“No clue, it was magic free, so I just….” He waved toward the table. “We can look after dinner, or you can open it now.”

Draco walked across the room after putting the wine down on the counter near Harry and plucked up the parchment. He broke the simple seal on it and sat down at the table with a huff.

“What?”

“It’s from Christopher Potter,” Draco said quietly.

“Oh.” Harry frowned as he considered that. He’d never even seen a portrait of his paternal grandfather. “Read it to me?”

~

“Greetings Lord Peverell,

Please accept my congratulations on the assumption of your title. I received a letter from my son, James, this afternoon. He was quite excited to have met you and your consort during your visit to Hogwarts.

I’ve heard from Sir Ross Weasley, the current Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, that you’ve agreed to take your seat in the House of Lords. I am pleased to know that you’ve decided to take on the duty as we need new blood in the body, and I hope you can bring a much-needed modern and forward-thinking perspective to various discussions taking place.

The troubles with Voldemort and his followers are largely ignored by both the Wizengamot and the government itself. This cannot be allowed to continue.

I admit to being concerned about your visit to the school. I hope you haven’t let Albus Dumbledore turn your head, as he is enamored with the illusion of peace and believes redemption is more important than punishment. I find him deeply disagreeable.

I’m writing, of course, to arrange to meet you and your consort to discuss the Wizengamot, voting blocs, and the changes that must be made to prevent a full-scale war from breaking out.

As a father, I believe my primary concern must be helping to make a safer society for my son and future grandchildren. As a newly married young man, I’m sure you’re looking toward the future and wondering what you can do to create a safe space for your own family to grow.

I look back on the day I married with great fondness. My wife and I were blessed with only one child, and he came as a delightful surprise since we’d come to believe there would never be a natural child. I was preparing to adopt in ritual to carry on my family line.

I hope that James was on his best behavior today and made a good impression. He’s closer to your peer group than I’ll ever be, you see, so I hope you can see a future where you will work in agreement with him to make Britain a beautiful place to make a family. He’s quite enamored with a young Muggle-born witch, and I worry for them both in times such as these.

I’m available most days for lunch as my wife likes to kick me out of the house so she can get some peace. I look forward to hearing from you regarding a time and place.

Sincerely,
Christopher Potter
Baron of Gryffindor

 

PS-I’d be remiss if I did not point out that there is a lovely gentlemen’s club on Hemingway Street just off Diagon Alley—the tea is perfect, and the cigars are Cuban.

~

Harry laughed and took a deep breath. “What do you think?”

“I wonder how difficult it will be to work with your father in the Wizengamot when Christopher Potter retires,” Draco said.

“Better than I hoped,” Harry said. “It’s weird, but I don’t feel concerned about it anymore. The adoption ritual was more powerful than I anticipated and I feel removed from the Potter family on a magical level. Maybe it’s because I never knew them at all. Sirius Black will be a bigger issue for me than James Potter ever will, and that’s unfortunate, I guess. I carried a lot of guilt for his death, and it was such a relief to see him today.”

“Are you going to discuss your political plans with McGregor?”

Harry hummed under his breath. “I want to see the landscape before I make any firm plans. What none of these old men realize is that I’m not going to follow anyone.” He glanced at Draco. “They’re all going to follow me one way or another. I’ve got room to maneuver and work. By the time Hermione Granger sorts at Hogwarts, all she’ll ever have to worry about is how to cram as many books into her day as possible, and maybe one of our children will be her friend.”

“It sounds charming,” Draco murmured. “She told me once that you were the first friend she ever had. Maybe we should work on a primary school program for Muggle-born children so they enter the magical world as soon as possible and get the same kind of education magical children get.”

“I think that would be good,” Harry said. “Dumbledore is very opposed to such a thing, so we’ll concentrate on that after we kill him.”

Draco grinned. “I fall more in love with you every single day.”

Harry huffed a little as his cheeks heated with a blush and turned his attention back to the salmon.

“What?” Draco questioned.

Harry glanced toward his mate and found Draco standing just a few inches away from him. He really didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, and shame curled in his gut for the lack of words. There had been a lot of years between him and that particularly helpless feeling.

Draco nudged him. “Come on, use your words.”

He summoned a bottle of olive oil from a shelf with wandless magic and put it down on the counter. “It’s nothing, really.”

“From experience, it’s rarely nothing when you’re concerned,” Draco said dryly. “You’ve had the weight of the world on your shoulders since you were fifteen months old.”

“You make it sound unreasonable,” Harry admitted. “And it never felt like too much. I mean, the first time I consciously made a choice to stand up against something awful was the Quirrell situation. Of course, I thought I was going to go pick a fight with Severus Snape. Imagine my surprise when it was Voldemort hanging out under that terrible turban.”

“You were eleven, and it didn’t feel like too much?” Draco demanded, clearly shocked. “Are you fucking serious, Harry?”

Harry laughed and curled an arm around his mate’s shoulders, then pressed a kiss to his temple. “It felt like duty, honestly, and my duty has never been overwhelming. Maybe that’s a quirk of all the reincarnation. I don’t know. But there was something awfully wrong the whole time, and I didn’t know what it was. After the Hallows finally came to me, I thought that feeling would go away, and for the most part, it has. But there is a lingering dissonance in my connection with magic. The Elder Wand was deeply unhappy with its circumstances and blamed me for giving it away. But, the Hallows needed to be used by others; they needed the experience that exchanging hands over and over again would give them.”

“Did other Masters create Hallows?”

“No, I don’t know why. I’m not even entirely sure why I did. I certainly wasn’t blackmailed or tricked into doing it. It was part of a bigger plan—maybe it was part of the plan for this life. Perhaps, they were always meant to come to me when it was time for me to fight Tom Riddle. Because the fact that I’m the Master of Death is the power he knew not. Riddle runs from Death. He is petrified of dying and facing the judgment of Zirnitra. And he should be. He will receive no mercy from the Black Dragon.”

“Okay, but how did me telling you that I love you…put you in this mental place?”

“It wasn’t about the love. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you love me so easily when others have failed to do it repeatedly.” Harry frowned and averted his gaze when Draco’s eyes went wide with shock. “But, your complete acceptance of me is sometimes a bit shocking. Despite everything, Draco, you are a very light wizard, and I’m anything but.” He rubbed his thumb over Draco’s mouth, then pressed a kiss there. “And now, thanks to your veela magic being set free and the adoption by Louis Bertrand, no one will ever see you as anything but a shining, beautiful star left amongst us. I’m going to become known as one militant, hostile son of a bitch.”

Draco grinned. “I shouldn’t encourage you, but it’s just that watching you glare at people, who stare at me, is very amusing.” He took a deep breath. “I do accept you—in every single way. Don’t ever doubt it because I don’t. Being able to be with you in front of the entire world without anyone making a terrible mess out of it is such a gift.”

“Everything we gained from your father’s illegal, fucked up time travel ritual feels worth it, and I know how dark that sounds.” Harry shrugged.

* * * *

“It’s a bit of an ethical concern,” McGregor admitted as he sipped his tea. He put the letter from Christopher Potter aside. “I can’t be called out on it since your employment is a secret, so we could form a formidable voting bloc within the Wizengamot. How did we handle it in the future?”

“I kept the Peverell title secret in the future, as you know,” Harry said with a shrug. “Those who knew were pissed off enough to be very rude about it, most of the time, with you being a rare exception. The war took a lot out of me, and the older I grew, the more twisted the fame became. Draco and I hadn’t revealed our soulmate situation or our intention to marry, either.”

McGregor grimaced. “More and more, I think Lucius Malfoy did you a favor.”

Harry grinned. “Funny, I sort of said the same thing last night. As to voting blocs, I don’t plan to join anyone.” He watched McGregor absorb that. “But I’m willing to discuss partnerships regarding certain issues when it comes to various political elements in the ministry. I plan to lobby for a full magical retreat before the ICW within the next decade. Britain will be leading that endeavor whether those old bastards in the Wizengamot like it or not.”

McGregor raised an eyebrow. “A full retreat? No one’s tried that since Avalon fell, lad. It’s…ambitious to be certain, but how can we hope to do what Merlin could not?”

“Well, in Merlin’s defense, the magic of Avalon was built entirely on the will of a single man. I’m not faulting the choices of Arthur Pendragon, but his circumstances and the emotional consequences of the life he was made to live with are what caused the Avalon Protocol to fail the first time. I can shoulder the magical burden, and I will prove that in the years to come.

“In truth, magic is not safe here, and neither are we. The dverger have already proven that we can create and maintain dimensional spaces indefinitely if we are careful and keep the craft construction as pure as possible. We could expand on that magic and open the doorway that Merlin left behind Croaker. I’m certain of it.”

“So that’s your long-reaching goal,” McGregor said. “What are your immediate concerns?”

“Death Eaters and the destruction of the mythos surrounding both Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore. Each, in their own, is an enemy of progress, change, and the long-term survival of magic,” Harry said. “We’re going to start by telling Britain exactly who Voldemort is, and from there, we’ll erode their powerbase, one day at a time. He’s a domestic terrorist, and the ministry needs to treat him like one.

“The first article about Riddle will appear in the Wizarding Times within the next week,” Harry continued. “But today, Britain is going to be introduced to Lord Peverell and his husband. I’ve announced our soulmate bond as well and made it clear that I will not be entertaining any marriage offers. I spoke at length about soulmate magic, the beauty of our bond, and the immense gift that has been given to us by Fate and Magic. I expect to get several death threats over it. I’ll write Lord Potter back and arrange lunch. I expect he’ll bring Arcturus Black with him as they’re apparently plotting some shenanigans in the Wizengamot.”

“We haven’t placed a spy anywhere near either of their official offices in the ministry yet. How do you know this?” Croaker questioned in amusement.

“Draco remembered them presenting a host of laws this year regarding the Death Eaters and their crimes,” Harry explained. “He’s a student of ministry history. I’m going to request access to those plans and add my own goals to the pile. Potter seems eager for an alliance, and I’m going to make Arcturus Black love me. Since I do have a small blood relation left to them both through the Peverell line, they’ll be eager to claim me as family because of the title. I just might let them think it’s a possibility, then eventually offer them cadet status in the house of Peverell.”

Croaker laughed. “Oh, to see Arcturus Black’s face over being told such a thing. I expect a precise and untainted memory of the whole conversation.”

 

 

* * * *

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4