Reading Time: 132 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, 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 16

Harry sat back in his chair and shifted the locket he’d purchased on Knockturn Alley around on his desk. Transfigurations weren’t permanent, and he didn’t want to risk leaving such a thing in the place of a horcrux, so he’d bought several lockets and taken them all apart to create a replica of the Slytherin locket. It had taken a small bit of magical manipulation to make all the pieces fit together, but most of the old metal was easy to shape. Moreover, he had enough gold left to recreate the ring part of the Gaunt artifact.

The stone itself was a different matter altogether. He’d picked up a piece of obsidian and used magic to shape and polish it. Etching the symbol of the Hallows into it had been kind of galling, and he rarely allowed himself to be personally offended by the physical representation of the Hallows themselves. Duplicating it had been kind of weird, and he’d been left with the impression that the real stone was irritated by it. Maybe it didn’t appreciate the reminder of how Riddle had treated it.

The charm work to make both objects feel like horcruxes added another element. He locked that into place with a password. It would hold for at least five years, and Harry didn’t believe they’d need more time than that. If they did, he’d have to revisit both objects to renew the charm work. It was an irritating thought.

“Problem?”

“No.” Harry looked up and found Croaker standing in front of his desk and inclined his head toward the two faux horcruxes.

“They look and feel horrifying,” Jonah admitted. “So, good job if they’re supposed to make me feel like this.”

“Do you want to see the real Resurrection Stone?” Harry asked curiously, and Croaker hesitated. “I won’t allow you to touch it, no worries. Frankly, you’ll probably find it just as appalling as this one.” He poked the ring.

“I’d like to see all three Hallows,” Croaker admitted.

Draco stood up from his own desk, crossed the room, and shut their door. Harry stowed the fake horcruxes in a small pouch then put it away.

“There are four Deathly Hallows,” Harry reminded.

“I don’t like to think of you as one,” Croaker said roughly. “It seems dehumanizing and amoral considering what I know about them.”

Harry nodded and pulled the cloak out first. He let the material flow through his hands and pile onto the desk in front of him. “Varda gave this to me during my first manifestation as the Master. I don’t know how old it is or how many others have worn it before me. I eventually allowed it to move away from my care so that it could learn what it needed to learn. It returned to me during this lifetime, and I doubt it will ever tolerate separation again.

Croaker stared for a moment, then nodded.

He pulled out the stone and laid it gently on the cloak. It sparkled with magic, enticing and malicious. “It’s taken years to get rid of the taint that the horcrux left on it,” Harry admitted. “Plus, Dumbledore left manipulative magic on it that forced me to use and discard it. He seemed to know he couldn’t prevent me from becoming the Master of Death, but he didn’t want it to be my permanent magical circumstance. I count myself fortunate that he didn’t understand who or what I was.”

“It’s disgusting,” Croaker admitted with a grimace. “That’s the natural state? It’s not still corrupted by the horcrux?”

“The Resurrection Stone is cruelty given physical form. But its intent was corrupted by the magic of a horcrux. It will never be the same,” Harry explained. “For some people, the cruel purpose of the stone resonates inside them in such a way that even looking at it is difficult. For others, who know the full breadth of what cruelty is, merely understand exactly what it is and what it does.”

“It resurrects the dead.”

“No, it tortures the dead and forces them to appear before you. But it can not bring to life what is already dead. It is a key that opens a door that should never be opened without an immense need,” Harry said and finally removed the Elder Wand, which he placed on the cloak as well. “The wand changed its appearance after I tried to give it back to Varda.”

“It doesn’t look a thing like the wand Dumbledore used to carry,” Croaker said roughly. “Which is good.” He stepped back from the desk. “Put them away, please, and tell me no if I ever ask again.” He ran a hand through his hair and slouched down in the chair in front of Harry’s desk.

Harry stowed the Hallows and sat. “Still brooding about my terrible childhood?”

Croaker huffed. “One of us should! Dorcas cried, and Armand is making a list of people to curse for future purposes.”

Draco laughed and leaned on the arm of Harry’s chair. “It could be worse. Have you made a decision about the ICW?”

“We’ve decided to make the imposter situation an official secret,” Croaker said. “And keep it between only those who currently know. Aurelius Dumbledore will be interrogated. We suspect the brainwashing his father did will hold no matter what sort of magical means we attempt to break it. I’m not on board torturing the man, no matter his crimes. He’ll be sent through the Veil as no other outcome protects Avalon, which must be our priority.”

“It’s as much justice as we’re going to get in the circumstances,” Draco said roughly. “I did receive a letter from Louis. The ICW moved Grindelwald to Apollumi forty-eight hours ago in response to Albus Dumbledore’s official death. The public story is that Dumbledore was the only authorized steward of the prison facility holding Gellert Grindelwald, so they moved him for security and financial reasons. I suspect the minister will get an official notification sometime in the next week and will be properly irritated to have not been included in the decision despite the fact that Nurmengard isn’t even in Britain.”

“The Austrian government will probably tell him to kiss their arse,” Harry said. “Especially since Britain wasn’t one the dealing with the looming threat of that dark bastard escaping and running amok.” He flicked a hand in irritation, then focused on Croaker. “We’re going to retrieve the two remaining horcruxes then…we’d like a week off.” He wet his lips. “To handle our ritual marriage and settle into our home properly.”

Croaker nodded. “Of course, take as much time as you need. Are you still taking your seat on the Wizengamot in the next session? I’ll need to keep Griffin free on that day if you are.”

“Yes, might as well get settled there and make a mess of things while people are still reeling in shock over the loss of Albus Dumbledore,” Harry said. “The first time around, the whole country seemed to ugly cry for a whole damn month.”

“I didn’t,” Draco muttered. “Well, I might have ugly cried during that time, but it wasn’t about that old arsehole.” He crossed his arms when Croaker laughed a little. “Tom Riddle set up camp at my house that summer and reminded me often that I was going to marry him.”

Croaker huffed. “I deeply regret not getting a chance to kill your father personally.”

“I’d like to do it again,” Harry admitted. “Better and with more vigor.” Draco snorted. “I mean it.”

“Oh, we know,” Draco said and sighed.

* * * *

They landed in Little Hangleton, just a few hundred yards from the Gaunt shack. Harry felt the horcrux the moment they fully manifested physically; it was practically singing to him. Probably drawn out by the others he carried, despite the fact they were in a dimensional store. The innate power of soul magic had often left Harry startled in the past, but over the years, he’d come to understand the real damage Tom Riddle had done to this soul and that the power he’d created with the horcruxes was an immense corruption that could not be allowed in the world.

Despite how ancient the magic was, horcruxes were rare and had often been destroyed by their makers shortly after creation in the past. Tom Riddle’s unique pathology and his megalomania had facilitated a circumstance that had allowed one horcrux after another to be created. Harry knew that Riddle had the ability to create at least one more horcrux and wondered how Roman Banner was doing regarding the capture of Nagini.

Harry kept Draco’s hand as they walked toward the undefended shack.

“Wards would’ve drawn attention to the site,” Draco said.

“The ring is cursed, and there are some defense awards attached to the actual hiding place. It’s just all very subdued to avoid notice,” Harry said. “I don’t think Riddle ever expected to hide forever behind the name Voldemort. Or maybe, the horcrux is nothing more than a relic. A reminder of him shedding what he believes to be his mortal existence. Even now, he believes himself immortal, and his soul is nothing more than a stumbling block for his goals.”

“Insanity like that can be really scary,” Draco murmured. “How does anyone get there?”

“He was mentally ill before he ever made a horcrux,” Harry said. “We know he tortured other children at the orphanage before he ever knew about magic. Maybe the circumstances of his conception and birth tainted him beyond hope, as Slughorn suggested. It’s clear that insanity was a problem in the Gaunt family, and it can’t have all been environmental, not with their penchant for inbreeding.”

“Yeah,” Draco said and huffed a little. “I don’t think my family tree forks enough, Harry.”

Harry laughed. “Fortunately, adoption helped you out on that front.”

“Oh, true,” Draco said and glanced around the shack. “Let’s get this thing and get out of this disgusting shack. It’s making me itch. I’m going to need a two-hour bath to get over this.”

Harry released Draco’s hand and drew his wand. “The curse on this thing is going to make you want to touch it. So I need you to lock yourself down as much as possible and be prepared to apparate away if you feel any sort of compulsion.”

“It won’t impact you?” Draco questioned.

“I don’t know, horcruxes don’t influence me the way they do others, and the wasting curse on the ring is very strong because of the horcrux,” Harry said and used his wand to pry up the floorboards to reveal the gilded box holding the horcrux.

He lifted the box out of the hole and put it on the floor where he knelt. Draco made a strangled noise, and Harry glanced his way just in time to see Draco disappear in a flush of apparition magic. Harry focused on the box and flicked open the lid with the tip of his wand, not surprised to find it wasn’t locked. Anyone who got to this point wouldn’t let a simple locking charm deter them. The ring had been thrown in the unlined box like a child’s treasure. Harry stared for a moment, then started to break down the curse.

The compulsion was strong, and he could see easily how Dumbledore would’ve been inclined toward putting the ring on when combined with his history, magical circumstances, and darkness. Maybe it had been more about his mother versus the young girl who was actually his aunt. Thinking about the Dumbledore family was a road to fury, so Harry pushed it aside and focused on breaking down the curse. It fell away under his attention fairly quickly, either due to age or because of the Elder Wand. It really didn’t matter in the end. He took out the two pouches, put the real horcrux with the others then put the fake ring into place before storing the pouches again.

Harry put everything back into place, distributed dust over the floorboards after he tucked them back into place, and left the shack. Draco was a few meters away, arms crossed and looking appalled.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, and Harry nodded. “I didn’t expect it to be so powerful.”

“I’m fine,” Harry assured. “I’ve made the exchange. Let’s go figure out how to get the locket out of that stupid potion puzzle in the cave.”

“I have a few ideas based on the memory you shared of you and Dumbledore retrieving it.”

Harry nodded. He’d shared a lot of memories of his life with Draco after they started living together though they hadn’t done that since they’d returned to the past. “I bet Hermione is kind of furious with me.”

“Why?”

“She inherited every single thing I owned personally in Britain,” Harry admitted. “Including our home on Loch Ness. I hope she lets the bank clear it out for her.”

“If I know her even a little bit, she’s currently living in it while she tries to get us back,” Draco said, and Harry grimaced. “We can’t change that. She’s the brightest witch of the age, Harry and Jonah will be invested in supporting her investigation to the nth degree. That world will want you back, and they won’t give up. Hermione will, though. She will pursue every angle and reach the right conclusions. Hopefully, she’ll go back to Australia and have as many babies as she’d like. Your magical line will continue, and that’s a beautiful legacy.”

“A bittersweet one,” Harry admitted. “I’m dealing with it, and I won’t drown in the grief of it never knowing the children…my children. They’ll be amazing parents, and that’s all I could hope for.” He pulled Draco close and apparated them.

They appeared on a dreary beach. He pointed to a large rock structure jutting up out of the rough ocean. “We apparated to that rock, and the entrance to the cave was in front of us. It was very dramatic.”

“He certainly was a showman,” Draco said. “I wonder if he hid that boat down in the water before he took you there or if it was always there?”

“Unsure,” Harry said. “Also, we didn’t check that boat for magic of any kind. It could’ve been cursed to hell and back.” He squeezed Draco’s hand and apparated them to the rock so they could see the opening to the cave.

“That’s…. I realize Riddle was very young when he did this, but I have to wonder if drama is a condition that all old wizards cultivate as they age.”

Harry laughed as he stared at the evil-looking gash in the cliffside. He figured most people wouldn’t avoid the cave entirely based merely on the menacing appearance of the entrance. He apparated again, and they were at the entrance. Harry pulled his athame, but Draco huffed and stilled his hand.

“We need to open it.”

“The last thing you need to do is spill blood in this cave,” Draco said. “Dumbledore was right about that, at least.” He flicked a vial from his dimensional store. “So I harvested some blood from Aurelius. His blood worked just fine the first time.”

Harry nodded and stored the ritual knife as Draco poured the blood into his palm, performed a spell on it silently, and smeared it over the rock. The rock wall shifted and moved away just as expected.

“What was that spell?”

Draco cleaned his hand as they entered. “I warmed the blood to body temperature. It’s often done in potions work with various types of animal blood as it activates residual magic left in the biological materials.”

Harry started the climb, taking careful but familiar steps. He hated being in the cave as it reminded him of how much Dumbledore had manipulated him as a kid. The corruption of nearly every adult he had in his life while he’d attended Hogwarts was appalling.

“We should probably get the staff at Hogwarts tested,” Harry said.

“I’m sure the new headmaster will see it done,” Draco said dryly.

“It’s weird that Minerva still isn’t the deputy,” Harry said. It had been a real convenient surprise when Horace Slughorn had been announced as Dumbledore’s replacement. “Maybe the board thinks she’s too young.”

“Certainly, and she’s come and gone from the school too much to have any sort of seniority at this point,” Draco said. “I heard from Dorcas that Minerva had no interest in any sort of administrative role at Hogwarts as she wanted to focus on events outside of the school. But, honestly, I think the whole situation with the imposter has broken her heart, and maybe she no longer sees a future for herself at Hogwarts.”

“It will make the school sad if she leaves,” Harry said and took a deep breath as they came to stand near the shore of the lake. He drew his wand and knelt on one knee, then hissed, “Glacius.”

Magic streamed out of the wand, freezing the entire lake it went. He stood and cast a lumos charm silently across the cave, lighting the entire space from the ceiling down. He stuck several more charms into place across the ice, creating a path for them to walk.

“Your boots have anti-skid charm built in, right?” Draco questioned.

“You bought them,” Harry pointed out.

“Oh, right.” Draco made a face. “I don’t know, so we should apply some.”

Harry did the spells for both of them with a shake of his head and offered Draco his hand. They headed out across the ice. Harry didn’t look down because he didn’t want to see in the inferi. They couldn’t do anything about them as it would reveal that the locket had been disturbed. Eventually, he’d come back to the cave and destroy them as they were offensive to him on a profound level. The misuse and abuse of death magic was one of the darkest parts of magic on Earth.

Soon, they stood in front of the pedestal filled with a potion.

“His conclusion that it could only be pulled from the pool by emptying it was…presumptuous,” Draco said. “Riddle wouldn’t have left such a thing to chance. What if he had to come here alone to retrieve the locket? None of the others were protected this way. What’s special about the locket?”

“I’d say it was because the locket is a Slytherin heirloom but so is the ring, and he treated it like a trinket,” Harry said as he stared at the pool of potion. “A summoning charm won’t work, even with the inferi trapped as they currently are. I can dismantle that anti-summoning charm work…make it seem like it faded due to age.”

“It’ll take a while,” Draco said and glanced out over the frozen lake. “But our circumstances aren’t urgent. How long will that freezing spell last?”

“I put a lot of power into it. The surface will start to melt in about six hours, but it could take days for it to return to normal.” Harry shrugged out of his coat. “Let’s get started then.”

An hour later, he summoned the locket from the potion and caught it as it flew toward him. He dropped the fake into the potion and stored the real one. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Can you check the magic I’ve left behind?”

“Sure,” Draco said as he took his place and pulled his wand.

Harry put his coat back on as Draco did a series of scans and sat down on the edge of one of the weird crystal formations. The whole cave was a magical construction, and Harry was only mildly curious as to what it had looked like before Riddle had played in it.

“It looks good—like it disintegrated,” Draco reported. “Can we apparate from here?”

“It doesn’t feel safe,” Harry said. “The ice should be fine to walk on, so we should take the same path out. There is a lot of dark magic in this place—it’s like he threw malice all over the place, and it’s not all to do with the inferi.”

Draco nodded and stowed his wand. “Let’s go then.”

* * * *

They stopped at the ministry, filed a report regarding their afternoon, and left without meeting with anyone. Harry was tired and really wanted some peace and quiet. The interrogation of Aurelius Dumbledore was on Dorcas’ agenda, and he was relieved not to be involved at all in that particular situation for the moment. He hoped it was resolved while they were off. Harry stored the horcruxes in the safe in the office they shared, then went to take a long shower.

He had terrible memories of the cave as it had been tangled up with the death of Dumbledore for years. The night of the invasion of Hogwarts changed the lives of many. Grief resonated around the event because of Dumbledore’s manipulations. It was galling and had been for years. He threw on a dressing robe after the shower and went downstairs to see what he could scrounge up for dinner. He didn’t feel like cooking which was a rarity for him, but emotional exhaustion took a unique toll on him that he didn’t like to think about or speak to.

In the kitchen, he found Draco setting the table. There were two steaming plates of pasta. He paused for a moment, confused, as he hadn’t made pasta recently, and there were no leftovers to heat.

“Frutti de Mare,” Draco said. “I picked it up on Diagon Alley from a restaurant I’ve never heard of or seen before, so I don’t know if the quality will do.”

“It smells fine,” Harry said and ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks. I wasn’t looking forward to figuring out food.”

“Yeah, I assumed as much,” Draco said and poured the wine. “This seemed to be the best of their options, but I picked up a menu to add to the collection. Sit, darling, and eat. You look worn thin.”

He felt thin, so he sat down in front of a plate of pasta and seafood, then picked up his wine. One thing he’d noted and adhered to was that Draco preferred that they sat close rather than across from each other. He hadn’t ever questioned it, but he figured it had something to do with his parents and meals in the home he grew up in. Their kitchen table was round but could comfortably sit six without expansion.

They ate in silence, and Harry found that a comfort. Draco had never felt the need to fill up the silence, and he appreciated that about his partner. The food was fine, nothing particularly exciting, but cooked well. It was certainly done by a professional chef but not one that Harry would consider to be inspired by the work. It made a difference in the end product, but there was nothing to complain about. The food was filling, and there was enough protein to keep his animagus form satisfied.

“Come to bed,” Draco said and held up a hand as he stood. Harry started to protest because of the dishes, but his partner shot a spell at the table and everything transferred to the sink. “I’ll take care of it later, love.”

Harry let himself be prodded up the stairs, stripped of his dressing gown, and put to bed. He wanted to be irritated because he didn’t need coddling or whatever Draco thought he was doing, but he was tired and heartsore for no reason that he could discern. Draco slipped into bed and curled up beside him, warm and naked. In other circumstances, Harry would already be considering sex. But even that seemed like more effort than was reasonable.

“You’ve had this day before,” Draco murmured.

“Yeah, sure, the cave….” He trailed off when Draco put a hand on his chest.

“No, love, that’s not this day.” He took a deep breath. “Today is the day you gained control, once more, of all of the horcruxes.”

Harry shuddered and closed his eyes. Draco pressed closer, and Harry turned into the embrace, pressing his face against Draco’s neck with a soft shocked sound he couldn’t contain. The horcruxes had dominated a whole year of his life and the memories he had of the war. He considered the new prophecy and realized that putting off listening to it had just increased his anxiety around the situation.

The desire to destroy them was overwhelming, but he knew he couldn’t take any risks with Riddle. If the old bastard got paranoid, he could make another horcrux, and Harry would have no clue what it was. He could only assume so much about Riddle’s current attachment to Nagini. Maybe being hosted by her for years had led to her being used as a horcrux. Either way, he intended to destroy the horcruxes after destroying the body that Riddle was currently inhabiting, as that would ensure his defeat and prevent resurrection through a horcrux ritual. It would also nullify most of the more potent rituals that required biological material.

“I need to go back to Little Hangleton and desecrate the graves of all of Riddle’s male relatives,” Harry muttered, and Draco laughed sharply. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” Draco said in amusement and prodded him onto his back. He slid astride Harry’s hips and braced himself with both hands.

Harry liked the weight and the press of Draco’s hands on his chest, so he relaxed on the mattress and accepted it. He was half-hard already, but there was no urgency regarding sex which in other circumstances would’ve concerned him. His emotional landscape was a little off, and that always impacted how he felt about sex. Draco relaxed then, draped himself over Harry’s body like a blanket, and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

“Do you want to go do it now?”

“No,” Harry murmured and rubbed Draco’s back. “It doesn’t feel like an immediate issue. Just another thing to handle. I should feel relieved to have all the known objects in hand.”

“But?” Draco questioned.

“No buts, I’m just really fucking tired,” he admitted and cupped the back of Draco’s head. “I feel like I lived a whole year today, and I can’t explain it any better than that.”

“You don’t have to,” Draco assured and slipped off of him to lay heavily against his side. “Sleep, love. You clearly need it.”

“Stay close,” Harry murmured, and Draco hummed his agreement.

* * * *

He woke the moment their ward boundary was violated. Harry shifted on the mattress as the alarms sounded one after another and left his lover’s embrace even as Draco woke.

“The wards,” Draco said.

“Yes,” Harry said grimly as he left the bed. “Voldemort is here.”

“What the fuck?” Draco questioned. “Are you sure?”

“He’s little more than horcrux himself at this point, and yes, I’m sure,” Harry said. “I need you to stay in the peel.”

“What? No.” Draco followed him into the closet and started to grab clothes.

“Draco.” Harry paused as he pulled on a pair of dragonhide trousers. “I need you to stay inside.”

“I….” Draco took a deep breath as he pulled his own clothes. “Harry.”

“This isn’t about your abilities. It’s about the matters of fate and my patronage to Varda. You can’t ever stand between me and that duty.” He averted his gaze when tears welled in Draco’s eyes. The man was rarely, ever, reduced to tears, but he couldn’t let that dissuade him. “Contact Croaker, please.”

He pulled on his boots and apparated before Draco could respond. Separating himself from his mate was paramount to his ability to focus. He knew that Draco would do as he asked unless he had no other options available to him. He appeared on the shore of the loch and found it curiously and horrifyingly still. Two mermen surfaced as he stared at the water, and he shook his head at them. They appeared only briefly startled before they nodded and sank below the water.

There was a single faint pop of apparition, and Harry took a deep breath. Whoever Voldemort had pushed through his wards remained, but the arsehole hadn’t stuck around to see the consequences of his actions. He drew his wand and disillusioned himself, then turned his head slightly as Draco apparated to his side, already invisible. He caught his mate’s hand, despite his disillusioned state.

“Voldemort left,” Draco said in his defense.

“How do you know?” Harry questioned, more amused than irritated.

“The wards changed. I’ll know what he feels like if he comes here again. Who did he leave behind?” Draco questioned. “There are at least three.”

“No one he genuinely values,” Harry said grimly. “He’s testing me.”

“What kind of impression do you want to give him?”

“If I knew where the motherfucker lives, he’d shortly be getting three corpses dropped on his doorstep,” Harry said grimly. “I’m not going to play games with Tom Riddle or anyone else for that matter.” He let go of Draco’s hand. “Let’s kill them before Croaker gets here and tries to take a hostage.”

Mora rose out of the water at that moment, a scream piercing through the air, and Harry recognized, in dawning horror, that Nagini was wrapped around her. They sank under the surface, and Harry apparated straight to them and dropped down into the water, leaving Draco alone to deal with the other intruders. He knew it was a distraction but gave into it anyway, as he knew Draco could handle anything Nagini’s keepers had to offer.

He drew his athame as he dove down, ended his disillusion charm, and entered the fray. He didn’t know if Mora was magical enough to survive being bitten by Nagini, and that was infuriating. Distantly, he felt his wards shatter under the unexpected hand of Ragnok Windrider. Killing Nagini again wasn’t the fucking plan, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to save them both. Mora had to come first. He wrapped an arm around Nagini’s head even as the snake tried to clamp down on Mora’s heavily scaled neck. He shoved his knife straight through Nagini’s head as they hit the bottom of the lake. The water clouded with silt, and he used every bit of strength he had to keep the athame in place as Nagini flailed, taking him and Mora with her.

Something scraped against his bareback then there was a sharp, vicious pain against the back of his head.

* * * *

Draco took in a shuddery breath as he stared at the bodies of the Lestrange brothers. He wondered where his crazy aunt was. His bond with Harry suddenly stretched thin, and his gaze jerked to the loch. The water was turbulent and violent, a direct contradiction to the stillness they’d encountered before Nagini had attacked.

“Consort Braemar.”

Draco turned and found Ragnok Windrider standing a few feet from him. Three Unspeakables appeared in a rush of apparition magic at the same time. “Harry’s in the water.” He drew his wand and started to the shore.

Mora rose then graceful as ever from the water, and two mermen joined her. One was carrying Harry. Draco made a soft shocked sound and waded out into the water to take his mate from them.

“What happened?”

Mora hissed at him.

“She says that he hit his head,” one of the Unspeakables said. “And killed a large snake in the lake that was trying to kill her.”

Draco nodded and apparated away from the situation as soon as he got his hands on Harry. The destruction of the wards and Riddle’s invasion spoke of betrayal, and he realized that they had nowhere to fucking go. He put Harry down on the bed and started a medical diagnostic. It revealed a minor skull fracture and a concussion. There was no water in his lungs, a function of his animagus form, Draco was sure. Harry spent so much time in the water that Draco was surprised he didn’t have gills in his human form, too.

“How is he?”

“He needs a healing potion,” Draco said shortly and focused on Ragnok. “You destroyed our wards.”

“I had no choice,” Ragnok said roughly. “One of my own betrayed you, and…coming to your defense was my duty. I’ll rebuild them, of course, personally. There won’t be another incident like tonight. The dverger who led the original warding team was bribed to provide a ward key. There’s no defense against such a thing.”

Anzû stepped forward and put a pouch down on the bed. She started to pull out potions for Draco’s inspection. He took several from—healing, inflammation, and pain relief and spelled each directly into Harry’s stomach.

He took a deep breath. “Griffin, that snake you’ve been hunting is dead in the loch unless the queen has ejected the corpse. Please make sure it’s removed. Nagini is dark as fuck and would cause corruption to develop in the water if left there.”

“Of course,” Griffin said and left the room.

Draco performed another charm and found the skull fracture nearly healed. He took off Harry’s boots and drew a blanket over him before turning to Ragnok. “This dverger that was bribed. Where is he?”

“He ran, but he’ll be dead within the hour,” Ragnok said. “I sent Tyr after him. There is but one punishment for such a betrayal of a client’s faith.”

Draco accepted that without discussion and focused on Croaker, who was standing at the end of their bed. It was very disconcerting to have so many people in their bedroom. It must have shown on his face because Anzû cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

“The Lestrange brothers are dead on my lawn, Croaker,” Draco said. “As housewarming gifts go, I’m not impressed with Voldemort’s efforts.” His gaze drifted back to the diagnostic, and it showed the healing process was complete. He canceled it with a flick of his wand. “Not to be rude, but you’re all intruding on a very intimate part of my home, and it’s making me deeply uncomfortable. Can we go downstairs?”

“Of course,” Ragnok said easily and inclined his head when Croaker seemed to want to argue. “The last thing we need to do is stir up a veela’s territorial instincts, considering what has already happened.”

Draco put the strongest locking charm he had at his disposal on the door as he pulled it shut and followed everyone else downstairs. He didn’t want to leave Harry, but he also didn’t want everyone to linger in his bedroom for a discussion. Razel Fireborn was waiting outside with the two bodies when they returned to the scene. Griffin was at the shoreline, clearly having a discussion with Mora, and Nagini’s body was on the rocks.

Draco went to them, and the plesiosaur queen focused on him. “Harry’s fine—he’ll sleep for a bit and will come to speak with you when he wakes. We’re both very sorry that this happened. If you wish us to move away from your waters, we’ll understand.”

She leaned down and pressed her snout against his chest gently, then slid back down into the water without a sound.

“She is not displeased with either of you,” Griffin said. “She said no one has come to her defense in such a manner in over five hundred years. Not even the merpeople have done such a thing for her. The Earl of Braemar has done her an immense honor this evening.”

Draco considered that and nodded. He didn’t know how the politics of the lake worked, but he had to think that precious few things could actually be a threat to a creature like Mora. He watched as the others prepped the bodies for removal. Ragnok lingered at his side the whole time. Razel came and went several times. Draco realized that the Horde had set up a temporary security detail for their home. He wondered how much such a thing would cost if the bank normally offered it as a service. He knew they didn’t. The dverger, rightly, didn’t normally give a shite about the safety of wizards.

Shortly, all three bodies were gone. Draco took a deep breath as the water of the loch slowly started to move. Perhaps the water had been responding to Mora’s overt irritation, and he wondered if she’d felt the wards being violated as strongly as they had.

“Harry wants to buy as much land around us as he can,” Draco said and focused on Ragnok. “Thoughts on that?”

“I have a feeling his closest neighbors will be glad to sell once it gets out that Voldemort targeted the place personally,” Ragnok said and glanced toward Croaker. “Is that going to be known?”

“Harry will want it to be known that the attack failed miserably,” Draco said. “If he had his druthers, all three of those bodies would be in a pile in front of whatever house Voldemort is currently squatting in.”

“It would certainly send a message,” Anzû said. “One that Voldemort clearly needs. He’s so used to people fearing him and his reactions.”

Harry appeared at that moment, ending a disillusion charm, much to Draco’s chagrin. He hadn’t even noticed that his mate had joined them. Harry looked out over the loch, frowning, and took a deep breath, then focused on Ragnok.

“A wergild offer is already in progress,” Ragnok said. “And Razel and I will handle your new warding personally. This particular sort of invasion won’t happen again.”

Harry nodded. “Where are the bodies?”

“Griffin took them to the DOM,” Croaker said, and Harry turned to stare at him. “Did you want us to drop them in the middle of Diagon Alley or something?”

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the sarcastic question. “I’m not opposed, but I was thinking I might just take them to the DLME in the morning and report the attack.” He paused. “As a private citizen. They’re both marked, right?”

“Yes,” Anzû said. “And have been wanted for over a year for several crimes. You’d certainly face no consequences for admitting to killing them.”

“Oh, there will be consequences,” Harry said. “They just won’t be ours.” He turned to Ragnok. “Whose your least favorite Death Eater?”

Ragnok blinked in surprise, but then he smiled. “I fucking loathe Fenrir Greyback.”

Not a surprise, Draco thought, the dverger were known for the care they gave to all children no matter their species. Greyback specialized in turning children and raising them to be dark as fuck.

Harry just nodded and focused on Anzû. “We have a packing crate in the cellar. I’ll get it so the bodies can be put in it. No need to make a mess in Amelia Bones’ office.”

 

Chapter 17

Harry endured another diagnostic charm from Draco with a small smile. They’d had a long night and slept in late. There was a crate of Death Eaters in their courtyard, which amused practically everyone despite how crass it was. Harry lingered at the breakfast table, fussing with his tea and eating several slices of toast. Draco had relaxed into the meal by degrees, still agitated by the invasion of their home and property.

“No warding scheme is impenetrable,” Harry said.

“I know,” Draco murmured. “But you were hurt, and I had nowhere safe to take you. I didn’t in the future either, but you had a reputation that made even people you liked hesitate to approach our property without permission.”

“You want another property then?” Harry questioned as he buttered another slice of toast. The desire for carbs wasn’t a surprise, as healing potions often created such a craving in him. “Something international?”

“Yes, and hidden behind a Fidelius that we won’t share with anyone but family going forward,” Draco said and took a deep breath. “I need this before we have a child, Harry.”

He reached out and put a hand on Draco’s when he realized the man’s fingers were trembling. “Of course, love, consider it done.” He squeezed gently. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Draco asked, clearly confused.

“You’re clearly having a response to the incursion of our home,” Harry said. “An instinctual one. As your mate, I have a duty to provide you a secure nest.”

Draco huffed and averted his gaze. “I’m not….”

“You are most certainly starting to nest,” Harry said gently. “And the ward breakdown has disturbed you on such a level that you’ve yet to come to come grips with the fact that you killed two people last night.”

Draco took a deep breath. “I’m fine with that part.”

“Are you?” Harry questioned. “They certainly deserved it, but you’ve never killed before. Even the wound you gave your father the night of the ritual wouldn’t have killed him.”

“They came to our home,” Draco said quietly. “It was intolerable.” He cleared his throat and picked up his tea with his free hand. “I’m sorry about Nagini.”

“So am I, but I had to make a choice and….” Harry frowned. “It could only be Mora. Riddle will spiral violently because of the death of his familiar. The new wards settled just over an hour ago. Ragnok is putting down the final layer, and Razel just left. I’m going to decline the wergild in exchange for a policy change.”

“What kind of policy change?”

“An unbreakable vow regarding the creation of a ward key for anyone but the property owner,” Harry said, and Draco looked startled for a moment.

“Do you think Ragnok will agree?”

“I think he will embrace it when I combine it with the proposal for a charitable foundation. It’ll demonstrate the magical power of the Horde and make warding through the bank very attractive. I think it’s a proper concession that doesn’t financially impact the warder’s family. It’s not their fault, in my mind, that he was an honorless piece of shite. I’m going to offer basic warding packages for family homes within a certain income bracket, which will honestly mean nearly every single magical family that owns property. It’s a companion piece to the legislation that Christopher Potter is going to propose for Wizengamot members.”

“You’ll need to make a choice regarding a name for the foundation. Christopher Potter made it clear that you should front it, and I don’t disagree,” Draco said. “It’ll be good for your reputation in the long run. The retreat magic attached to Unspeakables protects us from outright exposure on the job. Even the minister has already forgotten that we work for the DOM. I’m sure he’ll be annoyed all over again if he has to be reminded.”

Harry nodded. “Well, let’s go.”

Outside, he stored the crate and took a deep breath as Ragnok appeared a few meters away from him. The dverger chieftain looked exhausted, and Harry felt bad for it. Though neither one of them was to blame for their current situation, they were the ones having to clean it up. It seemed like Riddle made a habit of making messes that became someone else’s problem.

Ragnok offered him the new shining black ward node, and Harry took it with a nod. “Tyr is available at the bank to handle the wergild today.”

“Was the warder married?”

“Yes, Colk Stonecliff has a widow.”

“Children?”

Ragnok winced. “Four.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I realize it’s your tradition to take all of the family’s financial assets in punishment for such a crime, but I have enough money. And the surviving spouse and children don’t deserve to be made destitute.”

“It’s a deterrent,” Ragnok said. “It teaches a very valuable lesson.”

“It also creates animosity and resentment,” Harry said, and Ragnok frowned at him. “What if you and I reached an agreement—between us—regarding a wergild.”

“You want me to take responsibility for the actions of Colk.” Ragnok looked out over the loch. “It would serve the horde with the queen.”

“Yes.”

Ragnok nodded. “What would you ask of me?”

“A new policy regarding warding packages, both past, and present.” Harry paused when Ragnok raised an eyebrow. “Going forward, the primary warder will make an unbreakable vow on their magic to only create ward keys for the legal property owner. Any dverger that can currently create a ward key for any property on Earth would make this vow. We can hold a press conference, reveal our situation, the wergild I’ve requested and at the same time I will announce that my charitable foundation will offer to pay for anti-intruder wards, provided by the bank, to every magical home that can’t afford to purchase wards on their own.”

“I need a nap,” Ragnok muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “Come late in the afternoon, and Tyr will have everything ready.”

“Of course, sir.” Harry stayed where he was as Ragnok left, then went back into the house and down into the cellar to set the central warding matrix for the property.

He pressed the new node into the matrix and watched it settle, then pulled his wand. Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him close as he pointed his wand at the matrix. They both gave the stone blood and pushed magic into it as the wards resettled completely. He pushed a stream of parselmagic into the stone, making it glow dark green for several moments before he stopped.

“What did you do?” Draco asked curiously.

“I attached a lethal response to the dark mark,” Harry admitted. “And for Voldemort himself. He made a mistake coming here—I know his magical signature now. I didn’t before; I was too young to be able to harvest that kind of information from spell work. I’m going to tailor the intent wards as well, to specifically take note of dark magic in every single person that crosses our ward boundary, invited or not. I want to activate all the punitive elements of the war wards. Does it feel extreme?”

Draco shook his head. “No, I think you’re also having some kind of instinctual response to the intrusion.”

Harry couldn’t discount that, so he just nodded. “Yeah, I think…providing a secure home for you seems very important. If we were already breeding, I’d have probably gone after Riddle last night.”

“Breeding.” Draco huffed when Harry laughed and pressed him against the stone wall.

“I’m really looking forward to breeding you,” Harry murmured against his cheek, hands clenching on Draco’s hips. “Now that I know we can have that safely…it’s a pretty consuming idea.”

“It is,” Draco murmured and curled against him with a little shudder. “Would you still want to carry?”

“Only if it wouldn’t mess with your instincts,” Harry said. “Plus, it must remain an option if there are concerns about your health. We can have as many children as you want, but only if it’s safe to do.”

Draco nodded. “Okay.”

“Let’s go outside and compile a scene report for Amelia Bones. We can use the ICW format and take her into our confidence regarding our status as war mages.”

“It’s a good plan, and we can allow her to add us to her reserve for emergencies outside of our roles as Unspeakables. Being able to support the DMLE going forward is probably a good idea,” Draco said. “We’ll make sure she understands that we should be a last resort.”

“Agreed.”

* * * *

Harry was startled to be greeted by Kingsley Shacklebolt. The sight of the man was infuriating, and he barely pushed down a magical reaction. He realized that Shacklebolt’s crimes in the future were resonating in his magic and in the oath he’d made to Avalon. He’d have to speak with Croaker about it. Hopefully, Shacklebolt would be lured away from public service by Narcissa Black.

“I’ve let Madam Bones know that you’re here, Lord Braemar. Can I arrange tea while you wait?”

“No, Auror Shacklebolt, that won’t be necessary,” Harry said quietly. “Just a place to wait out of the public eye.”

“There’s a small conference room just here,” Kingsley said and motioned them down the short hallway and opened the door. “All the other private spaces would be interrogation rooms, and that wouldn’t be…appropriate.”

“This is fine,” Draco said and took off his cloak. “We came without an appointment and don’t mind waiting as long as necessary.”

Harry walked away from them and looked out the window as Shacklebolt shut the door. The London street below them was busy, people living their lives completely unaware of the megalomaniac getting ready to set the world on fire if he got the chance. In the end, they barely waited five minutes before the door opened, and Amelia Bones entered with very young Sturgis Podmore. It was so bizarre. Harry didn’t know when he was going to get over it. He barely looked old enough to be out of Hogwarts. His badge marked him a junior auror. Bones was probably using him as an administrative assistant.

“Lord Braemar, my apologies for the wait,” Amelia Bones said stiffly. “How can I help you?”

Harry removed the packing crate from his bracelet and put it on the floor near the table. It resized immediately. “Late last night, our property was attacked by Voldemort using a ward key he acquired through bribery. He pushed two Death Eaters and his familiar across our ward boundary and left. The wards were eventually destroyed during the altercation as Ragnok Windrider came to the property due to the betrayal by his employee.” He motioned toward the crate. “We killed the intruders.” He put a piece of parchment on the table. “This morning, I put our property under a Fidelius as I can’t afford to make another mistake with Voldemort.” Podmore was flinching like a child, which was annoying as fuck. “We created a scene report since you won’t be able to travel to the property to review the residual magic left behind.”

She picked up the parchment. “Podmore, leave.”

“But….” The boy trailed off with a nod and quickly left the room.

“My apologies, he’s very young.” Bones unrolled the parchment and reviewed the contents. “This is a…you’re war mages.”

“Yes,” Draco said smoothly. “We’re considered to be in reserve by the ICW but can be activated for work as needed. That’s a circumstance that we’re willing to mirror for the DMLE under limited conditions. You can contact Master Ito to discuss the restrictions on such duties as determined by the ICW.”

She nodded and took a seat so she could review the report. “The Lestrange brothers—they’re both wanted for murder. You’ll receive a thousand galleons in bounty for each of them. The familiar…is a surprise. We didn’t know he had one. Are you certain?”

“The magic on her is clear on that front. She tried to kill Queen Mora, so I had no choice but to kill her,” Harry said. “I promised the citizens of the loch my patronage. Allowing an attack on their leader would’ve been a violation of that promise. She’s in the crate as well, though I believe you should pass her on to a different department for research. She’s not quite right.”

Bones nodded. “I’d rather not be responsible for the body of a pit viper. Their venom, even in death, is a nightmare.” She took a deep breath as she continued to read. “I’m relatively new to this position; I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”

“How can we help?” Draco asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I won’t be blamed for this personally, but people are stressed and still reeling from the death of Albus Dumbledore. He was regarded, by many, as the leader of the light. His loss was an immense blow to the morale of my own people though he never served with us in any capacity.”

“The defeater of Grindelwald,” Harry murmured. “I can see how many would’ve looked to him for leadership and even protection in the years to come. Voldemort has a terrible grip on the country. I expect it will only get worse going forward, no matter the ministry’s response. You can’t control anyone’s fear. We work in secret for the ICW. If that information is forced into the public view, we’ll deal with the consequences. At no point, Madam Bones, should it be implied in any single fashion that we’re hit wizards working for your department.”

She nodded and spread her hands over the parchment as she focused on the report. “The spells you used to create this report are comprehensive in a way that is lacking in the ones my department is currently using. Can those be shared, or are they proprietary to the ICW?”

“I can provide a list of spells and incantations,” Draco said when Harry just shrugged. Ito had given them a crash course on the procedures for his department that had lasted a day, and they’d spent another day reviewing the manuals for field assets so they could work as needed for the organization. “I’m sure Master Ito would be willing to share with you whatever you need, as the international community is expecting you to put an end to the Death Eater threat here in Britain.”

Her fingers trembled briefly as she took a deep breath. “I’m going to do the very best that I can.”

“When I take my seat on the Wizengamot, I’m going to propose that we ask for peacekeepers from the ICW,” Harry said, and her shoulders relaxed. “I believe that Hiro Ito will come here himself. The loss of Dumbledore is going to make many abroad turn their attention our way, and it could make a real difference in the situation that could quickly become a war. I think many just expected him to eventually handle Voldemort as he did Grindelwald. Now, things are different.”

“Very different,” Amelia murmured. “Thank you.” She drew her wand and put a seal of certification on their report, accepting it wholesale with a swish of her wand. “Your status as war mages makes this process much easier than perhaps it should be, but I won’t complain.” She stood. “Also, feel free to kill as many Death Eaters as you can.”

Harry just nodded because he fully intended to, and she was the fourth person to tell him he could. It was starting to feel like a calling.

* * * *

They were in the midst of destroying the bones of Tom Riddle’s relatives in Little Hangleton when an owl from the bank found them. He finished the disintegration spell he was directing down into the grave of Voldemort’s paternal grandfather and stowed his wand so he could give the pretty barn owl his attention. She offered him a letter and endured being petted for several moments before leaving.

Draco joined him, wiping his brow. “I think that’s all of them. I should feel a little creepy, right?”

“Well,” Harry began with a shrug. “Destroying dead bodies isn’t exactly the most respectful thing we could do in a cemetery, but it could be worse. At least we aren’t digging them up and using their bones in dark rituals.” He opened the letter and scanned the contents with a laugh, then set it on fire; he held it until basically nothing was left and ended the spell.

“What was it?”

“The most recent location of Fenrir Greyback,” Harry said. “Wanna hunt an evil werewolf, darling?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Draco said. “That fucker is the worst.”

Harry offered his hand to Draco and apparated them even as he brought his mate close. They landed in the Forbidden Forrest as he’d known they would based on the coordinates. The fact that Greyback had been lingering in the forest meant he was probably trying to make contact with Remus Lupin. The older, near-feral werewolf didn’t accept the loss of a potential follower easily. Also, Harry was sure that Remus attending Hogwarts was presenting a very tempting situation for Greyback and Voldemort.

“There was a full moon last night,” Draco murmured. “He must have been here trying to see if Remus was allowed to wander around the forest.”

“The scry report didn’t include motivations, but I would agree.” Harry took a deep breath. He deeply resented the man that Remus Lupin had turned out to be and was relieved not to have seen him as a young man. “Can I save them from themselves?”

“I don’t know, but you can certainly save them from Voldemort,” Draco said. “Pettigrew will never have the opportunity to be pressured into joining the Death Eaters. Lupin won’t spend decades being influenced by Dumbledore. James and Lily won’t be murdered by Voldemort. Sirius won’t be thrown into Azkaban for Pettigrew’s crimes.” He took a deep breath. “As to the rest of their lives, we can’t manage any of that for them. Any little change we make will ripple out around us in ways that we can’t account for. The Order of the Phoenix is in disarray right now because of Dumbledore’s death. Everyone who originally died in that organization now has a new fate entirely.”

It was hard to account for, so he just nodded and drew his wand. “Let’s track his path and see where he went after he left here.” His hood shifted around him in response to the work, and he knew Draco’s had done the same.

Greyback was a brute, unconcerned with leaving magical traces behind. They knew that because scrying wouldn’t work on a savvy wizard who maintained magical boundaries within themselves. Harry had learned to protect and guard his own magic during the war, as it hadn’t taken long for Hermione to figure out they could be tracked if they were messy with the residual magic they were leaving behind.

Harry followed what looked like a chase for half a kilometer. Draco was drifting in the same direction, tracking spell work. The fact that Greyback could use his wand while transformed spoke to a great deal of control and genuine acceptance of his cursed state. It was startling information to have and nothing he’d known in the future. Greyback had died during the final battle, so he’d never had to deal with the werewolf as an adult.

The trail ended for him just as Draco reached his side.

“Well?”

“He was casting tracking spells and location spells leading up to moonrise,” Draco said. “He killed a deer and ate most of it around midnight—used magic to harvest and cook the meat from the animal. So he’s putting on a bit of a front on the whole feral front. His ability to use a wand while transformed speaks to a level of control that is astounding but not necessarily a surprise for a werewolf of his age. His apparition was sloppy as fuck, and the spell residue left behind will allow us to follow him since he’s the only person to apparate out of this immediate area in more than a decade.”

“Magicals are lazy,” Harry said and shrugged when Draco frowned at him. “I doubt he bothered to learn any magical theory and probably doesn’t know he can be tracked if he’s sloppy with his spellcraft. Alternatively, he is aware and is so arrogant, he can’t be bothered to give a fuck.”

“He’s an ignorant bastard,” Draco muttered. “Greyback was often at the house during the war, and my mother was petrified of him. He didn’t care at all and seemed to be amused by the idea of terrifying a woman in her own home. My father did nothing to curb the behavior. It was infuriating.”

“Then let’s go make sure he never gets the chance to terrorize anyone else ever again,” Harry murmured.

Draco performed a forensic spell to reveal the apparition destination. Harry studied the coordinates, nodded, and pulled Draco into his arms even as his partner disillusioned them both. He apparated them as silently as he could. They appeared in front of a small cottage in Wales. A quick scan confirmed the isolation and lack of a single neighbor for several kilometers in every direction.

“Ancestral property?”

“If it is, it’s been hidden by someone in the ministry,” Draco said. “Greyback has been wanted dead or alive for two decades at this point.”

Harry cast several spells—checking for wards, notification charms, and intruder traps. He found nothing, which was a little confounding, so he performed the spells again.

“You’re looking for magic that a creature like Greyback would’ve never been taught,” Draco murmured. “He has no formal education as his parents were werewolves. Rumor has it that he was turned shortly before his tenth birthday by his own father. Apparition is probably the only advanced magical spell he knows. He can’t cast any of the Unforgivables and favored piercing charms in combat.” Draco paused. “Well, no, he favored his own claws and was prone to physical brawling no matter how often he got lectured for it. Also, I watched him take a crucio for five minutes once without making a single sound. He’s not immune, but his pain tolerance is shocking even for a werewolf.”

“He probably has extensive nerve damage from repeated transformations for decades,” Harry murmured and picked up a rock. It was hilarious as it appeared to be floating in the air due to their disillusionment.

“What are you….” Draco trailed off as Harry threw the rock. The small window on the front of the cottage shattered. “Who doesn’t spell their damn windows unbreakable?”

Greyback stormed out of the cottage, no wand in evidence, claws already on display. Harry briefly considered transforming into his dragon form and ripping the old bastard to pieces, as he had so many people over the years. Instead, he just lifted his wand and sent a chain of silent piercing charms at the werewolf. Every single one hit, one directly in the center of his forehead.

“Check for apparitions,” Harry murmured. “He’s probably apparated repeatedly to wherever Voldemort is.”

“It’ll be an unplottable property, and access will be decided by magical signature,” Draco said.

“Granted, but that probably just means that Greyback has apparated to the damn property line of the place and then crossed over into whatever wards there are,” Harry pointed out. “I doubt anyone, but Voldemort is allowed to apparate directly into whatever safe house they’re currently using.” He walked toward the body. “Stop giving me that look.”’

“You can’t even see my face,” Draco protested. “And I’m allowed to be frustrated by your infuriating but accurate conclusions.”

“It’s not my fault logic is a bleeding mystery for nearly all magical people,” Harry muttered and went to check the body. He didn’t expect Greyback to have survived a piercing charm straight through his brain, but he was going to check to make sure.

By the time he was satisfied with the level of death Greyback had, Draco had returned to him.

“I’ve made a list of locations—they’re all the homes of men we know to be Death Eaters. Greyback most often visits Amycus Carrow, who was marked about a year ago. Riddle is probably moving between the homes to prevent being captured,” Draco said. “Greyback’s also visited the Rosier estate twice in the past month. Evan Rosier certainly lives there, but I don’t know much about Balthazar Rosier other than he was Tom Riddle’s husband. He could be in that home or in the family townhouse. I visited that townhouse once during the war. Bellatrix had access to it since her mother was a Rosier.”

“There are three brothers, right?”

“Balthazar, Evan, and Felix—unsure if their parents are still alive at this point. I need to dedicate some time to that research. Felix will sort to Slytherin in 1980. Balthazar and Evan both died originally in 1979. After Hogwarts, Felix became a dragonkeeper,” Draco said. “He avoided the Death Eaters during the second war and seemed to disdain anything to do with Riddle.”

“Then we should make sure both of his brothers die,” Harry said. “So that kid doesn’t have to grow up in that kind of fucked up environment.” He stared at the body and flicked out a piece of parchment to write a note.

Draco took the parchment and pulled out a self-inking quill. “Get a knife out of his kitchen.”

Harry summoned the knife while Draco jotted a note. He slapped the note on the corpse, and Harry used magic to shove the knife into the body, effectively pinning the note into place.

“I’m going to send him to the Rosier estate,” Draco said. “Portus.”

A spell shot out of thin air and hit the knife.

The portkey activated immediately and jerked away from them in a flash of magic.

“Let’s go home,” Draco said quietly. “Mora will want to speak to you.”

* * * *

Draco watched Harry leave the water and stride naked up the shore to where he was sitting.

“How is she?”

“Better than me,” Harry admitted as he pulled on a dressing gown. “Physically, she has some muscle strain and a few broken scales. She refused treatment from both me and the merpeople. It’s nothing that won’t heal on its own, but she’s just being stubborn about it. I met both of her daughters.” He looked out over the water as he sat down on the boulder Draco had been sitting on since Harry had gone into the water. “I explained to her who and what Nagini was.” He took a deep breath. “Mora was very disturbed by Nagini’s magical circumstances. She asked me if Riddle specifically attacked her people or if it was merely a distraction for me.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I didn’t know for certain, but if it was a distraction, it didn’t work the way Riddle would have wanted. I explained that separating you and I hadn’t made either one of us less of a threat but that maybe Riddle would’ve thought it would.” Harry frowned. “I think Slughorn was right, you know. Tom Riddle is immensely jealous of me because of our soulmate bond and probably the title.”

“You think I was the target,” Draco said.

“I can’t think of any other reason he’d have seen the Lestrange brothers here,” Harry said. “Maybe it’s about my political potential. But we can’t ignore in the future that he saw something in you, even as a teenager, that he wanted.”

Draco grimaced, but he couldn’t disagree.

“I think at this point in his life, he’d lean toward destroying someone who distracted him from his marriage,” Harry said. “The fact that you’re utterly unavailable as well would probably make him more likely to have you killed.”

It did seem likely, and that made Draco deeply uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his hair and stood. “Come inside. You should check our circle to make sure the intrusion and ward destruction didn’t cause any instability.”

“Yeah,” Harry said and drew out an herbal from his bracelet. “Give me a few minutes?”

Draco sighed but nodded. “I’m going to check on Hedwig.”

“She’s in the owlery,” Harry said. “Kaiser brought her food. I think he’s pretty much decided she’s his chick, too. He’s going to be really disappointed in her growth.”

Draco laughed. “Shut up.”

He walked away as Harry lit the cigarillo. The smell was lovely, but he hated the habit and didn’t want to stick around. He knew he’d end up lecturing Harry about it, which only made the man smoke more. Once inside, he went up the owlery and found that Kaiser had, in fact, put Hedwig in the nest his daughter was in. The owlet seemed to be enduring the situation in a good-natured fashion. Draco was certain it had more to do with the food on offer than the paternal attention. Magical snowy owls left the nest as soon as they could and were known to be very independent.

By the time he got back down to the kitchen, Harry was in the room making a cottage pie. Draco only knew that because he’d watched his partner make that particular meal often, and Harry gravitated toward it when he was upset. It was clearly a comfort food, and since Draco really enjoyed it, he had no complaints. He poured wine for them both and sat down at the table with his work journal.

“What did you write on the note?” Harry questioned as he put the cottage pie in the oven.

“A gift for Balthazar,” Draco said, and Harry focused on him, eyes wide. He took a sip of wine. “Because I agree, Riddle did send the Lestrange brothers in my direction. They were either ordered to kill or capture me. If capture was the goal, then he’s worried about your political potential and wanted to neutralize you.”

“How will they take your message?” Harry questioned.

“Certainly as a threat which was my intention,” Draco said. “I mean, he could consider it more of a courting gesture. I can’t say for certain since I’ve never met Balthazar Rosier. Riddle will be furious either way, and that was the goal.”

Harry nodded. “I’m going to take a shower. The food will be ready by the time I’m finished. How do you feel about writing the report on Greyback for Croaker?”

“I drafted one while you were in the loch,” Draco admitted. “I have a few things to wrap up. You can read it after dinner and add your own thoughts then we can create a final for submission.”

“Sounds good,” Harry murmured and stopped to press a soft kiss to Draco’s mouth before leaving the kitchen.

The casual affection still startled him, and Draco figured that he probably needed to invest himself in unpacking how he responded to affection and intimacy. He certainly didn’t have any good examples of what a healthy relationship could be growing up. Draco frowned and took a deep drink from his wine glass, and pulled out the draft of the report he’d started. He put it on the empty side of the table and refilled his glass.

He wondered how Croaker would respond to how quickly Harry had taken action regarding the attack and the death of Greyback.

 

Chapter 18

The ritual circle in the cellar of the peel was glowing gently with magic. It felt powerful, safe, and inviting. Draco had little to no personal experience with rituals. He had a lot of knowledge from his legacy orb, which was more about investigative work than actual participation. The ceremony they had chosen was deceptively simple in the language but deeply complicated magically. The exchange of gifts was central to the ceremony, and that was blood magic.

Harry was already in the circle, naked. One of the more interesting things about his mate was that Harry rarely ever looked vulnerable. His power radiated off of him, and being naked seemed to be no concern to him at all. Magical society was very restrictive in some ways, concerned with covering themselves up and pretending the world has not advanced beyond the Victorian age. Fashion was very stagnant in Britain, which he had to admit was a comfort in their current circumstances as it had made adjusting to time travel easier in some way. Draco couldn’t really explain it.

“What are you thinking about?”

Draco focused on him. “Fashion.”

Harry laughed. “Come here.”

He held out a hand, and Draco shed the dressing gown he’d been wearing since they started setting up the ritual. Draco picked up the two vials of potion they had left to take. Over the course of the day, he’d dosed them with strengthening potions that had fortified their magic. The last one was a stamina booster that would allow them to take the vows, accept the communion, and exchange gifts.

Harry drew him into the circle as soon as Draco’s fingers laced with his and pulled him close. “Are you sure about the vows?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Draco questioned.

“They’re relatively simple,” Harry murmured. “Will they satisfy your instincts?” He used his free hand to press against Draco’s heart. “Because I will give you everything I have to give.”

“I know that already,” Draco said. “And I don’t need an unbreakable vow to have faith in you, Harry. You’ve nothing to prove to me.” He took a deep breath when Harry took his other hand and held tight. “You said we’d make our family in this circle. But, love, we already are a family. You and me.”

Harry trembled, and his eyes dampened with tears. “Kneel with me.”

Draco went down on his knees with his mate, and magic heaved around them. Harry released his hands, cupped his hips, then pulled their bodies tight together.

“I love you,” Harry said hoarsely against Draco’s cheek. “I will love you all of my days for as long as my soul exists.”

“Our soul,” Draco murmured and curled his fingers into Harry’s hair as he held his mate close. “We two are one.”

“I, Hadrian Cadmus Peverell, do swear upon my magic to take Draconis Lemaire Peverell as my husband and mate. I shall forsake all others in this life for as long as he may live. I promise to provide for him and our children to the best of my abilities for as long as I live. His burdens will be my burdens, his joys my joys, and his pleasures my pleasures. So mote it be.”

The vow pressed on Draco’s magic. For a moment, he was startled by the power and weight of it, but he let it sink into him, and he took a deep breath.

“I, Draconis Lemaire Peverell, do swear upon my magic to take Hadrian Cadmus Peverell as my husband and mate. I shall forsake all others in this life for as long as he may live. I take him as the father of my children and accept him just as he is, no matter the path he is made to walk. His burdens will be my burdens, his joys my joys, and his pleasures my pleasures. So mote it be.”

Harry shuddered against him briefly, and they separated. Draco held out his hand, and fire leapt from his palm.

“Take this fire from my hand and use it as your own all of your days,” Draco murmured, and Harry closed his hand over his palm. “Participes magicae.”

Fire swirled around them as Harry’s magic accepted the gift. It swept away when their communion deepened.

“The magic of the serpent is woven into the fabric of our world—it gives us strength, healing, and finds order in the chaos of our magical existence. Take parselcraft into your body and hold it with pure intent and a good heart.” Harry cupped the back of Draco’s head and pressed their mouths together. “Participes magicae.”

Draco groaned as Harry’s magic sank into his body and something ancient stirred in his core.

“Magicae communionis,” Harry said, and magic swelled around them.

Draco took a deep breath as Harry eased him onto his back. The communion magic embraced them, sank into their bodies, and Draco arched up off the floor as Harry filled his cunt with one deep thrust. They’d discussed it, of course. Harry never, ever assumed he was welcome to take him without permission. He especially took great care with vaginal penetration as it was new for them.

He loved it—being fucked and didn’t really care which hole his partner wanted to fill up with his big, thick cock. Draco had never had a lover like his mate, and maybe that was part of the draw, part of the compatibility that made Harry his mate as much as it made him the other part of his soul. Or maybe it was the love because he loved Harry so much that it was consuming. Even acknowledging it had made him feel new, untried, even as he’d labored under the intense burden of the dark mark. But now, all of that was gone, and it was just them—just their love, their desire for one another, and the future they made for themselves.

Draco came between one thrust and the next, spilling all over his stomach even as his cunt clenched down on Harry’s thick cock. Harry groaned against his mouth and took in a deep, ragged breath as he continued to move. He jerked and ground in with a roll of his hips as Draco wrapped his arms and legs around him.

Harry kissed him, soft and sweet, as he relaxed against him. The magic curled around them and continued to flow through their bodies as the communion spell came to an end. The ritual circle grew warm as the ritual closed in on itself.

“Blessed are we who bow before Hekate, the beloved lady of magic,” Harry murmured as he trailed a series of kisses down Draco’s jaw. “Let this circle be open but forever unbroken.”

* * * *

The portkey deposited them on a small island in the South Pacific, four hundred nautical miles off the shore of Peru. It was just two square miles of land and in the center of it was a sprawling single-story home that boasted ten bedrooms. The house wasn’t as important as the location. Harry knew that magical construction could be done easily enough and that whole houses could be moved with magic.

The island had been made unplottable for over a hundred years before and had been sold to the bank by an American shortly after the second world war. Only one dverger from the original warding team was alive, and he’d already made an unbreakable vow regarding the creation of ward keys for any property he had warding knowledge of. They’d bought it merely for those circumstances alone, and Ragnok had sealed the purchase to hide it indefinitely. Harry cast the Fidelius and held fast to Draco as he revealed the location to his mate. When Draco relaxed, he released him and took a deep breath.

“Let’s walk the house, and we’ll decide how to furnish it in the future. I don’t see a real need to rush. We should probably set up at least one bedroom and update the kitchen. I need several hours to alter the wards to the point that no one can create a ward key for it.”

“You don’t trust the vows you’ve asked of the Horde?” Draco questioned.

“This is our sanctuary,” Harry said. “Your place of refuge if the worst happens. I need to know that if you have to retreat here with our children that no one can follow you in any single way. I’ll make permanent port keys as well for us to use that will only work with our magical signatures.”

“I’ll create a set of plans for the house and start thinking about furniture while you handle that,” Draco decided and checked his watch. “I’d like to return to Britain before dinner since we have to attend Ragnok’s press conference first thing in the morning.”

Harry nodded as he looked around. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It is,” Draco agreed. “Make sure the ward boundary is pushed out into the water so we’ll have room to swim and stuff without worrying about predators.”

“It’s supposed to be a mile out in every direction,” Harry said. “I’ll confirm it before I start reworking the elements I want to focus on. I want to include lethal elements for forceful intrusions. Thoughts?”

“It would be a relief,” Draco admitted, and Harry nodded.

The house was lovely, inside and out, and under a very strong preservation charm. Harry kind of wanted to meet the wizard who’d done the work, but it was a fleeting thought as Ragnok was fairly certain the previous owner had already passed. They removed the preservation work and worked their way through the house, checking the cleaning and pest control charms. Harry went to the office to start working with the ward stone while Draco worked on the house plans.

* * * *

When they returned to Britain, they had a letter from Roman Banner requesting a meeting on Saturday afternoon in Hogsmeade. It didn’t take much thinking for him to realize that it would be a weekend that the kids from Hogwarts were running amok through the village. He sent back a response agreeing to meet for a late lunch the day in question and invited Armand Deering and his wife to dinner when Kaiser had made the first trip quickly enough.

He spent the few hours before dinner adding an access book to the wards of the property to further restrict visitors, but he was fine with that. He knew it was going to get out that two Death Eaters had died trying to attack their home. He added Jonah McGregor, Minerva McGonagall, Dorcas Meadowes, Roman Banner, Armand Deering, and Patrice Delacour. After some consideration, he added the children as well—Walker and Quintin Deadmarsh, then Thaddeus Banner. He’d suggest their parents provide emergency portkeys for all three boys.

Draco leaned on the desk and glanced over the list, and hummed under his breath. “It’s going to be so weird meeting wee versions of the Deadmarsh brothers.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I know. I need to go to the kitchen and put my back into a meal. I want to impress Patrice.” He stood even as Draco laughed. “Don’t make fun of me. This is important. Also, I think Thaddeus is going to be ten times worse than both Walker and Quintin combined. At least neither one of them was ever the boss of us.”

“Oh, right.” Draco grimaced. “Gods, that’s going to be awful.”

“Thoughts on dinner?”

“She probably cooks a lot of French food. So, why not surprise her with something different?” Draco questioned.

Harry nodded and did a mental review of the groceries they had in the kitchen. He didn’t think he’d have to go to the store, but he wasn’t all that opposed to going to the market since the Snatchbottom sisters were entertaining each in their own way. He decided that calamari would be the starter. It was a popular staple with veela, and the battered version would go well with paella. Because if he wasn’t going to have France on his table for dinner, then he might as well invite Spain. Paella was a favorite of Draco’s, so that would work to comfort his mate if the guests were a bad idea so soon after the intrusion.

He was prepping the paella when Armand’s acceptance arrived. Kaiser dropped the letter on the table then walked out of the kitchen very much like a toddler in a bird suit. It was never going to be normal. Harry refused to get used to that crazy bird. When he’d sent off the letter, he’d taken Hedwig out of the nest and brought her downstairs to put on the perch in the kitchen. She’d accepted the transfer with no complaints.

Harry glanced her way as he picked up the letter. She was dozing on the perch, and it was adorable as fuck. The note was a quick yes with a note that his wife would like to bring dessert. Harry struck that off his list of things to do though he hadn’t planned to do anything complicated, and pulled two bottles of white wine to breathe. By the time he had the paella on, Draco was setting the table with the formal dishes versus the stoneware. They didn’t have a dining room set up, so they always ate in the kitchen. He didn’t think Armand or Patrice would mind.

“When we expand, a dining room will be on the list.”

Draco hummed. “It will be necessary, but I believe serving family and friends at the kitchen table will be your preference more often than not. Formal dining rooms aren’t intimate and seem to bring out the worst sort of stifled behavior in people that will put you off entirely.”

“Yeah, probably. I don’t have great memories around meals at home. The first time I ever really remember enjoying eating at a table was at Hogwarts,” Harry admitted and shrugged when Draco huffed a little under his breath. “It is what it is, Dragon. I’ve moved on from my childhood and taken all the lessons I needed on that front with me. It’s all I can really do.”

Draco nodded. “What does Patrice Delacour know about us?”

“She knows that I told Armand there was going to be an attempt on her life because he blurted it out at the scene due to agitation. She didn’t have a name until later and doesn’t know the specific circumstances of how I knew about Lucius’ intentions. And she knows that I accepted the Deering family into the house of Peverell, of course. Armand has decided not to tell her about the time travel as he’d rather her not dwell on the fact that she was murdered so young the first time around, and the burden of the secret itself is a lot.”

Draco nodded. “I kind of wish I didn’t know.”

Harry laughed because he felt the same.

* * * *

Patrice Delacour was one of the most beautiful women that Harry had ever seen in his life. She smelled like some elusive flower one might find in a rainforest and had, in fact, kissed him right on the mouth the moment they were introduced. She’d brought a decadent dark chocolate tart for dessert, and Harry barely refrained from suggesting they just skip the food.

“Your home is lovely,” Patrice said warmly as they gathered at the table. “Armand warned me that you’d barely arrived in Britain.”

“You expected cots and a single rug?” Draco asked with a grin, and she laughed.

Harry poured the wine and put the calamari on the table. Armand made a noise of approval, so he was glad he’d made a lot. He personally loved squid, so sometimes they ate it as a main, and it ended up in every single seafood-themed soup or rice dish he made.

“The wards feel strong,” Armand said as Harry sat. “I noted that you’d gone in a lethal direction for intrusions.”

“Well, I expect it to be a deterrent,” Harry said. “Having two Death Eaters visit us in the middle of the night was rather annoying. Also, I agreed to be the patron of the loch, and it comes with a special sort of magical burden.”

“Mora must be so pleased with your attention,” Patrice said. “The Veela Council will be relieved to know that she has a voice in Britain now. The British don’t have a positive history regarding creature rights.”

“Or even human rights,” Draco said dryly. “This country is entrenched in the past in a lot of ways, and it’s not a compliment in a single way. It’s startling how quaint they think they are while they wear their bigotry like a bespoke suit.”

“I think you’re going to surprise a lot of people,” Patrice said with a small smile. “I look forward to watching the show.” She picked up her wine. “Now, Hadrian, can you tell me how you knew Lucius Malfoy intended to kill me?”

“No, ma’am,” Harry admitted. “I was relieved, however, to pass the information along in a timely fashion. My husband and I came here to Britain because of my title. Confidentially, we are war mages for the ICW and will work on a reserve basis for the rest of our lives. It was nice to connect with Armand as I believed I had no close family after my parents passed.”

“Quintin and Walker are looking forward to meeting you,” Patrice said. “James Potter and Sirius Black have bragged about being introduced to you both far and wide amongst the other students. The press coverage of your title claiming and arrival in Britain has been a bit lurid.”

“Yes, the Daily Prophet is a nightmare,” Harry said. “Christopher Potter has suggested I purchase it with him in a consortium effort. I’m considering a charity foundation, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in running the whole thing for the house of Peverell?”

“Yes, of course, I’d love that,” Patrice said. “I have a healer’s license and worked as a mind healer for decades, but I’ve stayed home with Quintin and Walker since we assumed custody. I would welcome something to fill my day now that they’re older and both at Hogwarts. What are your long-reaching plans?”

“A magical primary school will be the central focus of the foundation, and Adele Potter will probably be instrumental in the creation of that. I’ll be working with Gringotts to provide security and intrusion wards for magical homes families who can’t afford them on their own. I’d like to also tackle various social justice topics—employment laws, anti-Muggle laws that are clearly designed to prevent advancement, innovation, and the like. There are also a lot of disgusting laws on the books in Britain that are designed to subjugate women, especially half-blood and Muggle-born women. Pure-bloods have a lot of policies in place to make things easier for them while everyone else pays for it in some fashion or another.”

“That sounds ambitious, probably scandalous, and exciting,” Patrice admitted. “I’d be thrilled to take part.”

“It sounds like you intend to piss off a lot of pure-bloods,” Armand said dryly. “So, of course, I’d love to participate as well. Though I suppose my image might be a detraction.”

“They’ll get used to it,” Harry said. “I want to be a force for change in this country because my primary goal is to open the door to Avalon.” He focused on Patrice. “And take the worthy home with me.”

“Who will decide who is worthy?” Patrice questioned.

“I’d never presume to control such a thing—it will be Avalon’s choice.” Harry took a sip of wine. “In the end, we all must stand before Zirnitra and face his judgment. Hekate’s gifts are often taken for granted by our kind, and there must be a reckoning.”

Patrice hummed under her breath and smiled. “You’re so lovely.”

Draco laughed as Harry blushed.

* * * *

“Lord Braemar! A quick question?”

Harry exchanged a look with Ragnok, who had announced the warding offer along with the new vows that warders for the bank would be undertaking for new and old work. The crowd had clearly been stunned but also curious and excited. He knew he’d be opening the floodgates if he agreed to a single question, but they’d gone over the various questions that might be asked and had agreed that he would appear reluctant but willing to speak.

He stepped forward, and the podium that Ragnok used resized without a hitch to his height. He made a face at the device, which made several reporters in the crowd laugh. “I am willing to answer questions regarding the charity foundation I’m in the midst of creating with Lord Potter and Lord Black. As nobles, we believe it is our duty to society to give when and where we can.”

“Will you answer questions about the two men you murdered?” one man asked boldly from the front row.

“I’ve never murdered anyone in my entire life,” Harry said evenly. “But if you are speaking of the Lestrange brothers, they were killed on my property for violating my wards with malicious intent. Since your education appears to be lacking, murder is defined by the ICW as the unlawful taking of a human life. They were marked Death Eaters, and it’s not illegal to kill a Death Eater, nor is it murder to kill in self-defense. I have it on good authority that I can kill as many of them as I’d like. I’m considering taking it up as a hobby.” He watched as shock and no small amount of horror drifted over the faces of several reporters. “Because the fact is that the only good Death Eater is a dead one.”

Beside him, Ragnok coughed into his hand, and Tyr Warhide sucked air noisily between his teeth.

He looked around the crowd. “Next question?”

“The goblins warded your home. How can you expect—”

“Watch your mouth,” Harry snapped, and his aura flared before he could help himself. “Do not ever use such bigoted language in my presence again as long as you live.”

The man paled, eyes wide with shock. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, Lord Braemar, but per treaty….”

He trailed off when Harry raised a hand.

“Just stop. I don’t care about a hundred-year-old treaty that you think gives you the right to be a disgusting racist piece of shite in public. If you can’t bring yourself to be a decent person, then leave my presence immediately.” Harry cleared his throat when the man averted his gaze. “As to the wards on my home. Yes, they were created and set by a team of dverger. But the wards did warn me of the breach the moment it happened. My husband and I had time to respond, which is honestly all that I needed. It’s what most people need in Britain—a chance to defend themselves or to evacuate to safety. That’s why I’ve agreed to pay for warding for magical homes that cannot afford basic safety precautions.

“As to my own home, I’ve updated my wards—the next time some dark bastard tries to cross my ward line without an invitation is going to get himself torn limb from limb. I’ll be sure to take his parts to the DMLE for disposal. Next question.”

“Speaking of your husband, where is he?”

“None of your business,” Harry said, and Tyr laughed. “Next question.”

“When can we expect Draconis to make a public appearance?”

“When he feels like it,” Harry said evenly. “The Consort of Braemar does not owe any of you his time or attention.” The woman who asked the question sent him a pouty look. “Next question.”

“When will you start negotiating a marriage contract for a countess?” she asked quickly.

“Never,” Harry said simply. “Women are lovely, of course, but I have no need for a wife.” He watched the information settle on the crowd. “I married my soulmate, and he is magically a full veela. As his mate, my first duty is to him. It would be profoundly unfair and borderline abusive to attempt to bring a third into our marriage. I’d never try. Let’s move on from personal questions.” He raised an eyebrow when she started to speak. “I mean it, ma’am. All of you can consider my marriage, my husband, and our future children completely off limits during such unfortunate circumstances as this one.”

“Are you concerned that people will think you’re a dark wizard for killing two Death Eaters?”

“No.”

“Just…no?” The man questioned. “Even if you don’t consider it murder, many will, Lord Braemar. Some believe that any act that takes a life is dark.”

“I can’t control what anyone thinks or says about me,” Harry said evenly. “Magically, I’m a grey wizard as defined by the International Confederation of Wizards. The distinction doesn’t concern me, and I certainly won’t let it define me or my goals. Some people have very simplistic opinions regarding magic and the use of it. I believe myself fortunate to have a thorough magical education, and I know that nothing about magic is simple.”

“What will you call your charity organization?”

Harry hesitated because he hadn’t really thought about it and hadn’t asked Potter or Black what they might want for the name. He cleared his throat. “The Phoenix Consortium.”

Fawkes, the immense drama king that he was, took that moment to appear and land on the podium. Harry barely refrained from rolling his eyes as he heard Dumbledore’s name said several times in the crowd. He stared pointedly at the bird, and Fawkes sang cheerfully in return, then flamed away.

“Why is Dumbledore’s familiar with you?” a man demanded.

Harry frowned. “A phoenix can’t be made someone’s familiar, sir. It’s literally impossible. At most, they will agree to be someone’s companion, but even that sort of relationship is rare as they are eternal creatures who have little use for magical people. Fawkes is the steward of Hogwarts. That is an internationally known fact. Such magical creatures watch over schools all over the world. Ilvermorny’s steward is a griffin, for instance. Since I intend to create an endowment fund for Hogwarts within the Phoenix Consortium, it’s not a surprise that Fawkes is paying attention.” He waved a hand. “But it’s not my job to educate you, so let’s move on.”

* * * *

IS THE EARL OF BRAEMAR THE NEW LEADER OF THE LIGHT?

“Son of a bitch,” Harry muttered and tossed the Daily Prophet on Draco’s desk in their home office.

Draco laughed. “They just decided to skip over that whole murdering dark wizard shite?” He picked up the paper and spread it out on the table. “The Wizarding Times took up the whole page defining magic and murder per the standards of the ICW.”

“Well, that lurid shite paper was never going to try to educate anyone,” Harry muttered. “What does it say?”

“Apparently, you confessed to killing the Lestrange brothers in self-defense and that you were clearly regretful for the loss of life,” Draco said in amusement. “Then it outlines your agreement with the bank to offer security wards for low-income magical homes. There are a few questions about what an endowment fund would mean for Hogwarts. They have quotes from Christopher Potter and Arcturus Black. Can’t say how accurate they are, but both are positive in regards to you and the consortium effort the three of you will undertake.”

“Let’s send both papers the essay on Tom Riddle,” Harry said. “We’ll let them know that they’ve both received a copy and see if that makes a difference concerning the Prophet’s reporting. I’ve asked Razel regarding the purchase of the paper, and there are several owners. The ministry has a ten percent stake in the paper which is infuriating and only barely legal. We should plant a story in the Times about that circumstance and see how the public responds.”

Draco nodded and made a few notes in his journal. “Let’s do some shopping this afternoon on Diagon Alley.”

Harry grimaced. “Why? We have enough stuff.”

“You know why,” Draco said. “I’d rather not have my first public appearance in Britain be in the Wizengamot. Moreover, we don’t actually have enough stuff. Our current wardrobes are barely sufficient for winter, and we have nothing for spring or summer. Also, shopping locally is part of what will build your image and make you more personable, which you know very well.”

“If you’re going to lecture me, come sit on my lap,” Harry said and patted his leg. He laughed when Draco huffed dramatically, but his husband stood and crossed the room to slide into his lap.

They had two big chairs by the fire for reading, and Harry preferred to sit in one versus the desk that had been arranged for him. He pressed his face against Draco’s neck and inhaled deeply.

“Did we ever pay Arnou back for the clothes he brought us?” Harry questioned.

“I tried, but Dorcas had already reimbursed him from department funds,” Draco said and ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. “She said it was the least of what we were owed, and I didn’t try to argue with her. It’s honestly hard to argue with her on any topic, and it’s not all to do with the fate she had the first time around.”

“She’s compelling and competent,” Harry said. “Her influence over the DOM will be immense in the years to come.”

“She reminds me of you,” Draco admitted. “And that was probably true for Croaker in the future as well. You move in your magic in a way that is hard to ignore and even harder to fully explain.”

“It wouldn’t be your first public appearance. We went to lunch with Arcturus and Christopher.”

“Precious few people recognized us, and we apparated out of the Leaky Cauldron after lunch that day,” Draco pointed out. “The Wizengamot will be different, and I can assume it will be very crowded. People will think me weak and coddled if I don’t appear in public with and without you.” He pressed a kiss to Harry’s mouth. “And that would make me a hard target for a certain kind. You must demonstrate a great deal of confidence in me, darling.”

“I am utterly convinced you could take out every single magical adult in Britain if given time and the room to move,” Harry said, and he meant it. Draco was a force of nature and immensely powerful in his own right. “I feel selfish for this, but I’ve never wanted to share you with anyone. A very small part of me worries that I might find it difficult to share you with a child.”

“You won’t,” Draco assured.

“How can you be so certain?” Harry questioned because it was a worry. He knew he’d love his children, but there was a doubt wiggling around in the back of his mind.

“Because you want a family and you have so much capacity to love that our children will want for nothing, least of all your attention. Right now, I’m your central focus because, no matter the adoptions, you feel as if I’m all you have.” Draco kissed him again, and Harry couldn’t help but tighten his hands on his mate. “I’m going to give you a beautiful family, Harry. I promise.”

“If you want to go shopping, we should go now, or else you’ll spend the rest of the afternoon flat on your back taking my cock,” Harry said.

Draco laughed. “Stop making that sound like a threat.”

“I don’t feel the marriage bond the way I thought I would,” Harry admitted and flushed when Draco raised an eyebrow.

“It’s overwhelmed and entwined with our mate bond, which is where it was most compatible,” Draco said. “Come, let’s go. I have a shopping list.”

“Of course you do,” Harry muttered darkly.

An hour later, he found himself sitting in a chair in a tailor shop, watching Draco get fitted for a new suit. He’d gone first and was due a dark red suit, very much like a favored one he’d had in the other timeline.

“Tea, sir?”

Harry looked up for the journal and found the tailor’s apprentice hovering near him. “No, but thank you.” He checked his watch and focused on the draft he was creating of the letter he intended to send to the Wizarding Times.

“Coffee?”

Harry focused on the young man and found him flushed and fidgeting. “I require nothing. We’ll be having a late lunch elsewhere after the fitting. Can you recommend a good Indian place?”

“Not on the Alley, my Lord. But there is a place two blocks down from the Leaky Cauldron that is very good. It’s called Dishoom,” he explained.

Harry loved Dishoom but had never bothered to find out when the café had been established. He was relieved to hear that it was already in business. “Your name?”

“Brian Diggory,” he said.

Harry considered that. He didn’t know much about the Diggory family and actively avoided Amos Diggory after the war. He wondered how the young man was related to the family but didn’t know who to ask.

“We’re comfortable being in the Muggle world,” Harry said. “Thank you for the recommendation.”

Brian flushed brightly and left. Harry focused on Draco and found his mate staring at him, so he shrugged. Draco sighed and focused on the tailor. “I’d prefer sterling silver buttons for the waistcoat, Mr. Hopper. And the dragonhide lining should be certified as humanely harvested. We don’t buy anything else.”

Hopper’s eyes widened slightly, and cleared his throat. He glanced toward Harry as he spoke. “You didn’t specify the same, Lord Braemar.”

“An oversight,” Harry said shortly. “One would assume an establishment of your caliber wouldn’t stock anything but humanely harvested materials. Please make a note in your records for our account that we’d prefer to wait weeks for a purchase to be completed than accept a substandard garment.”

“Of course,” the man said stiffly. “I have a large bolt of dragonhide I recently purchased from a preserve in Romania. I’ve no idea of its providence.” He took a deep breath. “Would you be able to tell the difference? I’d like to be able to know going forward what I’m working with. How…is it harvested, if not humane?”

“They breed dragons specifically to kill them,” Harry said. “Within a week of their final maturation, which is around the age of five, they are killed, and everything that can be sold is taken from the corpse. Precious little remains, as even dragon bones are used in potions. Romania is not known for such barbaric behavior, but Bulgaria is. China has strict laws regarding the treatment of dragons and the products of their magical existence. Butchered dragonhide won’t be certified by the ICW. There will be a watermark on the paperwork you received at purchase. Butchered hide resonates with magical trauma unless it’s cleansed thoroughly, and the Bulgarians never bother. Humanely harvested skin is taken during the yearly shedding process much like one would shear a sheep.”

“I’ll check and take special care going forward with my purchase of dragon hide,” Joseph Hopper said easily. “And thank you for letting me know. The trade association has never made that process clear. Perhaps that’s something you can work on in the Wizengamot.” He flushed. “I mean…I’m not trying to give you orders, sir.”

Harry laughed. “No, I understood what you meant, and changing the import/export process is already on my list. I had to go back to Italy to buy a proper stove. The only ones for sale in Britain were a hundred years out of date technology-wise. I didn’t know anyone still used woodburning stoves to cook.”

“My wife has been wanting one of those magical fire stoves,” Mr. Hopper said. “Might get her one for Yule. It’s nice?”

“Very nice,” Harry assured and tore a blank sheet from his journal, which he used to write down the brand and model he’d purchased. He put the paper down on the side table next to him, and the tailor nodded. “And not stupidly expensive despite being made of iron. Though, I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that a stove isn’t a romantic gift at all.”

Hopper laughed. “Ah, well, I already made her a whole new wardrobe and bought a few baubles to go along with it all. She’ll be pleased. Still, she’s been after a new stove for a while. Can’t hurt to get something extra, right?”

“There’s nothing wrong with spoiling your spouse,” Draco declared and grinned when Harry laughed.

Chapter 19

“Come, darling.”

Draco shuddered as the parseltongue seemed to slither into his magic, and he came messily on the sheets as Harry fucked him mercilessly. He went lax on the bed, and Harry groaned against his shoulder as he continued to thrust, taking his pleasure just the way Draco wanted. It was amazing to have a lover who understood his desires and never failed to meet them.

“You’re perfect,” Harry murmured against his skin. “Beautiful.” Magic drifted between them as he pulled his cock free. “Gods.” He dropped down on the bed beside him and took a deep breath.

Their marriage bond was just five days old, and it felt so solid like it had always been there. Draco didn’t know how he had lived without the deep, magical connections they now shared. His father’s heinous crimes had become a strange and horrible kind of gift to him, and he felt both relieved and guilty for the thought.

“What’s on your mind?” Harry questioned as he turned on his side and propped his head on a hand.

“My father,” Draco admitted and flushed when Harry grimaced. “I can’t help it, really. What he did was horrific. Yet….”

“We’ve reaped the benefits of his actions,” Harry murmured. “It’s what we have to live with going forward. I suppose many would say that we owe it to his victims to attend to the light and invest ourselves in the matters of justice.”

“What do you say?” Draco questioned and offered Harry his hand.

Harry laced their fingers together and took a deep breath. “My duty transcends such things and always will. Justice appeals to me, but the wishes of Varda will always come first. I will work to protect Avalon as long as I’m able, as it feels like a profound duty.” He brought their hands to his mouth and kissed the top of Draco’s hand. “All we can really do is live as well as we can and take the matters of justice and fairness as seriously as we can.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s take a bath.”

Harry left the bed, and Draco stayed where he was for a moment, sated and content. He heard the tub filling with water and, after a few deep breaths, left the bed to follow Harry into the bathroom.

“Would you like some wine?” Harry questioned as he dropped a sachet of bath salts into the water. Draco watched it dissolve.

“No, maybe we could have tea after the bath.” Draco sank down into the tub and relaxed on the bench as Harry joined him. “Then let’s wake up Anwen and her twin.”

Harry nodded. “We should check to make sure that the parselmagic has settled in your core.” He shifted onto the bench beside him and wrapped an arm around him. “Close your eyes.”

Draco did as instructed and shuddered when Harry hissed against the shell of his ear. His magic shifted inside of him, and Draco took in a ragged breath.

“Picture a snake—beautiful, cunning, dangerous. Hold the image, and try to speak to it.”

Draco turned and rubbed his nose through Harry’s beard. “Like you.”

Harry laughed and relaxed against the tub. “It feels settled—content inside of you.”

“Is that important?”

“The more content parselmagic is inside me, the easier it is to cast and control. I think Anwen responded to that as much as she did anything else. Her twin will respond much the same way. I’m a little worried that her new duality will cause magical instability, but I can’t have another broken familiar bond,” Harry said. “I think it will start to outright hurt within the next week or so.”

Draco nodded. “Then we’ll wake them after our bath. It will be fine. Magic has always given you exactly what you needed when you needed.”

Harry nodded, took a deep breath, and reached out for the soap, then plucked a washcloth from the stack he’d brought to the tub. He soaped the cloth and shifted Draco around so he could rub soap over his shoulders. Since Harry was in the mood for it, Draco allowed himself to be pampered.

* * * *

Harry let Anwen’s body curl around his palm as he watched Draco open the stasis box that held another version of her. The coatl’s duality was a consequence of their time travel—it wouldn’t be the last one they’d face, but it didn’t feel like an unpleasant one. Draco took a deep breath as he gently pulled the twin from the stasis field, and she coiled around his hand in a rush of magic.

“Hello, speaker,” the coatl hissed. “You’re lovely.”

Draco flushed. “Hello, how do you feel?”

“Strange. I’m glad to be awake.” She flicked her wings.

Anwen slowly extended her own wings in response, and her tongue flicked out briefly as she opened her eyes. “What did the bad wizard do, Harry?”

“Ah, lass,” Harry said. “That rat bastard was trying to time travel. We did it in his place.”

“I hope you killed him,” Anwen declared.

“He got what he deserved twice over,” Harry told her in amusement and focused on Draco, who was staring at the coatl in his hand with a soft, affectionate expression. Magic swirled around the snake and sank into Draco’s skin.

“There are two of me,” Anwen said as she focused on Draco and her twin. “Odd.”

“Very odd,” the twin agreed. “We feel the same, but I do not remember your wizard.”

“Good because he’s mine,” Anwen returned. “You can have the pretty one—he gives nice treats.”

Draco laughed when Harry raised an eyebrow. “I gave her mice—I bought them for Thicket, but after she was gone….” He shrugged. “She seemed to like them.”

“They were delicious,” Anwen said. “We would like more in the future.”

“Yes, we would like these treats,” the twin agreed, and Harry resigned himself to a life with two spoiled rotten snakes.

Draco laughed and sat back on the sofa with the twin. “How do you feel about the name Adain?”

The twin focused on Anwen. “What are you called? Our first wizard did not name us.”

“Anwen. Harry chose it.”

“I will be Adain then,” the twin decided. “I am hungry. I will have a treat now.”

Harry rolled his eyes and left the sofa. Anwen coiled up his arm and tucked around his neck. “Good luck with that.”

Draco huffed. “Come on, Harry. Where am I going to get a mouse this time of the night?”

“I guess you’re about to figure out how to summon a single mouse out of the bloody wilderness,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Oh, good idea,” Draco said and stood.

Harry sighed, and Anwen hissed in a fashion that spoke to pure judgment as Draco trotted out of the peel. He just could just imagine how that was going to work out and went to find a preservation box to store whatever Draco summoned by accident.

“He shouldn’t spoil her. I’m easily dissatisfied and prone to histrionics.”

Harry laughed because he knew that already. Anwen was nowhere near as easy on him as Hedwig. “It’s the year 1975. I found Hedwig, but she’s a baby.”

“I’m glad she’s been returned to you. I will take care of her,” Anwen promised. “We should get a box to keep the treats in. He used one in the future.”

Reminded of his task, Harry went to the storage closet and pulled a small crate from a shelf. The wood crate had been used to ship potion ingredients that Draco had bought from France. He activated the stasis rune as he walked through the peel and out into the courtyard, where Draco was feeding a mouse to Adain. Harry put the crate on the outdoor dining table.

“I got Anwen one as well,” Draco said and held out a petrified tiny brown mouse by the tail.

Harry quickly pulled Anwen from his neck because he wasn’t on board with her eating while she was wrapped around his throat. She coiled around his hand, snatched the mouse, and swallowed it whole. He put her down on the table with a sigh, and Draco just grinned.

* * * *

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, so the place was bustling with children. They made their way through the town from the apparition point to the café Roman Banner had chosen. It wasn’t full of children, which was a bonus. Roman was at a table with a very young, cheerful-looking Thaddeus. Harry was momentarily so put off he almost left.

“We must make sure nothing happens to that boy’s father,” Draco murmured, and Harry nodded his agreement.

Both Banners stood as they approached.

“Thaddeus, this is Hadrian Peverell, the Earl of Braemar, and his husband, Consort Draconis Peverell,” Roman said and cupped his son’s shoulder. “Sirs, my only child Thaddeus Cranton Banner.”

Thaddeus smiled brightly. “It’s an honor to meet you both.”

Harry nodded. “We’re pleased to meet you as well, Thaddeus. Let’s sit, Roman.”

They all gathered around the table, and Draco casually drew his wand to cast a privacy charm. Harry unbuttoned his coat as he got settled.

“I’ve spoken to Thaddeus at length regarding your offer, sir, and we agree that it is the best choice for our family.” Roman squeezed his son’s shoulder. “He’s also agreed that upon his majority that he will take the vassal oath as well.”

Harry considered that. “I accept that agreement, but won’t be offended if his magical circumstances change by the time he’s an adult.” He watched father and son adjust to that information. “And I certainly don’t expect him to shape his career or future education goals around the needs of the house of Peverell.” He focused on Thaddeus. “I want you to know, Thaddeus, that I will not be careless with your father’s life. Your family is doing me an immense service, and I will not forget that in any circumstance.”

He watched Thaddeus fidget under his gaze then nod slowly. “Thank you, sir.”

Roman ruffled his son’s hair. “You can go. Have fun.” Thaddeus hopped up and ran off with a quick goodbye. “He’s a good boy—a lot of energy.”

“At that age, I could barely sit still,” Harry admitted. “I’ve added you, your wife, and son to the access list for Evermoor. You can set emergency portkeys to the property so they may retreat if needed.” Roman stared, clearly shocked, but nodded. “I was surprised that this meeting happened so soon.”

“After Dumbledore’s death, parents were invited to come to the school to check on their children. I took the time to speak to Thaddeus about the vassal offer, and he was, honestly, chuffed by the news. You’ve caused quite a stir. This will probably make the paper within the week, but you should know that the children at Hogwarts are refusing to attend History of Magic because Professor Binns keeps using the g-word to refer to the dverger. The new headmaster is going to have to replace him. Thaddeus said that the kids at the school didn’t want you to think they’re racist pieces of shite by going to the class and listening to Binns’ bigotry.”

Harry exhaled sharply and laughed. “I really hope no one expects me to apologize.”

“No, I don’t suppose anyone else would want to risk getting dressed down in public by a nobleman,” Roman said dryly. “I’d like Thaddeus to be present for the vassal oath.”

“We can do it over the Yule break,” Harry said. “You’ll be tasked by Croaker to attend the Wizengamot session with me next week as security. We’ll announce the vassal oath in January of next year.”

Roman nodded. “Katherine, my wife, has expressed interest in working with the Phoenix Consortium.”

Harry considered that and smiled. “Adele Potter has already volunteered as well. I’ve heard, from Christopher, that the two of them aren’t on good terms. Patrice Delacour has agreed to run the entire organization for me.”

“Katherine loves Patrice, so that part will be fine. I’ll speak with her about Lady Potter; they’ve both been very stubborn about the situation.”

“What’s the argument about?” Draco questioned. “Christopher said it was about a dress?”

“Oh,” Roman sighed and shook his head. “They both used the same dressmaker, and the man sold them the same exact dress for the same event. They found out before the actual event and argued over who should get to wear the dress in question to the ministry party. They were also very irritated with each over the fact that they both fired the dressmaker for his idiotic behavior. Then they both ended up hiring Joseph Hopper within a week of each other. Adele Potter accused Katherine of imitating her and being jealous of her. Katherine hired Joseph first, of course, and that created yet another set of circumstances for them to argue over. Neither ended up wearing the dress, by the way and got entirely new ones made for the stupid party that neither of them actually wanted to attend.”

Harry nodded and turned to Draco. “Let’s ask Patrice to fix this. I think it’s above our pay grade.”

“Agreed,” Draco said. “I’m sure between the three of them, they can resolve the matter and make the consortium a successful endeavor.”

“I’d be relieved,” Roman admitted. “Merlin, save us from stubborn witches.”

Harry grinned and looked around the café. “What’s good here?”

“Just the tea service,” Roman said dryly. “Which is why the children avoid it. Even the bread pudding is a genuine crime.”

Draco laughed. “Maybe that’s the point.”

“Bread pudding is always a crime,” Harry muttered.

* * * *

Harry shifted on his feet as he watched Dumbledore pace back and forth in the interrogation room. It was difficult to look at the old man objectively, and thankfully, no one had asked him to. He stilled the urge to smoke as Dorcas joined him in the observation area.

“Croaker thinks he might respond differently to you.”

“As myself,” Harry said.

“Yes,” Dorcas said. “I don’t agree with you doing it. But you’re a new, different element that he didn’t plan for, and it was clear that you were throwing him off stride before his arrest.”

“The veritaserum?” Harry questioned.

“Didn’t make a dent,” Dorcas admitted. “A circumstance I’d rather no one ever know outside of this department. Our justice system is founded on the effectiveness of that potion. Though this kind of mental and magical manipulation is considered to be impossible. It’s best that such a belief remains in place.”

Harry nodded as he watched two hooded Unspeakables enter the interrogation room and use bindings to lash Dumbledore to the table. He was significantly younger than he looked, so it took some effort on their part. Once Diablo and Armand had Dumbledore contained, Harry shrugged out of his cloak. He wasn’t going to hide from Dumbledore as it didn’t matter; the bastard was already dead as far as he was concerned.

He turned to Anzû as he realized something kind of silly. “I don’t know Armand’s code name.”

She stared for a moment, clearly startled. “I guess we assumed you knew because of the…future.”

“He was essentially retired from service when I met him,” Harry admitted. “Grief laid him low in a variety of ways.”

Dorcas nodded. “His code name is Jormungand.”

“Oh, of course, it is.” Harry shook his head and laughed. “I’ve read several books written by him from the archives and absorbed several subject orbs he created.” He stared for a moment. “It’s a little on the nose, right?”

“As you say, Leviathan.”

“Right, thank fuck for official secret magic, or we’d never keep a thing to ourselves,” Harry said with amusement. Croaker entered at that moment. “What do you need from him?”

“I need a comprehensive list of people he’s cultivated into his agenda,” McGregor said roughly. “He’s refused to speak to any of us, and nothing we’ve dosed him with has shaken loose his persona at all. It’s infuriating.” He handed Harry a velvet bag which he stored in his bracelet.

Harry nodded and ran his fingers over the buttons of his waistcoat to make sure they were all in place. A habit more than anything else, as the buttons were extensively charmed to stay exactly as they should. Draco entered with a bag in hand. Harry accepted the glass bottle of coke that he was offered when his husband started unpacking his purchases. He was offered a Marathon bar after a few moments and tucked it into the inner pocket of his waistcoat.

“What are you doing?” Dorcas questioned.

“Oh, just a little wizard baiting,” Harry said and shrugged when Croaker laughed. He picked up his coke and left the observation room.

He entered the interrogation room, and Armand followed him, hood in place. The older wizard chose to sit in a chair just back from the table and to Harry’s left. Harry sat down in front of Aurelius Dumbledore and stared. Dumbledore, for his part, appeared to be startled. He stared in silence.

“Once, many years ago, you told me that the truth is a beautiful and terrible thing,” Harry said quietly. “You said it should be treated with caution.” He used magic to open his coke, and the cap landed on the table with a little clack.

“I don’t remember meeting you before a few weeks ago,” Dumbledore said curiously.

Harry hummed under his breath. “Time is a tricky thing, Mr. Dumbledore. Einstein said it was an illusion, a construct created by our own minds to make some sense of the world around us. I attended a philosophy lecture once, and the keynote speaker said that all time happens at once, and the only thing linear in the universe is our perception. It was an unsettling thought, and it made me question my place in the world.”

“You’re a young man, Lord Braemar. As you age, you will learn to trust your own perspective.”

Harry stared for a moment, more amused than insulted. “Perspective is everything, I’ve learned. I’ve also come to know that the average magical person is easy to manipulate, control, and shape for my own agenda.” He took a sip of his drink, and Dumbledore grimaced. “It’s fascinating, really, how naïve the people in Britain are. For instance, I berated a reporter for calling the dverger a bigoted term, and now the children at Hogwarts are boycotting the History of Magic for fear that I’ll believe them all racists for listening to Binns drone on and on about the goblin rebellions.”

Dumbledore shrugged. “The terms are interchangeable.”

“I know you think that,” Harry said. “I don’t know if that is ignorance, arrogance, or racism. I can’t say you’re uneducated, as you’ve achieved a lot academically. I was actually doubtful about the rumors, so I checked, and you actually do have six masteries. Four of which you earned yourself after you started pretending to be Albus Dumbledore.”

“You have two yourself,” Dumbledore said. “Though I believe you’re hiding your abilities a bit.”

It was interesting how Dumbledore ignored the accusation of impersonating his uncle. He wondered if it was conditioning or if it was merely arrogance.

Harry laughed. “Sometimes it’s best to be underestimated, don’t you think?”

“It’s good when your enemies don’t know what you’re capable of,” Dumbledore said. “Sometimes. But being known for power and knowledge can deter others from making themselves a threat to you.”

“Something you learned from your father?” Harry questioned.

“Percival Dumbledore wasn’t known for his intellectualism,” Dumbledore said evenly. “He was a reactive and vengeful man who was consumed with the guilt regarding my sister’s condition and life.”

Harry hummed under his breath. “Tell me about your brother.”

“Aberforth? We don’t speak. He blames me for the death of my sister.”

“He’s dead. Did they tell you?” Harry questioned, and he watched Aurelius’ eyes go wide with shock. “He was found dead in bed from a dragonpox infection. Due to the contagious nature of the illness, his body was cremated.”

“People didn’t question my absence from his funeral?” Dumbledore questioned. “How long do you think you can keep me?”

“Everyone knows he wouldn’t have wanted you anywhere near his funeral,” Harry said easily. “And don’t worry, you’ll be on your way very soon.”

“I won’t allow myself to be obliviated,” Dumbledore announced. “You’ve made a grave error in revealing your face to me.”

“Are you sure this is my face?” Harry questioned and activated his glamour. “Maybe this is my face.” He let the glamour cycle through several faces in quick succession before he deactivated it. Dumbledore stared in shock. “Perspective, Mr. Dumbledore.”

“Multi-faceted glamour devices take a great deal of power and control to use in such a fashion,” Dumbledore said. “And they’re expensive tools designed by the ICW.” He looked around the room. “Am I still in Britain?”

“Have you done something to earn the attention of the War Mages Division of the International Confederation of Wizards?” Harry questioned.

“Some have sought to learn things from me over the years,” Dumbledore said. “I’ve had many unique experiences that intelligent people find value in.”

Harry laughed a little before he could help himself. He took another long sip of coke. Dumbledore’s ego was immense, and he realized he couldn’t even blame the man anymore. Aberforth had created a monster in his efforts to save his son. He realized then that Aurelius didn’t appear to be all that aggrieved regarding the loss of his father.

“I grew up with a woman who hated magic,” Harry said. “She hated me because I had magic. I was underfed, physically and emotionally abused until I committed suicide at the age of seventeen.” Dumbledore stared in shock. “Some called it a sacrifice. In fact, it was considered a magical sacrifice by a higher power than you or I. Years ago, when it first happened, I would’ve denied that it was a suicide, but I’ve come to understand it in a way I never thought I would before. I was asked just once why and I said I did it for love. It was true, after a fashion.”

“Love is the most powerful force on Earth,” Dumbledore said gravely.

“Is it?” Harry questioned. “Love is a unique power, of course, and it moves in the world in ways very similar to magic itself. There are other powers in the world, ancient and immense.”

“Like what?” Dumbledore questioned.

“Fate,” Harry said, and Dumbledore’s eyes widened just slightly. He set aside the empty bottle. “Do you believe in fate, Mr. Dumbledore? Fear it?”

“Fate is what one must meet,” Dumbledore said. “There’s nothing to fear, my boy.”

Harry wanted to punch him in the face, but he pulled out his herbal case instead. Unfortunately, it was considered bad conduct to hit an old man. He tapped one out and lit it wandlessly. He put the case away as he took a long drag on the cigarillo. “What kind of legacy do you wish to have, Mr. Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore hesitated and, for a moment, then appeared confused. “I’ve been an educator all of my life, Lord Braemar. My legacy is with the children I’ve taught and guided in magic. It is the best I could’ve ever hoped for.”

The worst part is that Harry was certain that the arsehole believed it.

“What about fame?”

“I’m well-known,” Dumbledore acknowledged. “But fame is merely a tool. I’m sure you will learn that over time. You’re an incredibly charismatic young man, and already, people are very interested in you. That interest will not wane because of your title and wealth. You have what many would covet beyond the measure of it.”

“Power,” Harry said.

Dumbledore inclined his head, and his hands clenched into fists in the suppression cuffs. “Power moves the world.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “I would speak to you about my fate, Mr. Dumbledore.” He pulled the velvet bag from his dimensional store and removed the prophecy orb by grasping at the metal stand attached to it. “This orb has my name on it. It’s about Voldemort. I’ve not listened to it because I hate divination.” He inclined his head as he placed the orb on the table. “Would you like to hear it?”

Dumbledore stared at the orb, a strange mania stirring in his eyes. “I would, yes.”

Harry brushed his fingers over the orb.

~

The ancient one moves across the world, powerful and just. At the rise of a new dark lord, the Master of Death will reap what has been sowed, and a new age will dawn for Avalon.

Let it be known that the Master of Death has no end and no beginning as they move across time and space by the grace of Death herself.

The ancient one crossed time to stand in defense of Avalon against the dark lord that only he can defeat, for neither can live while the other survives.

The ancient one moves across the world, powerful and just.

~

“Well, that’s…annoying,” Harry said frankly. “And revealing. Divination is the worst. No wonder the entire staff of the Hall of Prophecy demanded to be obliviated when this thing manifested in front of them. Also, you aren’t going to understand this, but I’ve never, ever liked Sybill Trelawney. She’s a genuine bane to literally my entire existence. I don’t know why Fate keeps giving herself a fucking body. She’s always a goddamned day trip to crazy-town, too.” He blew air out between his teeth.

“You’re the reason the Elder Wand died,” Dumbledore said, eyes dark with fury.

“Oh, there you are. It’s nice to finally meet you, Aurelius,” Harry said and took another long drag from his herbal, then blew out a series of circles. “The Elder Wand was never yours to use. You stole it from your uncle, so it was never truly loyal to you. There’s no way it could be because you didn’t win it. The fact is that the wand loathes you. The thing about a magical object like the Elder Wand is that it was only ever meant for one hand, and that hand is mine.” He inclined his head. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “No one was ever meant to reunite the Hallows. You’ve made a grave error in judgment.”

Harry laughed. “Reunite? Come now, I thought you were smart, Aurelius. You’ve pretended to be a brilliant and powerful wizard for fucking decades. That’s not the work of a dumb arse.” He waved a hand, and sparks flicked off his herbal. “The Hallows cannot be separated by time or distance. They are irrevocably connected with death magic. I was marked by Death the first time my soul drew a breath on this world, and all these lifetimes later, here I sit again.”

Dumbledore frowned deeply at him. “Such a creature as you cannot exist.”

“Yet, I do,” Harry said and shrugged. “Confounding, I’m sure. Here’s the thing, Aurelius, you shouldn’t exist anymore either, and the fact that you do endangers Avalon. So, you must move on to your next grand adventure for the greater good.” Dumbledore blinked in surprise. “I’m sure you understand perfectly.”

The older man’s nostrils flared widely.

“It’s a quandary of sorts—your circumstances are a tragedy, and you’ve been manipulated, abused, and destroyed by the very man who should’ve done all he could to protect you. If you think, for even a moment, that Aberforth Dumbledore did this to you out of love, then you are a fool.” He took a final draw from his herbal, and it burned away to nothing. “And I know you aren’t a fool.”

“What do you want?” Dumbledore demanded.

“What do you know about Tom Marvolo Riddle?”

“He’s a dark wizard and deeply resents the circumstances of his birth and upbringing. He believes himself to be the only true heir of Slytherin due to his squib mother, Merope Gaunt.”

“What do you know about his magical circumstances?”

“He’s a parselmouth and powerful with an extensive self-directed magical education.”

“He’s not a parselmouth,” Harry said. “He’s a beastspeaker through ritual. I’m surprised you didn’t figure that out when he was at Hogwarts.” He waved a hand. “Oh, wait, you didn’t steal your uncle’s life until 1946, right? You never actually taught Tom Riddle. You only have the memories that were harvested and given to you. It explains a lot.” Harry pulled his Marathon bar out, opened it, and took a big bite. “What do you know about horcruxes?”

“A horcrux is a very dark object created through murder. I believe Tom created several, but I have no proof. Perhaps, your unusual magical circumstances will give you an edge.”

“Funnily enough, I think you’re right about that,” Harry said. “Have you corrupted all the members of the Order of the Phoenix with your vision of the greater good? Are they going to unwittingly get in my way and get themselves killed?”

“The organization will barely exist without me,” Dumbledore said. “And the people of Britain will suffer for it. You are interfering in circumstances you can’t fully understand. The war will be dangerous, and I will be needed to guide the leaders of Britain to make the right choices when the time comes.”

“Oh, a funny thing happened. Recently, I was berating the press and acting superior, as one does when they’re rich and powerful, and….” He waved his candy bar and pulled the Daily Prophet from his dimensional store, then tossed it on the table between them. “I accidentally took your place as the bloody leader of the light. You can imagine how irritating that is for me.”

Dumbledore stared at the picture of Harry and Fawkes on the cover of the paper in silence.

“Do you have agents in the ministry working to attain goals you’ve set for them?” Harry questioned.

“I….” Dumbledore frowned and lifted his gaze from the paper to stare at Harry. “With the overt approval of a phoenix, you’ve created a very dangerous circumstance for yourself. Tom will target you.”

“Well, he sent me two Death Eaters before that happened,” Harry said and shrugged. “The Lestrange brothers—annoyingly, I had to take their remains to the DMLE since I put my property on lockdown.”

“You killed two of Tom’s inner circle?” Dumbledore questioned. “You’re a very foolish young man, Lord Braemar. He will stop at nothing to destroy you.”

“Well, it’s four to zero so far,” Harry said evenly. “Both Lestrange brothers, that giant snake familiar of his, and Fenrir Greyback. As to Riddle….” He waved a hand at the prophecy orb that was sat between them on the table. “I feel pretty good about my odds.” He finished off his candy bar, stored the wrapper in his bracelet, and pulled out his journal. “You’ve been avoiding giving me names, so now I have to be tedious about this. It’s kind of annoying, but certainly par for your fucking course.”

Dumbledore huffed. “You’re a very rude young man.”

“Horace Slughorn thinks I’m lovely. He’s taken your place as the new headmaster of Hogwarts, by the way. And plans to open up enrollment, add six new subjects, and hire additional teachers and security.” He smiled when Dumbledore glared and opened his journal. “Do you favor manipulation and blackmail over bribery all the time?”

“What happened to Caradoc Dearborn? Did you kill him?” Dumbledore questioned.

“If I’d killed him, I’d have sent his remains back to you,” Harry said evenly, and Dumbledore’s shoulders relaxed. He didn’t think the old bastard actually cared about his missing minion, so it was a curious reaction. “He’s in Canada, living in a shack. Now, let’s focus on the people whose lives you were going to utterly destroy with your bullshite.”

* * * *

In the end, Dumbledore only considered three people in the ministry completely under his thumb, and he tried, vainly, to protect them. Harry zeroed in on them with very little effort.

“Alastor Moody, Dedalus Diggle, and Fabian Prewett,” Croaker murmured. “One barely functional auror and two solicitors working in the prosecutor’s office. I don’t get it.”

“He would’ve had bigger plays and brought more people directly into the fold as Riddle’s activities increased,” Draco said. “But precious few Death Eaters actually had trials, and many bought their way out of prison no matter what they did. Diggle’s currently the chief prosecutor, right? We need to keep an eye on him. He signed off on the imprisonment of many people throughout the war without a trial and under-prosecuted pure-bloods left, right, and center.”

Croaker nodded. “We’re going to transfer him to the Veil now. Did you want to watch?”

“Not really,” Harry said, and Draco just shrugged. “I’ve watched that man die once, and I needn’t see it again.”

“If I were you, I’d want to be certain he’s gone,” Dorcas said.

“I’ll go watch it for him,” Draco said, and Harry grimaced. “It’s fine, love. My hatred for Dumbledore is almost entirely third-party.

“I’ll go,” Harry said reluctantly. “Just in case the Veil tries to throw him back out.”

All three older Unspeakables turned to stare at him in horror.

“Has that happened?” Armand questioned quietly.

Harry shrugged. “Of course, all deaths are subject to Varda’s approval. She would certainly eject someone from the Veil if she didn’t agree with what was done. It’s more of a portal than a one-way door, you see. But she has utter control over it. I’m considering asking her to take the dementors back. Their purpose has been corrupted on Earth, and there’s no use pretending otherwise.”

“What was their original purpose?” McGregor demanded though Harry could tell the older man really didn’t want to know.

“Oh, well, I thought it would be obvious. They’re reapers. A reaper is only meant to manifest to collect a dying soul and return it to Varda. That mechanism still works, by the way, so getting kissed by a dementor doesn’t destroy the soul as many believe.” Harry felt his magic shift inside of him, and he realized something about Vasco that he’d probably realized hundreds of times before but had forgotten. He turned to Draco. “That was his crime—he corrupted the reapers.”

“Oh, well.” Draco exhaled sharply.

Harry realized they were both being looked at strangely, and he flushed. “My apologies, just the remnants of a previous conversation surfacing. Let’s pitch Dumbledore through the Veil and get some lunch.”

“And if she spits him out?” Croaked asked roughly.

“We’ll have to investigate why because Varda does nothing without reason,” Harry said. “Don’t stress it.”

“What happens if Varda doesn’t want someone’s soul yet, but they don’t have a body?” Dorcas asked curiously.

“I don’t know specifically, but we could probably go ask a ghost at Hogwarts,” Harry said. She stared for a moment, then nodded with what looked like frustration. “I know what I need to know when it benefits me. It is often a very frustrating experience, especially when I have a so-called epiphany that I’ve probably had a least a dozen times.”

By the time they were in the Veil room, someone had knocked Aurelius Dumbledore unconscious. Harry had once avoided looking at the Veil as much as possible since it was the most alluring thing he’d ever seen in his life. Even the Mirror of Erised paled in comparison. Perhaps it came down to the charm work on the mirror, as it was designed specifically to entrance anyone who saw it. Fortunately, he hadn’t gotten addicted to it as a child. It was a stupid risk that Dumbledore had taken with two children. Harry figured that if Ron hadn’t been stupidly self-involved, he would’ve become obsessed with the mirror.

The material of the Veil shifted and darkened as Croaker prodded the levitated body of Aurelius Dumbledore through the Veil without any sort of speech. It was a small, quiet end for a man who had impacted so many to their detriment. Harry found it difficult to feel anything. The Veil shifted and rippled as the body passed through, and it felt like acceptance, so he wasn’t worried about Aurelius being tossed back out at them.

He started to turn from the Veil, but magic shifted around the room, and Varda stepped into the room. Harry ignored the horrified sounds from behind him as he took a knee. Distantly, he was aware that Draco had done the same. His mate’s hand pressed against the small of his back, fingers trembling.

“Thanatus.”

“My lady, how may I serve?” Harry questioned, his heart rate quickened despite his efforts to remain calm. He didn’t lower his head as it felt wrong, even dangerous, to avert his gaze.

Her beauty bordered on horrific, and he had no explanation for that thought. He was glad to have kept the words behind his teeth. Her eyes darkened, and she smiled, sharp and knowing.

“This life has been difficult for you,” Varda said. “Far more traumatic than any you’ve ever known in the past. Are you weary?”

Was he done?

She was asking him if he was ready to retire. Harry didn’t know what that would mean for his soul or for Draco. He felt unprepared to make such a choice which meant he wasn’t ready to move on.

“No, I’m not weary.”

She inclined her head and nodded. “I hope your companions don’t think me rude. I’ve learned over the years that many humans have no desire or even the ability to have a conversation with me,” Varda said in amusement. “I will take Tom Riddle’s horcruxes now.”

Harry immediately drew the pouch he was keeping the horcruxes in from his dimensional store. He sat each horcrux down on the floor in front of the goddess of death and waited. The ring, diary, and locket disintegrated entirely as the horcruxes were pulled into Varda’s hand. The diadem warped briefly but returned to normal quickly. The cup rocked violently before giving up the horcrux with a soft popping sound.

He stared at the objects that remained, surprised she’d left them.

“I don’t…understand,” he admitted.

“I’d never seek to destroy a gift bestowed upon this earth by another,” Varda said gently. “The cup bears the blessing of Yavanna herself. It is a source of healing—both mental and physical that she gifted to magical people generations ago. Its purpose in modern times couldn’t be more clear for any potion created in it becomes permanent.”

“It’s a cauldron,” Draco murmured, shock tinging his voice.

“Yes,” Varda said. “And it will be yours, Draconis, until you pass. I trust you will take care with its use and never allow it to be desecrated with a dark purpose.” The cup flew from the floor, and Draco caught it without hesitation. “The orb magic used to educate in the magical world was built on the magical properties of the diadem, designed and worn by Rowena Ravenclaw at the encouragement of Hekate. She was one of the first to do the job you’ve chosen for yourself in this life, Hadrian.”

It didn’t surprise him at all to know that Rowena Ravenclaw once was an Unspeakable. He wondered if there were any orbs created by her in the bowels of the department. The diadem lifted off the floor and flew behind him. He didn’t know who’d been entrusted with the object, and no one spoke.

“Can he make another horcrux?” Harry questioned. “He made one more in the future.”

“I won’t allow the ritual to be done on this world ever again,” Varda said. “It’s not my nature to interfere in such matters as I believe your kind should be allowed to make all the mistakes they want. But a horcrux has one purpose, and that is to defy me. The corruption that Tom Riddle has invited into his soul offends Hekate profoundly. She has commanded that I never allow it to happen again, and I will do as she bids.”

Harry nodded. “If he tries?”

“He’ll kill himself, but his magical instincts are very good. Tom will realize during preparation for the ritual that it can’t be done. He will seek out an alternate method for ensuring his immortality if he realizes that you’ve taken all of his horcruxes.”

Harry made a note to tell Nicolas Flamel to run and hide his arse off. There were other stones, but Flamel was a very soft target and lived in Europe. Riddle didn’t make a habit of leaving his safe zone or really the country he’d claimed to own. But he could send someone after the Flamels.

“Be well, Hadrian.” She took a step back then paused. “Should there come a point when you must stand in judgment of one of your own kind, I will accept your decision with no rancor. Consider this a favor to you, not him, as he’ll never truly deserve my favor again.”

“The dementors are being used in an inhumane fashion all over the world,” Harry said as he thoughts to turned Vasco once more. “They cannot be returned to their true purpose as they are.”

“I must think on their fate as they do provide a balance for death magic on this world. It would be a burden on you and whoever may serve after you if they were removed.” She stepped back again and disappeared beyond the Veil.

“Did anyone else want to run away?” Dorcas questioned after a few prolonged moments of silence.

Harry stood and offered his hand to Draco, who turned to him with a frown.

“What?” Harry questioned.

“Thanatus?” Draco waved both hands. “Are you fucking serious, Harry?”

“I don’t get it,” Croaker admitted roughly, and Harry turned to find the older man holding the diadem.

“Thanatus is the Latin translation of the name Thanatos, the Greek god of death,” Dorcas said and sighed. “Good Lord, lad, you’re a lot.”

Harry laughed and shrugged.

 

 

Chapter 20

“The Wizengamot is pleased to welcome our peer in magic, Hadrian Cadmus Peverell, the Earl of Braemar.” Sir Ross Weasley stood, and Harry watched the rest of the members of the two houses that made up the Wizengamot stand with him.

“It is my great honor, Sir Ross,” Harry said, and the High Warlock of the Wizengamot gave him a grave nod as the Braemar seat was released from stasis. Harry opened the door and stepped into the box. He offered his hand to Draco, a formal invitation to join him, and his husband took it. Two identical chairs appeared in the box at that point, along with a desk to share. “The house of Peverell is ready to serve.”

Every single member of the Noble Houses stared at him in silence, clearly startled by the position he’d given his spouse both in his house and in regards to his seat on the Wizengamot. Ross Weasley sat, and the others followed suit. The Ancient Houses, made up entirely of the heads of ancient families, sat last. Harry hadn’t even noticed they’d stood. It hadn’t been required of them, but he appreciated the gesture for what it was.

“The Wizengamot recognizes the Earl of Blackmoor.”

Arcturus Black stood. “The house of Black is pleased to notify this body that we will join the house of Peverell and the house of Potter in the creation of the Phoenix Consortium. This charity organization will focus on security, education, and innovation. I’ve had several questions regarding the creation of the consortium and its purposes. As it will be funded privately, and we will never seek funds from the ministry—our goals, purposes, and plans are our own as long as we don’t break any laws.” He paused as that sent a teeter of shock around the room. “Our first order of business is to announce that the house of Potter has reclaimed the Gryffindor Endowment, and going forward, Hogwarts will be privately funded. Any restrictions imposed on the school by the ministry due to financial support have been rescinded.

“What we did not know, at the time, is that the magical day school is part of the Gryffindor Endowment and thus has become our responsibility. The minister did offer to take the day school off our hands, but we declined. We will be expanding the day school starting next September to include primary classes for all magical children, no matter their birth status. We will work with Hogwarts regarding Muggle-born and Muggle-raised children to ensure they are given an opportunity to attend a proper school as soon as possible. It is, in our estimation, a grave and unseemly matter that we would leave the education of magical children to Muggles.”

Harry was instantly amused by how offended a large portion of the room suddenly was. Beside him, Draco pulled his journal out and started to make notes.

“This morning,” Arcturus continued. “The board of governors for Hogwarts was replaced due to the neglect of the mandates that were created to protect the school. The new Headmaster, Horace Slughorn, was officially contracted, and we hired a replacement for Professor Binns due to student dissatisfaction with his class content.”

A seal lit. Harry didn’t know the man on sight and figured that might be a product of age more than anything else. Though, he could’ve been one of the many killed during the war.

Arcturus glared at the interruption. “Did you have a question, Lord Ogden?”

Tiberius Ogden, Harry thought and watched Draco turn a page in his journal and start to make notes on Ogden.

“I have one grandchild at Hogwarts, and I don’t have a problem with the content of Binn’s classes,” Ogden said roughly. “Just because our new and very young peer has a problem with tradition….”

He trailed off when Arcturus held up a hand. “Lord Ogden, are you aware that Binns has repeated the same bloody lecture day in, day out since he died? It is an ongoing joke at Hogwarts and has been since 1890! The fact that four headmasters have ignored this fact is egregious! That none of us have complained is even worse. I personally used the class for napping until I dropped it after my OWL year. The only reason I took an OWL in the subject is that I studied on my own, just as every other student has since Binns died!”

Arcturus pulled at his waistcoat and took a deep breath. “As to his unrepentant racism and your overt approval of it in the name of so-called tradition, I don’t want to continue to live in a country that is considered backward and ignorant by the rest of the world. I want more for us. I want more for my grandchildren. If you are so attached to a racial slur that you’d rather your grandson receive a substandard education, then I’d prefer you never come near me again. I don’t want to catch whatever disease you have that is making you an idiot.”

Draco sat back in his chair, put his quill down, and murmured, “Merlin, you’re a bad influence.”

Harry grinned and resisted the urge to smoke. He was sure there was no rule against it, but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to them. Practically every camera in the place was focused on them and had been since Sir Ross had said his name, but the other members of the body were at least pretending not to stare. He couldn’t stand the press, but at least it wasn’t for something genuinely obscene like it had been before.

Arcturus looked around the room. “Due to the extinction of the house of Malfoy in Great Britain, we are in the position to add another ancient house to the House of Lords. I cede the floor to the Baron of Gryffindor.”

Christopher Potter stood, and everyone shifted in their seats. Harry was fascinated, truly, by the change in the room. The Gryffindor legacy was revered in Britain, but Christopher Potter had three titles and thus the most votes of anyone else on the Wizengamot. Despite not being the chief warlock, he was clearly seen as the leader. Harry wondered if that had made his grandfather an attractive target for Voldemort. In the future, Harry had been denied all three of those titles as they’d been rejected by James during the war. He understood now and even approved, but it had been infuriating to find out at the age of eighteen that his familial legacy had been stripped from him by what he’d assumed to be Dumbledore’s machinations.

“Over the last few weeks, I’ve taken a great deal of time to consider Lavoy title and what should be done with it. It is an ancient title bestowed by King Arthur himself. It has passed from one family to the next throughout the generations and is traditionally the only demonstratively dark house in the House of Lords. It has long been the duty of the Earl of Lavoy to understand dark magic and to present to us, in times of need, a perspective very much needed. I believe the Malfoy family failed in that duty repeatedly, as our focus has narrowed incredibly over the past hundred years.

“Our laws have been eroded, and our principles regarding magical theory are dated and not within the international mandate. It makes our ability to recognize problems in our society practically non-existent.”

“We are standing once more on the cusp of outright war with a half-arsed dark wizard bent on destroying not only our way of life but also our world. We know for a fact such hostility and violence only leads to grief and loss. The conflict with Grindelwald halved this body due to the extinction of primary bloodlines and the lack of potential to claim through magic. I’m not the only one who was starting to believe that we’d lose the Braemar title as well. I can’t be the only one.

“Of course, we simply cannot give the Lavoy earldom to another. But we, as a brotherhood, can ask Avalon to bestow the Lavoy title on another. We have precious little time to do this as the longer the title goes unclaimed, the more likely it is to simply die.

“In that vein, I propose we entreat Avalon to give the Lavoy earldom to another ancient house within the Wizengamot.”

The members of the lower house stirred in their seats, and Harry could see the greed spread out over them. It was amusing since he knew that Draco had pillaged the Malfoy vault and the Lavoy vault only contained entailed furniture, old weapons, and books.

Ross Weasley looked startled by the proposal but also intrigued. Harry really hoped that the Weasley family wasn’t a choice to be made, but he knew he had no ability to influence the magic of the Wizengamot.

“I’m unsure, Lord Potter, as to how we should proceed.”

“Interestingly enough, when it comes to both earldoms and duchies, we only need to majority vote to activate the petition. The magic of the Wizengamot will do the rest.” He paused. “But if the magic does not pick a successor house to take the house of Malfoy’s place, then the Lavoy title will immediately go extinct.”

“We’ve been assured by Gringotts that there are no viable heirs,” Ross Weasley said and focused on the Lavoy box, which Harry noted, was glinting gently with magic. “Very well.” Several seals lit at once, and the older man made a disgusted face. His gaze flicked around to each and chose the Baron of Pittenween, Nigel Parkinson. “You have the floor, Lord Parkinson.”

Parkinson stood. “I believe it would be best if we tailor the position in such a way that we give the Wizengamot a limited choice—to ensure we get a result we can all live with.” All the other seals dimmed, and Harry found that outrageous, so he brushed his fingers over his own. Parkinson blinked in surprise and stared. “I cede the floor, Lord Braemar.”

Harry stood. “While I understand the temptation to narrow the field and exert some control over the process, attempting to do so will most certainly result in the immediate extinction of the Lavoy earldom. I would not wish to be a party to such a thing as it would be considered line theft, magically.” Parkinson sat down with a shocked sound. “Moreover, it is not our place to ever question the judgment of King Arthur’s magic on which this body was found. My very distant ancestor took a knee for his king, and all these many years later, I bear the title he was bestowed. I won’t be the man from the line of Peverell to disrespect that fealty.”

He glanced over the lower house where the representatives of the ancient families sat. “If the Wizengamot sees fit to give us a peer from one of the ancient families, then we must hope that it understands our needs better than even we do. But, if there is a respectful way to limit the circumstances of those who serve with us, then we should put that into place for everyone and not just a set of criteria for the resettling of a magical title. I cede the floor to Lord Potter.”

He sat, and Draco pressed his knee just briefly against Harry’s, which he took as a sign of approval. Christopher Potter, he noted, took the opportunity in stride. He hoped the older man knew exactly what he was hinting at.

“I’ve spoken at length with several magical theorists regarding the dark mark. I’ve been told that we can’t make it illegal as it would set a precedent that could be used against conclaves and ritual magic. The ability to perform ritual magic is a foundational right to the life of a magical person, as far as I’m concerned. But, I believe we can declare it against the rules of the Wizengamot for an individual to bear the dark mark specifically while serving within the House of Lords.” He paused and looked around. “A very limited rule would not impact the legal code at large and would provide security to the governing body. To further that goal, I purpose we create a law that prevents the sitting Minister of Magic from belonging to a conclave while in service. It would remove the potential for a conflict of interest and prevent a marked Death Eater from being sworn in to do the job.”

“A rule change doesn’t require a unanimous vote,” Ross Weasley said when Christopher Potter sat. “All those in favor of disallowing members of the House of Lords to have the dark mark of Voldemort, please light your seals.”

Arcturus Black lit first, and Harry followed in the same moment that Christopher Potter did. There were twelve noble houses, and the rest followed suit quickly as if they didn’t want to stand out in the vote. He noted some looked relieved and wondered if the greyer members were already being pressured by Tom Riddle to join the cause. He knew some of them had been marked in the future, and others had allowed their sons to fall to the Death Eaters as well.

“I hereby declare it a violation of the rules of the Wizengamot for a nobleman to sit and act within the House of Lords while wearing the dark mark of the wizard known as Voldemort.”

He watched the ruling settle on his peers, and none looked to be uncomfortable magically. One man in the ancient house looked utterly furious. Harry didn’t recognize him at all, which was a surprise considering the legacy orbs he’d absorbed. The Apollo orb had been especially valuable in the past regarding the names and appearances of people. Which was kind of galling considering what he’d thought of the orb in the future.

“As the house of Malfoy has gone extinct, we call upon the magic of the Wizengamot to reclaim the earldom of Lavoy and bestow it upon a worthy family within the ancient houses. All those that agree, please light your seals.”

Harry managed to get ahead of Arcturus by a few seconds, and the older man quirked an eyebrow at him as everyone around them agreed with the proposal. The moment the last seal lit, the Lavoy box lit up, and sparks flew off it like a firework or a new wand meeting a magical person for the first time. It was a curious sight, and when the light show was over, a new family seal adorned the Lavoy box. Ross Weasley stared for a moment and nodded thoughtfully.

“The Wizengamot is pleased to welcome our peer in magic, Henry Archibald Burke, the Earl of Lavoy.”

Henry Burke was a blood mage and had become the head of his family at the age of twenty-five just the year before. Harry knew the man had been murdered sometime in the ‘80s and that Lucius Malfoy had been a suspect in the case but had gotten away with it. Burke’s murder was just one of many during that time that the DMLE had eventually dismissed as trivial. Burke stood from his seat and walked across the room. The Lavoy box opened just as his own had, and he watched Burke take in a deep breath before stepping inside.

Burke focused on him as he sat, and Harry stared for a moment before giving the man a small nod. Burke’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded back. His overt approval seemed to shift the silence around them. So Harry focused on Ross Weasley and found the older man a little flummoxed. Perhaps none of them had expected the Wizengamot to choose a genuinely dark wizard. Blood magic and necromancy were dark arts, and any wizard entrenched in such magical practices could only be considered a dark practitioner. But dark didn’t equal evil as far as Harry was concerned. He knew it wasn’t a popular opinion, but most of the people in Britain had been poorly educated on magical theory, and adult magicals didn’t seek to educate themselves unless required by their career.

“The next order of business is the member tracking magic,” Ross Weasley said. “It has been pointed out by the Department of Mysteries that it is dangerous and cannot be considered a viable security measure as it could be used against us. It could also be used to violate the security of our homes and families. As we are tasked with protecting the sanctity of the Wizengamot, we must make more considered choices going forward. Does anyone have a valid argument regarding the continued use of member tracking?”

The angry man from the ancient houses raised his wand, and it lit.

Ross Weasley stared for a moment. “You have the floor, Mr. Rosier.”

Balthazar Rosier.

He’d known, of course, that Tom Riddle’s husband was in the lower house of the Wizengamot; he just hadn’t expected him to actually show up for the quarterly meeting. Maybe that was short-sighted, as he already knew that Balthazar wasn’t hiding away out of shame and precious few people actually knew his circumstances.

Rosier stood. “Sir Ross, it behooves me to point out that removing member tracking will cripple the DMLE’s ability to respond to threats against the members of the House of Lords. As it has already been made clear, we can’t afford to lose any more members as it weakens the magic of the Wizengamot itself.”

Ross nodded, and Rosier sat.

Harry lit his seal.

“The Wizengamot recognizes the Earl of Braemar.”

“Thank you, Sir Ross.” Harry paused and focused on Arcturus Black. The older man inclined his head slightly. “I, personally, will not tolerate the profound invasion of my privacy as it pertains to this tracking magic. It’s not a security measure; it’s a targeting system that we can’t genuinely control. There are other ways we can seek to protect each other and our families that doesn’t involve allowing a third party to keep track of our every single move. To that end, I propose an extensive security package be put together for all the members of the Wizengamot—emergency portkeys for all members and their families would be my go-to solution. Setting an anti-portkey ward is an expensive endeavor, and most magicals can’t cast one on their own.

“Yes, we have a duty to protect ourselves, our bloodlines, and the Wizengamot itself. So, let’s be proactive and logical about this. As many of you might already know, I’ve tasked myself with offering security wards to magical households who can’t afford to do it for themselves. I won’t make assumptions about my peers’ economic status, but I believe the argument could be made that there is room in the Wizengamot’s budget to provide security wards for those who don’t already have them. If we are genuinely on the cusp of war in Britain, then we should be proactive in our defense of each other and our citizens.

“I further propose that we petition the ICW for a peacekeeping force from the War Mages Division to supplement the DMLE and provide a defense for the ministry itself. The last thing we need is for our central government to be put at risk. We have a lot of issues to handle and prepare for. Perhaps, Sir Ross, a committee could be created to present a comprehensive security plan.

“In the meantime, I don’t believe Mr. Rosier’s concerns are warranted, and since none of the ancient houses have been subject to this unsafe and intrusive magic, it really isn’t any of his business.” A teeter of shock drifted through the audience, and Rosier glared at him openly. “As this is not a criminal proceeding or a legislative matter, the ancient houses don’t have a vote.”

Harry wondered if the Daily Prophet would openly call him an arrogant twat or if they would just insinuate it in the social gossip section. He sat down in the silence that followed and glanced toward Draco, who just sent him an amused look and went back to writing in his journal. He was more than half convinced his mate was making a very detailed hit list.

The vote was called, and not a single sitting member of the House of Lords voted against removing the magic. Rosier, who was turning out not to be particularly savvy, was still staring pointedly at Harry. It was interesting and a little amusing, so Harry just lifted one eyebrow as he stared back. Rosier’s gaze went wide, and his cheeks flushed.

“I will end that motherfucker,” Draco muttered under his breath, and Harry turned to his mate with a grin.

He focused his attention on Ross Weasley as the man moved through a series of administrative tasks that were more boring than anything else and wasn’t surprised when Christopher Potter was asked to set up a security committee. As his last act, Ross Weasley canceled the member tracking magic, and Harry noted with some amusement that it only seemed to impact the light members. They’d clearly followed the rules, while the others had circumvented the magic just as Jonas McGregor had. He glanced toward his boss, who just relaxed in his seat and pulled out a pipe. He’d never seen it before, but it proved to be a signal of sorts because several more did the same.

Christopher Potter stood when recognized. “To get a broader perspective, I’d like the houses of Black, Peverell, and Burke to join me in committee for the security package.”

Harry indicated his agreement and watched curiously as Henry Burke did the same.

* * * *

“Problem, dragon?” Harry questioned.

Draco took a sip of wine before focusing on the menu. “No.”

“No?”

“Balthazar Rosier is an uncouth bastard,” he said roughly and huffed a little when Christopher Potter laughed.

“Well, he’s certainly no competition for you, Draconis,” Arcturus said as he set aside the parchment menu.

Harry had been only mildly surprised when both men had followed them to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. He’d been surprised, upon entering, to find the pub had been expanded and had several private dining rooms. Christopher had pointed out that Harry’s patronage and public disdain for the gentlemen’s club had increased the Cauldron’s business three-fold. It was four times larger than it had been in the future.

“No, of course not,” Draco said and put aside the menu in favor of his wine. “His overt interest was disrespectful and, honestly, considering his own personal circumstances, practically a threat.”

“I don’t follow,” Christopher said.

Harry exchanged a look with Draco, then shrugged. McGregor wanted the information spread around. “Balthazar Rosier is Tom Riddle’s husband.”

Arcturus blinked in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

Harry just shrugged. “He is also laboring under a profound set of contractual obligations that are evident in his aura. It’s probably a marriage contract, and certainly, he has the dark mark. Speaking of, Voldemort will be furious by the rule change, and he’ll probably be offended that Henry Burke was chosen over his own husband, who he certainly assumes to be perfect and worthy of the earldom of Lavoy.”

“Is Henry Burke a target, you think?”

“Oh, we’re all targets,” Christopher said easily. “Any single one of us stands between Riddle and whatever his stated goal is. Plus, we have what he doesn’t and can’t attain.”

Harry was certain he had a lot of things that Tom Riddle could never attain, but he just nodded because he understood that Voldemort ultimately coveted a family legacy and title. Though, he really didn’t think that Riddle would’ve ever been satisfied with the Gaunt familial magic, even if it had survived to be claimed by him. It was not a prestigious title, had only ever been a single barony, and the reputation of the family would’ve never given him the glory and adoration he sought. Riddle knew it, too, since he’d never, ever claimed the family name and disdained his squib mother his entire life.

“Why do you suppose Rosier was so focused on you?” Christopher questioned.

“I can assume he’s been ordered by Voldemort to entice me enough that he can get me alone to kill me,” Harry said mildly. “He overestimates his ability and his attractiveness.”

“Why would they be focused on you already?”

“Voldemort brought the Lestrange brothers to my home personally.” Harry drew his wand and cast a privacy charm that had both older men looking concerned. “So, we hunted Fenrir Greyback and sent the corpse to his husband as a gift.”

Arcturus Black stared in shock for a few moments, then threw his head back and laughed in delight. He ended the charm when there was a knock on the door, and it opened when Arcturus called out for their visitor to enter.

“My lords, Lord Lavoy is in the main dining room and has asked if you’re here. I’m checking to see if you are,” the girl said with a small smile.

“We’re here, and he can join us,” Harry said, and she started to leave. “Wait, did he specify Lavoy, or have you made an assumption?”

“I erroneously called him Lord Burke when he entered,” the girl admitted with a flush. “He offered the correction politely and appeared to take no offense regarding my mistake. The other noble families have always been invested in their house and surname pride. It’s…interesting to see something different with you and now Lord Lavoy. I’ll escort him back.”

Shortly, Henry Burke entered, and he already had a pint of ale in hand. They shifted around the table as it expanded easily, and another chair popped into place. Burke sat down, unbuttoned his jacket, and took a deep breath.

“Okay there, lad?” Arcturus asked with an amused smile.

“I am…not okay,” Burke admitted. “I’d have never thought in a million years that my family would be chosen for such a thing. Half the other ancient houses are furious with me, and I was told by Balthazar Rosier that I should’ve declined the honor as I’m a half-blood and have no business sitting on the Wizengamot anyway, much less in the upper house.”

“I recently learned that Balthazar Rosier is married to Voldemort,” Arcturus said. “So, it’s clear that we can’t take that man’s opinions on board on any subject. He’s insane.”

Burke blinked, sat back, and pressed the rune on the table to summon the server. The young witch immediately entered. “Netta, I require a very large firewhisky.”

She smiled and glanced around the table, then nodded when no one else ordered any.

Henry loosened his cravat and took a deep breath. “I rarely heard anything so profane in my life.”

“Agreed,” Christopher Potter muttered. “As to the choice the Wizengamot made today, I assumed, based on research, that you’d be the one. That’s why I framed the request as I did. I wanted to prepare the other members for a dark choice. The upper house requires a balance of sorts, and the dark house within the body normally provides it. I’m a student of such things, Lord Lavoy.”

“Henry, please,” the man said and sighed when Netta returned with the whisky. “You’re a dear, lass. I’ll take the beef roast.”

“I’ll take fish and chips,” Harry said, and Draco ordered the same.

Arcturus and Christopher both appeared to be keen for the cottage pie because they ordered that as they had the last time they were together at the pub. Harry made a note to order it next time to see how it compared to his own. Netta left with the promise of food delivery shortly and engaged the door lock as she did so.

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” Burke blurted out.

“Well, tell us about you,” Draco encouraged, and Burke exhaled slowly as he averted his gaze briefly. “Sorry, is my allure too much? I’ve myself on lockdown as much as possible.”

“No, sir, you’re fine,” Burke said. “I wouldn’t know you were veela if it weren’t for the slight sheen on your aura. Just trying not to stare.” He flushed and took a sip of whisky. “I have an international mastery in law and recently joined the prosecutor’s office. I studied Paris after Hogwarts because I couldn’t get an apprenticeship in Britain. I did take the mastery tests for France and Britain as well, but they are secondary to the international one.”

“I have a rude question,” Christopher said. “But it has play in the discussion.”

“Of course, sir,” Burke said and glanced around the table. “Please be at ease and speak freely.”

“Very well, I have two rude questions,” Christopher said cheerfully. “How are you for money, and will you swear on your magic to never follow Voldemort?”

“I am…well-situated financially as I inherited from both sets of grandparents. I’ve heard rumors that the Lavoy estate is little more entailed items. I know the Malfoy monies were claimed privately by more than one blood relation who didn’t have the familial connections to claim the title.”

“How do you know this?” Harry questioned.

“Minister Minchum tried to take the Malfoy estate and filed a claim with Gringotts,” Henry explained. “I helped to write the brief on it. I knew it would fail as there are several treaty clauses that the dverger can use to prevent such a thing. The bank responded with a 150-inch parchment detailing all the ways the Malfoy estate was none of the ministry’s business. Then they provided a list of items in the Lavoy vault-no gold, entailed material possessions.

“Minchum was very disappointed and ordered my boss, Mr. Diggle, to find a solution to retrieving the gold that was taken from the Malfoy estate. There is no recourse, but he doesn’t believe it. I suspect that he’ll get a personal response from Chieftain Ragnok if he continues his little campaign, and that will be a death knell in his career in the ministry. No matter what anyone says about the dverger or the bank, the public isn’t going to allow anyone to irritate the Horde so much that another rebellion happens. The last rebellion bankrupted thousands of people all over the damn planet.”

Their food arrived, and Arcturus made a pleased noise. Harry found that he liked the older man more than he ever thought he would, considering what he knew about him. Arcturus had never tried to save his grandson from Azkaban, and it was a real issue for Harry. It wouldn’t happen again, but he really didn’t know how the older man had gotten to that place. Maybe his wife’s death had just destroyed him, and Harry could understand. Just the moments leading up to their time travel, when he’d thought Draco was dying, had felt like utter destruction.

Draco’s hand settled on his arm. “Love, are you okay?”

Harry cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

“You’re pale as fuck,” Arcturus said bluntly.

“Just considering the ramifications of various actions,” Harry said easily and put vinegar on his chips before passing the bottle to Draco. “When we last met, you said you’d take precautions against your grandchildren being associated with Voldemort.”

“Fortunately, only my son Orion and my cousin Bellatrix Lestrange have taken the dark mark. I disowned them both,” Arcturus said roughly. “I’ve assumed custody of my underage grandchildren—Regulus and Sirius. Both boys responded cautiously to the information. Regulus has some opinions that I find troubling, but I’ll set him to rights one way or another. I won’t have him corrupted by Riddle or his parents. And Sirius has made it clear he’d prefer to live with the Potters going forward, which I’ve agreed to.

“I’ve disowned their father, and they recognize that I have the power to do the same to them. I don’t like the fact that the boys see that as a threat, but I can’t do much about it. I can’t allow either of them to fall to Voldemort. They’re my heirs. My daughter, Lucretia, never had children and married Ignatius Prewett. He recently passed the head of their family to his nephew Fabian, he’s a reckless boy, and I’m concerned about the direction of the family as a result. His brother, Gideon, has decided to join the DMLE. A response, I’m sure, to the death of Albus Dumbledore.

“The only other viable line would be the children of my cousin Cygnus. All of his children are female, and our line is patriarchal. Perhaps one of them will have a son who could be a choice in the future, but it’s doubtful. Bellatrix was married to Rodolphus Lestrange and is apparently really enjoying her new widowhood. Andromeda was disowned by her parents for marrying a Muggle-born. Narcissa has declared her intention to marry her soulmate and have no children at all, much to her parent’s fury.”

“They don’t approve of Kingsley Shacklebolt?” Draco asked curiously. “I suppose his job is too pedestrian for them?”

“Exactly so,” Arcturus admitted. “He’s a pure-blood, but they aren’t on board with his politics or his ambitions, which don’t mesh with what they want for their daughter. Apparently, Narcissa has already left her parents’ home due to their behavior and is staying with her sister, Andromeda, in Muggle London. I’ve warned Cygnus that he was going to alienate all of his children and end up alone in his old age. He’s already married to a woman who can’t stand him. In the end, Andromeda may be the only one he’ll have to depend on in his old age, and they’ve disowned her.”

“Tell me, Henry, what security measures will you undertake personally to defend yourself against Riddle and his Death Eaters?” Christopher picked up his ale and sat back from his half-finished plate.

“I already have an emergency portkey, and I’m heavily warded to avoid being corrupted mentally. That’s a requirement by the ICW if I want to practice in the World Court of Magic. I’ve been tested in a sanctioned situation, and I’ve demonstrated the ability to shake off the Imperius. My instructor at the ICW believed it to be a quirk of my parselmagic, which is largely untapped despite my efforts. I have a property abroad I can retreat to as necessary and a magically shielded room in my home.

“I would recommend that all members have one of those—warded so only they can access it and supplied for a siege if some kind of anti-transportation ward is put down. I also carry a ward buster strong enough to destroy most temporary wards thrown at me. I could probably also use it to escape a situation given time. I’ve three wands, two of which are stored in a dimensional store that is mated to my magical signature and invisible to everyone but me.”

‘That’s a lot for a man of your previous station,” Draco said mildly. “How heavily has Riddle recruited you?”

“He’s tried to kill me six times,” Henry said. “I was told, but certainly can’t verify, that he’s furious that I’m a parselmouth and don’t hide it. Before it was well known, he had Amycus Carrow approach me and ask if I would bestow the gift on Voldemort. He tried to force me to take a vow on my magic that I wouldn’t reveal the request to anyone. But I fought back, and he left my home in three pieces. The next time I saw him, someone had put him back together. It was quite irritating as he was much more agreeable, less both his legs.”

“Would it have been safer to agree?” Christopher questioned.

“No, he’d have killed him afterward,” Harry said, and the older man nodded. “Besides, Christopher, such a thing is extremely intimate. I’d say it’s more intimate than sex. I’d have certainly never done it for anyone but a cherished lover.” He watched the older man’s eyes go wide then he slowly nodded. “I know you keep your own parselmagic a secret, and I don’t begrudge you that. However, such a thing makes it hard for the rest of us in Britain. We are painted with a dark, unforgivable brush for no reason at all. Discrimination against parselmouths goes all the way back to Salazar Slytherin, and that’s, honestly, fucking ridiculous.”

Christopher grinned. “As you say, lad. I’ll think about the ramifications and speak to my son about it. He’s considering having his suppressed.”

“Is that common in your family?” Harry asked in alarm.

“No, it’s a relatively new procedure, and parselmagic is often a latent gift in our family. James is not latent, and he’s terribly offended by it.” Christopher grimaced. “Which is reason enough, I suppose, to reconsider my position and start educating people.”

“Yes, because delivering such disdain on a gift from your familial magic could equal a form of rejection or disownment,” Harry said. “You said James was your only child, right?”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Christopher admitted. “As I said, it’s relatively new. I’ll speak to my son at length about it. We can’t take that kind of risk with the family magic. People would believe him irredeemable if the Gryffindor legacy refused to settle on him when the time comes.”

* * * *

The security discussion had reminded Harry of the fact that he had a wand to retrieve from Garrick Ollivander. When he’d brought up going to the wand maker’s shop, Arcturus Black had decided to come along and pick up another wand as he only had one. They parted ways with both Christopher Potter and Henry Burke at the pub and went into Diagon Alley. The shopping area wasn’t very busy, a usual circumstance when all the children were being held hostage in school, so they took their time.

Harry noted with some amusement that Cobbledick’s had a sign on their building announcing an open enrollment period for membership. He’d received two letters from the owner and hadn’t responded to either. If the arsehole apologized to him instead of Draco one more time, he was going to send a very stern howler.

Ollivander was at the counter when they opened the door. He had a single box sitting in front of him. “Lord Braemar, I’m glad you came. I started to wonder if I’d have to send you an engraved invitation.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at the attitude but wasn’t insulted. He hated to wait, too. “My apologies, sir; I had no idea you were waiting.”

The older man tapped the box in front of him. “Come over here and take this thing immediately. It’s started to get really cheeky about its circumstances.”

Harry went to the counter while Draco started to browse the wand holsters on display. They didn’t need them, but maybe Draco wanted an accessory as his mate was fond of such things, and their dimensional stores were invisible to everyone but themselves. He opened the box and stared at the undamaged holly and phoenix wand. The wand he’d bought as a child had been broken twice, repaired by the Elder Wand both times, and just before he’d gotten together with Draco, he’d added scales from his own form to it in an effort to make it work for him better. It hadn’t helped.

“I don’t think…this wand will be compatible with me,” Harry admitted.

“No, I agree,” Ollivander said. “But it’s chosen you regardless. I can’t recommend you use it for anything. I can’t explain this, but the wand has been unreasonable for weeks, probably since you came to Britain.”

Harry nodded and ran one finger along the wand. A gentle rain of sparks danced in the air, so he picked her up and she showered him with affection. It was a sweet emotion, much like he’d felt the first time he’d picked up the holly wand as a child.

“It certainly appears compatible,” Arcturus said dryly.

“It’s merely excitement on the part of the wand,” Ollivander said. “Perhaps a little fate at play, Lord Black. Something you know well enough.’

“Certainly,” Arcturus agreed. “Though I’ve found Lord Braemar to be quite an enigma. I came with these lads, Garrick, because I believe it would be a good security measure to have at least a second wand. My first wand is rosewood and unicorn hair.” He drew the wand and put it on the counter as Harry stored his new wand and put the box away in his dimensional store.

“That’ll be four galleons, Lord Braemar,” Ollivander said and turned to stare at Arcturus’. “My father made this wand—it has his artistry. I’ve precious few left from his hand, so it is lovely to see. May I pick it up?”

“Yes, of course,” Arcturus said easily. “Your father told me it would serve me well my whole life. At the time, it was common to get a new wand after Hogwarts due to magical maturation. But it grew with me all these years and changed. It’s even gotten a little shorter.”

Ollivander nodded. “It responded to your power and adjusted to become the focus you needed. My father was known for his wand craft in this respect, but also he recommended for decades that adults purchase another wand after maturation.”

“Well, that was more about education, right?” Draco questioned, and they all focused on him. “People in Britain are often intellectually stagnate. If they’re not growing and changing during their maturation, their wand can get confused and fail to settle properly.”

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Ollivander said with a smile. “Would you like to pick up another wand, Consort Braemar?”

“I favor hawthorn or aspen,” Draco said and looked around. “Unicorn hair or griffin feathers tend to respond well to me.”

Harry meandered around the store, browsed through the holsters, and by the time he came back to the counter, Draco had picked up his original wand. He wondered how his mate felt about it, as Draco was very knowledgeable when it came to wand lore and the mechanics of magical foci. He’d customized his first wand repeatedly over the years, and now he was faced with a virgin version of that wand. Harry considered that and made a mental note to ask what would’ve happened to the wands in Ollivander’s shop if they’d brought the exact version of their first wands through time.

They paid for their purchases while Arcturus went through the wands that Ollivander had brought out for him. The older man proved to be rather picky and spent forty minutes rejecting one after another until he got one that seemed to satisfy him. Harry watched the process without discussion, and Draco went back to the wand holsters and bought two. Maybe he meant for them to be an overt sort of thing. Harry did believe that everyone should holster wands and never take them off, especially in dangerous times. He figured it should go into the article he was considering writing about personal security.

As they left the wand shop, Harry caught Draco’s hand in his and turned to Arcturus. “Would you and your wife like to come to dinner tonight, sir?”

Arcturus smiled. “I’d love to, but I’ll have to ask Melania as she handles our calendar, and I never know what my evening holds.” He pulled out his watch and checked the time. “I shall send an owl—”

Magic shifted around them. Draco lurched forward and tackled Arcturus Black to the ground even as Harry drew his staff and cast a shield. A series of curses hit the shield like bombs going off one after another. The strength of it pushed Harry back, and he stumbled but held the shield.

“Diffindo! Diffindo!”

The attack ended abruptly, and as the magic dissipated, Harry found Roman Banner standing between them and two bodies. He took a deep breath, ended the shield charm, and turned to Draco.

“Are you two okay?” He looked over his husband quickly and found nothing amiss.

“I’m good, but I think I broke his arm,” Draco said, even as he helped Arcturus stand. He performed a diagnostic charm. “Minor fracture; he’ll be able to call a healer to his home.” He cast a pain charm. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“No apologies, please. You just saved my life, Draconis,” Arcturus said quietly as he stared at the bodies. “Roman, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Roman said tersely. “Someone will have notified the DMLE. Is Lord Black’s injury the only one?”

“We’re uninjured,” Harry said with a frown. “What was that magic they were using?”

“It’s a family spell,” Arcturus said. “A bombardment curse that should have torn your shield to shreds after the second hit. The fact that you withstood it being cast twice is nothing short of amazing, Hadrian.” He took a deep breath and pressed against his chest with a trembling hand even as aurors started to apparate into the Alley. “I need to get to my Melania before anyone else does.”

Harry considered that but didn’t have a solution because he knew the DMLE would keep them all on the scene for questioning.

“Arcturus!”

Harry flinched and barely refrained from casting the shield again. Christopher Potter rushed toward them. He stowed his staff and took a deep breath as he moved toward the bodies. A very young Bellatrix Lestrange was laying dead beside an older man that he bore a startling resemblance to the Sirius Black he’d met when he was thirteen years old.

“Orion Black,” Roman said. “Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black.”

Harry nodded. “A family spell.”

“They attacked the patriarch of their family,” Roman said. “I don’t know how they survived casting the spell the first time.”

“He disowned them for following Voldemort,” Harry said quietly. “I’ll contact Croaker to make sure this goes the way it should. And thank you, it was hard to concentrate, and holding that shield took all I had.”

“It disoriented me, too,” Roman admitted. “So I had to move away before I could cast at all. If they’d been aiming that shite at me, I’d have been dead.”

“The bombardment spell has a built-in confundus charm. It is a curse made for war,” Arcturus said and closed his eyes briefly before focusing on Christopher Potter, who looked precariously close to patting him. “Christopher, please go tell my wife what has happened. I’d rather she didn’t hear on the wireless that our own son just tried to murder me.”

Amelia Bones was striding toward them, but Harry found himself focusing on the bodies.

Bellatrix Lestrange was dead.

His magic stirred inside his chest, and he exhaled slowly.

“Lord Braemar, what’s happened?” Amelia Bones questioned.

Harry cleared his throat and focused on the woman. “An act of war.”

Her eyes fluttered shut briefly, and she shuddered. “Merlin help us.”

Draco’s hand slid into his and their fingers laced out of habit as he pulled his husband closer. Harry stayed where he was as Christopher Potter left and an auror left with the bodies. The crowd gathering around them were clearly scared but also too curious to run. Harry didn’t think they really understood what was at risk and what they could lose if they gave into fear or, worse, apathy.

“Harry?” Draco questioned.

“Avalon’s fate hangs in the balance,” he murmured, and magic shifted in his chest again.

It was clear that Varda agreed.

The End

 

 

 

* * * *

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