Reading Time: 121 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 11

The gentlemen’s club on Hemingway Lane had a beautiful, ornate sign proudly declaring the name to be Cobbledick’s. Harry shared a look with his husband as he tried not to laugh.

“I can’t even with these people,” Harry murmured, and Draco grinned. “You’d think the family would’ve changed their surname at some point.”

“If they don’t have spotted dick on the menu, I’m going to be genuinely disappointed,” Draco said under his breath, and Harry made a disgusted face.

He hated bread puddings as a rule and had no intention of changing his opinion anytime soon. Harry had made one or two since he and Draco had finally settled into a life together, but he never actually ate any of it.

Christopher Potter had responded to their invitation with the intention of bringing his good friend Arcturus with him, and Harry had agreed despite the lack of genuine transparency. Perhaps Potter had taken it on faith that Harry would know who he meant, but Harry wasn’t going to give either of the men an inch, and he’d make that clear soon enough. Letting them play their little games hurt nothing at the moment, and it would give him a chance to see them in action before he involved them in his own plans.

They entered Cobbledick’s, and Harry shed the lightweight cloak he was wearing as he released Draco’s hand. A man stepped forward immediately, offering them a smile that looked so insincere that Harry almost took a step back.

“Good afternoon. Unfortunately, Cobbledick’s is a member’s only establishment. I can give you some recommendations for lunch elsewhere.”

“I’m here at the invitation of Lord Potter,” Harry explained, unable to keep the displeasure out of his tone. “Let him know his guests have arrived.”

The man blinked, clearly put off the tone and the order. He cleared his throat and returned to a heavy wooden podium, and opened a large book. His skin paled as he read. “Yes, of course, Lord Braemar, I can escort you back. Your companion may wait in the bar.”

“Companion,” Harry repeated. “Lord Potter is expecting us both.”

“Oh, surely, Lord Potter would know better. We don’t allow entertainment on the main club floor.” The man smiled with a false pleasantness that made Harry want to backhand him.

“Entertainment,” Harry said flatly.

Draco put a hand on his arm with a laugh. “He thinks I’m your….” He inclined his head. “Paramour.”

“Whore,” Harry translated, and Draco shrugged. He exhaled, but his aura surfaced and drifted over his skin despite his effort to control it. He hadn’t been so furious in ages. Harry turned to the host and glared. “Do you own this place?”

“No…I….” He flushed. “My brother-in-law owns the club. I am pleased to work for him, of course. Is something amiss?”

“Beyond the fact that you’ve just delivered an outrageous insult upon the Consort of Braemar?” Harry questioned, and the host paled. “Let Lord Potter and his guest know that I have no desire whatsoever to spend another minute in this establishment, and they can meet me down the street at Leaky Cauldron.”

Draco was laughing even as Harry pulled him out of the club. “Harry, you just can’t make the heads of two ancient and noble families meet you at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“That smarmy little git….” Harry muttered as he put his cloak back on. “I can’t fucking believe….” He grimaced as he headed toward the exit of the alley. “And yes, they most certainly can meet me in a fucking pub if they want to talk to me.”

Shortly, they entered the Cauldron. Harry just ignored Draco’s amusement as he went to the bar and requested the use of the private room. The young witch behind the counter recognized them both immediately and hurried to meet Harry’s demand.

“Lord Potter and a guest will probably be along in a few minutes,” Harry said as they got seated. “I’m not sure if they’ve eaten lunch, but we haven’t.”

“Of course, Lord Braemar,” the witch flushed and nodded quickly. “I’ll let my uncle know. We don’t normally…have patrons such as yourself, so our fare is quite simple.”

“Simple will be lovely, I assure you,” Harry said. “We’ll both take pints of what you have on tap to start.”

“Of course.”

Harry shrugged out of his cloak. “So, you were right.”

Draco shrugged and took off his own cloak. He grabbed Harry’s and hung both up on hooks on the wall before sitting. “The Daily Prophet has a larger readership than the Wizarding Times. I know you hate the paper, and you have every right to considering the hot mess they regularly made of you and your life, but it’s a tool of sorts. Had your announcement appeared there, that little bastard running the front of Cobbledick’s would’ve recognized us both on sight.”

“I’m glad he didn’t,” Harry said. “His honest reaction was awful, but at least we know not to waste our money on that shitehole, ever.”

“Granted,” Draco said. “Remember when we talked about being the mate of a veela?”

“Are you saying he thought you were a whore because you’re veela?” Harry asked and exhaled noisily. “Seriously?”

“Well, I imagine my veela allure was part of it,” Draco said. “I have it on lockdown, but I can’t hide all of it. His response to my appearance was more to do with his own bias against veela than anything else. He certainly isn’t the first or the last to assume I earn my keep on my back. For some, a creature such as myself is viewed as a luxury for a man like you.”

Harry huffed. “Don’t call yourself a creature, and you’re too much work to be any sort of luxury.” He slouched back in his chair and stared moodily at the glossy but scarred tabletop.

The door opened, and the witch returned with four pints and two older men in tow. “Lord and Consort Braemar, Lord Black and Lord Potter have arrived.”

She placed the pints as Harry stood to greet his guests. Quickly enough, she left them with a handwritten menu on a piece of parchment. Harry shook their hands and sat down. Both men appeared to be on the long side of sixty, so he was beginning to understand a lot of what Christopher Potter had said in his letter.

“You’ve caused a bit of a stir,” Arcturus said with a grin as they settled into the table. “Cobbledick’s is the place, you see. The waiting list to join is three years in the making, and non-members are rarely allowed inside. Christopher had to get a written exception from the owner to invite you to join us.”

“What were you told?” Harry questioned.

“Oh, that dumb bastard that Otis had on the front door readily admitted that he insulted you by implying that your husband was your…mistress,” Christopher said. “What is a male mistress?” He turned to Arcturus for an answer.

“How on bloody Earth would I know?” Arcturus demanded. “I’ve never had either kind.”

Harry was immediately charmed despite his own lingering temper. “Paramour, apparently, is the correct term.”

“Well, it’s a gender-neutral term,” Draco said smoothly and picked up the parchment. “Let it go, love. Such establishments come and go based on trends. In a year or two, some lovely tea house will come along, and that exclusionary club that places entirely too many restrictions on its own members will lose all appeal. You had no intention of joining anyway.”

Harry figured that was exactly what happened because he had no memory of Cobbledick’s existence in the future.

“You can expect a formal apology from Otis Cobbledick,” Arcturus said. “And he fired his brother-in-law on the spot. Of course, the damage is done. The whole incident will make up an entire column in the Daily Prophet by morning. Especially considering you left and went straight to a common pub.” He paused. “I’ve never been in here. I like it. What’s on the menu?”

“Cottage pie and a beef stew are the entrees for the day,” Draco said and slid the parchment across the table. He pulled a self-inking quill and the journal they were using for information they gathered on the Wizengamot from his dimensional store. “Are there any issues we should concern ourselves with regarding Otis Cobbledick?”

Arcturus hummed under his breath, and his gaze took on a distant look for the briefest of moments. Harry was reminded, then, that the man had some form of undocumented foresight. Sirius had told him once that his grandfather had hidden behind the Black title for years to avoid being used and misused by the ministry.

“Otis is no threat at all on any stage,” Arcturus said. “But there are others who were hoping to use the club to meet you outside of official circumstances. Moreover, there are those who use the club’s so-called private rooms to conduct business.”

“Not so private then?” Harry said.

“No, Christopher has mage sight, and he told me at the very start that the place is lousy with listening charms. I imagine Otis has an entire room dedicated to documenting every single conversation that takes place in the building. We go there to have conversations that we want to be known.”

“So what was your intent with me today?” Harry questioned. “What did you want Otis to spread around about the Earl of Braemar?”

“Hopefully, that you can’t be bought and want nothing to do with Voldemort,” Christopher said plainly.

Harry nodded. “You can be assured of both. Voldemort has nothing to offer me. I have all the money and power I could possibly want. I don’t require validation regarding my magical existence, the life I want to lead, or anything in between. Voldemort uses a variety of methods to gather followers—bribery, manipulation, and outright terrorism. I don’t fear a single person that walks this world.”

“I see that,” Arcturus said quietly. “Your relation to Armand Deering is fairly close, yes?”

“He’s my maternal uncle,” Harry said easily and watched Black’s eyes widen slightly. “I’m related very distantly to both of your families, as I’m sure you’ve already verified through the bank. You’re both trying to figure out how you can claim me and my magical house.” He leaned back in his seat. “I mean no insult with this—but I won’t be allowing that with either of you.”

“I have a large family,” Arcturus said. “One that would be of benefit to you.”

“A large family slowly but surely falling to Voldemort,” Harry said plainly. “Your own son is a marked follower, Arcturus. I can’t allow myself to be tainted by such associations. Moreover, he’s probably going to offer up one or both of his children to his dark lord.”

“Where did you hear this?” Arcturus demanded but then held up a hand. “Wait…just….” His eyes darkened and went distant again. Within moments his cheeks darkened, and his eyelids fluttered shut. “You can be assured, Hadrian, I will not allow such a thing to pass. I will claim magical domain over all of my grandchildren within the day.” He cleared his throat, took a sip of his ale, and sat back. “And I’ll be disowning anyone who has already taken the dark mark. I ordered them all to stay away from Voldemort. I should’ve used family magic to ensure they obeyed.”

Christopher put a hand on Arcturus’ arm. “Sirius and Regulus are safe at Hogwarts. I’d know if something was amiss. James tells me everything—his last letter was fifty inches long.”

Arcturus laughed abruptly. “Thank Merlin for chatty lads.”

A soft knock on the door signaled the return of the barkeep. They ordered, and she left them alone again.

“What is your reluctance regarding the house of Potter?” Christopher questioned.

“You have a lot of power in the Wizengamot,” Harry said. “And the legacy of your magical house is unique due to your association with Godric Gryffindor. With no insult intended, I can’t take a knee for you, and I would not ask you or your son to take one for me. Politically, you have no equal in Britain, but magically you don’t stand a chance of subjugating the house of Peverell—no matter how many titles and votes you have. I think that would eventually cause us both profound issues socially and politically due to the reverence your magical house enjoys due to historical circumstances.”

The older man nodded. “You’re a very savvy young man. I’m relieved, but also a little peeved as I didn’t plan for such a thing.”

Harry laughed and shrugged. “So, just tell me about your plans.”

Potter’s eyes widened briefly, but then he nodded. “I’m preparing a package of laws designed to neuter and control the Death Eaters. Voldemort’s movement is gaining strength in pure-blood circles, whether they are marked or not. We need to make supporting him detrimental both socially and financially. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of support in the Wizengamot.”

“They fear retribution,” Harry said. “Perhaps, you could start with emergency security measures instead. Warding packages, emergency portkeys, and safe houses for their families would come first. Then, you follow it up with proposals that increase the funding for the DMLE. Instead of pushing a bunch of children through the academy and hoping for the best—you propose recruitment from abroad. Ask other countries in the commonwealth to send us peacekeepers through the ICW.”

Draco pulled a folded piece of parchment from his journal and passed it to Potter. “Once we’ve done that, we start hitting them where it hurts. We make being a Death Eater a crime—the dark mark is built on conclave magic, so we can’t outlaw it specifically. But we can outlaw the joining of Voldemort’s conclave and make the punishment a life sentence in Azkaban. There’s no need to play games with these people.”

Potter blew out a surprised breath. “I didn’t think you’d be prepared to go this hard. So I tabled most of my more extreme measures.”

“The only good Death Eater is a dead one,” Harry responded. “And if you want to teach the pure-bloods in this country a lesson about following a dark lord, why don’t you educate them about Grindelwald? After all, his campaign led to the wholesale destruction of twelve pure-blood families. History tells us that no dark lord has ever successfully taken over and kept a country. Voldemort would be no exception. He’s just going to get most of his followers killed because he doesn’t care about them. He only cares about power, and every single one of his followers is replaceable. Teach them that.”

“The best avenue would be the Daily Prophet, and they aren’t interested in making that kind of enemy,” Christopher said.

“So, buy it,” Draco said with a shrug. “Move it to an unplottable property, put all the employees under oath, and do what you want. That’s what wealthy men do, Lord Potter.”

“Christopher, please,” Potter said and hummed under his breath as he read the parchment. “It would be easy enough to purchase. It would cause a bit of a stir, of course, but I don’t mind that. I’d need to put up war wards for my own property.”

“I’m sure the dverger would enjoy the work,” Harry said mildly. “Because this war is about them as well, and leaving them out of the equation isn’t going to work for my long-term goals.”

“What are your goals?” Arcturus questioned.

Harry put his hands on the table, and his ring glinted gently with magic. “How do you feel about opening the door to Avalon and going home?”

Arcturus cleared his throat and sat back just short of the door opening. They were served quickly and left alone once more. Harry flicked a privacy spell at the door with a bit of wandless magic and waited for the older wizard to gather his thoughts.

“I’ve had dreams about Avalon for the last month,” Arcturus said quietly.

“Good dreams?” Harry questioned.

“Amazing dreams,” Black murmured. “Unbelievable dreams.”

“Well, if you want to do that, then we need to get rid of Voldemort,” Christopher muttered. “As quickly as possible.”

“Let’s start that conversation with a bit of knowledge you don’t have,” Harry said. “Voldemort’s real name is Tom Riddle. He’s the son of a squib from the Gaunt line and a Muggle man. His mother died in childbirth, his father refused to acknowledge him, and he grew up in an orphanage.”

“Tom Riddle disappeared years ago….” Arcturus trailed off and nodded. “Yes, he would’ve had to. Voldemort looks magically deformed.”

“Tom Riddle started fucking around with beast-speaking rituals in his efforts to fake being a parselmouth. He did it so much that he mutated himself,” Harry said. “I’ve already prepared for this campaign as I plan to publish several essays under my own name about Tom Riddle.”

“Looking to pick a fight?” Arcturus asked in amusement. “You’ll need a bodyguard.”

“I have just the wizard in mind,” Christopher interjected. “Roman Banner, former hit wizard with the ICW. He came home fifteen years ago to make a family and went to work for the ministry. He quit the DMLE last spring because of their lack of real action against the Death Eaters. He’s currently working at the bank in security. He would welcome a change of pace.”

“Roman Banner,” Harry said and watched Draco make a note of the name. “Did he actually make that family?”

“A wife and son. The boy is at Hogwarts,” Christopher explained. “Third or fourth year, I think. I’ve not seen him in some time. Roman’s wife, Katherine, and my Adele don’t get along. They had a falling out over a dressmaker nearly five years ago.” He paused. “Or was it a dress? At any rate, they had a fuss, and they’re both terribly stubborn. We tried to make them see reason, but Roman got tired of sleeping in the guestroom.”

Harry laughed. “I don’t actually need a bodyguard.”

“I see that,” Arcturus said. “But allowing it for the sake of appearances could work out in your favor. I agree that Roman is a good choice, and it would be a favor to his family. He tried to transfer out of the DMLE, but Crouch made that impossible.”

Harry figured they could fix that shit, and it would give Croaker another asset that couldn’t be corrupted by Crouch and his bullshit. He glanced toward Draco, who gave a slight nod in agreement. He didn’t know how Thaddeus Banner’s father had died in the first timeline, but if he was half the resource his son turned out to be, then they needed to make that work for them. Due to their jobs, they certainly couldn’t have a bodyguard who wasn’t an Unspeakable.

“I can purchase the Prophet outright,” Christopher said. “I think, however, it would be a better political move if it was purchased by a consortium with transparent intentions.” He picked up his fork. “Let us eat and think on it, gentlemen. I’ve not had cottage pie in an age.”

Harry pulled the bread that came with his stew into two pieces with a nod. A consortium wasn’t a bad idea, and if presented just the right way, it would look like just a few nobles providing for the public good. He wondered when Potter would bring up Dumbledore. He knew that neither man successfully neutralized the old bastard the first time around.

He paused at that thought and considered the history of each man. Adele Potter died while James was still in Hogwarts, and Christopher died in 1980. Melania Black died in 1978. Melania was thought to be cursed by her own granddaughter, Bellatrix. Adele died of an illness; no one he ever asked knew what specifically had killed her. Christopher was supposedly killed by Death Eaters, and Arcturus died presumably of natural causes around 1990. They were both taken out of the game, and one was murdered. Neither was a direct threat to Tom Riddle, no matter their political plans, because they’d been working against a tide of immense fear.

Draco’s hand settled on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking about consequences and history,” Harry murmured, and he watched Draco’s eyes widen slightly, then narrow in irritation.

Draco made several notes as they ate and managed to steal the last bit of Harry’s bread in the process. Part of him thought that Albus Dumbledore always was a bigger problem than Voldemort. At least people knew to fear a dark lord who didn’t bother to hide. He placed his dishes on the sideboard behind him, and the rest followed suit shortly. The dishes shimmered away after a few moments.

“Let’s talk about the other dark lord in Britain,” Harry said and focused on Potter. “You were concerned about my visiting Albus Dumbledore, and with good reason. If we weren’t heavily warded and mentally protected, we’d be practically drenched in loyalty and behavioral charms right now. His whole office is designed to cultivate and control people around him.”

“Son of a bitch,” Arcturus muttered. “I’ve heard rumors that he wants to be the next Chief Warlock.”

“Under no circumstances can we allow that,” Harry said. “It would be an insult to the Wizengamot and to Avalon herself. Albus Dumbledore is a dark bastard with a plan that reaches out into the future in a way that could damage Britain for generations. Twice now, he’s allowed dark lords to rise up and destroy everything in their path when he has the magical power and ability to end the threat. He could’ve taken Riddle out decades ago, and he didn’t. He allowed his lover, Gellert Grindelwald, to court a worldwide magical war and only sought to defeat him in the end for deeply selfish reasons.”

“He’s annoying on the political front,” Christopher said. “And his response to the Death Eaters really puts me off, but I wouldn’t have said he was a dark lord.”

“He certainly endeavors to present an image that is worldly, powerful, and light. But he’d murder you in your bed to get what he wants,” Harry said. “He’d destroy the legacy of your magical house, leave your son to fend for himself in circumstances he wouldn’t survive.”

“Yes,” Arcturus murmured. “I agree, Christopher. Albus is capable of all of that and a lot more. There is no line he will not cross to get what he wants. He wallows in the fame he has created for himself, and his vision for our future is narrow and simple. He’d have the people of Britain be little more than sheep who trot along behind him—mindless and loyal to his every single whim.”

“How do we manage him as a threat?” Christopher questioned. “Is he a bigger problem than Voldemort?”

“He’s a different sort of issue,” Draco said. “He’s the problem that most trust and respect. Dumbledore uses that perception to do what he wants. We’ll be setting ourselves against him, and we will become a problem for him. He’ll react in subtle ways and work to destroy all three of our houses without getting the blame. A stray curse here or there, and one of your wives will be dead in the street, or maybe she’ll go home not realizing she’s been cursed…and nothing will be a concern until she goes to sleep and doesn’t wake up.”

Arcturus’ nostrils flared. “That’s exactly how he would do it.” He pulled a case from his inside jacket pocket and retrieved two cigars, one of which he passed to Christopher. He offered the case across the table.

“Oh, no, but thank you. I prefer herbals, and Draco doesn’t smoke.”

“Shame, they’re lovely,” Arcturus said and lit his with his wand, then did the same for his friend. “So, we’re going to destroy Albus Dumbledore. Honestly, lads, the thought makes my fucking decade.”

Harry grinned. “Good to know.”

“Regarding the consortium,” Draco began. “Do you want Harry to front it? We could frame it around our desire to modernize Britain. The consortium could have multiple goals—information dissemination, educational opportunities before and after Hogwarts, and technological advancement.”

“You want to build a magical primary school?” Christopher questioned and smiled. “My Adele would be thrilled to take that on as a project. She always wanted to teach, but opportunities are so limited here in Britain. Her greatest joy was tutoring James until he turned eleven. I think she’d have kept him at home through his OWLs if the boy hadn’t been so chuffed to get invited to Hogwarts.”

“Speaking of, I’d like to broaden that, too. I think every single magical child in Britain should be invited to Hogwarts, and we should remove as much ministry influence as we possibly can,” Harry said. “That will involve creating some sort of trust, and I think asking the bank to manage it for us would be a good political move. We need to change Britain’s relationship with the dverger.”

“I don’t often hear people use the proper word for their species,” Christopher said. “It’s practically frowned upon in some circles.”

“Anyone attached to calling another magical species a slur isn’t worth my time,” Harry returned. “And I won’t hesitate to tell anyone that, and I don’t care how many treaties have been signed preventing the dverger being officially offended by overt and disgusting racism.”

“I’d honestly like to follow you around and watch you offend the hell out of people left and right,” Arcturus admitted. “I agree with the consortium having several branches and interests. It would be best if the house of Peverell backs it. It will soothe feathers if we can say that controlling the narrative is the least of our concerns. Dumbledore has been against a primary school for years.”

“Well, I don’t honestly give a fuck what that old bastard wants,” Harry admitted. “He spent a great deal of time during our conversation trying to shame me for accepting my own family into my magical house. Apparently, he thinks parselmouths are the devil, and I’m a fool for acknowledging my own uncle.”

“Albus has a very narrow view of magic,” Christopher said. “It’s one of the reasons I find him so vexing. He’d have us learn little to nothing about ourselves as magicals. One of the first things he did as headmaster was to remove all of the ritual craft subjects from the Hogwarts curriculum. I’d like to see that changed, but the board of governors is largely ineffectual because the school’s money comes from the ministry. Dumbledore has the minister in his pocket.”

“Then replacing the minister goes on the list,” Harry said simply. “We can’t have anyone running our government than can be bought. If Tom Riddle were as smart as he thinks, he’d have already bought his way into the ministry and taken over.”

Both older wizards sent him dirty looks, so he just shrugged and set about finishing his ale.

* * * *

“I was told that Roman Banner didn’t want to be approached by anyone working at the ministry,” Croaker said roughly. “Crouch said Banner burned out and wanted a stress-free job, so he went to work for the bank to maintain our part of the most recent treaty. They have to employ at least five humans to work security with their own forces.” He waved a hand. “Just bullshite designed to piss Ragnok off, and it worked.”

“Crouch is apparently pissed that Banner quit, and he’s making it impossible for the man to get another job in the ministry as a result,” Harry said. “Arcturus Black thinks I need a bodyguard as part of my public image. We both know I can’t have some wizard moving around in my life on that level who is a civilian.”

“Taking him on as a vassal would be a better move,” Dorcas said and shrugged when Harry made a face at her. “It’s not a common practice these days, but you could make it a trend in a handful of weeks. Your announcement has stirred a lot of interest. Twenty-three people showed up today to take the walk to the Book of Souls.” She paused. “Including Narcissa Black.”

Draco took a deep breath. “Do you know her reaction?”

“She darted out of the department and went straight to the DMLE to tell Kingsley Shacklebolt he was her soulmate,” Dorcas said. “Loudly and in such a public fashion that it was all over the ministry in a half hour.”

“Savvy,” Draco said. “It would make it difficult for her parents to make any moves against him, and they certainly would if they’d managed to corral her.”

“They did the first time since she ended up married to Lucius Malfoy,” Dorcas said and frowned when Draco nodded. “Well, I’m glad she got out ahead of them this time.”

Harry let that settle in his mind. He felt relieved but also furious, which he couldn’t account for. Kingsley and Narcissa were going to get to be together unless her parents managed to murder one or both of them. It was a good thing and a logical consequence of the killing of Lucius Malfoy. Still, he couldn’t help but think that neither of them actually deserved to have a connection as soulmates. They’d both done terrible things in the other timeline.

“Part of me wants him to pay for the crimes that he’ll never be in a position to undertake,” Harry said quietly. “I’ve seen how corrupt and ugly Kingsley Shacklebolt can become. I don’t think we need to let him stay in the DMLE. Moreover, he should never, ever be in a position to become the Minister for Magic.”

“Agreed,” Draco said. “Apart, they were wretched versions of themselves. I don’t know what they’d be capable of as partners.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the situation,” Croaker said. “And make the decisions on the subject of Shacklebolt going forward. Neither of you can claim to be unbiased regarding the man, and I don’t expect either of you to be, considering you had to deal with the crimes he allowed to happen.”

“Worse than allowing, he covered them up,” Harry said roughly. “He made it easier for Lucius to hunt and kill as he wanted, and I can’t…I’m not sure I can ever get past it. He’s really no better than Lucius in that respect. They were both obsessed with Narcissa and willing to do whatever they had to do to have her. I suppose I understand the desire but not the action.”

“Would you not do the most you could to keep your soulmate?” Dorcas questioned and glanced toward Draco as she did so.

Draco shook his head. “Harry offered to reject me and let me go live my life without him because he figured my veela instincts wouldn’t allow me to reject him no matter what I wanted intellectually.” He cleared his throat when Dorcas’ mouth dropped open. “That’s the difference, I suppose, between a good man and a corrupt one.”

Harry didn’t think he was a good man at all, but he kept that to himself as Draco didn’t like to hear such a thing, and it would lead to an argument later in private. He left the table and walked across the room to settle down in the warded area that was used to create and edit education orbs. Dorcas had one waiting on him, and he was to fill it with everything he knew about Tom Riddle. He shed his jacket and unfastened his cuffs as he considered where to start. Perhaps his own beginning versus Riddle’s so they would understand the hell beast Voldemort was from Harry’s perspective.

Harry picked up the orb after he’d settled down on the chair, settled his magic as much as he could, and thought—Godric’s Hollow, October 31, 1981.

 

Chapter 12

Roman Banner was the most stoic motherfucker Harry had ever met in his whole life. He made Thaddeus seem downright jovial, and Draco clearly agreed because his eyes practically danced with amusement upon greeting the man. Harry lit an herbal and glanced out over the loch. They’d invited Banner to their home since the cover story made that a reasonable action. He checked his watch as the portkey they had for Banner wouldn’t activate until after 5:00 o’clock, when most of the department would be empty.

“I don’t actually need a bodyguard.”

“I know,” Banner said shortly. “I also know my own kind when I see them, Lord Braemar.”

“You mean the parselmagic?”

Banner inclined his head. “You’ve had a lot of training as well, and you’ve seen combat. I know you were educated abroad, and that kind of experience could’ve only been legally gained with the ICW or the Magical Protectorate. I won’t guess which. Why am I here?”

“Appearances,” Harry said simply. “And as I said in my letter, Christopher Potter recommended you specifically. I’m about to engage in some political shenanigans that are going to piss people off left and right, and Christopher thinks we need someone to watch our backs.”

“He clearly doesn’t know much about veela,” Banner said. “Male veela are known to be ferocious in defense of their mates.” He glanced toward Draco, who was on the opposite side of the courtyard with Kaiser and Hayle. “Interesting choice for mail delivery.”

“You mean horrific,” Harry muttered. “He adores them. The chick is a female, so she’s probably going to be the size of a grown-arse man by the time she matures.” Banner made a soft sound that was almost a laugh. “Regardless, I don’t need a bodyguard, but I invited you here to give you a message.”

Banner stiffened in his seat and shifted forward. “From who?”

“Croaker.”

Banner’s gaze went wide, and he glanced toward Draco once more. “Ah. I heard there were two assets recruited—war mages under a seal of secrecy. That’s all anyone knows. You’ve been playing the part of a newly rich noble so well that no one expects it to be the two of you. Though also, common sense isn’t exactly a skill most adult magicals endeavor to have.”

“Croaker made it an official secret, so that magic is certainly making speculation regarding our identities difficult. You won’t be able to discuss it with anyone who doesn’t know,” Harry said. “You’re officially being recruited by the Department of Mysteries, Master Banner. There are several different options going forward from there. The Head Unspeakable thinks that the best course of action would be for me to offer you the place of a vassal to the house of Peverell.” He watched Banner’s mouth drop open briefly. “This would impact you now and your son in the future, so I don’t expect or want an answer today. Take the time to speak to your boy, and think about the magical consequences of such an oath.”

He pulled a length of rope from his dimensional store and placed it on the table. “That’s a portkey directly into the Department of Mysteries, where Croaker is waiting to meet with you. Please feel free to check it.”

Banner drew his wand and performed several charms to check the magic of the portkey and the destination information. “I had no idea the DOM was that deep underground.”

“There are many levels within the DOM. This portkey’s destination is for the area where our offices are. It’s just one level below the hall that contains the Book of Souls. There are other floors—dedicated to research, project management, and the like. You’ll get a tour of the areas that will be germane to your job if you accept the position.”

“Is the job with the DOM entwined with the role of being your vassal?”

“No, of course not. You’ll be tasked with working as my public security when I’m walking around being a pain in the arse to anyone who deserves it, but we both work hooded as well, and you wouldn’t be part of those missions.”

Banner nodded. “Can Crouch interfere?”

“No, Croaker doesn’t answer to him, and there will be a situation fairly soon on that front to keep Crouch busy.”

“An investigation?” Banner questioned but then held up a hand. “No need to answer. I already know he’s a corrupt bastard. I’ll need to wait until my son comes home for Yule as I don’t send him letters with anything personal in them. The school isn’t secure, and Dumbledore doesn’t think anyone but himself is entitled to privacy.” He took a deep breath. “I wanted this a year ago, but I was told it was impossible. Crouch made it clear he’d never allow me to work anywhere else in the ministry.”

“Crouch thinks he’s far more powerful than he ever will be,” Draco said as he sat down with Hayle perched on his arm. “Kaiser is hunting.” He moved her to the back of an empty chair. “She’s doing very well and can already read twenty words. We’re starting geography lessons in a few weeks.”

Banner snorted indelicately, and Harry sighed. The older man shrugged. “I guess I’ll go have a discussion with Croaker. Unless you have any questions or concerns?”

“None,” Harry assured. “I don’t know how Crouch will react, but he has no power in the situation. Within the next few days, he’s going to be distracted in the extreme, so there’s that as well. I don’t expect he’ll keep his job unless the minister makes it his hill to die on.” He motioned toward the portkey. “The activation phrase is Avalon.”

Banner stood with a nod, picked up the portkey, and disappeared.

“Interesting man,” Draco said. “Considering Thaddeus’ response to parselmagic in the future, I’m left to assume that his father died in relation to it originally.”

“Most people were put off by my parselmagic because of Voldemort’s crimes specifically. If Roman Banner stayed in the employ of the bank throughout the war, then he was probably killed by Death Eaters. I wish I’d spent more time studying those events.” Harry frowned and looked out over the loch. “I think…I need to take a swim.”

Draco frowned and stood. “The wards feel fine.”

“It’s something outside of the wards,” Harry murmured. “But certainly in the water.”

He pulled off his boots and shed his clothes, then left them in a pile on the table to avoid losing them. There was no need to pretend it wasn’t an issue on their own land. He shifted into his animagus form easily and launched into the air. Flying across the loch was normally a very relaxing experience due to the wards. There was no need to worry about being seen by Muggles or really anyone who didn’t have permission to be inside his wards. He entered the water just short of the boundary and wasn’t all that surprised to find Moira lingering nearby.

Once she saw him, she swam back toward her nesting ground. Several mermen darted to his side as soon as the queen was gone and followed him as he left the wards. The loch was deep and dark, but he had no problems seeing. Darkness had never been an issue for dragons as they thrived in deep caves all over the world. The dverger had placed several ward stones underwater and buried them in the silt covering the bottom of the loch. Someone was digging one up.

The wizard had a bubble head charm on and was intent on the job he’d made himself that he never saw Harry coming. He snatched the man up with his forelegs, launched out of the water, turned, and dived back into the wards. His own warding magic would protect him visually in the short term, so if anyone saw anything, they’d think they’d imagined it. Within moments, he dropped the offender on the ground in front of his mate and held him there.

The wizard struggled just a little before Harry curled his claws against his chest, and he stilled. The bubblehead charm failed, and he screamed.

“Let me go!”

Draco stared at the man, head tilted, and frowned. “­His name is Caradoc Dearborn.” He drew his wand and stunned him. “Get dressed, darling. I’ll retrieve the veritaserum.”

Harry transformed and went to put on his clothes. After he dressed, he used his wand to put their intruder in a charm, tied him up, and pulled an herbal. Caradoc Dearborn was an original member of the Order of the Phoenix, and he also worked for the ministry as a curse breaker. He’d disappeared the first time around and had been presumed dead. Harry didn’t wonder why—the man was a fucking idiot with no situational awareness and piss-poor field skills. Harry wondered if Draco knew the man’s name because of his own legacy orb.

A search spell later, he had a pile of objects on the table in front of them. The portkey had Dumbledore’s magic all over it. It didn’t mean anything, really, as Harry assumed all the members of the Order had a portkey for escape purposes. Draco returned with a small potion vial which he put on the table, sat down then cast a charm at Dearborn to wake him up.

The wizard startled awake and shuddered at the sight of them in front of him. “Let me go. You can’t hold a ministry employee hostage.”

“I can call the DMLE,” Harry said easily. “Report your attempted intrusion on my ward line and your violation of the treaty of Loch Ness. The queen is upset, and I suspect I’ll have to file a complaint on her behalf first thing in the morning.”

Dearborn glared. “Let me go, and I won’t report your active war wards to the ministry.”

“I filed and received a permit for those wards through the bank before they were placed,” Harry said mildly. “So, the ministry is very well aware of the fact that I have legal war wards active on my property line.”

“They probably don’t know you’ve extended your ward line all the way out to cover the merfolk village!”

“I filed an appropriate warding scheme,” Harry assured. “I’m not the criminal here. Tell me, Mr. Dearborn, are you here on behalf of the ministry, or did Albus Dumbledore send you?”

Dearborn pressed his lips together and glared.

Harry stood from his chair and walked around the table to grab a handful of wet hair. He jerked Dearborn’s head back, and Draco forced his jaw open so they could dose him.

“Who do you answer to?” Harry questioned.

“Albus Dumbledore.”

“Why are you here?” Harry sat back down and took a long drag off his herbal.

“I’m to set up a surveillance package. Didn’t expect the security.” Caradoc gagged and jerked against the magic holding him in place.

“Why is Dumbledore so interested in me?”

“That old wand he took from Grindelwald stopped working for him. He thinks it’s your fault.” Caradoc glared as much as he could, which wasn’t much because Draco’s veritaserum was sophisticated and potent. Both factors greatly impacted facial affect. “Says you had no right to claim the Braemar title.”

“Did he want the title for himself?”

“He never tried—knew his blood relation with the Peverells was too diluted. The direct lines were thought to be long gone until you came along. He found out about your Muggle-born father.”

“Did that piss him off?”

“He’s disgusted by your heritage,” Caradoc corrected and cleared his throat. “He can’t figure out how to control you.”

“Why does he need to control me?”

“He didn’t plan for you—you’re in the way. Albus can’t allow that. You should do what he wants, or he’ll get you killed. He’s good for that.”

Harry nodded. “Was your only goal information gathering? Did you intend to curse us? Place some sort of behavioral magic?”

“Just surveillance charms.”

“As an employee of the ministry, you must know that Dumbledore has ordered you to commit a host of crimes against a sitting member of the House of Lords,” Harry said mildly. “Are you not worried about getting caught?”

“I don’t have a choice; Albus likes to collect people and their secrets,” Dearborn said. “He’ll find out your secrets, too, and you won’t be able to do anything but exactly what he wants.”

Draco stunned the man again with a huff and took a deep breath. “Did he manage to get the ward stone out of the ground?”

“No, but he found one easily enough. I’ll go out and disillusion them. Then set up proximity alarms to attach to the main ward, so we’ll know if anyone approaches one again. Then we need to walk the property line on the land side of things.” Harry frowned. “The queen will want to file a complaint, and I can’t ignore that duty. So, we’re going to have to manage this situation in a way that reveals as little as possible about us.”

“I’ll memory charm him,” Draco said. “He’ll remember getting caught, but not how. A neutralizing potion will remove the evidence of his being questioned under veritaserum.”

“Plant a story that he was trying to poach a kelpie,” Harry suggested. “It’s a misdemeanor, and he probably won’t be charged. Make him believe it. Then suggest he disappear into the wild blue yonder to escape Dumbledore and his plans. He’d probably like a shack in Canada.”

Draco shrugged and nodded. “Do you want to discuss this with Croaker first?

“Let’s just tell him the results—we don’t need to involve the DOM officially. It would draw undue attention. Keeping Dumbledore focused on me as an individual is for the best. He could cause a lot of damage in the short term if he thought the DOM was actively working against him. Minchum is already pissed off at us.” He paused. “Well, he’s pissed off at me. He’d probably enjoy spending time with you.”

Draco made a face. “Until I cursed his prick off.”

* * * *

“Did I give you a lot of leeway to act without supervision in the future?” Croaker asked pointedly.

Harry considered that. “The two of us only worked in the field together for less than a year before the incident happened. Draco made his own schedule as a researcher and handled many assignments at once. When you recruited me out of the DMLE, your pitch included more personal freedom.” He grinned when Jonah huffed in disgust. “Did I make the wrong decision?”

“No, but I would’ve liked to get my hands on one of Dumbledore’s people.”

“It was tempting to keep him, but there was no way of knowing if Dumbledore was keeping track of the mission and how long he’d allotted for Dearborn to work. It was best to get him in and out as quickly as possible.”

“So, the Elder Wand Dumbledore had stopped working.”

Harry considered that. “It certainly couldn’t exist in two different places—even with the time travel mechanics in place. The Hallows are special artifacts and must be unique in the magical fabric of our world. The other stone and cloak are inert as well. Well, the cloak will probably work as it should, but it will fade over the next decade or so as such garments are meant to. The Resurrection Stone that is hidden in a shack in Little Hangleton is still a horcrux, but it’s just a rock now. I would know if either were still viable Hallows. I’ll retrieve the ring soon, but we need to create a replacement in case he checks.”

“Can you mimic the signature of a horcrux?” McGregor questioned.

“I can, yes. It won’t be a permanent enchantment, but it doesn’t have to be. We just need to be able to fool whoever he sends to check in the short term.”

“He wouldn’t go look himself?”

“No, history tells us he only ever regularly interacted with one horcrux after its creation and didn’t seek the others out until he realized they were endangered. The horcrux he kept close doesn’t exist yet. But, speaking of those circumstances, we need to make the capture of Nagini a priority for the department. Beyond the fact that she’s dangerous as fuck, she’s not a snake, and knowing that she’s a cursed witch makes allowing that arsehole to keep her as a pet…obscene.”

“Is there a way to break the curse on her?” Croaked asked.

“Not that I’m aware of, but there is a preserve in Romania we can take her to so she can live in peace. She was killed the first time around because it was necessary. We can ask Newt Scamander to take care of her. He knew her before the curse completely settled. He was horrified by her fate the first time around.”

Croaker nodded. “Outside of the bodyguard assignment, I’ll task Roman Banner with capturing Nagini as humanely as possible. You’ll have your hands full gathering the horcruxes he’s made, preventing Riddle from making another, and killing him.” He paused. “Again.”

Harry made a face and slouched down in the chair in front of McGregor’s desk. “I considered it a lousy job the first time around. I was a kid, and I didn’t come into my own magically until several years after the fact. There’s no way to know how much Dumbledore manipulated me as a child, and that’s galling. I think if he knew what I really was, he’d have probably gotten me killed as quickly as he could. His own death was never in his plans, but he made a mistake with a horcrux.” He flicked a hand. “It’s included in the orb.”

“Dorcas took on the orb last night,” Croaker said roughly. “Came up from it viciously ill. She threw up repeatedly and ended up spending the night in the infirmary.”

Harry stiffened in alarm. “Was there something wrong with it? I’ve never created one, but I’ve interacted with many and edited a few. I only had previous Leviathan’s memories as far as training goes.”

“No, lad, the construction was damn near perfect,” McGregor said roughly. “It was just a lot. I count Dorcas amongst my most mentally hardy of assets, and she believed herself prepared for it. Seeing her condition afterward has made me hesitate to absorb it myself. I will, of course, but I think I’ll wait for the weekend, so I can recover in the privacy of my own home. Armand will absorb it this evening, and we’ll see how he handles it.”

“Maybe you can get Minerva to come nurse you,” Harry said and grinned when the older man huffed. “She still making you work for it?”

“She’s always been twice the work of any other person I’ve ever met,” Jonah said roughly. “My wife, bless her, always told me that Minerva was more witch than I could possibly handle. I can’t say she was wrong.”

“You never spoke of your wife before,” Harry admitted. “I don’t even know her name.”

“Natalie,” Jonah murmured. “She was a bright, lovely woman who forgave me my every sin because I was the love of her life, and she accepted before we ever married that Minerva was mine.” He cleared his throat. “We had a strong marriage built on a fast and true friendship. She adored motherhood and provided a beautiful, warm home for our children. They wanted for nothing, and I admit, neither did I. Losing her shortly after the birth of our last child made me realize how much I loved her.” He cleared his throat. “She deserved better than the likes of me, and I knew it all along.”

Harry nodded. He understood that. “Draco could do better.”

Jonah laughed. “He’d certainly say differently. I heard about the thing at Cobbledick’s.”

“That little motherfucker is lucky I’m currently invested in appearing civilized,” Harry muttered. “Draco warned me that things would be frustrating sometimes on the veela front; I just thought I’d be dealing with people who can’t handle the allure. He does a great job of controlling it on his own, and I’ll be adding several security runes to his dimensional store for his use in the future. Still, I didn’t expect to have some arsehole think he’s a whore and treat him like one.”

“Well, Humphrey Faraday is a prick,” McGregor said.

“Faraday,” Harry repeated. “Does he happen to have a son with the unfortunate name of Hornbuckle?”

“Yes, I think he’s around five,” McGregor said. “Why?”

“He worked for the DOM in the future, and honestly, he was a waste of space. You were looking for a reason to fire him. His father also worked in the ministry, but I forget where.”

“Well, that won’t happen now. No one in the ministry is going to risk taking Horace on as an employee due to your overt and public displeasure of him. I can’t say if the story will follow his son.”

“Hornbuckle hated me,” Harry said. “Mostly to do with the fact that he was a pure-blood who wasn’t invited to Hogwarts. The exclusionary invitation situation at the school is awful, and it breeds contempt where it shouldn’t exist. We have enough problems. Going forward, we need to work toward equality versus elitism. And right now, far too many people in this country are entirely too invested in grasping at the differences they believe set them above everyone else.”

Croaker stared for a moment. “You’ve got a way about you, lad. Dumbledore was lucky your magical circumstances prevented the creation of another dark lord.”

“Oh, I’m sure he would’ve been very disappointed if he’d lived long enough,” Harry said wryly. “Dark lord creation was practically a hobby for him.” He leaned forward a bit. “I do need to make a private arrest for an interrogation, then I’ll need my subject not only memory charmed but also I’d like his memories of Tom Riddle locked down, at the very least, so he can’t share them with anyone but us.”

“Who?”

“Horace Slughorn,” Harry said and shrugged when McGregor made a disbelieving face. “You’ll see after you’ve taken on the orb about Tom Riddle. In the end, it took two arrogant and thoughtless wizards to facilitate the creation of Voldemort, and Dumbledore wasn’t even the one to light the match.”

“You mentioned during your initial debrief that one of the quirks of your parselmagic manifestation was that you could detect deception.”

“Yes, I was told it was quite rare amongst our kind,” Harry said. “How are the interrogations going?”

“We’ve finished with Rookwood. He was obliviated in a ritual to remove all of his knowledge regarding the DOM, including the content from the legacy orb he absorbed. Based on the results of his interrogation, we forwarded charges to the World Court, and he was taken into custody by the ICW. He’ll stand trial for two murders that took place in France. He’ll spend years in interrogation before that, though. He’s a goldmine of information.” Croaker shifted a stack of parchment on his desk. “The two people that Crouch placed in the DOM have revealed some deep security issues that are infuriating as fuck. Additionally, neither of them has actually broken any laws that we can prosecute in these circumstances.”

“Faking an Unspeakable oath isn’t a crime?” Harry questioned.

“Well, it wasn’t,” Croaked said huffily. “And it was generally believed to be impossible. The witch, Morwenna Pike, has an excellent record of service since joining us. Her instructions from Crouch were to report any illegal activity by other Unspeakables. She never filed a single piece of parchment because she has a profound understanding of magical law. Pike was also puzzled and irritated to discover that her oath to the department wasn’t real. Now that she’s been exposed, Crouch will want her back. I’ve decided to offer her the actual oath because she’s a Spartan in interrogation and brilliant on top of that. Dorcas is impressed.

“The wizard, Reiss Boyer, has been actively working to undermine me. He is the most recent plant. It’s my assumption that when Pike failed to deliver what Crouch wanted, he put another asset in place. Boyer knew about her, but she did not know about him. I have access to all of the reports that Boyer filed because the minister is petrified of acting against the Crown. He knows very well that the Avalon Protocols are fragile and, if broken, could not be repaired.”

Harry nodded. “What did you need from me? You’ve vetted Pike already, correct?”

“I interrogated the fuck out of her,” Jonah said wryly. “With Armand’s help. He gave her absolutely no quarter. She did well, as I already said. I can’t imagine what it would take the ruffle that witch’s feathers. Boyer is in the infirmary getting obliviated of all Official Secrets and the legacy orb material, which is the protocol for being ejected from the Unspeakables. The memory work is delicate, so Armand won’t be much use to me for the rest of the week. Since he was aware that the former Croaker was cursed, he has as much to answer for as Crouch.”

Harry nodded. “Draco is currently invested in a research project involving ward notifications. He’s going to consult a specialist at the bank at some point this afternoon. I’ve been told I’m unnecessary for any of it. What do you need, Croaker?”

“I need to know how big of a problem Minchum is,” Croaker said plainly. “You’ll be attending a meeting with Dorcas and me. She’s finished upgrading my hood and her own. Crouch is going to be removed from his job in this meeting. You said he eventually ended up the head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation?”

“Yes, a demotion of sorts because people came to see him as a brutal and unreasonable bastard. I’ve heard people compare him to Voldemort when it comes to his methods and ruthlessness. The fact that he’s encouraging his aurors to use the Killing Curse is telling. Precious few people are righteous enough to perform that curse without damaging themselves permanently.”

“You can do it.”

Harry shrugged. “You know why.”

“Yeah,” Croaker said wearily. “I’ve barely begun to wrap my head around your circumstances. It’s a burden on your soul that is hard to fathom.”

“Sometimes, I never even really know what I am,” Harry admitted. “And other times, the role consumes my entire life, but even then, it wasn’t unreasonable to me. Perhaps that is a favor Varda does the Master of Death on this world.” He checked his watch. “The whole truth thing works best in observation, but I may have to ask questions. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, not at all. Leviathan has a reputation in the ministry that spans decades. He’ll be startled and probably horrified to meet you as we’ve not had a personification of the identity in years that interacted with anyone on a conversational level,” Croaker explained. “Why did you pick it?”

“It was the best of the options at the time. You’d invested yourself in rebuilding the department after the war, and Raven favored assets he could mold into whatever he wanted. I think that’s why my recruitment was staggered. He really wasn’t on board with it.”

“Because you’re a parselmouth,” Croaker said. “We’ll have to make sure to educate the shite of out of that kid on the subject before he gets the chance to develop such a resentment for his own magic.”

It was weird to imagine Thaddeus Banner as a child, so Harry hadn’t thought about it much. “His father appears to have no issues with his own parselmagic, so I’m left to assume that Thaddeus developed the issue in relation to the war or perhaps the loss of his own father. Regardless, yes, we should certainly work to make sure Thaddeus has a healthier outlook on the subject. If I were pressed to list his faults, it would’ve been the only one that was detrimental to his magical circumstances. Despite the outright suppression and borderline disdain for his parselmagic, he was powerful and good. His dedication to the light and to the protection of Avalon knew no equal.”

“Thoughts on how to start that conversation?”

“I think…if his father agrees to vassal with the house of Peverell, I believe I’ll gift young Thaddeus with a snake,” Harry said and grinned when McGregor laughed. “At his age, the right kind of serpent will be enthralling to him. If the vassal situation doesn’t happen, we can work to get his father to purchase a snake for training.”

Dorcas entered at that point, and shortly, Harry found himself in the lift on the way up to Harold Minchum’s office, hood in place. He was much more comfortable in the ministry when hooded and had acknowledged that privately with Draco. The lift opened, and Arthur Weasley entered. He gave the three of them a friendly smile and selected his destination. The man looked a little harried but nowhere near the worn down and weary man Harry had known him to be the future.

Uncharitably, Harry wondered if arranging a divorce would help the man at all because he did think living with a shrew like Molly would essentially destroy anyone. He’d studied the ministry organization chart, so he knew that Arthur was a junior member of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. At twenty-five, the man was already the father of two, as Charlie had been born in 1972. Harry wondered if an infertility curse shortly after the conception of the twins would be completely evil, and his magic didn’t even twitch in response. Of course, it wouldn’t since such a curse was considered more rude than illegal.

The door opened, and Arthur left them with a wave.

Dorcas sighed as the door shut and the lift started moving again. “I think that man needs to be rescued from his wife.”

Harry snorted. “Sooner rather than later.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry about your experience with the orb.”

“That’s not on you,” Dorcas said shortly. “I should’ve prepared more because you did warn me.”

Harry nodded as the door opened, and they left the lift on the administrative floor. A beautiful young witch was at a desk at the entrance of the minister’s office. She paled at the sight of them, and Croaker sighed.

“Croaker, Anzû, and Leviathan to see the minister,” Croaker said shortly. “We have an appointment.”

Her gaze flicked between them. “He didn’t mention Leviathan.” Her delicate, pink lips pressed together. “Director Crouch is already here.” She brushed her fingers over a rune on the corner of the desk, and the door behind her opened.

The minister and Crouch were seated at a small conference table just to the left of the large desk that dominated the room. They had a tea service between them and looked quite friendly. It was certainly a power play, and Croaker had expected it considering his own invitation to the meeting. Minchum frowned at the three of them.

“Anzû and Leviathan,” Croaker said shortly as he motioned to each of them and took a seat.

Harry waited until Anzû set, then took a seat at the end of the table, distancing himself overtly from the conversation. He knew, from experience, that observation could be intimidating all its own, and it would be easier for him to evaluate both men with a broader view of them both. Crouch set aside his cup and focused on him.

“Leviathan.” He frowned. “We’ve never met; your interdepartmental correspondence over the years have always been brief.”

“I say what needs to be said,” Harry said.

“We’re not here to discuss my people’s social skills,” Croaker said shortly and unrolled a parchment to place on the table in front of him. “Auror Reiss Boyer has confessed, at length, to the pretense of being an Unspeakable and using the cursed circumstances of Rupert Perry to accomplish it. Crouch also planted another auror, a witch named Morwenna Pike, in the department. She didn’t know that Perry was compromised, but Boyer did. Failure to report the fact that the head of a department was compromised is a violation of his employment contract. Thus, after I had Boyer thoroughly memory charmed to remove every single bit of information he ever learned about the DOM, I fired him.”

“You can’t….” Crouch frowned. “Boyer is a valuable member of the DMLE, Croaker.”

“Boyer is an oath breaker,” Croaker returned flatly. “As a result, he is not legally allowed to be employed by the Ministry for Magic. Not that he could, even if it were legal. The memory work done on him was so complete that he’d have to attend the academy again to qualify to work any position in the DMLE. We certainly couldn’t allow that as it would reveal the security issue that existed during Perry’s administration and your own crimes, which the minister would like to keep a secret.”

“It’s for the best,” Minchum interjected. “And you already agreed to that, Croaker. We don’t need the general population to see such weakness in our law enforcement.”

“I did agree not to reveal Crouch’s crimes in this particular circumstance,” Croaker said. “But I won’t tolerate him remaining the director of the DMLE. He is to be replaced immediately. He exceeded his authority, allowed the ongoing corruption of Rupert Perry, and acted in bad faith. He also stupidly endangered our agreement with the Crown. The DOM doesn’t answer to the DMLE and mustn’t due to our dual status within the magical and Muggle world. We were set apart as part of our agreement with the Crown and Prime Minister’s office to provide oversight for the ministry and to work in tandem with both governments.”

“You can’t demand I be fired!” Crouch shouted, his face ruddy with temper. “We’re on the cusp of a goddamned war!”

“If you were better at your job, the Death Eaters wouldn’t be a threat at all,” Croaker said. “You don’t have a single open investigation, Crouch. How are they funded? Who is Voldemort? Where did he come from? How many Death Eaters are currently working for the ministry?”

Crouch glared at him. “Like you can answer any of those questions.”

“Voldemort’s real name is Tom Riddle,” Croaker said. “The Death Eaters are being funded by several pure-blood families both here in Britain and abroad—Malfoy, Yaxley, Lestrange, and Rosier, to be specific. There are now four Death Eaters currently working in the ministry, and I have active investigations into all of them because I do my job instead of attempting to empire build.”

Harry watched Croaker remove another rolled parchment from his cloak and spread it out on the table.

“What’s that?”

“Your fourth application to join the Unspeakables,” Croaker said mildly. “You applied just short of being Head Auror a decade ago. I suppose at that point, you realized that you were never going to enter the DOM and focused on what you could get. You were never given a reason regarding your rejection—as we rarely divulge such a thing to candidates when a simple no is answer enough for anyone.”

Crouch frowned at him. “Where did you get that?”

“I’m the Director of the Department of Mysteries; there are no secrets from me,” Croaker said. “That is the way the system is designed. Regardless, you were rejected by Avalon. We trust in that magic to keep our department free of undue influence and corruption. Perry’s cursed state allowed that magic to be circumvented three times.”

“I only sent two aurors down!” Crouch snapped.

“Yes, I know. You see, if you’d done your damn job—you’d have realized that Perry was cursed by a fucking Death Eater to gain access to the DOM. That Death Eater is named Augustus Rookwood. I currently have him in a cell, but we will be forced to conduct a private hearing and execute him to preserve the security of the ministry. You were more interested in leveraging the situation to your own advantage and left a deep security fissure in the DOM as a result.

“It is clear, Crouch, that you can’t be trusted. Since your inaction allowed a Death Eater to infiltrate the very magic that protects us—you cannot remain the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Avalon will not tolerate it. Magically, every single Unspeakable now sees you as an imminent threat. There is no rectifying that. I’m not even sure you’d survive being an employee anywhere in the ministry as a result. It is our mandate and our sworn duty to protect Avalon from all threats. You have made yourself a threat, and the magic governing the DOM is reactive as a result.”

Crouch stared in shock, and Harry realized that Croaker was right. He felt like he could take Crouch out without violating his oaths. It was a concerning situation, and he figured the strain would eat at every single asset in the building if the situation didn’t change rapidly. He cleared and sat forward a bit in his chair. Croaker turned to him and inclined his head.

“I believe Director Crouch could be moved to a different department—one with no influence in law enforcement and that would potentially solve the issue. A lateral transfer of some sort, perhaps he can cite mental fatigue of managing the conflict with the Death Eaters as an excuse.”

“You’re out of your damn mind,” Crouch hissed. “I’m the law in Britain!”

“Or we can kill you right now,” Harry continued as if Crouch hadn’t spoken. “As it would be well within our mandate to secure the safety of Avalon. You’re a power-hungry warmonger in the making, and you don’t know how to operate within the confines of your position. Maybe you’re just a greedy bastard who thrives on conflict—even if you have to manufacture it. You’re guilty of espionage within the ministry, and you’ve learned secrets that were beyond your purview. Of course, that situation will have to be rectified. If you’ve passed those secrets on, then you’re guilty of sedition, and that’s a capital offense.”

Crouch had paled dramatically by the time Harry finished speaking.

“You have a wife and child to consider, do you not?” Harry asked then, tone as mild as he could muster. “Children are vulnerable in times of war, open to the influence of others. If you’re dead, who’ll protect your family?”

“You leave my family out of this!”

“You’ve brought them into this situation,” Anzû interjected. “You’ve endangered their lifestyle, their home, and even their future by your own damned stupidity. What kind of legacy are you building for your son? You betrayed Avalon!”

Crouch sank back against his chair and averted his gaze. In or out of a hood, Dorcas Meadowes was intimidating as fuck, Harry thought. He focused on Minchum, who looked upset and a little annoyed. Perhaps he hadn’t expected to be sidelined in the conversation.

“There’s no one to replace Crouch,” Minchum said roughly. “The Head Auror has just a year on the job and isn’t qualified to run the entire DMLE.”

“Well, that’s on purpose,” Croaker said. “Crouch has been working to remove every single employee in the DMLE that could’ve been a threat to his reign over the department. Amelia Bones is the current Head Auror, correct? She’s been with the aurors for ten years, has a mastery in criminal justice, and attended the International Academy of Magic while she clerked with the World Court of Magic. I believe, with a bit of help from those around her, she could handle the DMLE easily.”

Crouch glared at him. “War is a man’s business.”

McGregor cleared his throat. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. My most vicious and successful asset in the field is a witch. You know that Amelia Bones is a good person and a competent auror. You also know that she is firmly in the light. I know you know this because you didn’t involve her in the plot you had going on with the DOM. You knew she would not only disapprove but would stop it because of how criminal the undertaking was.”

“She’s a sanctimonious twat,” Crouch said.

“Watch your mouth!” Anzû snapped. “She’s twenty of you, and I agree, she should take your place when you graciously agree to a transfer to say…how about the new one we’re being required to organize by the ICW.” She turned to Minchum. “What was it called again?”

Minchum cleared his throat. “Department of International Magical Co-operation. Yes, I believe that would be best, Barty. The scandal would be quite unbecoming and cause a distraction that we can’t afford.”

“I’m not going to be memory charmed and sidelined!” Crouch shouted and started to stand.

Harry drew his wand and stunned the man without a word. He slumped forward on the table, and Minchum squeaked. “We’ll need to clear the way to the DOM so he can be prepared for his new role in the ministry.”

“Certainly,” Anzû said and stood. “I’ll arrange it.”

Croaker relaxed in his chair as Dorcas left the room. “Harold, your administration is not providing the stable influence one would hope. We know your predecessor was removed from office at Voldemort’s insistence. His followers insured it. They don’t bother with you because they don’t see you as a threat. This concerns me.”

“I’m not a bloody Death Eater sympathizer,” Minchum exclaimed. “How dare you, Croaker! I’ve worked on behalf of the light all of my adult life!”

“Prove it,” Croaker said mildly. “It’s time we end this nonsense with Voldemort and his followers. They need to be put down in such a fashion that no one ever gets the idea to try such a thing again. If Grindelwald had been dealt with properly, then Riddle might have thought twice about assuming the persona of a dark lord so he could flit about the country killing people at will. This motherfucker doesn’t want to actually run the damn country. He just wants free rein to be a complete fucking monster.”

“What would you have me do?” Minchum questioned. “Declare war on our own citizens?”

“There’s no need to be dramatic about it,” Croaker chastised, and Harry barely refrained from laughing. “We’ll investigate the matter thoroughly, and with Bones in place at the head of the DMLE, things will work out just the way they should. She’ll work on neutralizing his supporters, and the DOM will handle Riddle. His magical circumstances are beyond the scope of the auror corps.”

“Do you have the ability to handle those circumstances?” Minchum questioned with a skeptical expression.

“Yes, Minister, we can handle the likes of Tom Riddle,” Harry said and stood. “He’s in no in single way prepared for what is to come.”

* * * *

Armand frowned at Harry, then peered down into the trunk where Kazumi lay coiled in a stasis charm. “Have you already contacted Ito?”

“I’d planned to send him a letter,” Harry said. “I realize you see her as a resource, Armand, but she’s more than that.”

“She’s magnificent,” Armand murmured and sighed. “But her magic is clearly tainted. She’ll need a profound amount of cleansing that the Glain Neidr is not prepared to undertake. It’s the work of decades.”

Harry nodded as Armand closed the trunk. “But Ito has the time and experience to dedicate it. She’ll live for many thousands of years to come, and he will, too. I believe the relationship would serve them both. We’re going to file a private report with the DMLE regarding the situation after Dumbledore is taken care of. Minerva McGonagall wants to see a man who works for the school pardoned as he was originally blamed for the death of the girl that the basilisk killed.”

“Hagrid,” Armand murmured. “Yes, I agree. Many wanted the situation investigated more thoroughly, but Dumbledore interfered and used his social power to make people believe that the ministry was just picking on the boy for a terrible mistake. Now I’m left to wonder if he was merely covering up Tom Riddle’s crimes for his own reasons. His agenda isn’t clear, even knowing what you’ve told me. I hope the orb you’ve provided gives me more insight.”

“I would say it will only make it very clear that he’s a real son of a bitch,” Harry said dryly. “Her name is Kazumi.”

Armand hissed in shock and stood from the floor. He walked to his floo and threw in a bright orange powder. The fire flared wildly and settled. “I need you.”

“Hello, Armand; it’s a pleasure to hear from you.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Armand muttered. “I need you immediately.”

The floo went dark, and there was a sharp boom of apparition that he felt more than heard. Someone had hit the arrivals area of the DOM like a bomb going off, but there wasn’t a single alarm being sounded. Shortly, Armand escorted Hiro Ito into the office and shut the door.

Ito raised an eyebrow at Armand as he shed his cloak. “I don’t appreciate being summoned, Armand, so this had better be fucking amazing.”

“We have a situation that requires you specifically,” Armand said stiffly and pulled the door shut. He locked it. “Lord Braemar was recently invited to Hogwarts. It marked the first time he’d ever been in the castle, and he felt something…disturbing on the grounds of the school.”

“Besides Albus Dumbledore?” Ito questioned with a glance toward the trunk. “What’s in it?”

“The most dangerous creature to exist on this planet,” Harry said.

“Besides you?” Ito questioned and hummed under his breath. “What an interesting thing for the Master of Death to say.”

Harry’s gaze narrowed. “How do you know that? Louis Bertrand agreed not to share that information with anyone else at the ICW and declared the information a permanent secret.”

“I don’t need to be told what I can see for myself,” Ito said tartly. “This isn’t the first time we’ve met, Hadrian. Your magical aura is unique in this world and has been present every single time I’ve crossed paths with you. Surely, your uncle knows this already.”

Harry shared a glance with Armand. “Are you questioning my parentage, Master Ito? That’s quite a rude thing to do in this country.”

Ito grinned and focused on the trunk. “Nundu or chimaera?”

“Don’t insult us,” Armand said mildly. “I wouldn’t call you for that kind of damage control.” He waved a hand, and the lid of the trunk popped open. “Take a look for yourself.”

Ito stepped forward and stared down into the trunk. His expression shifted minutely as he stared at the basilisk. “My precious girl—what has been done to you?” He dropped to his knees and put a trembling hand down into the trunk. Even in stasis, the basilisk moved under his touch, and Harry took in a deep, ragged breath. “Where did you find her, exactly?”

“She was in a chamber under the school,” Harry said. “I believe she slept for a very long time until she awakened by Tom Riddle in the 1940s when he used her to cause the death of a third-year student.”

Ito’s jaw tightened. “Do you know how she was put under the school?”

“Legend would tell us that Salazar Slytherin put her in the Chamber of Secrets so that she could guard the school and protect the children,” Armand said. “But we can’t be for certain. How do you know her?”

“I found her shortly after she hatched 481 BC,” Ito said as he leaned heavily on the edge of the trunk. “Many of my friends told me to kill her, but I’ve never believed in such practices. I don’t believe any creature is too dangerous to exist. There are some places in this world that are not meant for humans, and when we encroach, we pay the price. I placed her on an island in my magical domain, and she knew nothing but peace. Her personality was a pleasant surprise, and over the years, she came to see me as her friend.

“I met the man you call Salazar Slytherin when he was very young—perhaps no more than twenty. He was an eager student and embraced parselcraft like a lover. I’d rarely encountered anyone like him. Snakes adored him, and the parselmagic practically seeped out of his body in every direction. I admit to finding him enthralling, and while I didn’t allow him to seduce me as he clearly wished to do, I did bring him into my confidence.” He cleared his throat. “And my conclave.”

“Which gave him access to your magical domain,” Armand said roughly. “What a foolish mistake, old friend.”

Ito nodded. “Kazumi was the biggest loss I suffered when that conclave fell to pieces around me. I did not form another for nearly a thousand years. I never suspected Salazar. I sent him away for his own protection as the infighting in the conclave grew fierce, and he was a white man, a foreigner amongst us. I figured he’d be targeted for that reason alone.” He cleared his throat. “And now I know he was the cause. Were it not a crime against magic, I would time travel and murder him with my bare hands.” He stroked the snake’s head with a sad smile. “I’ve searched for her since the day she disappeared. I knew she wasn’t dead because I felt her magic, but no matter what magic I used—she was invisible to me.”

“Hogwarts sits on the biggest ley lake on the planet,” Armand said, and Ito nodded. “It is easy to hide even highly magical creatures in such places. It’s our habit to do so, as a matter of fact.”

“There’s behavioral modification magic on her,” Ito said. “Dark magic residue as well. It will take many years to cleanse her magic.” He shut the trunk with a shaking hand and let the hand fall on the top. Slowly, his fingers curled into a fist. “It’s not my habit, Lord Braemar, to incur a debt of any sort….”

“Then don’t,” Harry said quickly before the man could say more. “I shouldn’t have to tell you, Master Ito, that it isn’t wise to owe an entity such as me a debt of any sort. Don’t invite such a burden onto your mortal soul.”

“Most assume I’ve transcended such a thing,” Ito said wryly as he stood. “But not you.”

“Varda will take you when she wishes,” Harry said. “And you know it. One day, your bloodstone will die, and you will pass with it. Varda will embrace you when the time comes, but I can tell you aren’t worried about that part.”

“I’ve always known it to be true,” the ancient wizard admitted. “It is the nature of our kind to know when we are done.”

Harry inclined his head in agreement, and Armand cursed under his breath.

 

Chapter 13

“Thoughts?” Croaker asked as he got settled on the sofa in front of the fire Harry had started in their home office.

“The minister is weak,” Harry said plainly and pulled an herbal from his bracelet. He lit it wandlessly and took a long drag from it, then blew out a curling stream of smoke. “An ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances. Minchum is in over his head and knows it. He’s also not interested in doing anything to change what he has going on. He’d like to stay minister until he dies.” Harry paused when Dorcas snorted indelicately. “Politically, he’s a people pleaser, which could be a problem in the long term. Magically, he’s light but useless. I’d be hard-pressed to believe him capable of any high-order magic, which makes him uninteresting to any serious players you have moving around and in the ministry. He’d be easy to manipulate and control with just a few charms, so we should ward him heavily until which time he’s removed from power.”

Croaker laughed and shared a look with Dorcas. “Did I know about your magical circumstances before I recruited you?”

“Not the whole of it,” Harry admitted. “Precious few people ever knew the entire truth. Some lifetimes I tell no one at all, ever, and those lives are always the worst.” He cleared his throat. “But there have been times when that can’t be helped, and I live with it because nothing else has ever seemed reasonable.”

“Having Varda as a patron doesn’t seem like a boon,” Dorcas said quietly. “Whatever did you do, Hadrian, to deserve such a thing?”

Harry laughed and focused on his herbal for a moment as he considered how to answer that question. “The Master of Death isn’t a choice to be made. It isn’t even a calling though many before me would’ve said it was. Death magic is a unique presence in the fabric of our world—it is woven into every single living thing. When Zirnitra manifested, it was the first power he came into contact with and the only one that did not bend entirely to his will.

“Eventually, a power balance was achieved, but I can’t share the details freely. Some of it I’ve been made to forget,” Harry admitted with a shrug. “I am as much a conduit as I am anything else.”

“Legend would call you Death’s Hand,” Dorcas said.

Harry hummed under his breath. “It’s a role to be played for certain. Sometimes, such a heavy presence is required to ensure balance. Fate has play as well.”

“I’ve always found Fate to be a truly appalling thing,” Croaker said roughly.

“Well, that’s because Fate reveals the very worst and best in us at the same time,” Harry said quietly. “Monsters rise to the surface, and those of us who can must stand against them.”

“That sounded heroic as hell,” Dorcas muttered and threw back two fingers of bourbon in one swallow. “And like the worst kind of fatalism at the same time. So, fuck you.”

Harry laughed and vanished the butt of his herbal with the flick of his fingers. “Well, do you regret your future self’s actions in regard to recruiting me?” He focused on McGregor as he spoke.

“No.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“If it weren’t for you and your partner, I’d probably be dealing with a fucking time-traveling Death Eater right now. I have no idea what his goal was, what he would’ve done to accomplish it, and how much damage would’ve been the result. I suspect that the future version of myself saw something in you that he could use to defend Avalon. He wasn’t wrong, as you and your partner have already made the biggest sacrifice play possible to protect us.” Croaker cleared his throat. “By all rights, you should both be dead.”

“The ritual itself should’ve ripped you both to shreds,” Dorcas agreed. “Neither of you went into prepared in any single way. I’ve seen the most powerful witches and wizards utterly destroyed with the mere act of interfering with a ritual.”

“Well, we couldn’t let him finish whatever he planned to do,” Draco said dryly, and they all three turned to find him standing in the doorway. “I see you’re passing around my bourbon.”

“It’s great bourbon,” Harry said in his defense. “We were waiting on you for dinner.”

“I got your note,” Draco said and unbuttoned his waistcoat. “And I picked up dinner for four at the Cauldron. You can impress them with your kitchen shenanigans some other time.”

Harry nodded. “Sure.”

* * * *

Hours later, Harry found himself braced against the tile in the shower, water beating down on his back. His magic had been humming gently in his core for hours, but nothing about it felt like a problem. The soulmate bond had changed him in a way he’d never expected, and he wondered what the marriage rites would do. He wasn’t especially worried about it, but he was curious.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Croaker doesn’t trust me the way he did before,” Harry said and glanced toward Draco, who was on the other side of the stall under a pair of matching shower heads. He’d readily admit the setup was hedonistic as fuck, but he’d let Draco make any changes he wanted to the bathroom as long as he got a big deep tub out of it, and he had.

“It’ll come with time,” Draco said. “It’s more personal than professional, at any rate, since we know they confirmed the oath magic on both of us when we first arrived. He trusts us both with Avalon. But I would say the whole Master of Death thing was always a bit of a bitter pill to swallow for him. He has more heart than a man in his position should have, if I’m honest.”

“Should I do anything about it?” Harry questioned. “I mean not the whole heart thing except for the fact that I’m going to tell him you think he’s a tender-hearted old man the first chance I get.”

Draco laughed. “He won’t believe you, and there’s nothing you can do. The relationship you had with him won’t be the same, but he’ll gain the faith you’re missing in your interactions with him soon enough. You earned his trust without even trying the first time around.”

“Rude.” Harry huffed when Draco laughed. “I worked my arse off getting that man’s attention and approval. Just getting over that whole fucking Boy-Who-Lived crap was a goddamned job, and it seemed like it would never end.”

“Then it did,” Draco said. “I mean not in any way that I would’ve ever considered a possibility.” He waved both hands. “Fucking time travel.”

“Oddly, the magical world isn’t all that different. The changes on the horizon for the Muggle world are astounding. It’s like the magical world stands still—frozen by ignorance and bigotry.”

“That’s the go-to method for most oppressive societies,” Draco said dryly as he rinsed off then left the shower. “Come to bed. I require your undivided attention.”

Harry grabbed a towel as he left the tiled area, and the runes powering the shower heads shut off automatically. “What if I’m too tired to give you that attention?”

“There’s a potion for that,” Draco said tartly.

Harry laughed as he watched his mate crawl onto the bed. Draco lounged on his back and spread his legs. Harry stilled in surprise because, for the first time since he’d mated with Draco, the other man’s vaginal slit was open. He’d never asked for the seal to be removed and had figured that wouldn’t even be a conversation until they were ready to have children.

“I….” Harry wet his lips. “Merlin.”

Draco held out a hand. Harry took it and allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed. He tucked in close to his lover, pressed a kiss against a shoulder, and ran his hand down Draco’s chest. The magical bonds that linked them seemed to thicken and tighten around them as he held his mate tight against his chest.

Draco shifted in his hold, pressed his ass against Harry’s hard cock, and hummed under his breath. “Spoiled for choice, love?”

Harry hummed under his breath. He knew Draco had never let anyone fuck his slit, but he wondered about other activities and felt like he had to ask. “Have you ever had any sort of vaginal penetration?”

“No, never,” Draco admitted. “I sealed my slit with magic before I ever took a lover. It wasn’t something I discussed with previous partners, and the one who tried to have that conversation was dismissed very quickly from my private company. Is it a problem? Are you put off by it?”

“Nothing about you puts me off,” Harry admitted. “And I’m bisexual, so a vagina isn’t a stumbling block. I’m just a little surprised, I suppose because you didn’t mention you were considering removing the seal.”

“You’ve been talking about babies, though,” Draco said and turned in his arms to stare at him. “How did you think that was going to go?”

“I just figured there would be an actual conversation and that you’d ask for ritual conception.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Getting a surprise really puts you off.” He laughed when Harry couldn’t help but frown at him. “Even what most would consider a pleasant surprise.”

“Honestly, I’ve rarely ever in my existence had a pleasant surprise,” Harry said seriously. He cupped Draco’s hip and pulled. “Come here.”

Draco was pliant in his arms, content in his embrace, and Harry’s hand clenched on Draco’s thigh as they pressed together. He loved the soft, sweet affection to be found in such an embrace and resolved to seek it out more often. Most of the time, they came together so eagerly that their desires were met as roughly as he’d ever allowed himself to be with a lover.

He slid a hand between Draco’s thighs, and his lover moaned softly against his jaw as Harry pressed his fingers against his slit for the first time. Gently, he pushed a single finger inside. Draco shuddered, and his hands clenched on Harry’s shoulders.

“You’re already so wet,” Harry murmured as he added a second finger. “I love how you want me.”

“Harry.” Draco took in a ragged breath. “Fuck.”

“Too much?”

“Never,” Draco denied. “I want you inside me. Now.”

“You know I still have a contraceptive in place,” Harry murmured. “I can’t breed you.” Draco groaned. “Will the pretense be enough for now?”

“If it isn’t?” Draco questioned.

“Then I’ll remove the contraceptive charm and do my level best to get you pregnant,” Harry said in amusement. “Then you’ll spend the next year or more confined to the property for your own safety.” Draco huffed. “The choice is yours, my love.”

“Fuck me right now before I maim you for life,” Draco demanded and pulled at Harry’s shoulders with insistent hands.

Harry laughed a little as he put Draco on his back and slid on top of him. He positioned his cock and slowly pushed into his mate’s slit.

Draco moaned and arched under him. “Oh.”

“Good?” Harry questioned.

“Yeah, more, please,” Draco admitted and wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist.

Harry started to move, rolling his hips as he thrust repeatedly into the slick heat of Draco’s pussy. There was precious little he loved more in the world than pleasuring his mate, and Harry wondered if that was about the veela magic that moved between them or more to do with the intense love. He couldn’t say the soulmate bond had any sort of influence over it since he’d felt that way before that bond was a possibility.

Draco clutched at him and trembled through an orgasm. “More.”

Harry caught both of Draco’s wrists in one hand and held them over his mate’s head, pressing them down on the mattress as he continued to fuck into his body with one full-bodied thrust after another. His own orgasm built slowly, piling heavily on him in such a way that it was pure comfort. The weight of their lovemaking never felt like a burden, and it had been a revelation the first time he’d realized just how he’d viewed sharing his body before Draco. Before he’d truly let himself fall in love.

Harry buried his face against Draco’s shoulder as he came, pressing fully against his lover’s body. Draco’s cock jerked and spilled between them even as he stilled. He took in a shuddery breath as he released Draco’s wrists and slipped from his mate’s body. With a soft sigh, he laid down on the bed next to Draco and focused on the ceiling.

“I love you,” Draco murmured as he turned and pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s chest. “In an epically stupid fashion.”

Harry laughed. “Should I apologize?”

“Every single damn day.” Draco slipped off the bed and stretched. “I’m going to use the whirlpool tub. Join me?”

“Yeah. Want some wine?” Harry got up and caught Draco’s hand. He pulled him close and kissed him gently. “I love you in a deeply stupid fashion as well.”

Draco grinned. “Yes, to the wine. White, please.”

* * * *

Horace Slughorn was still employed at Hogwarts so getting ahold of him proved difficult. Fortunately, the dotty bastard had a candy addiction that he had strived to feed, and Harry had managed to snag him for a conversation on a Saturday afternoon. Fortunately, it hadn’t been a Hogsmeade weekend, so the village hadn’t been lousy with kids.

Harry sat down in the chair in front of the older wizard and stared. He watched the color slowly drain from Slughorn’s face.

“You’re not wearing a hood,” Horace said nervously. “I’m….” He wet his lips. “How can I help you, Lord Braemar?” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t aware that you worked for the Department of Mysteries.”

Harry lit an herbal and took a long drag before blowing out a series of little circles. “I consider it a private concern.”

“I certainly won’t speak of it,” Horace replied quickly.

“I believe you,” Harry said easily. “You’re very good at keeping secrets, Professor Slughorn. That’s why we’re here today.” He inclined his head. “This can go two ways—you can cooperate and answer all of my questions to the best of your ability, or you can deflect and try to avoid telling me the truth. One path will result in a pleasant experience, and the other will, unfortunately, be very different.”

“I…uh….” Horace clenched his hands together and pressed them against his belly as he rocked gently in the chair. “You’re a scary young man, did you know?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “But you’re not inexperienced with such things, Professor. You’ve encountered many scary young men over the years. In fact, I would go so far as to say that you’ve cultivated them. We’re here to talk about one of those young men.”

The older wizard wet his lips nervously. “I…wouldn’t…wish to violate anyone’s confidence.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Harry questioned, amused. “It must be tempting to sit in front of a man of my station and social power. You enjoy making advantageous connections, after all.”

“You know a lot about me,” Horace said. “It’s disconcerting. I didn’t know that the Unspeakables were interested in me.”

“One might say that you are exactly the sort of person that the DOM would invest themselves in knowing about,” Harry said evenly. “You are a very intelligent man with knowledge of the esoteric that you are often very pleased to share with others.”

“I do enjoy teaching,” Horace admitted. “Hogwarts has been my home for many years.”

Harry nodded. “It has become home to many, I would assume. I enjoyed my visit. Though, if I’m honest, I could’ve done without meeting the headmaster.”

“Most people like Albus,” Horace said quickly. “He’s a very educated man—tolerant, forward-thinking….” He trailed off when Harry shook his head. “You don’t agree?”

“He’s a stodgy old bastard, Professor. I can’t stand him.” Harry paused when Slughorn laughed abruptly. “Now, have you decided how this will go?”

“I do…prefer pleasant experiences,” Horace said reluctantly. “Even if I’m not going to remember it later.”

Harry acknowledged that with a small smile. “Tea?”

“Yes, please.”

The door to the interrogation room opened, and a hooded Unspeakable delivered a tray. Harry watched the person leave and focused on Slughorn as the older man quickly set about fixing himself tea and gathering food from the tray. He fixed himself some tea.

“Let’s talk about Tom Riddle.”

Slughorn cleared his throat nervously. “I…. He’s dead.”

“No, he isn’t,” Harry said. “And you know very well why such a circumstance is going to be very difficult to accomplish. Tom Riddle is Voldemort, and I need you to tell me what you know about him. Leave nothing out.”

“He’ll kill me,” Slughorn blurted out. “I don’t want to die.”

“He’ll never know we spoke,” Harry assured. “And you won’t remember this conversation at all. I’m giving you a unique kind of freedom right now, Professor Slughorn, to tell me everything you ever wanted to say about Tom Riddle with no consequences. It’s just you, me, and a tea service.”

“I’ll be thoroughly memory charmed?” Horace questioned. “Do you promise?”

“There is no other outcome to be allowed for this conversation currently,” Harry said evenly and watched the man’s eyes go wide with shock. “It will be handled by a master of the art. You have nothing to fear and will suffer no mental instability issues afterward.”

“Tom Riddle created his first horcrux when he was sixteen,” Horace blurted out. “There was a young girl at Hogwarts named Myrtle Warren. He facilitated her murder and used that obscene act to break his soul in half. I found out much later. Albus Dumbledore questioned me about Tom, the death of young Myrtle, and anything other information I suspected to be relevant. I didn’t know anything, but I figured it out. Albus must have felt the ritual take place in the wards, and he did nothing about it. I started to quit Hogwarts then, but I realized…. I realized that I couldn’t leave the children completely unprotected. I’m no match for Albus, but I do my part when I can to hamper the manipulative magic he’s thrown all over the castle.”

Harry nodded and considered the diary. He didn’t think Slughorn would know anything about it. The Malfoy estate itself would have to be searched, and he’d been putting off that task for a while because he knew that Draco would loathe having to do it.

“How many horcruxes do you believe Riddle would make?”

“He’s a suspicious man,” Horace said. “I’d think no more than seven ever. I told him years ago, when it was just a thought exercise, that to make even horcrux was the road to insanity. Tom laughed and told me he was already mad. I didn’t really believe he’d ever do it. But, at this point, I suspect he’s made several. I can’t speculate as to what objects he would’ve used to create them, but he’s got an elevated opinion of himself. He wouldn’t waste such magic on ordinary objects. He believed himself better than everyone around him.”

Harry nodded.

“He must resent you so much,” Horace said.

“Me?” Harry questioned. “I’ve never met him as far as I know.”

“Yes, but look at you,” Horace said and waved a hand. “You’re so magical; you’ve married your soulmate and claimed an ancient title. You’re literally everything the Tom Riddle I knew would’ve wanted to be. He tried to claim the Gaunt title; did you know that?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t. Isn’t that title defunct due to the loss of family magic?”

“Yes,” Horace said. “His mother was a Gaunt—a squib. I assume you know that already.”

“I do, yes,” Harry said. “And they do have a tertiary claim to the line of Slytherin.” He paused. “So do I.”

“You have an immense one,” Horace corrected. “The Peverell brothers were direct descendants. The family magic is rich in you—it’s easy to see.” He waved a hand. “I have mage sight.”

“Handy,” Harry said.

“Certainly,” Horace agreed. “Tom Riddle is a powerful man but also corrupt. He found the idea of being related to a founder enthralling. He didn’t enjoy being told that many family lines could claim such a thing. He said it shouldn’t be allowed amongst the ordinary.”

“And Tom’s convinced he’s extraordinary.”

“Certainly,” Horace said and picked up some biscuits. “You’re a lovely young man. It’s nice to have tea with such pleasant company.”

Harry grinned. “At this point, Professor, I should remind you that I’m married, and my husband is watching this conversation.”

Horace laughed. “Oh, I’ve seen him. I wouldn’t expect he has a single bit of competition for your affection in all of Europe.” He waved a hand. “Perhaps even the planet considering the soulmate bond and the veela magic. Tom certainly envies you that.”

“The soulmate bond?”

“Of course,” Horace said. “He believes that any magical gift that can be given should be bestowed upon him. He was furious to learn that he hadn’t inherited parselmagic from his mother and spent most of his third year searching for a ritual that would give it to him. He eventually found that it could only be given willingly to him from another parselmouth. Though he did learn a handful of spells that allowed him to speak with snakes. He had the power to accomplish them, which was rare, and not the permanent solution he wanted.”

“Well, he couldn’t have risked speaking with an actual parselmouth,” Harry said. “A parselmouth would’ve realized immediately that Riddle had corrupted his magical soul. I doubt the craft of the serpent would settle in such a wizard.”

“No, I agree, which makes the rumors about Voldemort disconcerting. They say he’s a parselmouth. How on Earth did Tom accomplish it?”

“Considering his appearance, one would assume some sort of beastspeaking ritual,” Harry said mildly, and Horace hummed.

“Yes, of course. Interesting…I wonder…he’d need a very magical snake for such a ritual. It would’ve caused serious physical repercussions, which explains the deformity I’ve heard rumors about.” The professor tapped his fingers on the table. “They say Riddle has a magical pit viper as a familiar. She must be something else. If he’s used her for the beastspeaking ritual—then severing their connection would destroy his ability to speak parseltongue.”

Harry considered that. “Would we have to kill her?”

“Oh, I’d think not. You’d need a conclave to seclude her, of course, but there’s no need to kill such a creature for the crimes of the wizard who owns her.”

Harry barely refrained from flinching. The idea of Tom Riddle owning Nagini was a wretched one considering the fact that she was a cursed witch.

The door opened, and Croaker entered, hooded.

“I…are we done?” Horace questioned in confusion. “I was looking forward to a cucumber sandwich.”

“Professor Slughorn, how would you like a job?” Croaker questioned.

“I already have one job,” Horace said. “A demanding and dangerous one. Those little beasts try to kill me once or twice a week with their potion shenanigans.”

Harry laughed and picked up a sandwich. Horace was actually very entertaining. He wondered what Dumbledore had done to him to make him leave Hogwarts and if that had impacted his behavior far into the future.

“It would protect you from Albus Dumbledore,” Harry said, and the professor focused on him. “You’re worried about that, right? You can’t depend on him to ignore you forever. When he realizes that you don’t believe in his persona—he’ll act out against you.”

Horace picked up a sandwich as he considered it. “Would I get to be a spy? That sounds sexy.”

Harry really could’ve done without ever hearing an eighty-five-year-old wizard say the word sexy.

“You can be a spy,” Croaker agreed.

“Great,” Horace said happily and took a bite of the sandwich. “Can I have some parchment? I should make some notes about Tom for you, Lord Braemar.”

“Harry will do,” Harry said. “Tell me something if you can.”

“Of course.”

“Was Tom Riddle always beyond redemption?”

Horace frowned and took a deep breath. “He was a troubled boy from the start. The other children in his year were either utterly devoted to him, or they avoided him like the plague. There appeared to be no in-between. He bragged about torturing Muggle children in the orphanage where he was raised. I don’t believe in the bad seed theory, and yet….”

“What if I told you that his mother used love potions to trap and keep his father in a marriage?” Harry questioned.

“And Tom was conceived while his father was potioned….” Horace hummed. “His father was a Muggle, right? It wouldn’t have taken much magic or potion at all to control him, unfortunately. Merope Gaunt—her parents were brother and sister. I can’t say how that impacted him biologically, as I’m not a student of human genetics. There are direct links, however, to insanity in magical families that marry in. The Gaunts are a prime example of that. One must question, of course, did magic leave them because they were insane, or did they go insane because their family magic died?” He cleared his throat. “Some love potions can corrupt the personalities of the dosed and the children born out of such a union. But there is a difference between a dark wizard and a dark lord.”

“Certainly,” Harry agreed. “Did you ever meet Gellert Grindelwald?”

Horace huffed. “Merlin, lad, you don’t give a man a break on any front.”

“It’s not my habit, no,” Harry said in amusement.

“This is the most bizarre job interview I’ve ever had,” Horace declared. “And no, I’ve never met Gellert Grindelwald. I doubt I would’ve survived such an encounter.”

 

Chapter 14

The Malfoy Estate was locked down as expected and probably had been since the death of Lucius Malfoy. Draco appeared unconcerned by the assignment when Croaker asked them to investigate the property to see if Lucius had any information on other potential Death Eaters.

“Maybe it would’ve been easier to come here before the adoption,” Draco said.

“Well, we hardly had any time at all during that situation. It was clear that Croaker wanted to get us ­rooted in the situation to keep us from fleeing into the night,” Harry said dryly and grinned when Draco laughed. “And there are no wards, ancient or not, that can’t be torn down in these circumstances. Do you want this house? I can make it happen.”

Draco grimaced and averted his gaze.

“Hey.” Harry took his partner’s hand. “Whatever you’re feeling—is fine.”

“I grew up here,” Draco said. “It wasn’t all misery, you know.”

“Of course,” Harry murmured. “He taught you to fly a broom here. Your mother planted those white flowers over there.” He motioned to the empty part of the estate. “And she spent the whole time complaining that the two of you were going to fall into her flowers and ruin them.”

Draco laughed. “Yeah, how do you know that?”

“I overheard you tell that story on the train once on the way to Hogwarts,” Harry admitted. “I was immensely jealous at the time. I would’ve done anything to have my parents back.”

“I invested a lot of time at Hogwarts pretending my family was perfect,” Draco admitted. “It was important, at the time, that no one knew how terrible my father was. Loyalty to one’s patriarch is an immense burden on children due to family magic. The memory of it lingers, even now, in my core.

Harry nodded. “Like a muscle memory.”

“Yeah, exactly like that,” Draco agreed. “The ward stone is closest to the stone fence from the east.”

“Do you want to try to walk through?” Harry questioned.

“No, even before the adoption, the wards would’ve rejected me. Neither my father nor grandfather depended on blood for ward access. It’s a poor security feature on its own and doesn’t mesh well with other security measures. There is an access list, and that was wiped the moment Lucius died.” Draco tugged gently on his hand, and they started to walk around the tall stone fence. “That being said, I don’t think I can claim the wards. I’m not sure I could’ve even before the adoption due to…you were right, you know. Lucius did magically disown me in the future, it feels obvious now, and I noticed it before the adoption.”

Harry grimaced. “Well, that wasn’t my theory, but I did agree with it.” He squeezed Draco’s hand gently. “He was far too gone to consider the ramifications of such a thing.”

“Oh, love, don’t lie to me,” Draco said with a laugh. “That motherfucker knew exactly what he was doing when he did it and didn’t care. His profound selfishness knew no end. Moreover, he fully intended to time travel, so he didn’t believe there would be any long-term consequences.”

Harry huffed. “It’s really hard to console you.”

Draco grinned and shrugged as they walked. “I much prefer cock when it comes to such things.”

“I knew that already,” Harry said dryly. “But a hundred years from now, that might be a problem, so I was hoping to expand my options.”

Draco stopped and turned to stare at him, eyes wide. Harry tilted his head as he watched emotion play over his mate’s face. “Harry.”

“What?” Harry questioned.

“I’m going to live….” Draco took a deep breath.

“Yeah, you are,” Harry said. “Maybe as much two hundred more years based on our combined magical power.”

“I….” Draco pressed his free hand to his chest and took a deep breath. “I made my peace with the dark mark killing me at a young age. It’s weird to have all that potential time spread out in front of me. I’ve not allowed myself to think about it at all.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said gently. “A lot has changed, and you can take as much time as you need to adjust to it all. Do you think a mind healer would help? I’m sure Croaker would make the arrangements necessary….” He trailed off when Draco shook his head. “I know you’re deeply opposed to therapy, but it might be helpful.”

“I’m not opposed to therapy,” Draco retorted and huffed when Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not. It’s just a security risk that we can’t allow. Even in the other timeline, such a thing was a dangerous proposition. Our secrets run deep, and some of them are very personal. What we’ve been made to share with Croaker and the others are just the circumstances we have to deal with to survive. But the other matters are no one’s business, and they can’t be. No magic is insurmountable in the right circumstances.” He paused. “You could break almost any Unspeakable down in a matter of hours.”

Harry grimaced because he knew he could but couldn’t fathom doing it. “Yes, but my circumstances are unique.”

“Are they?” Draco questioned as they started walking again. “Are you sure?

Harry stared for a moment and cleared his throat. “I…. Yes, I’m sure, at least when it comes to death magic and all that is involved. I can’t say there aren’t more powerful wizards…I think Hiro Ito could wipe the floor with me on the magical front. But, there would come a point when Varda would interfere to protect her own interests. Still, there is a standard of behavior that she expects from me, and she would certainly let me die if I displeased her. Or, alternatively, punish me as she has others.”

“Like Vasco.”

“Yeah, exactly like him,” Harry said. “And I don’t know what my punishment would be. I don’t think it would be like his. I can’t imagine doing anything to deserve such a thing, but circumstances change.”

“Here,” Draco said and came to a stop in front of a section of the stone fence. “The ward stone is about a hundred yards straight ahead.” He reached out and touched the stone, and magic glimmered around his fingers. “The wards are in flux—not currently lethal. The estate has prepared itself for an heir. I won’t qualify, of course.”

“Do you want it?” Harry prodded. “Because we can force it.”

“No, I want no part of this property,” Draco said. “Except…well. Let’s take the library; it should be mine anyways.”

Harry laughed and shrugged. “Is any of it entailed?”

“No, it’s mostly just for show, but it is expansive and well-curated for appearance’s sake. It’ll give us a leg up on creating a legacy library for our family. There are two different locations in the house—one is a private library where the dark arts knowledge is stored. Such books change hands a lot and are often passed around as a lowbrow form of bragging. There are some rare, very valuable first editions here as well.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s strip down the wards entirely and prep the estate for sale. The bank can sell it. I’m sure Ragnok can figure out some way for me to claim ownership privately.”

“We’ll need to clean it thoroughly—your grandfather and father were dark as fuck.” Harry drew his wand. “Let’s break down the security ward first.”

* * * *

Harry conjured a glass and filled it with water as he watched the archive trunk work through the book collection in the private library. They’d already removed everything from the formal library. He drank the water and refilled it again as he sat down on a small sofa. Draco was in the potion’s lab, cleaning it out and salvaging whatever ingredients he wanted. Plenty of it was illegal to even own and difficult to dispose of. They’d called Croaker, and he’d sent Carter Myers over to help with that. It wasn’t much of a surprise when Croaker and Anzû showed up after lunch with another Unspeakable.

Falcon, the additional Unspeakable, wasn’t in the know regarding the time travel but had been briefed about the search of the Malfoy estate, so the man was in Lucius Malfoy’s office going through family records and the like. Harry was grateful for that because he’d have hated for Draco to have to do it. Falcon wasn’t an unknown to Harry, but by the time he’d joined the DOM in the future, the wizard had been out of the field entirely due to his age. He knew Falcon to actually be Gareth Greengrass unless the code name had changed hands between 1975 and 2007.

“We found a body.”

Harry’s gaze jerked to the entryway of the room and found Dorcas standing there. “What?”

“A body in the dungeon.” She crossed her arms. “Tortured to death from the scans we’ve been able to conduct. Armand’s on his way.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Do we know who they are?”

“Yes, and that’s why Armand is on his way. I think you should come down—it’s Albus Dumbledore.”

Harry lurched off the couch. “What?”

“It’s a surprise for certain,” Anzû continued. “The body is in stasis. It’s clear that biological materials have been taken—blood, skin, most of his hair.”

“It’d take more than polyjuice to convince the wards at Hogwarts that he’s Dumbledore,” Harry said roughly as he vanished his glass and followed her out of the room. “Where’s Draco?”

“He’s already in the dungeon. The room Dumbledore is in—Draco’s never seen it before. I found it by accident in my scans.” Dorcas took a deep breath as she walked. “As to the wards at Hogwarts, I imagine the school never knew any different. The Dumbledore downstairs appears to be in his early sixties at best. Armand will be able to determine how long the body has been in stasis.”

Shortly, Harry was staring at the body of Albus Dumbledore. It was bizarre. Armand Deering had arrived on their walk down and was already performing a series of scans. They’d confirmed the age at death to be 67. Dumbledore had become the headmaster of the school in 1966 at the age of eighty-five, which meant someone had been running around with Dumbledore’s face for twenty-nine years. Draco was leaning against the wall near the door, pale-faced and dry-eyed.

“The Metamorphagy Draught can become permanent with repeated donations from a living donor. They must have killed him after it was complete,” Draco said. “It would mimic every single thing about him.” He paused. “Anything that couldn’t be mimicked could’ve been faked or renewed. Even Dippet could’ve been convinced to reconnect Dumbledore to the wards at Hogwarts as the Deputy Headmaster. Maybe the imposter told him that he’d conducted a personal ritual and accidentally severed his connection with the wards.”

“Where’s Croaker?” Harry questioned.

“He went to get Medusa,” Dorcas said. “We can’t let her stay in that school with an imposter in place. He’s furious.”

Harry didn’t know what he was but figured that furious didn’t quite cover it. The author of every misery he’d ever known no longer had a name, and that was an immense insult. Draco’s shoulder pressed against his, and Harry just took in a deep, measured breath.

“Abraxas Malfoy helped this person do this,” Harry said. “Tom Riddle didn’t leave Hogwarts until 1945, so this isn’t a plot involving him or his goals. The Dumbledore I knew wasn’t a blood purist but a profound traditionalist who was very set in his ways. He was deeply invested in preventing innovation and progress in the magical world. I chalked that up to generational bullshit.”

“I’ve never known this room even existed,” Draco said. “Never heard it mentioned in passing. If Lucius had known that the Dumbledore in power was an imposter, he would’ve used that information to his advantage at every single opportunity. Dumbledore was in his way a lot and interfered with Riddle’s plans before and after his resurrection. I have no idea what my grandfather was up to beyond the fact that he was in a Death Eater and was entrusted with Riddle’s diary. Which we haven’t located. My father stowed it in the vault at the bank periodically, but there were times when he kept the diary close to him. Surely the horcrux influenced him heavily throughout his life until he planted it on a little girl going to Hogwarts.”

“It’s here,” Harry said. “Just hidden. I can feel it.”

Draco made a face. “That’s concerning.”

“Just an echo,” Harry said. “I carried one for far too long to ever be fully free of that kind of magic when it relates to Riddle.”

“We need to be careful regarding the Dumbledore situation,” Dorcas said. “There’s no telling how far the conspiracy reaches and who is involved.”

The click of heels rushing across a stone floor caught his attention, and he shifted away from the wall just as Minerva McGonagall entered the room. She stared at the body, shock, and horror all over her face. Her knees buckled, and Croaker barely caught her before she hit the floor. She took a deep, shuddery breath.

“How long?” Minerva demanded.

“He’s been in stasis since sometime in 1946 based on spell decay,” Armand reported. “Did you notice any change in his demeanor during that time?”

Minerva frowned. “I was sorted in 1947, Armand. I don’t remember anything out of the ordinary about Dumbledore or any other matter when it came to the school during my first year. It was…quiet and pleasant.”

“That in itself is abnormal,” Dorcas retorted and grinned when Minerva huffed at her and pulled free of Croaker’s arms.

“You’re not wrong,” Minerva admitted and looked around the room. “I never met the real Albus Dumbledore at all, it seems.”

“True,” Armand said. “So you would’ve never noted anything different about him and shouldn’t blame yourself for not noticing.”

“It’s telling that the exchange took place after the defeat of Grindelwald,” Harry said. And after Dumbledore had won the loyalty of the Elder Wand. “The question becomes is, why? Dumbledore was newly famous, and there was a lot of scrutiny on him. What attracted the imposter to the life of a school teacher? Is the imposter a follower of Grindelwald?” He frowned. “Is it actually Grindelwald himself?”

“For…fuck’s sake,” Armand said roughly. “Croaker, we need to start thinking about management beyond Britain. Dumbledore is currently a member of the ICW. We need to contact Bertrand about this mess.”

“Or we can keep it local and kill the imposter,” Harry proposed. “Well. Maybe fake his death, age this body artificially to look like Dumbledore does now. Then keep the imposter in custody for interrogation. It’s risky, of course, because Dumbledore’s presence in Britain is what is keeping Voldemort as restrained as he is.”

Minerva was staring at him in shock, but Croaker was nodding his head.

“I agree that taking Dumbledore out of the picture may ramp up activity with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but we can’t leave the imposter where he is,” Armand said roughly. “Not around our children. I know he’s been there the whole time, and frankly, that’s horrifying enough. I can’t knowingly allow this to continue, not with my boys in that school.”

“It’s best if he dies in his sleep,” Draco said. “He’s a little young for natural causes, but dragon pox will do as a cause. It’s a common method amongst pure-blood families of knocking off elderly members of the family that irritate them.” He paused when Armand laughed. “We can actually give this body dragon pox after we age him. Tuck him into Dumbledore’s bed at Hogwarts and take the fake one into custody. The wizarding world mourns a hero, and that’s probably the best we can hope for. The truth would cause immense problems here and abroad. Plus, we don’t need the general populace to be demoralized by the implications.”

“Agreed,” Harry said, though he hated it. He didn’t want Dumbledore to be remembered fondly by anyone or anything. Though, he knew he couldn’t control that, and trying would drive him around the twist. He’d ruminate on how to ruin Dumbledore’s reputation later.

“Leviathan, I’ll need you for the spell work,” Armand said. “We’ll need to prepare the body so he can get through passive tests conducted by the DMLE regarding a suspected natural death. Croaker, you’ll want to prepare St. Mungo’s.”

“For what?”

“When the headmaster of a school dies of dragon pox, every child in that castle will be required to get a potion vaccine,” Armand pointed out. “Plus the staff. There’s no way they have that much on hand.”

“The best way to manage that would be for us to brew it and have it in stock when St. Mungo’s has the emergency need,” Draco said. “It takes about twelve hours to brew, and we can produce enough to dose the entire school within the day if there are several of us brewing.”

“I can help with that,” Carter Myers interjected and stood from the table he was sitting at. He put down a quill. “The prep work is the real beast with a vaccine potion. Fortunately, the ingredients for it aren’t hard to come by.”

Draco nodded. “We should get started.”

Harry hesitated only briefly as his mate left the room with Myers and joined Armand to work on the body. He wondered what the real Dumbledore would’ve done with his life if he’d been left to live it. Croaker and Minerva joined them.

“Riddle will revel in the loss of Dumbledore,” Harry said quietly. “It might escalate whatever plan he has. Things could get really violent, really quickly.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Armand said. “The imposter is an immense threat, and precious few people know it. We can’t leave those children vulnerable to his machinations for another moment. I warded both my boys before they got anywhere near Hogwarts, so they’ve always seen straight through Dumbledore’s charming exterior. Honestly, we’ve left the situation at the school go on far too long.”

Minerva crossed her arms as she stared at the body. “I’ve been mentored by a murderer. It’s selfish, but I’m glad it’ll never be widely known.”

“You have the right to your anger and relief regarding the secrecy,” McGregor murmured. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s infuriating,” Minerva said. “And there is no telling how much damage the imposter has done in the last twenty-nine years!” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go, McGregor.”

Harry shared a look with Armand and cleared his throat.

“You think I can’t handle myself, Leviathan?” McGregor questioned dryly.

“I believe it would be wise to take several assets. The imposter’s power is prodigious, to say the least, and he’s demonstrated a great deal of prowess in magical combat,” Harry said mildly.

“There won’t be any combat,” Minerva said. “I can stun him in the back easily enough.”

“Even under a mentor contract?” Harry questioned.

“The contract is magically fraudulent,” Minerva said. “I’ve never tested it—never gone against his wishes. It can’t possibly be enforceable magically or otherwise.”

“I agree,” Harry said. “But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t put manipulative magic on you to mimic the terms of the mentor contract. He doesn’t seem the sort to overlook something like that.”

“Her medallion has neutralized all of the behavioral magic the imposter had on her,” Croaker said.

“Be certain,” Harry advised. “It could get you both killed.” He turned back the body.

“He’s really annoying,” Minerva muttered. “Why did you hire him?”

McGregor laughed. “Come along, Min; we have a beast to catch.” He paused at the door. “And I’ll bring Griffin along for the trip.”

Harry nodded. Roman Banner had joined the department and taken the code name of Griffin. He’d slotted right into the workflow of the place, so it was working out well in that respect. He’d yet to have use of him as a bodyguard, but he was due to take his seat in the Wizengamot, and that could probably equal an opportunity for him to appear in public with personal security. He was on the fence about the whole thing and how it would be perceived.

“Well done,” Armand said as he removed the stasis field with a slash of his wand. “He doesn’t take as much care with himself as he should.”

“I know,” Harry said shortly. “It got him charmed into compliance in the future, and he was epically bitter about it. Croaker relies too much on the reputation of the DOM for his own protection, and proving to him that isn’t enough is a work in progress. You’d not believe the shite people got away with because he wasn’t careful with himself.”

“It must be hard not to be bitter about that,” Armand said mildly. “He could’ve been in a position to prevent a lot of what happened to you.”

“I could blame a great number of people for all of that, but what good would it do me?” Harry questioned. “It would just make me cruel. I have too much power for that kind of mindset to be allowed.” He focused on the body. “We can transfigure him—lock it with a parseltongue password. It’ll take about a year for the spell to fail on a dead body. It’s still standard practice to cremate the victims of dragon pox, right?”

“Right,” Armand said. “We’ll have to put a quarantine field on him after we infect the body with dragon pox. I’ll go back to the ministry to retrieve a sample of the virus. We’ll make sure that Minerva can cast the spell, and she can do it since she’ll be the one to officially discover the body.”

“Is it terrible to create a situation where a bunch of kids get a vaccine they don’t need?” Harry questioned.

“Every single magical child and adult should be inoculated against dragon pox,” Armand said. “In the elderly and the very young, it’s fast-acting and untreatable. Most, who die of it, never even know they’ve been exposed before it’s killing them.”

“I didn’t get any vaccines until I was at the Auror Academy,” Harry said. “So there should be some sort of campaign to ensure that Muggleborn and Muggle-raised children are inoculated before they start Hogwarts.” He focused on the body. “I can do the age work since I’ve seen him recently. Are we going to give him advanced symptoms of dragon pox?”

“No, it won’t be necessary,” Armand said. “At his age, accidental exposure would kill him within twenty-four hours without any symptoms surfacing.”

Harry considered that. “What if he’s been inoculated for it?”

“Ah, well, let’s check.” Armand started a new series of scans. “He doesn’t have a single vaccine. Irritating since he’s worked with children for decades.”

* * * *

“Leviathan is a lot harder than I expected of him upon our first meeting.”

Draco glanced up from the large cauldron he was nursing through the first stage of brewing and considered Carter Myers’ words. “He learned the hard way that most people can’t be trusted.”

Myers hummed under his breath. “It’s curious to see the kind of assets Croaker was recruiting so far into the future. There was a time when he sought out the idealistic and hopeful for the DOM. Yet, clearly, that changed.”

“Two blood wars can take a lot out of anyone,” Draco said. “I think the oldest Unspeakable, outside of himself, was just fifty when I was recruited. I’ve met a lot of people that I knew to be dead, you included.”

Carter grimaced. “Do you know how I died?”

“No, but it was during the second blood war. Most of the high-order magical users in the DOM were taken out in a series of surgical strikes in 1995. Croaker took a big hit and barely survived it. He was in a coma for over a year in a hospital in France.” Draco took a deep breath. “This is a depressing topic. As to my husband, he is hardened by war, betrayal, and loss. The forced time travel was just another blow when it comes down to it. We lost our home, our jobs, our places in society, and very dear friends. Even now, any single act on our part could prevent the birth of someone we loved in the other timeline.”

“That must be an agonizing thing to think about.”

“The only comfort is that those we left behind lived to move on from the events that threw us through time.” He paused. “And the fake Dumbledore was already very much dead, so I don’t have to worry about that corrupt fucker running around Britain on the world we left behind.”

“I wonder who he really is,” Myers murmured. “Someone powerful in their own right. They’d have to be to anchor a draught long enough for it to become permanent. A blood connection would be ideal, but the Dumbledore family is practically extinct.”

Draco took in a deep, ragged breath and a chill slid down his back. “For the love of Merlin.” He turned and left his cauldron. “Watch my potion. I need to get to Croaker as soon as possible.” He pulled out his mirror and contacted Harry.

“Something wrong? We’re almost finished with the transfiguration.”

“Credence Barebone,” Draco said and heard Armand curse vehemently in the background. “It fucking has to be Credence Barebone.”

“He’s dead.”

“Just rumors—there was never a funeral. Most thought that Aberforth Dumbledore buried his illegitimate son in private out of shame. He’s a blood relative, Harry. It would make anchoring the draught really easy.”

“He was an Obscurial. There’s no way he’s survived…oh.” Harry took a deep breath. “God, that’s the cure, right? He took on his uncle’s persona and found all the fucking validation and adoration he needed to drive the Obscurus from his core. Who else could’ve gotten the drop on Albus Dumbledore? He’d have certainly turned his back on his own nephew and brother.”

“Yes, he would’ve,” Draco said grimly. “And Croaker and Minerva McGonagall are about to try to take him hostage.”

“Meet you at the gates,” Harry said shortly, and the mirror went dark.

“Why the urgency?” Myers questioned as Draco shed the protective robe he’d been wearing for brewing. “Croaker and Medusa can take him together, plus Griffin is on standby to assist.”

“Do you honestly think Credence Barebone took Albus Dumbledore’s place without Aberforth realizing it?” Draco questioned, and Myers’ eyes went wide. “The only real issue is this—what the hell did they have on Abraxas Malfoy that made him help them?”

* * * *

Harry was lingering off the path that led to Hogsmeade when Draco apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts. He shifted in the shadows, and his partner joined them. He caught Draco’s hand in his and cast a silent privacy charm.

“I don’t know if the wards will allow them to apparate or portkey out of the castle with the appointed headmaster.”

“What about Fawkes?” Draco questioned.

“One of them will have to take the bird out—it’ll be temporary,” Harry said. “And it’ll probably break the binding magic on him. If not, I’ll still do what I promised him. I don’t know that Fawkes is specifically loyal to Dumbledore because of the charm or the position. Without direction from the headmaster, he might ignore what is happening due to his own unhappiness.” He focused on the castle. “I think she’ll let me in.”

“Let’s go then. There are multiple ways from Hogsmeade to get into the school. If they have some kind of personal security set up—Aberforth could already be in the school.” Draco pulled him from the shadows toward the gates.

The gates swung open as they walked, and they passed through the wards with no issues at all. The click of the locks flicking back into place was a distant sound as they walked toward the castle. Everything was still, and Hagrid’s hut was dark. Harry was glad for that as he wouldn’t want to have to deflect the man. It would waste time, and they’d probably have to hurt Hagrid to contain him.

The front door of the school was closed but gave way under his hand with no issues. The entryway was brightly lit, but the stairs were still. Harry’s hood shifted around his face and head as he spread his magic out around him and drew his wand. Draco followed suit as they headed up the stairs. In his head, he reviewed the Marauder’s Map. He already knew the map couldn’t penetrate the Unspeakable hood, but he was curious as to what it would reveal in the moment they were having. He wasn’t sure that his father and friends had even finished making it yet.

He had the answer to that question as he and Draco passed a small alcove. Harry’s magic shifted, and he swore under his breath. He turned on his heel and used his magic to push James Potter and whomever else he had under the invisibility cloak deeper into the alcove and followed. He jerked the cloak free and came face to face with James Potter and Sirius Black.

“Merlin’s pants,” Sirius hissed.

“Are you trying to get yourselves killed?” Harry demanded. He pressed James against the wall with his hand. “Is this how you honor the love and faith your father has placed in you?”

James flushed. “There’s something weird going on. We were curious.”

“You’re Unspeakables,” Sirius blurted out. “What’s your code name? This is so cool.”

Harry huffed and glanced toward Draco, who was standing just inside the alcove, arms crossed over his chest. He released James and shook his head. “I’m Leviathan, and you are in the midst of a very dangerous situation. If you’d seen anything, you’d be subject to extensive memory charms.”

“I’m the heir of an ancient and noble house,” James protested.

Harry leaned right into the boy’s face. He knew the hood magic had to be horrifying up close but didn’t care. “Ask me how big of a fuck I give about that shite.”

James blinked in surprise, then flushed. He averted his gaze. “My apologies, sir. I wasn’t thinking…it’s just we’ve never had the map….” He winced when Sirius elbowed him.

Harry almost laughed, but his magic shifted inside him, and he turned to watch a shadow move slowly along the wall. Draco turned at the same time and fired a stunning spell. Aberforth Dumbledore crumpled to the floor as the disillusion charm ended in the wake of the stunner. Harry sighed and focused on James and Sirius, who were staring at Aberforth in shock.

“Goddamn it,” Harry muttered, then stunned both boys. They crumpled to the floor and turned to Draco. “Can you memory charm them? I’ll contain that old bastard.”

“Yeah, sure,” Draco said, and they exchanged places. “Where’s Griffin?”

“I have no idea. I hope Aberforth didn’t kill him.”

Harry threw up temporary security charms on either end of the hall leading to the headmaster’s tower and pulled a pair of suppression cuffs from his dimensional store. The gargoyle started to move, and he looked up to find Croaker and Minerva exiting the tower. Croaker took in the scene and stared.

“They must have had a security charm set up,” Minerva said. “I wouldn’t have suspected that. It is well-known that Aberforth hates Albus.”

“He must know about the imposter,” Croaker said quietly and pulled a dimensional trunk from his pocket and put it on the floor to resize it. “I’ve four cells in this. Let’s put Aberforth in one.”

“Are they isolated cells?” Harry questioned as he removed the older wizard’s wand and checked him for other magical foci.

“Yes, it’s a gift from Hiro Ito. I have some on order for the lot of you from the ICW.” He opened the trunk and pressed a series of runes, and a compartment opened.

Harry levitated Aberforth’s body into the trunk, and it sealed immediately. “Well, I definitely want one.” He glanced toward Draco as his partner left the alcove. “James Potter and Sirius Black were meandering around the area.”

“They have a charmed map that allows them to keep track of everyone in the school,” Draco reported. “It doesn’t penetrate hood magic, not even to provide code names, but it’s still a very sophisticated artifact. I’ve memory charmed them. They’ll think they left the tower and found nothing. We just need to wake them up and, in their momentary confusion, send them on their way.”

“I’ll handle it,” Minerva said and grinned a little as she drew her wand. “And be on standby for the delivery.”

It was nice to see her cheerful about something, even if it was going to cost Gryffindor an immense amount of points.

“Where’s Griffin?” Harry questioned as he focused on Croaker.

The older man huffed. “I realized the time, so I decided against waking the man up at three in the morning for a simple retrieval.”

“A simple retrieval,” Harry said flatly. “What are we to tell your children when you get yourself killed out of goddamned arrogance?”

“What your tone,” Croaker said sternly.

“I’m trying to watch your back!” Harry snapped and took a deep breath when Draco put a hand on his arm. He stilled and, after a moment, took a few steps back and leaned on the wall. “Don’t you see?”

“I don’t,” Croaker admitted. “I’ll take on the orb you created as soon as possible. It’s clear that I need to.”

 

Chapter 15

They kept the imposter unconscious and decided to interrogate Aberforth Dumbledore first. He was a big problem for several reasons, and no one was quite sure what to do with him. The magic that bound the Unspeakables together seemed to be ambivalent about the fate of Aberforth, so there was no clear-cut solution. He was dangerous to the status quo in Britain, but he wasn’t a direct threat to Avalon. It was an interesting dilemma as they couldn’t very well turn him over to the DMLE for murder or conspiracy without revealing the depth of his crimes to the general public.

“Dorcas will handle the interrogation,” Croaker said. “Harry, you’ll stand as her second while the rest of us observe. Armand has almost finished preparing the body for Minerva, and she’ll report the death to the DMLE shortly after lunch is served at the school. Apparently, Dumbledore rarely goes to breakfast, and no one would think to look for him if he missed the meal. If we have any questions, we’ll use these to relay them.” He opened a case and offered them the contents. “If your suspicions are true, then the ramifications of this are astronomical, and we must keep as much of it a secret on it as possible.”

Harry picked up the small ball of candle wax with a frown and tucked it into his ear. He’d seen listening charms anchored in wax before but had always avoided using them. Dorcas grimaced as she placed the wax in her own ear.

“Do you have a better option for this from the future?” she asked.

“No, not really,” Harry admitted. “There will be electronic options in the Muggle world that will get smaller and smaller over time, but they don’t mesh well with magic. I personally think a piercing or an ear cuff would be a better choice. Metal would hold the charm longer, and I wouldn’t have candle wax in my ear.”

“I like the cuff option—easy to remove, and it wouldn’t leave any evidence behind.” Dorcas touched her ear. “I’ll consider that a personal project going forward.”

Croaker shrugged and tucked the case into his robe. “Submit a proposal, and I’ll give you a budget for it.”

Dorcas frowned at him briefly before donning her hood. Harry prodded his own hood to activate and followed her into the room. Aberforth was seated at the table, suppression cuffs attached to the table. The elderly wizard looked furious. His body was tight, and Harry could see how much he wanted to move. He’d certainly be a physical threat if he weren’t bound magically to the table.

Harry pulled out the chair for Dorcas out of habit, and she sat down slowly, irritation clear. Croaker laughed in his ear. He considered apologizing but then thought better of it. He walked around the room and claimed a corner.

“What have you done with my brother?” Aberforth demanded. “Where’s Albus? You fuckin’ Unspeakables can’t just kidnap people out of their damned beds.”

“We’ve done nothing to Albus Dumbledore,” Dorcas said. “And certainly didn’t kidnap him out of his bed. Such a thing is impossible since he’s been dead since 1946.”

Aberforth’s gaze narrowed, and his shoulders tightened. “I spoke with my brother yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t,” Dorcas said pleasantly. “I’ve seen the body, Mr. Dumbledore, and I can assure you that Albus Dumbledore is dead and has been dead for decades. It’s a very curious circumstance, to be sure. You must have been quite vexed to find you couldn’t enter the Malfoy estate after Lucius was killed. Perhaps you thought the body would never be discovered.”

Aberforth pressed his lips together.

“Of course, we’ve taken the imposter into custody,” Dorcas continued. “He’ll never see the light of day again. We certainly can’t ever let it be known that the leader of the light was nothing more than an illusion.”

“I’m not going to let you people keep my brother hostage! He’s not dead, and if you have a body, it’s not real. It can’t be real!”

Harry shifted off the wall and slid into the seat beside Dorcas. “It must have been difficult all of these years to watch your son wear the face of the brother you blamed for the murder of your sweet little sister.”

Aberforth’s cheeks flushed dark red. “My Aurelius died decades ago. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, everyone assumed that,” Harry agreed. “But it’s not true. Aurelius is in our custody. I wonder, though, does he prefer to be called Credence? I’ll have to ask him. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled, eventually, to tell us all about his crimes since he murdered his uncle and took over his life.”

“You’re all fucking insane!” Aberforth shouted and jerked at the cuffs. “You aren’t keeping him hidden away! I won’t allow it.”

“Oh, we aren’t going to keep him hostage,” Dorcas assured. “We’re going to interrogate him, and when we’re finished…we’re going to toss him right through the Veil.”

The color washed from Aberforth’s face. “You can’t….” He jerked at the cuffs. “None of this is any of your fucking business! My boy didn’t deserve to live with the shame of the things that were done to him! Albus didn’t deserve a single bit of the admiration or fame he’d been given. So fucking what if he finally decided to get off his arse and take care of Grindelwald! It wasn’t enough. He could have never made up for what he’d done!”

“Which one of you killed Albus Dumbledore?” Dorcas questioned.

“I did it,” Aberforth hissed. “After Abraxas had everything he needed for the potions, we had no use for a living hostage. My boy is innocent.”

“Innocent,” Harry repeated. “Except for the multitude of oaths he’s taken in a false name, the fraud, and being an accessory to murder. Honestly, defrauding the International Confederation of Wizards is an immense crime. He could spend the rest of his life in jail for that act alone.” He shrugged. “But thanks for the murder confession; it’s going to make things much easier going forward. We really had no idea what we were going to do with you.”

“What role did Abraxas Malfoy play in this scheme, and why did you involve him?” Dorcas questioned and inclined her head when Aberforth glared. “We can force the answers out of your son if you wish. He’s quite fragile emotionally, right? What will happen when we destroy the persona you’ve built for him?” She leaned forward. “You have the ability right now to determine how much mercy we show Aurelius.”

Aberforth’s fingers trembled briefly before he tightened his hands into fists. “Abraxas hated Albus. I knew I needed an accomplished potions master to work on a cure for my lad. Albus told me there was no hope and that the only thing I could do was spend what little time we had together making memories.” He glared at the table. “I couldn’t give up on him. I’d already done it once, and look what…. Look what happened to him. I let shame and social expectations take my son and my witch away from me.” He averted his gaze. “And part of that was Albus’ fault. His affair with Gellert ruined our family—everyone already knew he was a vicious, dark wizard. Albus didn’t care what it did to our family, and we already had so much to live down because of our father. I was tainted by association.”

Harry leaned back in his chair and wished he could smoke. “Whose idea was it to use the Metamorphagy Draught?”

“Abraxas believed that the draught combined with extensive behavioral modification would drive the Obscurus from my son’s body. It did, and Aurelius survived.”

“Ask him if they memory charmed his son,” Draco suggested from observation.

Harry considered that. “Does he have any idea that he’s not Albus Dumbledore?”

Aberforth hesitated, then finally took a deep breath and seemed to surrender. “Aurelius knows who he is, but that knowledge is largely buried in his mind. You could dose him with veritaserum, and he’d tell you his name is Albus Dumbledore. That’s how much he invested magically and emotionally in the life he’s living. He has Albus’ memories from early childhood forward. He grieves my sister, Adrianna, as if he actually knew her.”

“And Abraxas helped you accomplish this merely because he hated Albus?” Dorcas questioned.

Aberforth grimaced. “He wanted another dark lord to follow. I kept him at bay as long as I could on that subject—gave the pretense that Aurelius was playing a long game. Then rumors of Voldemort started to surface, and I found out that Abraxas had become a Death Eater. I realized he couldn’t be trusted with our secret.”

“So you murdered him,” Harry surmised, and Aberforth nodded. “Was it worth it?”

“What?” Aberforth questioned with a frown.

“You murdered two people for your own gain. You’ve corrupted yourself with death magic, Aberforth. It’ll be a part of your soul as long as you exist. So, I ask you, again, was it worth it?”

“Yes, and I’d kill you all to protect him from being discovered if I could,” Aberforth said. “There is no limit to what I would do to protect my son.” He grimaced. “And you’d understand that if you had a child.”

Harry sat up in his chair as he considered that. “No, I wouldn’t. I’m not a good man, Mr. Dumbledore, but I strive daily to be a righteous one.” He stood. “I’ll prepare for what comes next, Anzû.”

“Of course, Leviathan.”

Aberforth shifted on his seat. “Leviathan? I’ve been hearing rumors about you for decades.”

“And?” Harry questioned.

Aberforth shook his head and focused on the table in front of him. “I don’t know if I’m grateful or not to have survived being arrested by you.”

“You’ve got a bit of time to decide,” Harry said evenly, and Croaker laughed in his ear.

Harry left the interrogation room and found Croaker standing in the hall. “We can use the dragon pox on him, too. The most people will do is speculate how the brothers came into contact with it. Their estrangement has never been absolute, and people will probably manufacture memories of seeing Albus in the Hog’s Head in the last day or so without any prodding on our parts. It’s best if the Dumbledore family merely ceases to exist.”

“I agree,” Croaker said. “It’ll be dawn in a few hours. I’ll have Diablo handle this. You and Helios are dismissed for the next twelve hours, at least. Get some sleep.”

* * * *

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known,” Draco murmured against his throat, and Harry relaxed in his lover’s arms. “I mean it.”

“It doesn’t say much about the men you’ve known,” Harry said wryly, and Draco huffed. He let his hands settle on Draco’s hips and kissed him gently. “I know what I am, love, and I’m not ashamed of it.”

“I….” Draco stared at him, eyes dark. “It’s odd.”

“What?”

“You’re more comfortable in your skin than I’ve ever known you to be. Who knew being thrown back in time against your will would be so good for your mental health?”

“There’s a freedom here that I never expected to have,” Harry admitted. “Sure, there are expectations around the title and the job, but it’s not personal to me. I couldn’t have imagined such a situation ever being my reality in this lifetime. There are regrets, of course. I miss Hermione so much, and I worry about the baby she carries. I worry about all the children she’ll have that are partly mine. Maybe she’ll never tell anyone that her children are also mine, and I wouldn’t blame her.” He took a deep breath. “I hope they bring her joy. That’s really all I can do at this point.”

“The ritual evidence left behind….” Draco began. “She’ll see that we survived, Harry. It’ll be bittersweet knowledge, but it will be a comfort to her. Perhaps it will only be a comfort to her, and that’s fine. Nothing can be done to change our circumstances, and Hermione will know that, too.”

Harry nodded. “Dinner?”

“Something simple, please. I’m exhausted,” Draco confessed. “Brewing all of that dragon pox vaccine was ridiculous, plus the stress of realizing what was going on. Aberforth would’ve killed one or both of them, you know.”

“I do know,” Harry admitted. “Neither would’ve seen him coming. He was clearly allowed to move freely in the wards of the castle. Not that Minerva appeared to be getting any notifications. I don’t think she knew we were there until we revealed ourselves, either.”

“The castle still thinks Dumbledore is alive, you know,” Draco said. “How do we fix that?”

“I’ll go tell her that Dumbledore is dead when the body is reported and what she’s feeling isn’t real. I think she’ll believe me,” Harry said. “And the wards will fall to the deputy until the school governors replace Dumbledore.” He paused. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll have to break the connection with the imposter.”

“You’re hesitant to do that.”

“It’s…it would be torture,” Harry said roughly. “I don’t think either Armand or Jonah will have a problem with it. I realize that Aurelius Dumbledore is dark as fuck and everything he did to me is still valid. But the circumstances are beyond anything I’d ever thought possible. His father basically brainwashed him, and maybe it was what Aurelius wanted, but everything is awful.”

“Or it was just what he was willing to endure to survive,” Draco said. “We’ll never really know, and it doesn’t matter because his crimes are outrageous. Neither of them are redeemable. I wonder what the real Albus Dumbledore was like.”

“I suppose no one knows,” Harry said. “Since no one noticed when the exchange took place. While I don’t want everyone to run around a paranoid mess, it’d be nice if some of these arseholes cultivated some healthy suspicion of others around them. Remember when Barty Crouch, Jr taught us defense?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Remember when Voldemort taught us defense?”

Harry huffed then started to laugh. “Shut up.”

“Then there was the year of the toad.”

“Oh, Merlin, that woman,” Harry muttered. “We’re going to ruin Umbridge’s career in the ministry sooner rather than later. Let’s rummage around the kitchen and see what is available.”

* * * *

In the end, Aberforth Dumbledore’s body was discovered first because of an industrious employee at the Hog’s Head who grew concerned when her boss wasn’t doing the prep work for the day when she arrived. The Unspeakables watched from a distance as the DMLE arrived, investigated, and quarantined the entire fucking village for a dragon pox infestation. That led to the school being contacted and Minerva officially finding Albus Dumbledore dead as well.

She’d reported that the wards of the school had seemed to wobble a bit at her discovery, then had transferred to Professor Slughorn, who was the Deputy Headmaster, without a protest. Harry had been very confused to realize that Minerva wasn’t the Deputy Headmistress, then had realized she hadn’t worked consistently at the school long enough to have gained such a position. The school was clearly willing to accept the supposed death without any sort of convincing, which said a lot about how much the castle had resented the man pretending to be Albus Dumbledore for decades.

It took roughly thirty minutes after that for St. Mungo’s to contact the ministry about vaccine potions. They didn’t have enough for the town and the school, so brewing began again across several sectors, and the vulnerable were vaccinated first. All the while, Aurelius Dumbledore slumbered in a secure chamber in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries.

Harry found the entire situation infuriating for multiple reasons. Chief amongst them, the nationwide mourning was getting on his last damn nerve. His loathing for Dumbledore had doubled since the discovery of the imposter, and he had no accounting for it. Maybe the real Dumbledore wasn’t a piece of shite that would knowingly allow for child abuse. But he had allowed Tom Riddle to remain in a terrible situation, and the vicious little bastard had created a horcrux right under Albus Dumbledore’s nose. So, the man had been no saint before he was replaced.

Maybe that explained why no one really noticed Aurelius taking his place. Harry ran a hand along the stone wall of the back of the hidden cell where Dumbledore’s body had been stored at the Malfoy estate.

“Maybe this is why your father sought to time travel,” Harry said and looked over to where Draco was sitting with a journal, making notes. “He found Dumbledore’s body and realized what had been done.”

“And he chose a day when he had the most to gain and the best chance of situating himself amongst Riddle’s followers,” Draco said. “Not only could he kill Patrice Delacour again, but he’d be in a position to offer Riddle an unparalleled gift.”

“Or he meant to use it for his own gain entirely,” Harry said. “And start blackmailing the imposter with his knowledge as soon as he could. Dumbledore had three times as much power as Tom Riddle ever wished to have. He could’ve done a lot for your father and would’ve done it to keep his secret.”

“Yeah,” Draco said and frowned. He put away his journal. “Let’s find the diary and get out of this house. I hate it here.”

“There’s something behind this wall,” Harry said as he trailed a finger around a stone. “What’s on the other side of this?”

“That would be where the private library is. We’ve already searched that.”

“Let’s go search it again,” Harry murmured. “We’ve missed something. Maybe there’s something between these two rooms. It doesn’t feel like we can tear down this wall without creating structural issues with the house itself.”

“Situating a hidden room on a foundational wall is ideal,” Draco said. “It creates strong bonds with the ward stone.”

They moved through the maze of rooms in the underground complex that made up the Malfoy dungeon and entered the now-empty private library.

“These shelves are nice—solid oak. We should take them.”

Harry grinned at him. “Seriously?”

Draco shrugged and drew his wand. Harry watched him pull the whole structure down, board by board to store. Once all the shelving was gone, it was easy to see the extra warding on the wall. He walked to the back of the room and pressed a hand against the ward that was glimmering just on the edge of his mage site. He pushed his magic into it, and the ward shattered like glass, cracking then falling away to reveal a safe embedded in the wall.

“Okay, let’s get to work,” Harry said. He shrugged out of his coat and pulled a platinum quill from his dimensional store. “Check for punitive magic. The ward felt old and hadn’t been maintenanced in decades, so I suspect most of the security was in the same shape.”

“Three layers of security on the door, no blood required,” Draco reported. “Nothing punitive. It’s not even locked to a magical signature. It was probably built into the wall with the original construction, and my ancestors depended on the exterior security of the estate to protect the contents. That and hiding it behind the shelving.” He grimaced. “Dumb bastards.”

“You’re lucky to have come out as well as you did,” Harry said in amusement and shrugged when Draco scowled at him. “It’s true, darling. I adore you despite your genetics. I’d probably still adore you if you were a dumb arse.” He paused. “I wouldn’t let you leave the house, though, for your own safety. I think a sugar baby lifestyle would suit you in those circumstances.”

Draco flushed. “You fucker.”

It took nearly thirty minutes, but they broke down all three security layers, and the door swung open without much fanfare at all. Harry stared for a moment, startled, and took a deep breath.

“Well.”

“Hufflepuff’s cup,” Harry said and used his wand to hook the handle. “I wonder when Tom originally gave it to Bellatrix.”

“I don’t think she’s marked yet, despite her efforts. Both of the Lestrange brothers are marked, of course, but Aunt Bella’s has yet to really gain Voldemort’s attention despite her marriage to Rodolphus.” Draco took a deep breath. “Will Riddle seek out this property to protect the horcruxes?”

“No,” Harry said. “The others are barely defended, and he didn’t bother to seek any of them out until he realized they were being destroyed. He’s obscenely reckless with the pieces of his soul, and perhaps that’s the insanity that comes with that kind of eternal corruption.”

Draco pulled the pouch they’d created to hold the horcruxes and held it open. Harry dropped the cup into it.

Harry poked the diary with a sigh, and magic flashed over it. “I remember writing in it and being excited by the mystery of it.” He used a spell to levitate out of the safe and put it in the pouch. “I know you want to sell the property, but I think we need to lock it down and make it unplottable. If Riddle has been to the property, he’s aware of the wards already. If he hasn’t, then he’ll come here and see that it’s been locked down and hidden. He’ll be pleased by that—because if he can’t get it, he will assume no one can.”

“Yeah, that’s the best choice,” Draco sighed. “Can you use the Elder Wand to do it? Make it impossible for anyone to ever find this place again.”

“Yeah, go through it and see if there is anything else you’d like to take with you while I prepare for a personal circle for the ritual warding work.” Harry took a deep breath. “And contact Croaker to make sure he’s finished investigating the house.”

* * * *

Draco took a deep breath as he watched the magic Harry cast envelope the house. His mate appeared in a rush of apparition magic a few meters away from him as the whole estate disappeared with a sucking pop.

“Okay,” Harry said quietly as he walked to stand with him. “Search for it. Give it everything you’ve got. Croaker is going to send Griffin and Falcon to do the same.”

He performed a series of searching spells and let relief settle on him as each spell quickly failed. It felt like the kind of closure he’d thought impossible. Maybe even selling or destroying it wouldn’t have done the same. Draco stowed his wand as he heard distant pops indicating that Griffin and Falcon had arrived.

“You used a lot of power to do this,” Draco said, and Harry nodded. “More than you probably should’ve.”

“It was what needed to be done,” Harry said as he watched the other Unspeakables search for the house. “We’ll put the ward boundary back up after they’re done searching, and this matter will be closed. I want to retrieve the ring and the locket very soon.”

Draco nodded. “What if the locket isn’t in the cave?”

“I think it’s been in that cave since shortly after it was stolen and made into a horcrux. So, probably about fourteen years or so at this point,” Harry said. “He’s careless with them, as I said. Insanity or arrogance, I suppose it doesn’t matter much at all.”

Griffin and Falcon approached.

“Superior work, Leviathan,” Griffin said. “It’s as if the house was taken into another dimension.”

“We walked straight through it,” Falcon said. “And I only know that because I saw an estate plan before we came here. What will you do next?”

“We’ll return the wards to the state we found them in. They hadn’t been disturbed before yesterday,” Harry explained. “Anyone that tries in the future will find exactly what we want them to find.” He looked out over the land. “It’s a shame since the property is lovely.”

“It’s dark as fuck,” Griffin muttered. “Even with what you’ve done—I can feel the dark magic that has saturated the ground. The family ritual circle must be tainted beyond belief.”

Draco had no clue what had happened to the circle as he’d never gone near the structure. He glanced out over the garden to the path that would lead to it. “Should we destroy that outright before warding it?”

“No,” Harry said. “Destroying it might draw attention or make people ask questions that we don’t want or need. We’ll set up an alarm notification so we’ll know if anyone tries to breach the wards.”

* * * *

Croaker was pale-faced and silent when Harry found him sitting at his desk. He hadn’t had cause to seek the older man out in his own domain since coming back in time. It was a comfort that the office was basically the same.

“What’s wrong with you?”

The older man dropped a velvet bag onto the desk in front of him. It clattered against the wood, the sound of broken glass filling the air. Smokey magic drifted up through the cloth.

“Aurelius Dumbledore is a dark bastard,” Croaker said. “Nothing says it more clearly than the crimes he committed against you. It seemed it would never end unless he was dead. I can’t imagine how relieved you were by that fucker’s death.”

“In the end, it felt like another manipulation,” Harry admitted. “He certainly left enough plans in place to fuck me over as often as possible. And now, I know that Aberforth probably played a part in all of it and certainly continued that agenda after his son was killed by Snape. Now, I question if that death was planned the way Severus Snape claimed. He was very invested in his own so-called redemption.”

Harry sat down in the chair in front of McGregor’s desk and unbuttoned his jacket. “Your behavior is making me nervous as fuck.” The older man frowned at him. “I asked Anzû to check you for curses and shite. She said you’re clear, which is great, but it leaves me with the unenviable task of dealing with you as you are.”

“Same,” Croaker muttered and leaned forward a bit. “You think I don’t trust you.”

“You trust the magic you have on me,” Harry said. “But the personal element is missing. I can’t say it’s not a problem because it is. Did it help?” His gaze dropped to the remains of the orb.

“I understand who you are,” Jonah said. “I know what you came out of, and I’m stunned by the man you’ve become in the wake of it. You told Aberforth that you aren’t a good man. I don’t agree with that, Harry. You’re a better man than anyone has the right to expect. It was clear from the start that Aurelius wanted you to suffer as much as he did. Perhaps, he wanted to see if his circumstances could be duplicated, or maybe he wanted to know what that suffering would do to your abilities and power. Maybe he was just a cold-hearted motherfucker who stowed away a weapon until it was useful.”

“I always felt like a weapon to him,” Harry admitted. “Ultimately disposable, but useful in individual moments. I think he did more harm to me after I started Hogwarts than he did all the years before combined.”

“How…. Why?” Croaker asked.

“Because he gave me hope when I had none, then destroyed it by degrees,” Harry said roughly. “Had he been alive after the war, he’d have worked to control and manipulate me into being exactly who he thought I should be. I’d have been allowed nothing that I wanted and needed. It wouldn’t have mattered to him at all. Not that it ever did. The moment he heard the prophecy, he decided that the chosen one would be under his control and no other outcome could be allowed.” He pulled his herbal case and pulled one before offering it to his boss.

McGregor took it and tapped out his own cigarillo, then gave the case back. “The entire school and all of Hogsmeade have been vaccinated for dragonpox. St. Mungo’s released both areas from quarantine about five hours ago. No other cases, of course, because we were careful as fuck about it. The Prophet is already trying to blame the ministry for the death of a hero for not having a proper vaccination campaign for such a deadly disease.”

Harry laughed. “These people thrive on ignorance.” He took a long drag on his herbal. “I’m angry, you know.”

“It’s clear,” Croaker said. “And I’d be deeply fucking concerned about your sanity if you weren’t furious by the situation looming large in front of you. I take it you found the diary.”

“And the cup,” Harry reported and shrugged when the older man raised an eyebrow. “In the future, it was entrusted to Bellatrix Lestrange. It’s clear she hasn’t reached that level as yet. Both were left with Abraxas Malfoy, it seems, and now Riddle won’t be able to enter the Malfoy estate at all ever. I don’t think he’ll be concerned as he’ll assume no one else could do it either.”

“Griffin was profoundly impressed,” Croaker said. “He said he’d never seen anything like it. I didn’t offer him any additional information. I would like to include Minerva in the time travel secret.” He paused. “Thoughts?”

Harry glanced toward the remains of the orb. “I won’t make another.”

“You are ordered to never make another educational orb on the subject of your time travel or Tom Riddle specifically,” Jonah said dryly. “I’d never ask anyone else in the department to take it on, at any rate. If I’d done it first, neither Dorcas nor Armand would’ve ever gotten anywhere near it. Seeing a teenage boy tortured by Voldemort isn’t something I’m ever going to get over. It’s worse, knowing you as we do.” He cleared his throat. “The future version of myself did you an immense disservice, and I understand the resentment that’s been brewing between us.”

“I don’t resent you,” Harry protested.

“Hell, lad, how could you not?” Jonah demanded. “If I’d done half my fucking job, you’d have never been kidnapped and used to resurrect Voldemort.”

“Dumbledore carried the Elder Wand until the end of my original sixth year. I would say that you were neutralized by him long before I ever started Hogwarts. He would’ve used Minerva against you. I can’t say how, but she was deep in his thrall during that time. She allowed things that I look back on and realize were utterly beyond the pale. Dolores Umbridge taught at the school and tortured students with a blood quill. Not only did Minerva know, she merely told me to keep my head down when I complained to her.”

Jonah took a deep drag from the herbal he’d been nursing. “Fuck. I’m not sure we should ever tell her that. She’s already suffering a lot because of the Dumbledore situation.”

Harry nodded. “I wouldn’t want to hurt her with it. I…miss the woman I knew.” He exhaled slowly. “In some ways, after the war, she became…a mother to me. I visited her often, helped to rebuild Hogwarts, and retreated to her tea table when the world became too much.” He paused. “The first time I successfully cast a torture curse was in her defense.”

“So you’ve cast all three Unforgivables,” Croaker said.

“Yes.”

“So have I,” the older man said. “Avalon doesn’t consider any of them a crime, as you already know. I don’t disagree with them being outlawed, but I’ve been driven to do things as an Unspeakable that I can’t completely speak to. The job requires the most of us on even the most ordinary days. Unfortunately, I’ve known precious few of those.”

“Agreed,” Harry murmured. “But, to get back to your main issue. I don’t resent you. I never did. There were plenty of adults in my life who knew my exact circumstances and did nothing because they were in Dumbledore’s pocket in one way or another. The fact is that so many people were wronged, mistreated, or outright murdered because of the Dumbledore family that blaming someone like you would be ridiculous. We didn’t meet until years after the war.”

“We should’ve met at the end of your first year,” Croaker muttered. “The fact that we didn’t is appalling.”

“You might have tried,” Harry pointed out. “And that’s when you became a problem for Dumbledore. He wouldn’t have allowed your interference in what he believed to be my destiny. After the war, I started to believe that the prophecy was about him and not Riddle.” He shrugged when McGregor grunted. “I know.”

“I just agree,” Croaker said and cleared his throat. “And there is a new prophecy—it has one note on it, and it was created by Avalon herself.”

“What’s the note?”

“For the Master of Death.”

Harry groaned.

“Needless to say, the three people who saw its manifestation were memory charmed at their own insistence as they’d rather not be involved. The orb is in the vault behind me. We can listen to it when you’re ready.”

“Not right now,” Harry said and stood. “I don’t have the…emotional resources to handle it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and went to stare at the painting of a castle on Croaker’s wall. “I’d like to speak with the Eternal Knight. Do you think that would be allowed?”

“Esmeralda Forth is the Mystery Keeper,” Croaker said. “I’m sure you know where her office is. She’ll give you access to the path, but it’s up to him to show up.”

“Yes, I’m honestly relieved to hear that she’s already here being herself,” Harry said. “I really don’t resent you.”

Croaker stared and took another drag from his herbal. “I hear what you say. I know you believe it to be true. I just don’t understand how you got here on that particular subject. I’d fucking hate everyone in your place.”

Harry shrugged. “Honestly, Jonah, I could never let that kind of hatred sit in me. It would corrupt me wholesale, and that’s not something the Spectre can indulge in. It’s the road to a place beyond redemption, and I’ve seen the end result. I’ll have no part of it.” He took a deep breath. “Plus, I’d never let such fester in me as they would taint the bonds I share with Draco. He doesn’t deserve such a thing.”

* * * *

Esmeralda Forth looked exactly the same. Harry was so relieved he couldn’t even account for it. He wondered how old the witch was and how long she’d worked in the department. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Harry questioned.

“You found your soulmate without visiting the Book of Souls, Lord Braemar.”

“There are other instruments that determine such a thing,” Harry pointed out, and she made a face at him. “My soulmate is veela. I often feel that the magic of the veela bond is more dominant.”

She nodded. “I can’t guarantee the Eternal Knight will speak to you.”

Harry inclined his head and watched her put the key in the door and open it. “Thank you, regardless.”

He took the walk slowly and didn’t bother to approach the book as he entered the chamber. Harry took a deep breath and trailed his fingers along a wall. The drama of the room still amused him more than anything else.

“I wondered when you would come to see me.” Gawain paused. “Again.”

He turned and found Gawain standing on the opposite side of the room from him. “I figured you were paying attention.”

“The magic of Avalon will not allow me to reveal anyone’s secrets,” Gawain said. “You seem to be handling your circumstances very well, Lord Braemar.”

“You can call me Harry,” he said and approached the book. It flipped open before he could even touch it and revealed his adopted name along with Draco’s. “We haven’t even been born yet.”

“Soulmate magic is what it is,” Gawain said.

“It must be,” Harry said wryly. “After all, Arthur was your uncle.”

Gawain scoffed. “Not exactly, lad. Lady Morgause was my father’s third wife, and I was already being fostered for training when they married, so Arthur was my uncle only through marriage. Though, in all honesty, no one would’ve blinked an eye if we had been blood-related. Even now, in some magical communities, it wouldn’t be much of an issue. As you already know.”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a grimace. “But, that’s a relief to know. I know that the muggle legends are often askew regarding the facts.”

“Why have you come?” Gawain questioned.

“I want to open the door to Avalon,” Harry said plainly and focused on the spirit. “I want to take our people home—create a space where we can be free of the oppressive environment we currently live in. What do you think?”

Gawain was silent for several long moments, then nodded. “You have the magical power to do it.”

“Do I have the right?”

“Such a thing is subjective,” Gawain said. “Only Avalon can determine that, and she clearly favors you.”

“I don’t feel favored by anyone.”

“Not even your beautiful mate?” Gawain questioned. “He doesn’t seem to find a single fault with you.”

Harry couldn’t deny it, so he just nodded and stepped back from the book, and it closed. “Despite the dark acts that led me to this time and place, I can’t seem to make myself regret it.”

“Living in the past has given you a form of freedom that you never expected to have,” Gawain said. “I can see how it would be a profound relief, despite what and who you have lost.”

“I….” Harry took a deep breath. “I wish I could reach out through time and tell my best friend that I’m okay. But any single method available to me to do it is dark as fuck.” He wet his lips. “If I open the door to Avalon, will it hurt you? Force you to do something you’d rather not? Will it make your situation with your king better or worse?”

“Arthur will be relieved if Avalon embraces you and accepts the return of magical people,” Gawain said. “And it won’t hurt us—no matter the outcome.”

Harry nodded. “Okay, I have a lot of work ahead of me. I didn’t want to get started on the whole thing before speaking with you about it.”

 

* * * *

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4