Reading Time: 104 Minutes

Title: Bone Deep
Series: The Master of Death
Series Order: 7
Author: Keira Marcos
Fandom: Harry Potter
Relationship: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom, Pansy Parkinson/Susan Bones
Genre: Romance, Alternate Universe, Reincarnation
Warnings: Discussion-Child Abuse, Canon Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Discussion-Suicide, Sacrificial Magic, Explicit Sex, Character Bashing, Grammarly Beta, Fucked Up Canon
Word Count: 50,037
Author’s Note: Celebrating my 52^nd birthday by giving you guys a present! I finished this a bit ago but was holding it back because I wanted to have a firm grounding regarding the next story in the series. I think it ends in a great place as it tells the story I intended to tell.
Summary: Harry Potter grew up in the unique embrace of the God of Death. The ramifications of this are more than some can tolerate.

* * * * *

Chapter 6

“Something is different,” Pansy said. “What did Potter tell you?”

“Things I shouldn’t discuss,” Draco admitted and took a deep breath. “If it were just about me, I’d tell you.”

“Yeah, of course,” she said and settled on the stool in the safety zone near the end of the worktable. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in here—instead of using the potions lab in the suite. It looked well-supplied.”

“It’s great,” Draco acknowledged. “I have a personal project in the works, and the materials are toxic if not handled properly, so I don’t want to do it outside of this warded space.” He shifted around on his own stool and focused on her. “I want him.”

“You always have,” she said and shrugged one shoulder. “You weren’t alone in that at Hogwarts, but you didn’t ever pursue him.”

“He had concrete bounties, and I understood that even if others were too selfish to see it,” Draco said roughly, and she nodded. “I fully intend to leave Britain with him, Pansy.”

She stared for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Okay, let’s start planning your seduction campaign.” She pulled out her journal. “At least he’s more approachable now than he was at Hogwarts.”

Draco laughed and sighed. “I kissed him.”

“How was it? Was he weird about it?” She raised an eyebrow. “At least we know he’s not a virgin. The international press can’t give that man a single bit of space. It won’t get any better. His last reported romantic partner was like six months ago.”

Draco made a face. “You mean that arsehole who gave that lurid interview to Wizard’s Monthly?”

Pansy laughed. “It wasn’t that bad. Regardless, he’s at least willing to engage in some kind of relationship. So, the kiss?”

“Perfect,” Draco confessed. “Intense. He might have ruined me.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pansy muttered. “That’s going to require more work than a seduction. If you want to marry that wizard and have babies with him, we’re going to have to bring your A game.”

Draco laughed. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying that Potter has magical power to burn, which means a ritual baby is absolutely in his wheelhouse.” She flicked a hand. “Susan and I have been talking about it, actually. We’d need a coven for it, so she’s reached out to Professor McGonagall to see if we can join the Rowan Circle during our second maturation. She’s declined in the past because of the corruption, but if that can be fixed….”

“If not, then surely you could find a coven abroad that would help,” Draco said. “And I’m willing to donate if you need to go a more traditional route—I’ve not changed my mind about that.”

“Well, if you’re in the market for a partner, then you need to remember that such a decision would impact him, too,” Pansy pointed out. “And he might not be on board with you having kids with Susan and me.”

“I made that decision years ago, and I promised you,” Draco said. “Any future partner would be required to accept it, Pansy. Besides, just having potential for more isn’t enough. Especially not with a wizard like Harry Potter. Maybe I won’t even be enough to keep his attention in the long term.”

“If that’s the case, then the fault will be with him, not you,” Pansy said. “You’re brilliant and gorgeous. Any wizard would be lucky to have you.”

“My looks, wealth, and intelligence will never trump the infamy my father generated, Pansy,” Draco said quietly. “And you know it. You suffer with it, as well.”

“Eh, at least my father only went crazy and killed himself,” Pansy said dryly, and Draco laughed before he could help himself.

“Right?” Draco sighed and looked at the cauldron in front of him that was currently holding an extraordinary amount of pure mercury in a stasis field.

The element itself wasn’t rare, but precious few sources on the planet could provide what he knew to be magically pure, and he had a whole bloody liter of it. It was worth millions of galleons.

“Where did you get it?” Pansy questioned, and he found her staring at the cauldron.

“I can’t say,” Draco admitted. “But I have equal amounts of sulfur, antimony, and liquid sophic gold of the same quality.”

She stared for a moment, eyes dark and serious. “Where will you get the salt?”

“I’ve not decided,” he admitted as he wasn’t all that surprised she’d figured it out. “Alchemy doesn’t come easily to me, but I’m motivated to get it right. Since salt represents Earth within the elements, I need to make a considered choice regarding the source.”

“Somewhere deeply magical, of course,” Pansy said. “But relatively untainted by human contaminants. That will mean the Himalayas. The enclave in Tibet might agree to a visit from an intermediary, but if you want to go personally, then you’re going to have to be ritually cleansed. They’d never let one of us into Shangri-La right now without some serious work to clean up our magic.”

“I agree, and I wouldn’t ask,” Draco said. “But the bank can arrange a purchase for me, and I agree it might be the best choice.”

She nodded and frowned. “I had no idea that the Master of Death is immortal.”

Draco exhaled slowly.

“I won’t ask any questions, but I understand why it would be…an avenue of exploration for you if the relationship goes well. But why start this research now?”

“Did you ever wonder if you had a soulmate in a previous life? Before the magic of it died?” Draco questioned, and her eyes widened in shock.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Pansy muttered. “That tosser! He’s known forever, right?”

Draco winced. “Probably since the day we met, certainly.”

“Oh, I want to curse his stupidly attractive arse right out!” She crossed her arms and wiggled so much in irritation that she almost fell off the stool.

Draco reached out and steadied her with a laugh. “Ah, hell, Pansy, just imagine how that would’ve gone. Please. Do you think eleven-year-old me could’ve kept that secret? I would’ve never taken Dumbledore seriously as a threat, and you know it. Harry understood, from the beginning, that we had no power in that school.”

She took a deep breath. “We had no power because Dumbledore has no limits.”

“Right,” Draco said. “I think, looking back on it, he would’ve killed any single one of us to gain control of Harry Potter. His childhood was unbelievably lonely, but he protected us all from a threat we didn’t have the experience to see. Most of our peers will never know that; they’ll never understand it. He had more discipline at eleven than most adults do.”

* * * *

Draco hesitated at the entry of the ritual space; Harry was kneeling in the middle of the ritual circle, glowing faintly with magic. As magical auras went, Harry’s appeared relatively normal for his age and power. He didn’t know what he expected, but ordinary wouldn’t have been included in a list of adjectives. He knew that Harry was very powerful—an archmagus in his own right—and that kind of power was often very prominent in a magical person’s aura.

“You can come in,” Harry said.

Draco pulled the door shut behind him. “Nev and Hermione are having dinner in the common area, and Pansy is using one of the public meeting rooms to eat dinner with her girlfriend.”

“Susan Bones, right?”

“Yeah, I guess your research is pretty complete on all of us, then?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted and sighed. “I can’t believe you banged Michael Corner. What’s wrong with you?”

Draco scowled. “I’ve never instantly regretted a fuck more in my whole life.”

Harry laughed as he left a kneeling position and sat down. “So, the others are having a date night, and we’ve been left to our own devices?”

“Yeah, I snagged us some food.” Draco walked across the room, sat down in front of Harry despite the fact that the ritual circle was still glowing with power. “I just picked sandwiches from the menu. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks.” Harry took the parchment-wrapped sandwich he was offered. “I eat most food I’m presented with.”

“I remember,” Draco said. “You always tried everything that was put in front of you—except you seemed to find pumpkin juice genuinely offensive.”

“It’s too sweet,” Harry said. “I know they encourage magical children to consume a lot of sugar for energy, but pumpkin juice put me off like mad from the start. I was grateful when you suggested I try to ask for different juice.”

“You mean that time you rolled your eyes at me and went back to reading your book on magical theory without even saying thank you?” Draco asked in amusement and pulled two butterbeers out of his bracelet. “I remember.”

Harry huffed. “Sorry, first year I was still trying to find the right level of….” He waved a hand.

“Indifference?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Harry murmured. “I was really worried I’d get one of you injured or killed just by being there. My father interfered repeatedly over the years in Dumbledore’s machinations. That old bastard tried to lure the wraith of Voldemort into the school with Flamel’s bloodstone. My father took it and returned it to Flamel and lectured him severely about allowing Dumbledore to borrow it. As a result, the Flamels moved to South America and have refused all contact with Dumbledore ever since.”

“I don’t blame them,” Draco said and unwrapped his sandwich. “I just got roast beef for both of us. Though I had the chicken salad yesterday for lunch and it was very good.”

“Yeah, the master chef here in Britain is amazing,” Harry said. “He’s probably the best in the Horde, but it’s to be expected since he works in the royal seat. I’ve attended events he’s catered several times over the years.”

“So, was Flamel’s stone the worst of it?”

“No, not at all,” Harry said. “There used to be a basilisk in the school. I found it in the middle of our third year, and my dad had to relocate it to a preserve in Japan. Then there was the Triwizard Tournament. Dumbledore tried to enter me into it despite the fact that I wasn’t old enough and would’ve ended up being the fourth participant. Dad prevented that, too.

“But his overt interference really put Dumbledore on guard. We still don’t know what he intended to accomplish with it; perhaps it was about putting me at risk to see how I would respond. At any rate, he often followed me around when I was outside of the dorm like a creepy old stalker. He had an invisibility cloak, but I can see through those things to the point where I have to avoid looking at hidden people, so I don’t give myself away.” He took a bite of the sandwich and hummed a little as he chewed.

It was good. The beef was cooked perfectly and rich with flavor, so Draco was pleased to have made a good choice.

“One of the better business models in the Horde is the catering box,” Harry said. “You can order enough food for a month of meals in a single box. It costs 150 galleons, but it’s worth it in my opinion since I’ve never invested myself in learning to cook. My father acquired all the food I ate and brought it to me when I was little—he favors Greek and Italian food, so I didn’t have any traditional British food until I started at Hogwarts.”

Draco laughed. “That explains the faces you used to make at the food we were served.”

“Breakfast was the worst—I was used to eating fresh fruit, yogurt, and cheese pies for my first meal. My dad used to sneak me spanakopita as an afternoon snack because I complained so much about the heavy food I was eating. After you pointed out the juice option, I did send a note to the kitchens and asked for yogurt—I was relieved the first morning it appeared as an option.” He paused. “I never did convince them to make me strapatsada.”

Draco grinned. “I suppose they would’ve if you’d given them a cookbook with the recipe in it.”

Harry huffed a little and scowled. “You’re right. At any rate, I’ve expanded my food options over the years because I’m not bothering with cooking and I prefer the Horde food service across the board. Though, if I get my box from Italy or France, there are local food options available that I prefer.”

“You don’t visit the branch in Greece?”

Harry took a deep breath. “No, I don’t go to Athens. In fact, I’ve set foot in Greece just once as an adult. The people there…not everyone…but a certain population responded very oddly to my presence. Dad doesn’t think I should go back unless I have no choice.”

“They recognized you,” Draco speculated.

“Yes, but not as the Master of Death,” Harry said and shrugged as he took a sip of his butterbeer.

“Is Greece a power base for him?”

“It’s the origin of one of his more popular embodiments,” Harry said. “And the one Sirius Black chose during the sacrifice. That being said, Greece is also the home of the only genuine cult that still worships Death on the planet. Many religions give Death a nod of respect either out of fear or habit. But in Greece, Thanatos is recognized as a god on a level many of the ancient celestials no longer enjoy.

“While the people I encountered in Greece didn’t genuinely understand what I am, they did respond to me in ways that was discomforting. Having a stranger take a knee for me in the middle of a busy shopping district was…a lot. Moreover, it happened repeatedly. Some because they sought me out and others out of happenstance. I left as quickly as I could, and I’ll never go back if I can help it.”

“I can’t fault them for it,” Draco admitted. “A devout man would have no choice but to take a knee for his god’s son if their magic recognized something of their god in that son. It was probably the honor of their lives, and now they know at least part of who you are.”

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and finished his sandwich.

The silence wasn’t awkward, so Draco focused on his food and stored his trash in his dimensional store for disposal later, after he finished the sandwich.

“Does it bother you?”

“Which it?” Harry questioned.

“The fact that there are people on this planet who worship your father?”

“I didn’t know, you know, that he was a god. In fact, he didn’t tell me until we talked about the adoption, which took place in the year before I went to Hogwarts. We knew our time in that awful Muggle house was coming to an end, and that the blood wards my mother set were being heavily taxed by his continued presence in the house.

“Since they were going to fail, the official beginning of my formal education as a wizard would mean I would be very vulnerable to other magicals. I didn’t intend on going to Hogwarts, but Dumbledore basically tried to blackmail me with the safety of my Muggle relatives. Granted, I barely knew those arseholes because Dad forced them to avoid me as much as possible. They think they treated me very poorly and starved me.”

“What did you do to them?”

“We really did just move them to Australia, then sold the house through the bank since it actually belonged to the Potter estate. My mother had inherited that house from a maternal aunt and allowed my aunt to live in it. Regardless, the Dursleys are gone and will never willingly return to Britain. I probably did them more of a favor than any of them deserved. I came to Hogwarts so I could see exactly who and what Dumbledore was.”

“How did you respond to the celestial reveal?” Draco questioned.

“Oh, I had a complete tantrum,” Harry said. “I ugly cried, accused him of betraying me for keeping it a secret, and even declared he didn’t love me. It remains the hardest conversation we’ve ever had because I came to understand just how abnormal my circumstances were and always had been. We basically lived in a magical trunk in a boot cupboard, Draco. The trunk belonged to James Potter, and my dad retrieved it from the bank at James’ suggestion. It was originally made to be used as a base of operations during the war, so it was basically a flat.”

“A trunk in a boot cupboard.”

“Yeah, my aunt thinks I spent my entire childhood in that boot cupboard,” Harry said. “She still hasn’t figured out how I didn’t die since she never once fed me. Maybe that was a result of the magic my dad used to keep them away from me, or maybe they’d have been worse if I’d been there alone. I don’t know. I’m glad I don’t know.”

“Me, too,” Draco said quietly. “You know blood purists tell stories like that about Muggles to make other magicals hate them.”

“There are hateful people everywhere,” Harry said and stored his own trash with a flash of magic. “You’ve had some time to think about everything.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Draco agreed. He moved closer and caught one of Harry’s hands in his own. “So, listen, and take this on board. It’s deeply wounding that soulmate magic is dead. I’ve never known what it was—this awful little hurt I’ve carried all of my life. Now, I know, and I feel compelled to fix it. Not just for us but for the world. I’m not asking you to help me fix it, but I do need you to understand.”

“I do understand,” Harry said. “How will you deal with failure?”

“Do you think that’s what will happen?”

“I always prepare for it,” he admitted and flushed. “It’s just…the world is an awful place and fucked up shite is the norm. We don’t know what killed soulmate magic, and maybe it can’t be returned in this lifetime. It might be beyond our current magical circumstances.”

“You mean a future version of us could bring it back,” Draco speculated. “How?”

Harry exhaled slowly. “The same way we could, in theory, bring it back right now.” Finally, he met Draco’s gaze. “A profound magical bond—magic and life force—between two magical soulmates could be enough to restart the engine, so to speak. And if it doesn’t this time around, the next time we’re born we could bring that magic back with us. A genuine rebirth would be a very magical event for the world.”

“That’s a lot to ask of a man like you,” Draco said. “You avoid commitment like the plague, and the last arsehole you dated told the whole damn planet you were emotionally unavailable.”

Harry grimaced. “He’s fortunate I declined to respond to that stupid interview. He’d probably never get laid again.” He looked down at their hands, then slowly laced their fingers together. “I can’t even say he was wrong. I didn’t make myself available to him emotionally, and he was pushy about it. Of course, I made it clear from the start what I could and could not provide before we ever began that relationship. Damien just assumed he could take more, and when he tried, I dumped him.”

Draco laughed a little before he could help himself. “What did you tell him you could provide?”

Harry shrugged. “Monogamy, companionship, and frequent sex—which I thought was very fair since we’d only known each other for a few months. He asked me if I was aromantic, and I really wish I could’ve lied and said yes. During the last argument, I told him plainly that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to fall in love with him. How could I?”

Draco took a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter that the magic of it is dead, Draco. You’re my soulmate. Why would I give my love to anyone else?”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Draco questioned.

“I didn’t plan to, but denying it wasn’t an option either. Nothing really felt fair; it never has felt fair. You deserve better than what I have to offer.”

Draco hesitated for a moment, then just crawled into the arsehole’s lap because he was more Gryffindor than he’d ever admit to anyone, and he was tired of being denied what magic had been trying to give him forever. He shuddered as their mouths met in the softest of kisses, and Harry’s hands settled on hips like they belonged there.

“Stop getting in our way,” Draco murmured against his mouth.

Harry was still against him just briefly; then he shifted slightly, relaxed against him, and took a deep breath. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Magic flexed around them, and Harry apparated them right out of the ritual space and into his room. They landed on the bed with a little thump, and Draco laughed.

“You just apparated in the bank.”

“I do have limited access to do so,” Harry explained. “At least in what the Horde considers public space, and in an emergency I could probably gain access to other parts if Ragnok had a need for me to do so.”

“They must trust you a lot,” Draco said as he let his hands drift through Harry’s hair. “Is that about your job or about your duty?”

“A mixture of both,” Harry admitted and pulled Draco’s shirt from his trousers, then he slowly started unbuttoning it.

When he could, Draco shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it away. Some small part of him wondered if they were moving too fast, even as he tugged at the T-shirt Harry was wearing and threw it in the same direction he’d sent his own clothing.

“I’m not emotionally dangerous to you,” Draco murmured.

“I’m sure you think so,” Harry muttered and sighed.

“I don’t intend to be,” Draco said then, and Harry nodded. “But that’s probably not enough to be a comfort.”

“You’ve always been a comfort—one I couldn’t afford and refused to acknowledge. I used to lie in bed at night in the dorm and listen to you breathe. Sorry, that probably sounds creepy. At any rate, it was awful being so close to you all the time. I hated it and loved it and resented the fuck out of it all at once.”

Draco kissed him because he didn’t have any other response to the depth of loneliness that Harry had just revealed. Harry shifted them around, tipped him onto his back, and settled on top of his body in a gesture that felt like acceptance and surrender. He spread his legs and pulled Harry as close as he could.

Harry ended the kiss and met his gaze. “What do you want from me?”

“Everything,” he admitted and blushed despite his best intentions.

Harry slid off of him but stayed close as he settled down on his side to stare at him. “You’re probably the only mortal person to have the slightest idea what that would mean for me.”

“I know,” Draco said. “But letting you walk away from me again feels like it would ruin my life.” He averted his gaze when Harry’s eyes widened in shock. “The last day at Hogwarts might have been relieving for you, Harry, but it broke something in me because it felt like I’d never see you again. At the time, I didn’t understand how or why it was upsetting. You’d barely ever given me a moment of your time, but…at least you were close. Then you were just gone—completely from the country, and no matter what anyone said or did, it was clear you never intended on coming back.”

“And now you know.”

“Yeah, now I know,” Draco admitted roughly and stared at the ceiling. “It’s devastating, actually, knowing how easy it was for you to walk away when you always knew that we’re soulmates.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Harry said and ran his fingers through Draco’s hair. “But it kept you safe, and that was important to me. It’s still, obviously, very important to me. I don’t consider you a weakness, but you are a pressure point. Dumbledore would destroy you to gain control of me.” He paused. “Well, he’d try, and it would get him killed. Then, depending on the circumstances, I’d probably have to explain myself to several people.”

“You’d hate that,” Draco muttered. “You’ve never liked explaining yourself.”

“True enough,” Harry said and took his hand, then laced their fingers together. “I want to give you everything. I just don’t know if it’s possible, for more than one reason. Beyond our current circumstances, I have a greater duty to the magical world that I can’t turn my back on.”

“I wouldn’t expect that.”

“Imagine how the world would treat our children,” Harry said softly, and Draco took a deep breath. “They would be the most magical of people from birth because of my adoption. They would be demigods, Draco, just like me. The grandchildren of Death, and they would move through this world like the very magical creatures they would be.”

“I’ll publish a paper on my creation of a bloodstone,” Draco said. “If there are children, we’ll raise them in private and educate them the same way until they can defend themselves. Their aging won’t matter because the knowledge that our family has a bloodstone won’t be a secret.” He wet his lips. “And if you don’t want to have your own children because of that legacy, we can pay for a surrogate to have my biological children. You can adopt them legally but not in blood or magic.”

Harry grimaced.

“You hate that idea.” Draco took a deep breath. “The thing is that I promised Pansy that I’d help her have kids one day if she wanted.”

“Oh.” Harry exhaled slowly but nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You made a promise, and I’d never ask you to break it,” Harry said quietly.

“But?”

“You should warn her that I’d probably get pretty…territorial regarding any child she had with you when it comes to their safety. We’d probably have to house her family fairly close to us.”

Draco stared for a moment and laughed. “Pansy is mercenary as fuck, Harry. That’s not going to put her off in the least.”

“I also think we’d both find that situation difficult to manage if we create a bond,” Harry admitted. “If we can create it. I believe it’s possible, but failure isn’t out of the question considering the damage done to both of us in this life. I’m not exactly immune to the corruption that has been going on in this country. I did, very briefly, host a connection to Tom Riddle when he tried to kill me.” He paused. “A pseudo horcrux.” He looked down at their hands. “Let’s not rush into this.”

“I already told you I’m not going to tolerate any crap from you,” Draco muttered, and Harry laughed. “I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want to…get in our way. I’ve never wanted to, but I had to make the best possible choices I could when we were younger, which weren’t always optimal when it came to my emotional well-being.”

Draco cupped the back of his head and pulled gently. “Stop saying horrible things that hurt my feelings and kiss me some more.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry murmured and let himself be drawn back in.

A little kissing wouldn’t hurt anything at all.

 

 

Chapter 7

“Two hours ago,” Harry began as he sat down at the breakfast table. “Dumbledore was officially banned permanently from every Gringotts on the planet.”

Draco slowly put his teacup down and exchanged a look with Pansy. “What did he do?”

“He tried to force his way through the lobby to find me,” Harry said. “And security ejected him—tossed him right out into the Alley on his arse.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Neville muttered and sighed. “Ramifications?”

“He’ll face a tribunal with the World Court of Magic for attempting to violate a host of treaties with the Horde,” Harry said with a shrug. “The ministry is, of course, protesting his treatment and trying to tell King Ragnok he has no right to ban a ministry official from the bank. That’s going to probably cause a host of sanctions by the ICW, as absolutely no one on an international level wants another rebellion.

“Well, no one human,” he clarified. “I can’t say that most dverger would be all that fussed to have rebellion since it just makes them money hand over fist. That’s the problem with the British Ministry of Magic. They’ve never really bothered to pay attention to the ramifications of their actions—no matter the consequences. This country was bankrupted by the last Horde rebellion, and it took several hundred years for them to recover financially. Your economy still isn’t as robust as France or Australia.”

“Shacklebolt is in Dumbledore’s pocket,” Hermione said, and Harry watched them all nod their agreement. “He basically thinks that old bastard can do no wrong, no matter what gets revealed about him or his past. There are plenty of people like that in this country, you know.”

“I do know. I’ve gotten over a hundred very angry letters since yesterday,” Harry said and waved a hand. “I had another mail ward erected specifically regarding correspondence from Great Britain and sent Shacklebolt the bill because he can most certainly pay for the bad behavior of his own citizens. A great many people in this country seem to think I should basically fall on my knees and worship Dumbledore.”

“Because they do,” Draco said dryly. “Hermione’s right, you know. Most of his followers don’t care what he does or how he does it. They are very invested in his image as the Leader of the Light, and nothing interferes with that. It’s bizarre.”

“It’s indoctrination,” Harry said, and they all four winced.

“My grandmother was pretty devoted at one time,” Neville said. “Then…well, she never forgave him for what happened to my parents. Dumbledore told them that they were safe, and as a result they were tortured to insanity. They eventually died due to the corruption. Almost no one survives deep magical injuries in this country because of it.”

“The mortality rates have been…discussed,” Harry said. “There’s nothing we can do about that part as long as the corruption lingers. I’m sorry your parents were taken from you like that.”

“Well, you’d understand it better than most,” Neville said and exhaled slowly. “My only solace is that the Lestranges went completely insane and killed each other before they got caught. I’d hate for them to be in Azkaban, right now, alive while my parents are dead.” He waved a hand. “Especially with the dementors gone.” He paused. “Why did you ask Hekate to take them away?”

“Because they’re an abomination,” Harry said. “And their existence was unnatural—they were created with necromancy, and the fact that they were allowed to linger on this world for hundreds of years is outrageous. They were used to torture the living and the dead. Such a thing is beyond the pale.”

“The Resurrection Stone tortures the dead,” Hermione interjected. “But you have it, right?”

“It doesn’t do that,” Harry said and smiled when she looked confused. “Most of the information you have on the Hallows is pure fiction, Hermione. That mythology was created to dissuade anyone from using the Hallows if they encountered them—as you can see, the results were mixed at best.

“The Resurrection Stone allows for communion with the recently dead—it’s basically a key to a door that leads onto the celestial plane.” He paused. “In my hand, specifically, it is an instrument of death magic. In your hand, it would be a very pretty rock and nothing more.”

“It’s only active when there is a Master of Death,” Draco said. “Right?”

“Right,” Harry said. “I used it for the first time when I was six to meet my parents.” He paused. “Well, I tried to meet them. But they are in a spectral state on the celestial plane, and interaction was difficult. I walked away from the experience with the knowledge that they were…content with their choices. It was enough.”

“Truly?” Draco questioned.

“It had to be,” Harry said. “I needed to accept their circumstances so I could accept my own.” He pulled out his journal. “I’ve commissioned the creation of four runic ward stones. Once they’re complete, they’ll be delivered to our ritual space so we can build the magic sinks. Hogwarts will close for the summer in two months; in the meantime, we can focus on Little Hangleton—the second oldest point of corruption. Then the location in London and finally Godric’s Hollow.

“After we have all four ready, we’ll be able to see how deep the growth is and if it’s impacting the country’s ley lines. Right now, the corruptive elements make it difficult to really see the lines for what they are.”

“And if the lines are tainted beyond repair?”

“Then the country is a dead loss magically,” Harry admitted. “We’ll have to blockade permanently, migrate those that can safely leave. Then monitor the whole country for magical births. Those children will have to be removed as quickly as possible to prevent them from being tainted. Within the next fifty or so years, magic will retreat in full from the country, and there won’t be any magical births to be concerned about.”

“That sounds like…it’s happened before, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, there are several parts of the world that have been blockaded due to deep corruption,” Harry admitted. “We lost a huge enclave in Asia well over 2,000 years ago to a dark cult. Hiro Ito sealed that personally, and I think that’s why he lingers even now. He’s guarding the world against what was created there. It’s happened in the past in France, Russia, and…well, there was the Mayan situation.”

Hermione leaned forward. “What situation?”

“There was a death cult, and the sacrifices piled on top of the area in more than one way,” Harry said. “In the end, an entire region had to be blocked off magically, and the cities essentially died as a result due to migration.” He waved a hand. “Then, some asshole druids in Ireland tried to create an inferi army about 800 years ago. The Protectorate spent a full decade cleaning up that mess. The thing is that death is attractive and magicals are stupidly fascinated with it.”

“Why did you reveal yourself after you said it would be a mistake for Dumbledore to know?” Hermione questioned.

“It was pointed out to me that Dumbledore would probably lose his shite and get himself killed,” Harry said dryly, and Pansy laughed. “And that seemed worth trying.”

“But he’s going to try to murder you,” Neville pointed out. “Actual murder. He probably won’t even be subtle about it, and we’ll have a new dark lord to deal with.”

“Well,” Harry said with a shrug. “He won’t even be the first person to try that shit this month.” He stood and stretched. “I’m pretty sure that dozens of dark wizards on this planet have me on their bucket list one way or another.”

“Fuck or murder?” Draco questioned and laughed when Harry sighed. “It’d be a toss-up for a lot of them, I’m sure.”

“Do you have any assignments from the Master Feyborn?” Harry asked as he focused on Hermione and Pansy.

“Yes, we’ve done the reading, and we’ve got a diagnostic spell running in the High Priestess’ personal circle,” Pansy said. “She’s proposed that you build a scrying ritual for the wraith. His chaotic presence should be easy to find that way at your power level. We aren’t compatible with her, by the way. Her fey heritage drove us both out of the circle when she cast. We’re going to be tested against several dwarrowdams in the next week to see who can fit with us. She believes that the duality of witchcraft and dverger magic is very important since our work will be most closely aligned with the bank itself.”

Harry nodded. “The cleansing ritual will ebb out from the bank. I can’t say the average British magical will appreciate the implications of that, but they only have themselves to blame for the disgusting mess they’re in.”

“Do you blame them all equally?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted and focused on Draco. “They tolerated it—for decades. They tolerate bigotry in their own government, in their school, and in their public spaces. They fostered the exact environment that created men like Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, and Gellert Grindelwald. These people literally fouled their own nest, Draco.” He waved a hand. “And worse? They’ll never acknowledge it. Easily half of the people in this country think it’s my responsibility to fix their problems despite the fact that I wasn’t even born when it started.”

“Once the diagnostic is complete, we’ll be able to provide a better perspective on the creation of the runic sinks,” Pansy said. “I’ve never carved one, of course, so that’s going to be an issue if they take a long time to create.”

“I can carve them,” Harry said. “Draco will empower them while Neville provides him with an anchor.”

“I’ve never led a ritual,” Neville said. “Why not you?”

“Because one of us will have to stand guard over both the circles and the ritual itself. Considering my nature, it must be me,” Harry said. “Pansy and Hermione will be tied up in the secondary ritual, which will be focused on the distribution of our power throw-off. Moderating that to ensure it doesn’t damage the bank or the wards in place on the Horde’s land is imperative. It will be Lenore’s singular focus and why she decided to participate as she has.

“At the end of the day, she’s standing guard over her husband’s magical domain in a very overt way.” He paused. “And if we lose control of our ritual work during this process, she’s our safeguard.” He took a deep breath. “Your safeguard, because there are forces at work in my life that would outright remove me from the ritual space if I lost control of myself.”

“Is that related to your role as the Master of Death?” Hermione questioned and leaned forward. “Could you…accidentally kill us?”

“No,” Harry said. “Never that, but I’d rather not give you all a bath in death magic if I can avoid it. It would change you all in a very permanent fashion, and it would appear, to those who can see such things, that you all took up necromancy overnight.”

Draco actually shrugged.

“What?” Harry questioned.

“Not much could make people think less of me than they already do,” Draco admitted. “There will always be people who avoid me like I’m a budding dark lord, and others who will get in my face and tell me exactly how offensive they find my existence to be. There’s a bloke in the minister’s office who won’t stay in the same room with me and complained to Minister Shacklebolt about my inclusion in this project.”

“Percy Weasley,” Harry said with a nod. “It was brought to my attention, but I told Hiro Ito to tell Shacklebolt that I don’t actually give a fuck about Percy Weasley’s comfort. I’m sure that was passed along and wasn’t received well. Weasley’s always had a problem with me and once tried to give me detention at Hogwarts when he was Head Boy. I didn’t bother to show up—he tried four times before he complained to the headmaster, who dismissed the whole thing because he couldn’t make me go to detention, and threatening to throw me out of the school amused the shit out of me the one time he tried it.”

“Why does he have a problem with you?” Hermione questioned. “Is it just about you ignoring him and everyone else at school?”

“No, he blames me for the murder of his mother and two youngest siblings,” Harry said frankly. “A Death Eater was hiding in their home, and he went insane with all the others. Peter Pettigrew killed Molly Weasley, her youngest son, and the only daughter. I acknowledge that it was a very tragic situation for that family, but I don’t accept any responsibility for it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Neville said. “It destroyed Arthur Weasley’s life. He never got over the murders and drank himself into an early grave. The oldest son, William, basically raised the twins, which is why they weren’t at Hogwarts. They went to school in Egypt. Percy stayed here in Britain with an aunt after his father died because he was already at Hogwarts.” He grimaced. “It’s obscene that Percy actually blamed you for it as a child at Hogwarts.”

“There were comments throughout the years from several students,” Harry admitted. “Percy was the most overt in his…frankly, he hates me. He once told me that the world would’ve been better off if I’d died with my parents.”

“He’s a real bastard,” Hermione said and flushed when they all focused on her. “He told me once that it was a shame that a witch like me had a job in the ministry when there had to be pure-bloods more qualified who deserved it. He didn’t want me on this project either, because of my blood status. I don’t know where that complaint got buried, but it went away pretty quickly.

“Shacklebolt works pretty hard to protect Percy Weasley, probably at Dumbledore’s behest, as he’s weirdly invested in Percy and always has been.” She frowned. “Maybe it’s about his mother’s murder since Dumbledore apparently knew her very well.”

Harry just nodded. “I can lure Riddle here—he’ll be unable to help himself for a variety of reasons. He knows I have the Hallows, and that is bait enough for any dark wizard. Riddle also believes that I’m the only threat on this planet standing between him and a decisive victory.”

“Victory over what?” Draco questioned.

“The world,” Harry said dryly.

“For fuck’s sake,” Neville muttered. “That’s just more proof that he’s insane. No one would legitimately want to rule the whole fucking planet. It’d be one hassle after another.”

“I can’t disagree.” Harry checked his watch. “I’ll ritual scry and check on the status of Riddle.” He paused. “It’ll be a private circle, and I’ll need to seal the space while I do it.”

Draco leaned forward. “Did you intend to seclude yourself magically whenever you use death magic?”

“Yes, it’s for the best,” Harry admitted. “At least for right now. There could come a point in the project where I’ll have to take a heavy hand with the ritual casting to protect the integrity of the spells and the runic sinks. If that becomes a possibility, I won’t be offended if any of you decide against further participation.”

“Death magic is natural,” Hermione said after a protracted silence. “It plays an integral part in the soul cycle, which we already all participate in. I’m not worried about the function of your magic in the ritual space. You have more discipline than all four of us combined.” She paused. “And you have since you were eleven years old.”

* * * *

Draco sat down at the long conference table and glanced only briefly at Croaker before focusing on Kingsley Shacklebolt. “Has the ICW taken custody of Dumbledore?”

“Not yet,” Shacklebolt said roughly. “We’re trying to get the World Court of Magic to agree to a local hearing.”

Draco exhaled slowly, then shook his head.

“You don’t agree?” Croaker questioned.

“It’s above my pay grade,” Draco said. “Your note didn’t indicate a subject for this meeting, sir.”

“Tell us about Potter,” Shacklebolt ordered.

“We signed magically binding oath contracts managed by the Horde,” Draco said, and Croaker just nodded. Shacklebolt looked more irritated than anything else. “He’s shared the prophecy with us, but we can’t speak of it. I can’t tell you anything specific about the research, the plan, or the conclusions that have already been reached.”

“What about Potter personally? Are there any points of leverage?” Shacklebolt questioned.

“No,” Draco said and exhaled slowly. “He’s focused on the problem, and that’s all anyone needs to know.”

“We can’t just depend on that,” Shacklebolt said roughly. “Without Dumbledore to observe, there is no telling what has been decided or done. I can’t trust Potter with the country, Mr. Malfoy.”

“You don’t really have a choice,” Draco said, and Shacklebolt glared at him. “The ministry has lobbied for Potter’s return for nearly a decade, and now he’s here. He made it clear before he arrived that he’d not allow Dumbledore any involvement. Why are you still pressing this? Do you want the Protectorate to blockade us and move on? If you think they won’t—you haven’t been paying attention. They’ve already set it up.”

“Dumbledore knows more about the problem than anyone else, and Potter is ignoring that,” Shacklebolt said. “It’s like he wants to fail.”

Draco sighed. “Sir, that’s the last thing he wants. Harry Potter would like to fix this problem as quickly as possible so he can leave the country and never come back. He’s here because people he actually respects wanted him to work on the problem, and he’ll do exactly what he agreed to do. Then, he will go.”

“Dumbledore thinks we need him here, after the clean-up, to keep magic stable,” Shacklebolt said. “We’ll be looking for a way to force it.”

“Force it?” Draco repeated. “You think you can force a War Mage to stay in this country? The Protectorate will not tolerate that, Minister Shacklebolt. Neither the ICW nor the World Court would come down on Britain’s side, and the fines alone would hinder the government for decades. Anyone personally involved in such a plot could face charges as individuals.”

“Potter owes Britain.”

“No, Britain owes him,” Draco said quietly, and Shacklebolt’s mouth dropped open. “And at the end, when Riddle is gone, and taint is cleared, this country will owe him even more. The only way to truly repay that debt and to atone for the damage done to his family is for Britain to leave him alone for the rest of his life.” He stood and exhaled slowly. “The thing is, Minister Shacklebolt, there is precious little more foolish on this planet than making an enemy of the Master of Death.

“I won’t be a party to such a thing.”

“You’re an employee of the ministry,” Shacklebolt said. “And you’ll do as ordered.”

“I’m not a slave,” Draco retorted. “And my contract is at will. I won’t be controlled or leveraged for the benefit of anyone or anything. I only work because I want to, and all of my real assets are sequestered in France.” He raised an eyebrow when Shacklebolt looked shocked. “My mother moved my family’s money abroad the day after my father ran off and started murdering people. When he was caught, not a single account with his name on it had a knut to be taken.”

He waved a hand in frustration. “I can tell you one thing.”

“What’s that?” Croaker questioned.

“Every single one of you has been corrupted beyond the measure of it by Riddle’s taint,” Draco said quietly. “I’ve yet to meet a British wizard or witch over the age of forty that wasn’t a seething mass of greed and an outrageous amount of selfishness. In Potter’s place, I would’ve left you all to rot.”

“Do you know why he chose you for the project?” Croaker questioned.

“No,” Draco responded and watched his boss take in the lie without any physical response at all.

He wasn’t an Unspeakable and wasn’t connected to Croaker in any fashion magically, but he knew the man was very good at sussing out a lie when he heard one.

Croaker shifted, and his hood glinted with magic, then nodded. “Dismissed.”

He left the conference room mentally writing his resignation letter. It had been coming for a while because he’d already given up on trying to manage his reputation in Britain, and taking a job with the ministry hadn’t done much to make people more accepting of his family’s history. He returned to the team’s space and relaxed when the guards shut the door behind him.

The common area was empty, so he went to the work room and found it empty as well. The ritual room door was open, but the room was dark. He walked across the room and paused in front of the map where the big areas of corruption were marked and found that Harry had made several notations. He’d written the letters TMR in a series of locations that were clearly headed towards London, with little arrows connecting them.

“He did that about thirty minutes ago,” Neville said quietly as he joined him. “After two hours in the ritual room alone.”

“Riddle is heading this way,” Draco said quietly. “Do you think he’s mad enough to try to come into the bank?”

“I hope so,” Neville admitted. “The dverger won’t have a problem capturing him. Harry hasn’t talked about how that will go.”

“I suppose a wraith has no hope of standing against the Master of Death,” Draco murmured and took a deep breath. “Is he in his room?”

“He went into the bathroom a few moments ago,” Neville said and checked his watch. “Hermione and Pansy have already pretended to go to bed. But they’re probably just an hour into a six-hour reading binge. You met with Croaker, right? Can you tell me anything that was said?”

“Shacklebolt is Dumbledore’s puppet,” Draco said with a shrug. “But we already knew that. They want to find some way to force Harry to stay in the country. Dumbledore’s convinced Shacklebolt that it’s required to balance the magic here. He asked me if I knew anything they could leverage against him.”

“It’s galling, right?” Neville said. “To know that he was right all along?”

“Yeah,” Draco admitted.

“I’m going to pry a book out of Hermione’s hand and get some sleep,” Neville muttered.

Draco nodded and, after a moment, retrieved his shower supplies, then went to clean off a day of frustration. Harry was standing at the large bank of sinks when he entered, using his wand to trim his beard. He stared for a moment, taking in the black robe and bare feet. The man should’ve looked vulnerable. He didn’t.

He put his bag down on the counter and activated a rune on the sink to wash his hands.

“Shacklebolt isn’t a problem for me.”

“You listened to that conversation?” Draco questioned. “Croaker’s privacy charm work is very good.”

Harry hummed a little and banished the hair from the sink, then stored his wand. “Croaker gave me access because he works for the Crown and was given explicit orders to render me all the aid I need to fix the problem. Shacklebolt is only in office right now because it keeps him contained to a certain extent. As soon as he stops being remotely useful, he’ll be ousted and replaced.”

“Oh.” Draco relaxed a little. “That’s good.”

“Croaker is suffering just as much as anyone else in his generation,” Harry continued. “But he’s magically bound to serve Avalon. The ministry doesn’t even factor into that equation, so remember that. Would you really leave them all to rot in my place?”

“If this country was the site of my mother’s murder, I would’ve left it the moment I could and never fucking returned,” Draco said frankly. “I don’t know how you stand it—because all three of your biological parents were killed because of Riddle. And Riddle only exists because of cowardice, greed, and an immense amount of unwarranted fear. He’s just a fucking wizard, and these sons of bitches treat him like he’s a hell-born demon that sprung up out of the ground to dominate them. Given a real choice, most would take a knee. You know that.”

“I do,” Harry admitted. “Some of them can’t even help it. The corruption has eroded their ethics for decades. Many of them are so weak to magical manipulation that even in his wraith state he can control them. He’s moving fast for a creature of his current form. Normally, even a willing human host is physically stymied by possession.”

“Right,” Draco sighed and pulled his wand to shave. “Did I say anything in that meeting you wish I hadn’t?”

“No.”

“Just no?” Draco huffed as he performed the shaving charm, then banished the mess afterward. “It’s like Hogwarts all over again.”

Harry laughed. “The contracts will protect you from making a mistake on that front, so don’t worry about it. Also, feel free to tell everyone you possibly can how much I hate this fucking country.” He picked up his bag and headed for a shower stall. “There’s room for two.”

Draco took a deep breath and picked up his own kit because he wasn’t turning that down on a bet. He dropped his own bag on the bench just inside the door, then closed the space. Privacy charms activated the moment the lock clicked into place, and he took a deep breath as Harry shed his robe.

He wet his lips despite his best intentions and pulled his shirt from his trousers. Harry turned on the trio of rainfall shower heads with a brush of his fingers. He looked down at his shirt and focused on unbuttoning the garment. A task that normally was the work of nothing seemed stupidly difficult.

“Let me,” Harry murmured and brushed his fingers away.

“Does this intense thing get you laid a lot?”

Harry laughed a little as he finished unbuttoning the shirt and hooked nimble fingers behind the buckle of Draco’s belt. “I get by.”

Draco did such a poor job of unfastening his cuffs that his cufflinks were left to fend for themselves. The parts clicked together on the floor with a clink of metal and sought each other out due to charm work with a little snap of magic. He shrugged out of the shirt and dropped it on the floor.

“Lose those a lot, do you?” Harry asked and pulled the belt free.

“Yeah, always. I have to have them all charmed to stay together, or I’d just have a bunch of unmatched parts,” Draco admitted with a flush as he pushed off the shoes he was wearing and kicked them under the bench.

“I don’t have any expectations,” Harry murmured as he unzipped Draco’s slacks.

“You probably work hard to never have them,” Draco said, and Harry just inclined his head.

“It’s better that way.”

Draco nodded and took off his trousers and boxers together, which he tossed aside with his shirt. “We’re going to work on that.”

“Must we?” Harry questioned in amusement as Draco took off his socks. “I can’t believe your socks have dancing pygmy puffs on them.”

“Life is dreary enough without piling boring socks on top of it,” Draco said and let Harry pull him toward the stream of water in the back of the stall.

The fall of water was hot and charmed to actively cleanse. The kiss started off as little more than a brushing of lips against his own. Harry’s hands settled on his hips, warm and firm, and Draco felt a little part of him surrender. Normally, he fought it, as he’d never indulged in those needs before and didn’t know if he could. But Harry was so compelling that it was easy to get lost in the attraction.

He shuddered as he was held against the wall; the cool tile did little to temper the heat building on his skin. Draco took a ragged breath as the kiss ended, and Harry rested against him, cock heavy and hard pressed between their bodies.

“Easy,” Harry murmured against his jaw. “I can handle anything you’ve got.” He scraped his teeth briefly against Draco’s skin. “Your element is fire, right?”

“Yes,” Draco responded and shook briefly as his magic shifted in his body. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Harry murmured. “Precious little magic can hurt me, love.”

Draco let his head fall back against the wall and just relaxed. It was such an alien moment for him that his eyes started to sting with tears. The water falling over them started to steam as his magic surfaced and soft gold flames shimmered on his skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry said.

“That sounded like a complaint.”

“Oh, it was,” Harry assured, and activated the body wash rune. Soap started to slide on their skin.

“Is this ordinary plumbing in dverger holdings?” Draco questioned. “Because I’d have to pay fifty galleons a night to get this kind of spa treatment in a hotel.”

Harry laughed. “Very ordinary. Their rune masters are second to none.” He pulled him away from the wall, turned him around carefully, and ran his hands down Draco’s back. “Tell me about your magic.”

“Can’t you see it?” Draco questioned.

“I could…give you a very thorough investigation,” Harry said and pressed a kiss against his shoulder. “But that’s kind of rude, isn’t it?”

“You are the rudest person I know,” Draco said with a smile, and Harry laughed.

“Tell me something I can’t see on my own about your magic,” he suggested.

“I’ve held every single kind of fire that can be made with magic successfully. Regular fire doesn’t burn me, which I found out by accident as a child when I encountered it in a badly maintained public floo. My mother still filed a complaint with the ministry, and I received compensation.” Draco turned in his arms and put one hand on his chest. “And you? What’s it like being an archmagus? Were you one before the adoption?”

“I was born one,” Harry said. “It’s why my mother was able to create the sacrificial ward around me.”

“Your parents used your magic to build a ward in ritual when you were fifteen months old?” Draco questioned.

“I know it’s a lot,” Harry murmured, and Draco kissed him because it sounded like an apology, which was ridiculous.

He slid his hand down and wrapped it around Harry’s cock. Draco made a pleased sound he couldn’t keep himself from making as Harry trailed a series of soft kisses along his jaw.

“You have to fuck me,” Draco blurted out and flushed when Harry lifted his head and met his gaze. “I mean….” He wet his lips. “Exactly that.”

Harry pulled him down to the floor without another word and, with a wave of his hand, changed the water pressure, so it felt like a light rain. One of the best cushioning charms he’d ever experienced in his life formed under him, and Draco spread his legs as he relaxed on the tile. Harry knelt between his thighs, hands sliding under him with the kind of confidence that was a relief.

Draco’s fingers slipped against the tile as fingers and magic pressed against his arsehole. “Fuck.” He lifted his hips a little as the prep spell worked. “What…is that a custom spell?”

“I’m a bit thick,” Harry pointed out.

“I noticed,” Draco said and rocked down on Harry’s fingers.

“Spells built with parselmagic are intelligent in a certain way—the magic is anticipating both of our needs,” Harry explained and pulled his fingers free.

Draco cupped the back of Harry’s head as the man moved over him, settled between his legs, and pushed into his body with one smooth thrust. Eager for it, he wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist and rocked into the penetration. It was absolutely perfect, and it had to be a problem. Harry was strong-bodied, and clearly intent on the pleasure of the moment.

“Good?” Harry questioned against his jaw.

“Yes, gods, you’re ruining me,” Draco confessed, and Harry laughed just a little.

He came surprisingly fast and let himself wallow in the overstimulation as Harry continued to fuck him. Draco adored it—the edge of too much pleasure and the way his lover was using him to get off. Harry caught both of his hands, pinned them to the floor, and held him there as he started to grind into his body.

“Can you take more?” Harry questioned.

“Yes, please, whatever you want.” Draco arched under him briefly and dropped his legs to the floor where he spread them wide and braced his feet.

His own cock hardened again, and he quickly shuddered through another orgasm. Draco felt unaccountably greedy as he sank into the deep pleasure building between them. His fire drifted wildly on his skin, and it felt amazing not to have to worry about it. He’d never been able to relax and enjoy intimacy with another person because of his elemental abilities. It was absolutely perfect.

Harry was shaking as he pressed into him one final time. “Hell.”

They stayed still for a long moment, then Harry slowly withdrew.

“If you have a single second of regret for that, I’m going to ruin your life,” Draco muttered, and Harry just grinned as he sprawled on the tile beside him. “I mean it.”

“No regrets,” Harry murmured and exhaled slowly before he stood, then pulled Draco to his feet.

 

 

Chapter 8

Harry relaxed against his pillows, took a long drag from his herbal, and exhaled smoke slowly as Draco sprawled, utterly sated, between his legs. He ran his free hand through Draco’s hair and gently cupped the back of the other wizard’s head.

“We’ll catch hell keeping this from the team if you fall asleep in here.”

Draco hummed and curled one hand around Harry’s hip. “Do you want to keep it a secret from them, too?”

“I’ve kept what you mean to me a secret for a very long time,” Harry confessed. “It’s difficult to consider any other circumstance. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m ashamed of you.” He paused. “Or us. Because I’m not.”

“Shame doesn’t seem to be a thing you do,” Draco said and took a deep breath. “Truth be known, I can’t keep a secret from Pansy. She’s ridiculously observant and knows me better than anyone else. We’ve been best friends since we were five years old. Our parents used to think we’d make a perfect match.”

“Until you both came out utterly gay?” Harry questioned with an amused laugh.

“Well, Pansy let that be known when she was around eight. Her mother immediately put a stop to all discussion regarding any sort of marriage contract for her. Her father fought that for a bit until her mother threatened him with divorce because she wasn’t going to let anyone force her daughter to marry and have sex with a man. I suppose Nigel Parkinson really didn’t understand what it would’ve been like for his daughter up until that point—to be made to marry a man when she would never want one of her own free will.”

“Most parents don’t seem to care in Britain,” Harry said. “You’d not believe the number of contracts I received the first year after Hogwarts. My personal mail ward got stricter and stricter until I ended up with a very small list of people who were free to owl me directly. All other correspondence goes through the bank.” He took a deep breath. “You’re on that list, by the way. But you never tried to send me anything.”

Draco lifted his head, and their gazes met. “You made your boundaries very clear, Harry. A lot of people don’t respect them, and they don’t respect you. They’ll never offer you more than a token effort and be genuinely appalled at your lack of interest in accepting it. I’m not one of those wretched bastards. I never will be.” He wet his lips. “Why was I on the list?”

“Well, I wanted you to be able to reach out to me if you needed me,” Harry said quietly. “I don’t know what those circumstances could’ve been—but rejecting future contact with you seemed especially galling.” He finished his herbal in the quiet that followed that statement, and the ashes flickered away with a swish of magic.

“I don’t know what I’m allowed to have in all of this,” Draco confessed. “I think it’s important to build realistic expectations, but there’s never been any sort of standard on that where you’re concerned.”

“I know,” Harry admitted. “I’m not sure what we can have, either. I’ve never really been sure on that front because you can want something all fucking day long and be denied it for the simplest, dumbest, cruelest reason.”

“Can’t we just decide?”

“That kind of decision-making tempts Fate,” Harry said quietly, and smiled when Draco laughed. “Part of me has always thought that I have every single right to want and have my own soulmate.”

“But?”

“No buts,” Harry said and pulled gently.

Draco slipped up over him and their mouths met in a kiss as he settled fully onto his body. He adored the weight of another man against him, a hard cock pressed against his skin. Harry shuddered into the kiss and ran one hand down Draco’s bare back. The silence around them, only broken by their own breathing, settled like a blanket.

The magic in the room thickened and grew heavy. The shroud had never felt oppressive to him, but he was concerned that it would be disturbing for Draco, so he ended the kiss between one breath and the next.

“Is your father here?” Draco questioned, cheeks flushed.

Harry laughed. “No, of course not. He’d never intrude on me in such a way. But we share the shroud. It thickens around me the further away he travels, and right now you’re being wrapped up in it as well. Does it feel weird?”

“No, I’ve never….” Draco took a deep breath. “I’ve never felt safer in my life.”

“Good,” Harry murmured and smoothed one pale blond eyebrow with his thumb. “Others have responded badly to it without even knowing what it was. It’s made…staying the night with people extremely difficult as the shroud always thickens when I sleep.”

“As a security measure.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “When I was very small, I slept under the invisibility cloak. In fact, I didn’t stop until shortly after the adoption because Dad knew I couldn’t do it at Hogwarts. It was hard to get used to sleeping without it. The shroud started to thicken in response to both my insecurity and his desire to soothe it. It was extremely taxing for him to keep it close while I was at Hogwarts so others wouldn’t be unduly impacted by his magic. It became a habit then; later, after I started working for the Protectorate, it became a necessity. My job makes me a hard target.”

“I know.” Golden fire shimmered on Draco’s skin then, beguiling and uniquely dangerous. “I’m not a liability, Harry.”

“No, but you make me weak,” Harry admitted and flushed when Draco’s eyes went wide. “It’s astounding, to be honest, to be vulnerable like this. I didn’t think it was possible, and it would’ve never crossed my mind I’d be so enamored with it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I learned when I was very young to not want things for myself,” Harry admitted. “I don’t mean material things, as Dad spoiled me absolutely rotten. Being raised by a literal god has its perks, and I can’t say otherwise. But I knew and understood my magical duty from a very early age. He had no choice but to make it clear to me as soon as he could because death magic is anything but trivial.”

“So, you gave everything you had to that duty.”

“My mortal parents died for me,” Harry said, and Draco’s eyes darkened. “Every breath I take is because of the sacrifices made for me by all of my parents. It became an armor of a sort. I’ve tried for years to make duty enough.”

“It’s not.”

“No, of course, it isn’t,” Harry said roughly. “I just kept trying regardless because nothing else felt tenable. You, honestly, deserve better.”

“Shut up,” Draco muttered.

“I mean it.”

“I know you do, and that’s appalling. I’m the son of a Death Eater,” he said. “And no one will ever let me forget it. You’re well-educated, successful, and absolutely gorgeous.”

“I’m the son of Death,” Harry said quietly. “And if it were to be widely known, people all over this fucking planet would run in fear of me for the rest of their small, narrow lives.” He paused. “Though it won’t ever be known that way.”

“Why?”

“Because my dad has a long and storied history of making people forget the unpleasant things they learn about me.”

Draco laughed.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s hilarious,” Draco assured. “And also, charming.”

“It’s mental manipulation, and that’s dark as fuck,” Harry retorted. “It certainly shouldn’t be done casually, and he does it all the damn time.”

“Some people are just happier in their ignorance,” Draco said with a shrug and laughed again as Harry turned them over.

Harry leveraged over his lover and tried to frown, but it was hard because Draco was beautiful when he laughed. “You can’t encourage him.”

“Oh,” Draco said seriously. “I’m gonna encourage the fuck out of that shite.” He cupped the back of his head. “Come down here.”

Harry sank into him without a word and sought a kiss. His unspoken demand was met with languid eagerness, and Draco practically melted underneath him as he spread his legs. There was so much decadence to be found in his soulmate’s embrace that it was easy to get lost in the emotions and physical pleasure.

He slid a hand underneath them, slipped his fingers against Draco’s arsehole, and renewed the prep charm with a push of his magic. Then he shifted just a little, used his hand to tip Draco’s hips just the way he needed and pushed his cock inside.

Draco groaned against his mouth, and they stopped kissing.

“Fuck.”

“Good?” Harry questioned, though he knew it was. “Don’t worry, my bed is warded for fire. I made sure when I realized you were an elemental.”

“That kind of advanced planning should be extremely off-putting,” Draco said as he wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist. “But it’s kind of hard to find anything unattractive about you.”

“I have a terrible temper,” Harry confessed as he continued to fuck Draco with long, sure strokes. “I’m impatient with stupidity, and never once considered civility a genuine choice when faced with it.”

Draco grinned. “I noticed all of that ages ago, darling.”

Harry stared for a moment, then took a deep breath as he buried his face against Draco’s neck. They fell into a slow, languid grind that got them both off much faster than he intended, but Draco was clearly content with the outcome, so Harry just relaxed into the comfort of pleasure and acceptance with a shudder.

* * * *

The common area went dead silent when they entered, but Harry resolved not to say a word either way. He poured himself some coffee and selected food from the menu before passing it Draco’s way.

“We decided to start the day slowly since you two were busy half the night,” Hermione said, and her cheeks flushed as Harry focused on her.

Draco made a production of his tea in the silence that followed her comment, sat back with a shrug. “For the record, he’s not a barbarian.”

Neville laughed a little.

Harry retrieved their food from the sideboard where deliveries landed and unrolled his silverware from a crisp linen napkin. He cleared his throat. “I suspect I’ll be called into a meeting regarding Dumbledore’s banning from the bank today despite the fact that I had no say in it, can’t change it, and don’t actually care.”

“He does seem to think it’s your job to clean up his messes,” Pansy said.

“For free,” Neville said as he pushed his empty plate back from him a bit and made himself another cup of tea. “Though that’s pretty common for his generation. They seem to think that consequences are for other people—across the board.”

“Magical society is isolated,” Harry said. “And that isolation is, for lack of a better word, corruptive. Crimes in the Muggle world are often covered up due to the Statute of Secrecy, no matter what it might be. Sometimes the wizard or witch in question is punished by our own legal system, and sometimes not. It depends on the country, the amount of influence the magical person has, and the amount of gold that can exchange hands in the process.

“I covered up a serial murder case last year,” he paused when they all gaped at him. “Of course, I also killed the wizard responsible.”

“Right,” Hermione said and frowned. “But those crimes will go unsolved as far as Muggles are concerned?”

“Yes, of course, they will,” Harry admitted. “It’s no real sort of justice since such a thing is for society and the people left behind rather than the victim. But at least that particular wizard won’t continue to murder people for his own personal gratification. Historically, magical people haven’t been punished by the Muggle court system, and they certainly can’t be contained in one of their prisons.” He waved a hand. “Though to be honest, that’s for the best. The last time the Muggle population tried to administer justice to us—they just burned us at the stake.”

“Wow,” Pansy muttered and cut sausage. “Just wow.”

“He’s not wrong,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, it was a problem at Hogwarts, too,” Pansy said, and Harry laughed. “He rarely bothered to talk, and when he did, he’d say something that was both true and absolutely appalling, then just leave you to deal with it.”

“I avoid Muggles as much as I possibly can,” Harry admitted and shrugged when Hermione practically glared at him. “It’s not about any sort of discrimination. I often say what I think and that would be…problematic around people who don’t know about magic. Also, Muggles and some magical creatures find it difficult to be in the same room with me. They don’t know why and probably never will know—but it’s a big enough problem that it’s been noticed by other magicals in the past.

“I had to work hard to avoid house elves at Hogwarts because my magical circumstances scare the fuck out of them. Unfortunately, their magical response is so strong that I can’t get one to stay still long enough to make them understand that I’d never hurt them. As for Muggles,” Harry shrugged, “they’re often more of a problem than anything else for the Protectorate. It’s my job to protect magic and the magical world from them.”

“Because most magicals don’t understand the threat of them,” Draco surmised.

“Not remotely—they think magic makes them safe from Muggles and Muggle technology. Granted, we do hide a lot with magic and always have. But over the last three decades we’ve had to invent whole new fields of magic to hide from them. It’ll only get worse as their technology advances. It doesn’t help that there are parts of every organized government on this planet are actively working to find ways around our magical protections.”

“Really?” Hermione questioned.

“Oh certainly, because they understand that we are a threat to them. Many also resent our power and the scope of magic.” He paused briefly. “We’ve been outed twice in the last fifty years alone—globally. We had to activate protocols that require a deep majority vote by the ICW, permission from the World Court, the cooperation of the Protectorate, and empowerment from Hekate herself to erase those events from the minds of practically everyone on the planet. The only reason I can speak of it is that I’m part of the containment team that will do it again if necessary, and you’re all under my conclave seal through contracts.”

“Even magicals, obviously,” Draco said.

“Well, spell work of that scope can’t be contained since it resonates from a higher magical plane where Hekate rules and we all must take a knee. At the end of the day, no magical or celestial person can deny the will of Hekate.” He paused. “Unless you want to face Zirnitra, and frankly, I’d do a fucking lot to avoid the direct attention of the Black Dragon.” He sat back in his chair. “The last magical society to defy him was Atlantis, and he wiped the city and the adult population off the face of the planet. The children were then spread out over the entire planet through adoption—deepening the reach of magic into regions and communities that had been relatively free of it before.”

“You mean to say that families suddenly had children that…they just accepted,” Hermione murmured.

“Accepted, believed them to be their own from the very start, yes. That is the power of Zirnitra,” Harry said quietly. “It stands to reason that every single one of us is a descendant of such a child, Hermione, as the magical population was quite small worldwide at the time.”

“That’s not in any single magical history text I’ve ever read.”

“I’m going to tell you something that will probably set your hair on fire,” Harry began conversationally, and she laughed. “Due to Britain’s ugly ideology around advancement and purposeful ignorance, you’ve been exposed to less than a third of the information you should as a magical person. You’ve also read about half of our genuine history as a society and are completely ignorant of entire fields of magic because the Ministry of Magic actively prevents that information from entering the country in any single way.”

She stared at him, eyes dark and full of hurt. “I wish I thought you were lying to me.”

“I know,” he said. “It might also interest you to know that half a dozen institutions and organizations have actively considered your personal removal from Britain because it was collectively decided when you were in your fifth year at Hogwarts that you were the most intelligent magical human of our generation. The ICW had to outright forbid your kidnapping twice in the past five years. The International Academy of Magic declared your educational circumstances to be an atrocity and tried to start an International Brouhaha a year after you sat your NEWTS.”

Neville put a hand on her arm then and took a deep breath. “Are there individuals I should worry about now?”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, I already killed those two bastards.” He finished his toast in the silence that followed, stood, and stretched. “Since Draco is a full-time job, and I’m exhausted, I’ll take that slow start you’ve all decided on. I’ll need to do the scrying spell again so we can check on Riddle’s location, and then spend the rest  of the day working on the rune sequence for the magical sinks.

“I’ll need parameters from Master Feyborn’s process sooner rather than later. So, if you ladies could focus on that today, I’d appreciate it. Neville, you’ll need to start building a magical reserve through communion. You can draw a personal circle for that or use the ritual platform. Draco, I’ve a list of potions we’ll need for ritual cleansing starting next week. It’s on your work table.”

“You’ve killed…because of me,” Hermione said.

Harry stared for a moment. “It was all sanctioned. The protection of magic is quite…broad. I’ve always had your back, Hermione. Even when I was ignoring the hell out of you.”

“Maybe especially when you were ignoring the hell out of her,” Neville said dryly. “Right? Dumbledore would’ve found her very useful.”

“Oh, he certainly would’ve tried. He still would if it weren’t for you and your grandmother. Just by being her friend at school, you prevented a lot of bullshite that could’ve come in her direction due to her blood status. Your grandmother was a Hit Witch for the Protectorate for fifteen years before she came back to Britain to retire.”

Neville huffed a little. “I know she still works for you guys, Harry. She’s got a whole not-so-secret basement in her house dedicated to that job.” He waved a hand. “Though I have no idea what she does.”

“Nothing strenuous,” Harry assured and laughed when Neville sighed. “But she’s on-call for local matters, and I’d let her have my back any day.”

All four stared at him for a moment, clearly startled. He shrugged and trotted off toward the ritual room because he’d spent all of his social currency already, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning.

* * * *

“Dumbledore wants the entire project moved to a building owned by the Ministry of Magic,” Shacklebolt announced shortly after Harry slouched down in a chair at the large, glossy conference table.

“No.”

Shacklebolt stared at him. “You’re working on behalf of the British Ministry of Magic, Master Potter, and we require oversight.”

“No, I’m not,” Harry retorted, and Master Ito sighed. “I’ve never worked on behalf of your ministry, and I never will. I don’t answer to you, Shacklebolt. I don’t answer to Albus Dumbledore, either. You can’t do anything about it, and neither can he. Is there a number we have to reach regarding you being told no before you accept it for a final answer?”

“Dumbledore has been banned from the bank,” Shacklebolt snapped. “And we can’t do anything about it, apparently. The ICW won’t even interfere. The fucking goblins just get to do whatever the hell they want! They don’t know how to stay in their place!”

Harry stood, and the shroud thickened around him in response to his father’s arrival. “Leave.”

“Excuse me?” Shacklebolt demanded.

“I’m not going to tolerate a fucking bigot in my face,” Harry said coldly. “I won’t meet with you or anyone else from your administration again. This entire conversation is over, as I have no time for the morally bankrupt and never will.”

“You think I’m a bigot?” Shacklebolt asked, clearly shocked.

“I know you are, and it’s repulsive to be in the same room as you. You are so removed from the worship of Hekate that you’d put yourself above other magical creatures. I can’t tolerate such blasphemy,” Harry said evenly as he turned and focused on Ragnok. “Your Majesty, I’m finished with this conversation. I will not be called back into a room to deal with this ignorant individual again. Are we clear?”

“As crystal,” Ragnok said, and stood. “Master Blackaxe, escort Minister Shacklebolt from my land. He’s not allowed to return for one year but may assign a proxy to handle any of his personal banking for him.”

Shacklebolt sputtered. “You can’t just….” He trailed off as Fyre Blackaxe appeared out of thin air at his side and prodded him out of his chair. “But….”

“Shut up, wizard,” Master Blackaxe said. “The King has spoken, and in this realm, his word is law.”

Harry walked to the fireplace, focused on the flames, and pulled out his herbal case as Shacklebolt hustled out of the room by Blackaxe and two other guards. The moment the door shut, he lit his herbal and took a very deep drag. His magic was drifting around him, dark and heavy in a way he couldn’t dampen.

The door locks clicked into place in a series of sharp clicks. His father appeared then, directly in front of him. Harry didn’t look at Ragnok, or the other dwarrow that remained in the room. He would have to mitigate any problems after Thanatos left, as the situation required him to give his father and patron his undivided attention.

“Most of them don’t deserve a single moment of my time,” Harry said flatly.

“True,” Thanatos agreed. “They never did. But this kind of ethical problem isn’t contained in Britain. There are disgusting bastards all over this world—magical and Muggle alike. The soul cycle exists because an immortal soul must work repeatedly over hundreds of lives to become the best version of itself.”

Harry offered him an herbal, and it was accepted. He stored the case and continued to smoke as he drifted mentally and magically in his father’s shroud. The silence around them wasn’t oppressive, and none of the dwarrow were getting impatient. He glanced toward them and found King Ragnok, Rhys Sharprock, and Tyr Warhide standing on the opposite side of the room. Ragnok offered him a tight nod, so Harry just nodded in return and focused his attention back on his father.

“Is Riddle in a body?”

“Yes,” Thanatos said. “I’ve considered knocking him out of the person in question, but it is a willing possession. Over the years, I’ve prevented him from forcing a hosting, but he’s found compatriots here and there that eventually died because no mortal body can contain him long-term.”

“Not a single one? Not even if he made a construct like he once planned to do?”

“The construct would fall to pieces in under a decade. His magic would basically eat it,” Thanatos said.

“Gross,” Harry muttered, and his father laughed. “Have you started talking to them?”

“Yes, I’ve had conversations with every magical spiritual manifestation in Wales and the UK. Scotland is left, and that’ll be a job because I have to be careful when I’m in Hogwarts, and there are many in that valley. The school attracts them to an untold degree. They’re being told they have no choice regarding crossing over because the final exorcism spell will encompass the entire country.”

“And the non-magical ones?”

“I can’t speak with them,” Thanatos said. “No one can. As a result, they will cross over without knowing why. It’s not my preference, but there is nothing for it, as they are starting to corrupt as well. I’ve come across two elemental demons, by the way, and Hades retrieved them. He told me to let you know that he’ll be on hand to do his part when the spiritual migration begins. Several souls in the process belong to him at this point, and they’ve avoided his attention for hundreds of years through manifestation.”

Harry nodded. He had no interest in getting in the way of Hades’ business. “I don’t have to talk to him, do I?”

Thanatos raised an eyebrow, smoked for a bit in silence, and shrugged. “He knows better than to get closer to you than you want, Harry. They all do at this point.” He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You did well, son. You always do.”

“I….” Harry exhaled slowly. “They just make me sick.”

“Well, of course they do,” his father said gently. “Your moral code, no matter how ambiguous anyone might believe it to be, is etched on your bones. Being confronted repeatedly by reprehensible is the reason we left this fucked up country as soon as the wards on Privet Drive expired.” He pulled him close and let his forehead rest against Harry’s. “Thank you, as always, for your self-control.”

Harry nodded even as his father faded away, and the shroud shifted around him in response.

He focused on his herbal and took another long drag, then let smoke trail out of his nostrils. “Master Warhide, you are now my solicitor of record. I’ll need a contract regarding a retainer.” He focused on the dwarf in question. “This is for your protection—since you can’t be made to violate a client’s privacy by any magical law.”

The dwarf’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Thank you for your consideration, Master Potter. It was too late to leave the room…by the time I realized what he was.” He paused. “Was your adoption in blood and magic?”

“Yes,” Harry said and waved his herbal. “Demigod at your service.” He finished the herbal and the ash flickered away. “He’s normally much more considerate regarding such matters. You can expect an apology of some sort once he…allows his perspective to broaden enough to recognize what he did.” He sat down at the table, and the three dwarrow joined him.

“Blasphemy is magically offensive to you,” Ragnok surmised. “Has it always been so?”

“I took a knee for Hekate as a very small child,” Harry said quietly. “I surrendered to her care—emotionally, magically, and ethically. It had deep ramifications. Being here…is extremely difficult for me, and it’ll only get worse.”

“Obviously,” Rhys said and huffed a little when he got elbowed by his own king. “Those bastards with the ministry don’t care if he lives or dies. They never have.”

“Well, I did my duty as far as they were concerned,” Harry said. “And it was inconvenient when I didn’t die and worse when I failed repeatedly to meet their expectations. Their small and narrow minds are festering hotbeds of greed, bigotry, and willful ignorance. All of it bothers me on a profound magical level, but their lack of shame for it is just….” He waved a hand in frustration. “Genuine ignorance can be tolerated in the short term, but Shacklebolt believes himself to be better than your kind—superior in a way that is contrary to the will of Hekate. He’ll be punished severely upon death.”

A chime sounded in the room, and Rhys frowned before getting up to answer the door. Privacy protocols were normally well-observed in the bank, so Harry figured something significant was happening that required one of them.

Razel Fireborn entered with Hiro Ito not far behind him. “There’s been…a complaint lodged with the ICW.”

Hiro Ito carefully set a rolled parchment on the table in front of Harry. “The British Ministry of Magic has accused you of crimes against magic for reuniting the Deathly Hallows. They are insisting that you be separated from them immediately.”

Harry laughed a little and picked up the scroll. He tossed it in Tyr Warhide’s direction, and the dwarrow caught it. “Good thing I just hired a solicitor.”

Tyr opened the scroll with a neutral expression, read it, and then put it down. He pulled out a quill and started to make notes on it. “As I’m sure you know, not a single government organization on the planet has any authority whatsoever to demand that an individual part with the Deathly Hallows. They are the magical artifacts of Death himself. If the God of Death has a problem with Master Potter’s ownership or use of the Hallows, I’m sure he’ll let him know personally.”

Ito focused on Harry and raised an eyebrow.

“I would assume that the king keeps his heir well-informed, and if so, there is no one unaware of my genuine circumstances in this room.”

Ito nodded thoughtfully. “Both the ICW and the World Court of Magic welcome Thanatos to make his position on any matter perfectly clear whenever he would wish it, Master Potter.”

“You may come to regret that,” Harry said.

 

 

Chapter 9

Harry stopped just after entering the potion lab, and the guard left him with a short nod.

“Are you ingesting a narcotic-level calming potion on the regular?” the potions master asked without even looking up.

“No, Master Earthborn,” Harry said and tucked his hand behind his back as the dwarrow in question looked up from the ledger he was writing in. “But I’m not surprised you’d question it. There are a lot of arseholes on this planet, and my exposure is beyond the pale.”

“I’d be in prison for serial homicide.” He rolled his eyes when Harry laughed. “I was going to have your potions delivered.” He motioned toward a crate on the edge of his work table. “It’s surprising that you ordered from me when you have a world-class brewer on your team. Mr. Malfoy could earn an international mastery very easily.”

“Draco is busy with the needs of the whole team,” Harry said. “I didn’t want him to shift his focus. What sort of contacts do you have in Tibet? He needs three kilos of magically pure salt.”

“I’ve got a connection in Yanjing, but the cost would be significant for the amount and the purity requirement. As much as 1500 galleons for that much,” Master Earthborn raised an eyebrow. “Nothing on his project agenda should require such a thing.”

“It’s a personal project, and I’d like to contribute to it in a way that is both useful and overtly supportive,” Harry said as he stepped forward and picked up the crate. He stored it with a thought and watched that information settle. “I would appreciate it if you’d go ahead and place the order as discreetly as possible.”

“Of course,” Master Earthborn said. “I’ll have it delivered to you as soon as it arrives.”

“Thank you.”

Outside of the Potions Guild, he was redirected toward the administration area by a guard. Since Dumbledore and Shacklebolt were banned from the bank, he didn’t know who could be demanding his attention now, but he was fast becoming convinced that many people didn’t actually want the problem solved if they couldn’t be personally involved. It was, oddly, one of the more selfish situations he’d seen.

He was led into a room where his boss, Hiro Ito, and Louis Bertrand were seated. Harry stared for a moment, then slouched down in a chair next to the fireplace and pulled out his herbal case. He lit an herbal took a long drag and exhaled slowly.

“I’m starting to wonder if Dumbledore wants the problem resolved at all,” he said quietly. “The current circumstances have given him a lot of power—social and political—that he’d have been hard pressed to earn any other way.” The other men said nothing, but the silence didn’t feel oppressive. “If he comes at me, I’ll kill him.” He focused on Director Banner at that point. “The mandate might not fully protect me from the consequences, but don’t worry about it too much, as my father will retrieve me. He’d not allow any mortal justice system to punish me for doing my duty to magic.”

“The people in Britain would be hard-pressed to find a single international organization that would agree to take part in such a process,” Justice Bertrand said dryly, and Ito nodded his agreement. “I’d personally not wish to cross the God of Death in any circumstance because I know, for a fact, he could appear before Hekate, herself, and ask for retribution.”

Harry nodded.

“Did he get rid of the dementors because of you?” Hiro Ito questioned. “I can see how paternal instinct might have made him act against such dark creatures.”

“He had precious little to do with that,” Harry admitted. “Unless you count his teaching me how to draw a personal ritual circle. I asked Hekate to remove the dementors from Earth because they were an abomination. She accepted and agreed to my petition.”

“You were…very young when that happened,” Banner said.

“Just over five years old,” Harry said, and the older man grimaced. “But they offended me to an overwhelming degree. I could feel them, no matter the difference between Azkaban and that hateful little house in Surrey. They weren’t as old as many assumed and had never existed with an active Master of Death.”

“Why do you think the Hallows didn’t allow themselves to be owned by one person for so long?” Ito questioned.

“Death’s Hand is a special artifact of a sort,” Harry said. “I’m the Spectre—the fourth Hallow. When such a magical creature as I am is embodied, the ramifications are far-reaching. I was meant to be the Master of Death from the point of my conception. I think that Sirius Black knew that, or at least he suspected it, due to his own relationship with death magic, which I won’t be discussing with anyone.”

“Good,” Banner said roughly. “Whatever he was allowed to do is best left unsaid, as it was an immensely powerful magical event that still resonates in the stones of Azkaban. The whole island is different—nothing like it was in the past, and that can’t all be about the removal of the dementors. Though, I can’t say that wasn’t impactful. I just don’t know how the two events merged and changed the environment.”

“Azkaban is a place of punishment,” Harry said after a long moment. “And while we all face judgment in the act of dying—from one direction or another—even that is not a punishment. Can we face damnation in the afterlife? Absolutely, the soul cycle is meant to refine and evolve the immortal soul. Most cycle repeatedly with that goal first and foremost in their existence.

“Those that lose sight of the ideal outcome, are ultimately taken to the place you know as Hell were the ruler there—Lucifer, Hades, Pluto, Osiris, Hel—whatever personification makes you feel the most comfortable sees to their rehabilitation. Some souls, frankly, never leave that process as they are too damaged or morally bankrupt to be saved from themselves.” He finished his herbal and only briefly considered another before focusing on Hiro Ito. “You know you aren’t exempt from that cycle, right?”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve a duty to this world that I’ve yet to complete, and it could be hundreds of years before the dark magic there is subdued enough to be removed entirely.”

“When you get tired, and you’re ready to go,” Harry began, “just tell me, and I’ll take your place as guardian over whatever you’re holding hostage in the Kunlun Mountains.”

“I fully intend to take it with me when I go, lad,” Hiro Ito said gently. “But I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

Harry exhaled slowly. “Let’s bring the ICW here and make them sit in the corruption to have a discussion with me about the Hallows.”

Ito laughed. “Consider it done.” He stood, and Bertrand stood with him. “After that, not a single person in Britain will have a leg to stand on in the international community. You know that.”

“Yes, of course, I do. But none of them truly understand how filthy it is here. They won’t ever understand it, but they’ll have no choice but to acknowledge one reaction after another as the representatives from other countries come here and feel it.” He waved a hand. “I couldn’t sleep in this country outside of the bank on a bet after being gone so long so be prepared to house any that choose to avoid multiple portkey trips in France.”

* * * *

The members of the ICW refused to submit to the restrictive wards in place around the British Ministry of Magic, much to Harry’s amusement. He’d been kept updated on the process as the team had focused on creating a runic sequence for the magic sinks. It was tedious work, but they all worked well together, which Harry would privately admit he’d worried about.

“I didn’t realize…my suggestion could lead to this kind of process,” Draco murmured as he sat down at in front of him.

The ritual circle was glowing, still empowered by the ritual that Neville had done before he’d gone to take a lunch. They were the only ones in the work room, but Harry flicked a hand toward the door to shut it to give them more privacy.

“Don’t blame yourself for whatever skullduggery the ministry is engaging in. They’ll get nowhere fast, but they’ll never admit it. Those people are impotent on the world stage, and not a single one of them has been taken seriously in decades. They have no authority regarding this project or how it’s managed. None of them seem to truly understand that they are part of the problem no matter how often they’re told.”

“I think my mother would deny it as well,” Draco said. “And I hate that for her. I don’t know how to leave her behind if we have to blockade.”

“We’ll certainly try to cleanse every single magical person we can, Draco, but I can’t promise anything on that front. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

“Yeah, I know,” Draco said. “She’ll not let me stay. In fact, she’s been trying to get me to move abroad since I finished my mastery. But leaving her behind has always felt like…I have so few people in my life I can truly trust. It felt like leaving them behind would be life-ruining.”

“And now?”

“Now, there’s you,” Draco said. “Our potential for more is certainly evident, but the circumstances are daunting as fuck. I won’t let any of those bastards use me against you, Harry.”

“What they say and what they could actually accomplish are two entirely different things,” Harry said dryly, and Draco laughed. “I’m not a magically immature child being bombarded by death magic like I was at Hogwarts. Bertrand accused me of swinging out of the reaper closet, by the way.”

Draco laughed.

“What he doesn’t seem to fully grasp is that I did come out swinging, and not a single one of them is safe from me,” Harry said plainly. “I’d send any single motherfucker on this planet on their way to the afterlife if they cross us.”

“Us.”

“Definitely us,” Harry said. “I’ve made the choice already, and I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not saying you’re stuck with me or anything, but I’m all in.”

Draco smiled and exhaled slowly. “Good.” He wet his lips. “I think we should keep it just with the team for now. If we can extract ourselves from Britain without violence, that is my preference.”

“And if things get extremely violent?” Harry questioned. “Do you have a limit on how much fucked up you can handle?”

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. “Is that okay?”

It had to be, Harry thought, and just nodded. Draco stared for a moment, then frowned.

“What?” Harry questioned.

“It’s clearly not okay,” Draco retorted. “You can…I want you to be able to tell me what you’re thinking. I spent fucking years being in the dark where you’re concerned.”

“Granted,” Harry said roughly and cleared his throat. “I’m worried that it’ll be too much, but you already know that. My life isn’t soft, and I’m not a light wizard. I’ve never been a light wizard. Frankly, I’ve never had any interest in that kind of existence. Nearly all of my craft since I was small has been grey. I’ve cast two of the three Unforgivables, though I do have the legal right to cast them all due to the Protectorate’s mandate.”

Draco stared for a moment then slowly nodded. “The Killing Curse and the Imperius, right? I’m certain you’re capable of torturing someone—you’ve just never had to.”

“Yeah, and you’re right, of course. I’d have no problems doing it depending on the circumstances. I came close once because my beacon wasn’t working and I realized rescue wasn’t going to be timely. One of my captors got too close to me, and I was able to compel him to take off the suppression cuff.

“The cuff itself was impacting the emergency beacon, which was believed to be impossible. We had to research the alchemy of that bracelet for a full year to figure out why it subdued both my magic and the beacon system.”

“Your father didn’t come for you?” Draco questioned.

“He couldn’t find me,” Harry said roughly. “Well, the moment suppression cuff came off he was there, and every single person in the house died in the wake of his landing.” He made a face. “And my body count with the Protectorate went from zero to sixteen. Fortunately, they were all dark bastards who were wanted in multiple countries, and no one bothered to ask questions.”

“Have the two of you found a way to resolve that particular weakness?” Draco questioned.

“Alchemy based magic is difficult to prepare for,” Harry admitted. “Before the cuff incident, our emergency beacons were empowered with our own magic, and there was no mechanism if the beacon lost its connection with the system. Now, if a beacon goes offline alarms immediately sound and emergency responders are directed to the last pinged location of the operative.”

“But a person could be moved during that time,” Draco said.

“Yes, and that’s happened. No system is perfect, but the Protectorate hasn’t lost an operative in action in twenty-seven years,” Harry said. “And the last death on record was intentional.”

“Intentional,” Draco said. “What does that mean? Is it a secret?”

“All operatives carry a relatively harmless secret that is protected with an unbreakable vow,” Harry explained. “It’s our way out of an untenable situation. For me, the time between a call for help and the time required to respond could equal an extinction level event. If I were captured and compromised—I would violate my vow immediately to protect both my father and death magic itself.”

“I see,” Draco said. “I’ve heard that Unspeakables do something similar. I declined a position in the upper ranks of the department last year. Croaker wasn’t exactly thrilled with me, but I’m not prepared to make vows of loyalty to this country. I don’t see how anyone in my generation could. The youngest Unspeakable is in their forties, if the rumors are to be believed.”

“That sounds about right,” Harry said. “We don’t have a list of names, of course, but the Protectorate hasn’t been notified of a new Unspeakable in Britain since the 1970s. All member countries of the ICW are required to keep us informed of those assets no matter what they’re called in individual countries.”

Draco reached out and took his hand. He looked down, focusing on the way their fingers laced together in a way that felt commonplace and natural.

“Do you remember anything specific about our first life together?”

“Not yet; there’s just this knowledge of who we used to be. Arthur loved Avalon, and part of me grieves the loss of that. I wouldn’t cultivate it or even try to get over the resentment I have for modern Britain, but there was a time when I would’ve given my life for the ideology that Avalon was founded on.”

“Do you wonder if your disdain for Britain now is a reflection of the harm they’ve caused to your kingdom?” Draco asked and Harry exhaled slowly. “It’s still yours, Harry. It always will be. You were the last magical king of Avalon, and I have a feeling only you could invoke those protocols even now.”

“They’re not worthy of such an endeavor on my part.” He paused. “The time investment alone would be absolutely appalling.”

“What about the children that come next?” Draco questioned. “Are they worth it? Over 400 students will be sorted next September at Hogwarts unless the blockade happens. It’s the biggest class of first years in practically a hundred years.”

“The Protectorate won’t leave any child behind if the blockade happens—we even have relocation plans in place for Muggle-borns and their families. We have to balance the ethics of manipulating them with the protection of Hekate’s children, and magic must come first.”

Draco nodded. “I understand, and I agree—magic comes first. I think the world would fall apart completely without it, both magical and muggle alike.”

“Muggles have this theory about a living Earth. They call it the Gaia Hypothesis,” Harry said. “It’s a fantasy for them and subject to debate. They don’t understand how delicate the life balance is on this world, and they don’t seem to care about the impact of their actions. The end result is that they’re corrupting the air and water on a global scale. Eventually, the Protectorate will have to respond because there will be a point when their actions will endanger magic.”

“Because Earth does live,” Draco surmised.

“Yes, of course, she does,” Harry said. “And from her all of us—mortal and celestial alike sprung.”

“Hekate is their Gaia?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “She’s the creator of life as we know it on this planet, but many Muggle religions are very focused on a male representation. I don’t honestly know that Hekate has a gender as we know it be but like all celestials enjoys a variety of personas in order to relate to humans, magical or not.”

Draco nodded. “My mother didn’t disallow religion, but she never educated me on the subject either. I had to seek out resources on my own at Hogwarts. Many purebloods in Britain are unwilling to acknowledge the source of their power, you know.”

“Yes, and that’s why they suffer as they do—generation after generation,” Harry said. “It’s why the corruption dug so deeply into this country, and why in the end it may be impossible to fix. Does it bother you?”

“That you’re devout? Not at all,” Draco said. “In fact, it’s very compelling to be with someone so certain in their own ethics. I’ve lived with a lot of ambiguity, and flexible morals are the norm here.”

* * * *

Harry had to wonder how much goodwill Ito had burned with the Horde as they settled into the Hall of Mages. Dumbledore and Shacklebolt both were in the room, and the dverger clearly had no interest in pretending to be pleased by it.

“How’d that happen?” Harry questioned.

Tyr Warhide shrugged. “The ministry paid 10,000 galleons to allow them to be on Horde land for the next hour.” He paused. “Each.”

Harry laughed a little. “An hour?”

“If they stay a minute longer than that, they’ll be in violation of fifteen different treaties,” Tyr said. “And will be fined personally for each one.”

Ito took his seat, and the representatives grew quiet with a sweep of magic. Harry found the reaction curious as the only people in the room who appeared to find the magical inducement to pay attention offensive were those from the British Ministry of Magic.

“Master Potter, the British Ministry of Magic has accused you of Crimes Against Magic for reuniting the Deathly Hallows,” Ito said dryly. “They’re insisting you be forced to part with the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone, specifically.”

Warhide stood. “Master Ito, there are but three crimes that meet such a burden, and not a single one of them is associated with the possession of the Deathly Hallows. Moreover, the Horde has known since it happened that the Hallows were reunited in 1981. Master Potter was a toddler. An orphaned toddler who had been secluded in the home of a pair of bigoted Muggles in a direct violation of James Potter’s last will and testament. In fact, James Potter stated explicitly that he’d rather his child be placed in the magical orphanage rather than live in the Muggle world.”

Ito nodded. “The fact that the British Ministry of Magic circumvented his parents’ wishes is well known, Master Warhide. Unfortunately, there are no international laws that were in place at the time that could be used to punish those involved in that situation.” He glanced toward Dumbledore with an expression of overt distaste. “It is just one more obscene situation in Master Potter’s past that can’t be genuinely atoned for as no one in Britain seems inclined toward paying any sort of attention to justice.”

Daedalus Diggle stood, smoothed down his waistcoat, and at least had the decency to wait until he was acknowledged before activating the sonorous charm on his desk. “Master Ito, it is our position that no human being should be allowed to stand as the Master of Death. As Harry Potter is a citizen of Britain, he is subject to local law. It was declared a crime against magic to own all three Hallows at once in 1982 in the United Kingdom.”

Ito raised an eyebrow. “You are aware, of course, Mr. Diggle, that Master Potter hasn’t been a citizen of Britain since shortly before his eighteenth birthday.” He lifted an eyebrow. “He is well-known to be a citizen of Italy. Moreover, no local government may declare any single action a crime against magic without approval of the ICW. This body has not recognized any such law regarding the Deathly Hallows ever in its history. We certainly won’t be doing it today.”

Diggle glared briefly. “We have the right to make our own laws, Master Ito, and Britain denied Mr. Potter’s migration to Italy.”

“Neither Master Potter nor Italy needed your permission for that migration. He denounced his British citizenship legally and magically—it is done and can’t be undone without a significant magical process that I won’t be allowing.” He waved a hand. “Moreover, he is an operative of the Magical Protectorate, and the only organization on this planet that can legally file any sort of charge against him is the World Court of Magic. I know, for a fact, that Justice Bertrand laughed in your face when you demanded he declare the need for a trial on his matter.”

Diggle took a deep breath. “I demand that Harry Potter explain himself.”

Harry shared a look with Tyr, who looked deeply amused.

He leaned forward and cleared his throat. Ito focused on him with a raised eyebrow. “Master Ito, I’m going to need a clarification on that…demand. What exactly would Mr. Diggle like me to explain about myself?”

“Tell us how you took the Hallows!” Diggle shouted. “Immediately.”

“Oh,” Harry said, then slouched back against his seat and laughed breathlessly, much to the shock of practically everyone around him. “Seriously? How are you all so fucking daft?” He waved a hand when Diggle puffed up in rage. “I guess I can’t really be surprised—after all you seem to think I defeated Voldemort as a toddler, too.”

“Of course you did! Who else could’ve?” Diggle questioned.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ito said and shook his head. “Master Potter, feel free to answer as much of that ridiculous question as you would like.”

“My mother defeated Voldemort,” Harry said flatly, and the room stilled around him. “She created a sacrificial ward, fueled with her own life and magic, then allowed that dark son of a bitch to kill her without a fight. It is and always has been profane how dedicated the average British magical is to ignoring her sacrifice. In fact, they ignore the sacrifices my entire family made as if their lives didn’t matter at all. It’s just one very specific reason why I denounced my British citizenship the moment I could.

“I will never return to Britain permanently. I will never submit to their laws, their bigotry, or their unreasonable goddamned demands because of their profound lack of respect for the blood my family has spilled for this country.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I solemnly swear on my life and magic to never lie about the use or knowledge of the Deathly Hallows, so mote it be.” The room stilled around him as magic flashed over his skin. “I didn’t become the Master of Death. I was born the Master of Death. I didn’t steal the Deathly Hallows—they came to me because they belong to me. They’ve always belonged to me.

“There are not three Deathly Hallows, there are four.” He stood and as the Cloak of Invisibility flowed out of his bracelet. He let it pile with a shimmer of magic on the table in front of him, then lifted a mithril chain over his neck. The Resurrection Stone hung on it in a delicate mithril cage. Finally, he allowed the Elder Wand to leave his bracelet and appear in his hand.

“And the fourth?” Ito prodded.

“I am the fourth Deathly Hallow,” Harry said. “The Spectre. I was born the Spectre. It is not a state that any single one of you can take from me or obtain outside of the will of the God of Death. No one in this room can touch the Hallows without my permission. They will not work for you—they won’t work for anyone but me as long as I live.”

“How long will you live?” Diggle demanded hoarsely.

“As long as the God of Death wills it—just like you. Not a single one of us is exempt from the soul cycle. We are all—the light, grey and dark—subject to the judgment of Hekate. You will all be made to answer for the choices you make, the bigotry you’ve allowed to nest in your hearts, and the blasphemy you wallow in.

“In the eyes of Hekate, all magical creatures are equal. Human magicals are not superior to anyone, and all of you live by her grace. You should kneel for her favor. Most of you exist in a state of genuine atrocity, and it has not gone unnoticed.” His gaze settled on Dumbledore and found the elderly wizard glaring at him furiously. “You’ve never fooled me, Dumbledore. I’ve seen the whole of you since I was eleven years old, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

The cloak flowed into his bracelet with no intent on his part; the wand followed, and his father appeared in a sweep of magic. Thanatos picked up the necklace and lowered the chain over Harry’s head in silence. For the first time in a very long time, his father stood full in his power on Earth—aura drifting around him in a horrific display that made it clear he was a celestial.

“I am Death,” Thanatos said, and his voice resonated in the room. “I’ve known many names since my manifestation. I do not require your worship—none of us do. But you all exist because of Hekate; remember that and understand the only mercy any of you will ever know is a gift from her.”

He turned to stare at Dumbledore. “The Elder Wand never belonged to you. It tolerated your possession because I allowed it—just as it did all the dark bastards who came before you. It won’t be allowed ever again. You seem to think that the Master of Death would control me, and you’re a fool for that belief. The Master of Death is my hand on his plane. He controls the flow of death magic—it is his duty and his birthright. You cannot change these circumstances, Dumbledore.”

Thanatos looked around the room—taking in the fear most couldn’t keep to themselves. “Were you living just and moral lives, not a single one of you would have a reason to fear me.”

He faded then with a dark wave of magic, and the press of the shroud slowly lifted. Those who had been too overwhelmed emotionally to even notice it shuddered under the loss of magical weight.

“Does anyone have any other questions for Master Potter?” Hiro Ito questioned. “Mr. Diggle?”

“How are we supposed to trust him after this?” Diggle questioned. “He could make the corruption worse.”

Ito stared. “You’re aware, of course, that operatives of the Magical Protectorate are oathbound to protect magic—from all threats. The corruption in Britain has put us all at risk, which is why the blockade has already been constructed. It would already be active if Master Potter hadn’t agreed to come here and investigate a method of correction.”

“Yes, but….” Diggle shook his head. “He is the crime against magic.”

“I genuinely hope your ignorance isn’t contagious,” Ito said and several people in the room laughed. “Do you simply not understand the fact that Master Potter’s magical circumstances were actually manifested by Hekate herself? Do you think he would exist—gifted from birth—if it were to be considered a crime against her?”

“We can’t allow him to remain here,” Diggle said. “Not anywhere on this planet—Harry Potter should be made to die like he was meant to as a child.”

“Made to die,” Ito repeated. “Is Britain advocating for the murder of a man who has caused no harm to the innocent? He’s not been tried and convicted of a single crime locally or internationally.”

“Not murder,” Diggle protested. “But a lawful and necessary execution.”

Tyr Warhide stood. “Master Ito.”

“You have the floor, Master Warhide,” Ito said.

“As Master Potter’s solicitor of record, I will be seeking to see the British Ministry of Magic sanctioned by the World Court of Magic for conspiracy to commit murder. I reserve the right to levy further charges based on a thorough investigation, which must be conducted by the Magical Protectorate and the War Mages Division of the ICW.

“Due to the circumstances, and the moral bankruptcy of the British Ministry of Magic, I must declare on behalf of His Majesty Ragnok II the retreat of the royal seat of the Horde from Britain to take place over the next twelve months unless the entirety of the current administration is replaced in a fair election process to be overseen by the International Confederacy of Wizards. Let it be known and understood that the Horde will never stand with those who would defy the will of Hekate, the Goddess of Magic.”

Ito nodded, made several notes in the oppressive silence that followed, then focused on Harry. “Master Potter?”

“Mr. Diggle is insane,” Harry said, and magic of the room shifted. “I would wager that every magical person over the age of seventy in Britain is. They’ve been entrenched in the corrupted death magic that Tom Riddle created since 1943, when he created his first horcrux at Hogwarts with the murder of Myrtle Warren. I’m not sure they can be helped, and I’m not sure they’ll survive the corrective magic being designed to fix the problem.

“I believe they’ve also come to realize they won’t survive, and that’s why they’ve been trying to gain control of both me and the project. At the end of the day, they’d rather drown in the taint than allow everyone else to be saved. It seems that Dumbledore’s much-touted greater good is only for certain people.”

Chapter 10

“I can’t believe how genuinely stupid these people are,” Draco muttered.

Harry shrugged as he looked up from his parchment. The runic sequence was coming together very smoothly, and it was surely due to celestial guidance. Hekate was rarely heavy-handed with her children, but her influence was overt in the magic they were designing. He wondered if the others felt it.

“While there are some dumbarse people in this country,” he began, and Neville laughed. “The vast majority in that age group are just literally insane. Daedalus Diggle genuinely believes everything he said during that meeting, and he’ll go to the grave believing it because there’s no cure for that level of mental illness due to how it was created and nurtured.”

“Nurtured,” Hermione repeated quietly. “Nurtured by who?”

Harry considered how to answer that in a way that would make sense to them. His circumstances, both magical and otherwise, often created intellectual and magical divides with his peers that had little to do with his actual behavior.

“Magic is a balancing act of a sort,” he finally said. “It’s one reason why free will amongst magicals is important to Hekate. She wants us to explore, learn, and even test the boundaries of the magic that we’re gifted with. Unfortunately, that has created deep pockets of influence on Earth that can only be considered dark in the truest, deepest measure of the word.

“We all have the potential for great things—for good and bad. The taint in this country spread in a very specific way; it speaks to an ancient intelligence that isn’t exactly neutral. Two elemental demons were discovered recently and removed from the country. They were given to Hades.” Hermione’s eyes went wide with shock. “Please don’t confuse Muggle mythology regarding Hell and the devil with the actual function of Hades and the soul cycle. I know it’s easy to do, but most religions on this planet were created to pacify their own creators and have very little to do with the actual reality of the celestial pantheon.”

“Is there an ancient influence here? If so, how do we mitigate it?”

“I think the ancient influence is missing, actually, and as a result the taint was allowed to spread unchecked in a very deliberate way. It might boil down to Riddle’s darkness and the well of power he tapped into at Hogwarts when he murdered Myrtle Warren.” Harry glanced toward the whiteboard where the horcrux events were highlighted. “I’ve always known something is missing—something I experienced in a previous life. I can’t be certain exactly what it is. I’ve theories, of course. I imagine many people do. It is a very obvious absence for those sensitive to certain things.”

“Sometimes,” Neville began, and flushed when they all focused on him. “I feel disconnected from the magic around me. After my first year at Hogwarts, I went to a mind healer because I started to have nightmares about…war and not like any sort of war that could’ve been fought in this country in over a thousand years.” He cleared his throat. “Avalon is missing. It’s been missing for a very long time.”

Harry nodded because he didn’t disagree with the assumption. Perspectives were valuable, so he rarely offered his own theories to anyone but his father.

“Do you know who I was?” Neville questioned. “Because I still have those dreams—dreams of dying in a way that felt righteous at the time, but when I wake, it leaves me absolutely fucking furious as if I died for nothing.”

“Well, you didn’t die for nothing,” Harry said, and Draco took a deep breath beside him. “You died for your king, and at the time it would’ve been the honor of your life to do so. You’ve always been very loyal, Neville, and that defining quality is the reason you were born now, during this time.”

Neville exhaled slowly. “Do I want to put a name on that life?”

“You already know,” Harry said in amusement. “You’ve just been chewing on that denial since you were eleven. I imagine you knew the moment you set eyes on her.”

Neville’s eyes went wide, and he put a hand on Hermione in a way that looked more like a lifelong habit than a measure of immediate concern. “I….”

“Just please keep in mind that historical records during that time period were purposefully fictionalized to protect those left behind for good and bad,” Harry said. “Arthur never married and was certainly never betrayed by any single knight that sat at his table. Such a thing would’ve been impossible considering the magical oaths they operated under.”

“I was Morgan Le Fay,” Pansy blurted out, and they all focused on her. She lifted her chin. “Right? We all come from Avalon—that’s why you didn’t protest any of us specifically. Were the choices guided by celestial influence?” She wet her lips. “Are we all that’s left?” She paused. “Of your court, Harry?”

Harry exhaled slowly, frowned at his empty coffee cup, and sat back in his chair with a slouch. “You’ve always been the most annoyingly observant person.” She laughed, and he frowned at her. “And honestly, if you remembered it at all, I’d have a lot to say to you about that basilisk you left in Hogwarts.”

“She was Salazar Slytherin?” Draco questioned and huffed. “Yeah, of course, she fucking was.”

Harry focused on Hermione and found her frowning. “Your magical instincts are often stymied by your intellectualism.” He paused. “And frankly, your rigid Muggle upbringing. Some magical people shouldn’t be left to be raised in the Muggle world, and you’re one of them. It wasn’t life-ruining, of course, but it’s the root of your hesitation.”

“And that hesitation is the reason I don’t see myself the way the rest of you do,” Hermione surmised.

“I didn’t see it either,” Draco confessed. “I had to be told.” He glanced toward Harry briefly and stood. He went to the counter, activated the carafe to order coffee. “But my blindness on the subject is a mixture of denial and guilt.”

He brought the coffee carafe back to the table when it started to glow gold, then poured for himself and Harry before setting it down for the others. “I’ve let myself get wrapped up in my father’s crimes to an untold degree because it was thrown in my face repeatedly as a child. Moreover, I think I’m somehow to blame for the state of soulmate magic on the whole fucking planet.” He waved a hand in frustration and stared moodily at his coffee.

“No,” Hermione said firmly. “I think…that’s…Tom Riddle’s fault.” She took a deep breath. “Mordred. He was Mordred.” She focused on Harry. “Right?”

“Right,” Harry said. “Though I don’t know if his actions destroyed soulmate magic or not, he did murder Arthur Pendragon and Merlinus Ambrosius in a bid to take Avalon. The result was the breaking of the Avalon protocols, which was an immense magical injury that Britain still hasn’t recovered from.”

“He would’ve sought to kill it, right?” Draco said. “Was he Arthur’s son?”

“No, he actually bore no relation at all to Arthur or anyone else in the court,” Harry said, and they all huffed a little in relief, as if they’d been individually concerned about being sort-of related to the arsehole who’d destroyed Avalon. He laughed a little. “But did think he was in love with Arthur and was soundly rejected for a multitude of reasons. He probably did blame soulmate magic for that rejection.” He focused on his coffee. “But that’s all ancient history that none of us need take on board as a personal truth.”

“It doesn’t feel like an ancient history,” Draco confessed.

“I was Helga Hufflepuff,” Hermione said, then nudged Neville. “I think you were my plus one that time around.”

“I think so, too,” he admitted and laughed. “Not a bad spot at all to be, my love.”

“Guinevere and Lancelot,” Pansy said as she stared at Hermione and Neville. “You’ve always had an air…destiny around the two of you. The amount of wizards who bitterly complain about Neville having sealed that deal as a first year at Hogwarts is crazy.”

“Ha, fat lot they know,” Neville muttered. “This witch wouldn’t even agree to date me until after fifth year, and I had to get six OWLS.”

Hermione shrugged at the looks she was getting. “I’m not going to have babies with an idiot.”

“Having a standard is perfectly reasonable,” Pansy agreed, but then she focused on Harry. “No wonder you hate them so much.”

“What?” Harry questioned.

“These bastards are desecrating your legacy every single goddamned day,” she said. “And maybe he’s been doing it since he murdered you.” Her gaze flicked to Draco briefly. “Is this Tom Riddle’s second life?”

“It’s his fifth,” Harry said roughly. “But he was killed multiple times as a very young man due to his darkness. He managed to get sorted at Hogwarts a decade after we founded the school. His own father killed him after his third year for practicing dark magic.” He stood. “The soul cycle leaves behind just enough emotional resonance on the soul that it follows us—for good and bad.”

“Do you know why?” Draco questioned.

“A clean slate wouldn’t be productive,” Harry pointed out. “You can’t learn from your mistakes if it all gets wiped away. But there is a fine line between the resonance and actual trauma. Allowing trauma to pile on us across lifetimes would be torturous.”

“So he’s been attacking Avalon for well over a thousand years,” Hermione said. “In some kind of spiral fueled by jealousy and hatred.”

“That’s certainly what it feels like, though I’d never want anyone else to know the truth of it.” Harry paused. “Any of it. The people of this country already expect everything from me. What would they do if they knew the truth?”

“They act like they own you,” Neville said. “And assume that because they do own you—they can do what they want with you. That includes killing you because you won’t do exactly what they want. It would only be more intense, if that’s even possible, if they knew that you were our last magical king.”

“Could you mend the Avalon protocols?” Hermione questioned.

“Not as I currently am,” Harry admitted. “I’d have to give up…something precious to do it, and I can’t see a circumstance where I would do such a thing. There’s nothing to gain, really, in recovering Avalon. The corruption has penetrated too deeply, and if history taught us anything, it was that Avalon is very fragile.” He cleared his throat. “Moreover, Arthur loved Britain, and I don’t. I never will. Perhaps a future version of me will see value here again, but I would hope even he would be unwilling to give up the legacy I embraced as a child.”

“I don’t think the world deserves the return to Avalon,” Draco said. “And I don’t know that they deserve the gift of soulmate magic. I just…want it for myself so I’m going to fucking fix it.” He waved both hands in frustration.

Pansy propped her chin on one hand and stared at Draco. “How does it feel? To be the second coming of Merlin?”

“Third,” Draco retorted, and she laughed. “I do feel very responsible for the state of soulmate magic. Maybe I made a mistake before, and the fall of Avalon caused the magic of soulmates to falter for the whole world, and if that’s the case then no matter what Riddle has done throughout his reincarnations, I’m more to blame than anyone else.”

“Well,” Harry said and exhaled slowly. “At the end of the day, I held Avalon, and I let that bastard kill me, so the fault of it all largely belongs to me.”

“Let,” Draco repeated. “You let him kill you.”

He stood, and gathered up the work he’d done. “I need to spend some time with the stones to make sure the runic sequence is going to settle into the material the way it should.”

“Harry.” Draco frowned at him when he met the other wizard’s gaze. “Why did Arthur Pendragon let Mordred kill him?”

“Because Mordred had just killed Merlinus, the last knight of the Round Table was on the ground dying just feet away from him, and Arthur had nothing left to give to anyone, much less Avalon.” He glanced briefly toward Neville. “So, sorry about that, lad.”

Neville exhaled slowly and shook his head.

Draco cleared his throat and stood. “Let’s put our previous tragic deaths aside for the time being.”

Pansy sighed. “Yeah, let’s focus on the current fucked up situation.”

* * * *

“Your secrets drive me insane,” Draco whispered against the shell of Harry’s ear even as he tightened his hold to keep the man from retreating. “I want you to trust me, Harry.”

“I do.” He paused. “As much as I can.” He exhaled slowly and relaxed into his embrace, which made Draco feel like he won something. It felt ridiculous and immature. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” Draco said and let his legs drop from around Harry’s waist as the other man pulled free of his arse. “Also, you’re an astoundingly good fuck. It’s a problem.”

Harry laughed and slouched down on the mattress beside him. “Why?”

“Well, that last bloke you dated is still dragging his arse around the planet acting like you destroyed him and giving interviews about your emotional unavailability because he doesn’t want to admit he tried to violate your boundaries.” He waved a hand as Harry snagged a pillow and got comfortable beside him. “But really he’s probably just mad because he’s a dumb bastard who ruined his chances at getting more quality dick.”

Harry huffed. “Shut up.”

“Seriously.” Draco left the bed, stretched, drew his wand, and cast a cleaning charm on himself, then shot another at Harry in a casual display of silent magic that he rarely did in front of witnesses.

“You hide a lot, too,” Harry pointed out.

Draco put on his bathrobe and belted it. “It’s always best to be underestimated—in every single way possible. My mother taught me that.”

“I’d like to meet her,” Harry said, and Draco focused on him. “Will she be opposed?”

“Opposed to you?” Draco questioned and laughed a little before he could help himself. “Seriously?”

“She worked hard to clean up her image and yours because of your father,” Harry pointed out. “She probably has ideas about what kind of wizard she’d want you to end up with to further that goal, and I won’t qualify.”

“You can ignore my mother’s social machinations,” Draco said. “Please remember that she married Lucius after he was marked by Voldemort, Harry. And she only divorced him, in the end, to further distance me from his actions. She genuinely loves him and doesn’t honestly care about all the people he killed. She’s just as dark as he is, but that’s not something I’d ever say in public. Having the Master of Death as her son-in-law would make that witch’s century.”

“Your parents are always dark as fuck,” Harry said roughly, and Draco laughed a little. “I was kind of hoping your mother would be different this time around. You could use a breather.”

“I’m fine,” Draco assured.

Harry left the bed, crowded Draco up against the desk he’d not bothered to use at all, and held him there. “Are you?”

Draco took a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

“Is there something you need? Something you want?” Harry questioned as he pushed the heavy silk material out of his way. He slid his hands back and down to cup Draco’s arse and lifted.

Draco exhaled sharply as he was put on the desk. “I mean….”

“Besides cock,” Harry clarified as he loosened Draco’s belt and pushed the robe completely out of his way. “You have your own money, so you don’t want for material things. It’s clear you spoil yourself rotten on that front.”

Draco laughed.

“Even your work clothes are bespoke for fuck’s sake,” Harry muttered.

“The suit you wore when you arrived cost every bit of 2,000 galleons, and that’s not counting the armored lining,” Draco retorted.

Harry grinned. “I fucking love that suit. It makes me feel like I’m in the Matrix. I’ve already ordered another in black.”

“What’s the Matrix?” Draco asked in confusion.

“I….” Harry made a face at him. “A Muggle movie. I’ll show you later.”

Draco considered that. “You like Muggle entertainment? Seriously?”

“You don’t know what you’re missing, obviously,” Harry muttered and pulled him closer. “Stop distracting me. We’re talking about what you want.”

“Really? Because right now you’re clearly getting ready to fuck me again,” Draco said dryly and groaned into Harry’s mouth when he got a kiss in response.

Harry pushed him back onto the desk with one hand, and Draco sprawled on the gleaming oak surface as he couldn’t even pretend he didn’t want it. He sucked in a deep breath as Harry hooked his hands under his knees, then lifted and spread his legs wide.

“You’re gorgeous,” Harry murmured. “It’s always been a distraction for me. Were I half the devil anyone in this country thinks I am, I would’ve murdered that old bastard at Hogwarts so I could…have you.”

“Have me now,” Draco said quietly. “Anyway you want.”

“Is that what you want? To be owned?” Harry questioned as he performed another prep charm. “I see it in you.”

Draco shuddered as Harry pushed into him with one long, relentless thrust. “Fuck.”

“I thought about it,” Harry admitted. “Even planned it more than once. No one who could’ve stopped me from killing him would’ve bothered.”

It really shouldn’t be attractive that someone considered murder on his behalf, Draco thought fleetingly as he surrendered to the pleasure of being absolutely railed. Harry’s hands were tight on his hips, fingers pressing in a way that would certainly bruise as he fucked into him. He loved the luxury of submission in a way he’d never thought possible and wondered how far Harry would take it. How much would he give of himself in private? How much would he take?

“You,” Draco said, and arched up off the desk briefly as he fought coming. “I just want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Harry put a hand on his chest and held it there until Draco relaxed on the desk. “I’m yours, Dragon. I’m done denying us both. I swear it.”

Draco trembled through an orgasm and closed his eyes as the oath settled between them. It was the rawest and truest moment he’d ever known in his life.

* * * *

His bed had been empty when he woke up, which Harry could admit at least privately, was kind of irritating. The whole team was missing from the suite, which was an immense concern, so he’d showered quickly and gotten dressed.

A guard had a note waiting for him when he exited the suite, revealing that the four of them were in a public conference room but providing no details. He headed that way and wondered if he was going to have to start throwing his weight around in more than one role. The doors opened for him before the guards could do so, and they just took it in stride.

Harry paused, taking in the scene and the fact that his father was already in the room observing in invisible silence. His magic felt heavy and protective in a way that he’d always found a comfort, but Harry could tell it was weighing on some of the people in the room. Draco, Neville, Pansy, and Hermione were all four writing and didn’t bother to look up to greet him.

Harry focused on Hiro Ito. “What’s going on?”

Ito inclined his head toward a hooded man on the end of the table. “This is Croaker from the Department of Mysteries for the British Ministry of Magic. He reported to me three hours ago that Minister Shacklebolt drafted a decree declaring that any citizen of magical Britain who aids you in any single way to be guilty of treason. Of course, Justice Bertrand is about to come down on the whole country like a plague.

“Every single member country of the ICW, outside of the United Kingdom, of course, filed a demand for an immediate blockade of the country shortly after the meeting ended yesterday. France, Germany, Ireland, and Belgium have erected their own magical blockades to protect their people from the taint in the last eight hours. Master Banner has teams on the ground in all four countries helping settle those magical systems. Master Pierce is in Paris but will return within the hour.”

“What are you guys writing?” Harry questioned as he focused on the four of them.

“A vehement letter of reproach and resignation,” Hermione said as she glared at her parchment. “I’m working my arse over here, and they’re about to accuse me of treason. I’ve never broken a law in my life. I never even got detention at Hogwarts!”

Draco sat back after setting aside his quill. “Hermione and Neville signed employment contracts with the ICW an hour ago. Pansy and I joined the Protectorate.”

Harry stared for a moment, then exhaled slowly. “Citizenship?”

“Pansy and Susan migrated to France as they both have family there. Neville and Hermione are still discussing options. I chose Italy.” Draco paused. “Of course.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed, and the mood in the room shifted. He turned to Ito. “This situation is no longer tenable, and my continued known presence in this bank will endanger the Horde. We’ll launch the blockade so it’ll calm down the member countries of the ICW, and Director Banner will want to start working on the cleanup officially with approval from the World Court.

“When we’re ready to set the magic sinks, we’ll do it in secret and cleanse the country through Protectorate authority, and release the blockade if it’s successful.” He turned toward Ragnok then. “I’ll make a public announcement regarding my departure from Britain, then return here to finish the work in secret after the situation is more contained.”

Ragnok nodded. “I’ve got a few properties in France and Ireland that would serve, if you prefer. It would even look reasonable from an outside perspective for you to retreat to a more neutral location that the British Ministry of Magic can’t intrude on without courting war with another country.”

“France,” Harry said. “I’ve an established relationship with their ministry. They offered to host me originally for this project and will certainly accept a situation where they offer me a shield of sorts. Someone else will have to announce that decision and answer any questions regarding our location.”

“Why?” Ragnok questioned.

Harry glanced around the room, and the doors shut of their own accord, and privacy magic swept over the room that was so heavy that Ito flinched. He exhaled slowly. “I can’t outright lie to save my own life, Your Majesty.”

Ragnok stared for a moment. “Are you serious?”

“I couldn’t be more serious. I can ignore a question, walk around an answer until I’m blue in the face, but I can’t actually knowingly tell an explicit lie. It’s been tested extensively, as it lowered my value as a field asset for the Protectorate considerably. I’m a blunt instrument across the board.”

Ragnok huffed, then laughed. “Oh, lad, just take that as divine permission to say whatever the hell you want for the rest of your life.”

* * * *

“Good afternoon,” Harry said, and his gaze drifted briefly around the room.

The levels of the ICW arena-style meeting room were filled to capacity. He’d testified before the body three times since joining the Protectorate, so he wasn’t concerned about his professional reception in front of the body. But the circumstances had changed for him personally in a way he’d never really planned for. He knew his father could wholesale change those circumstances if he asked, but there was a certain freedom to be had in the partial reveal of his status.

“I am here before you, not as an employee of the Magical Protectorate but as the Master of Death Magic. The distinction is important, and I hope you all come to understand the difference between the job I undertake and the duty to magic I’ve sworn myself to.

“Thirty-six hours ago, the British Ministry of Magic declared me, as an individual, a criminal and posted a 50,000-galleon bounty for my capture. They also announced that any British citizen who renders me aid in any single way will be charged with treason. In response, the World Court of Magic declared their government to be unsavory and defunct. Further, the Magical Protectorate launched the blockade we constructed to prevent the spread of Tom Riddle’s corruption.

“The blockade has proven to be very effective. We estimate less than forty percent of the magical population in Britain can be cleansed of the taint and removed for their own good. However, many of them are refusing to leave either because of the corruptive influence or because of the family members they would be forced to leave behind.

“I wish I could say that I’m surprised by any of this, but I’m not. Tom Riddle has been a dark and corruptive influence in this life, and frankly, in all the lives he lived before. He does nothing but destroy. On behalf of Thanatos and Hades, I’m to let you know that this is the last cycle Tom Riddle’s soul will be allowed. He’s been declared irredeemable by Hekate herself and will be confined in the depths of Hell for eternity for his crimes against magic after he is captured and removed from this plane of existence.

“Many of you have always been uncomfortable around me, and you didn’t know why. Now you know, and you’re wondering what it means for you and your magical existence.

“Please be assured that it is not my job to sit in judgment of any magical person past, present, or future. I’m Death’s Hand on this Earth—the Spectre and it is my duty to my patron and to Lady Magic herself to see that death magic is balanced. I guard that balance by existing and working amongst you.

“There are only a precious few number of people on this planet that I answer to, and most of you will never be amongst them. That probably makes you uncomfortable.” He paused. “I don’t care. I could pretty that up for you—try to make you comfortable with the fact that I am beyond your control and beyond your right to know. But I’m not good at that sort of thing, and it would just make you all more uncomfortable if I went around trying.”

There was a smattering of laughter.

He took a deep breath. “But I do solemnly swear on my life and magic to never cause unnecessary harm to any of Hekate’s magical creatures. I will stand guard over the balance as long as I live in the service of the Goddess of Magic. So mote it be.” He focused on Hiro Ito. “Master Ito, you had questions?”

“I seek clarification only, Master Potter. I would like it stated, for the record, that I never believed you owed Great Britain your time or attention. The mess they’re in is of their own making, and it started long before you were born.”

Harry nodded.

“Will you continue to work on correcting the corruption?”

“Yes, but my whole team has retreated from Britain in response to the British Ministry of Magic’s intentions. A decision will be made about a future working space as soon as the situation is more settled. We’re still researching, of course, and currently monitoring the corruption from beyond the blockade.” He paused. “And as long as we’re stating things for the record, I’d like to say that I agree. I don’t owe Britain anything. Nothing I do is for them now or in the future. When I see the corruption removed from that country, it’ll be for Hekate because I took a knee for her many years ago, and I don’t see myself kneeling for anyone else ever.”

“As it should be,” Master Ito said with a nod.

* * * *

He found Draco in a lounge chair on the back terrace. Harry paused for a moment, taking in the sight—still surprised and overwhelmed by the changes in his life. Draco looked up and set aside the book he was reading with a smile.

Harry unbuttoned his suit coat as he walked out of the house. “Sorry I couldn’t stay after we finished the cleansing ritual. Has your magic settled?”

“Very settled,” Draco assured. “My mother closed my flat for me and shipped all of my things through the bank. They delivered an additional package with your name on it.” He motioned toward the table where a crate sat. “I didn’t open it.”

Harry sat down on the edge of the lounger. “How is your mother?”

“Upset but also relieved that I’m not there,” Draco said. “Her healer confirmed that her investment in the corruption is well over seventy percent. Augusta Longbottom tested out about the same, by the way. Neville was really hurt to realize how much she’d been hiding from him. He thought she was better off than she is.”

“Just hurt or pissed off, too?” Harry questioned.

“Genuinely hurt,” Draco admitted roughly and took a deep breath. “She’s the only blood family he has left in Britain. He could barely speak of it, and I wish I didn’t know what it takes to bring a man as strong as Neville Longbottom to actual tears. Of course, Hermione has gone completely around the bend over it and cursed Augusta out for her deception. But she’s always been that way—deeply invested in protecting him.

“There are people in Britain that will cross the street to avoid her because they tried to get in Neville’s way and she put her foot down.”

Harry laughed a little. “It’s such a little foot, though.”

“Right?” Draco questioned and shook his head, then offered Harry his hand.

Harry took the hand, and laced their fingers together. “Ito is going to do some public maneuvering regarding the five of us, then we’ll be back in the suite in Britain, but it’ll be a secret. Ragnok has agreed to hold the secret personally, so that’s something.”

“A good something or a disturbing something?”

“Good for the moment, but I want to be careful with the Horde because precious few others are. Even Ito can be heavy-handed at times with Ragnok and is often indulged. Which is probably a function of his age and power. It looks like Ragnok is humoring Ito a great deal of the time, and that situation could turn abruptly if either of them grew careless about protocols. The Horde is actually fundamental to the enclave system that protects magicals from Muggles, and a great many magical people work rather hard to forget that.”

“I listened to it,” Draco said. “Do you consider the oath you made a stopgap or a resolution?”

“Neither,” Harry admitted. “Dad asked me to make it as a gesture of faith.” He paused. “But at the end of the day, Draco, I decide what is necessary and what isn’t within the scope of my duty as the Master of Death.”

Draco laughed a little. “Right.”

Harry brought their hands up and kissed Draco’s hand, then released him before he stood and went to the crate. He opened it, pulled out a preservation globe that resources from Shangri-La were always shipped in, and went back to the lounge. He sat down and offered Draco the globe.

“What…is this?” Draco questioned as he took it.

Preservation magic sparkled around the globe and drifted down Draco’s fingers.

“It’s the purest, most magical salt available on this planet,” Harry said quietly. “Dad told me he hadn’t given you any for your bloodstone, so I ordered it from Shangri-La. It’s Tibetan rose salt.”

“Harry.” Draco took a deep breath. “This salt came from an ocean that dried out 250 million years ago.”

“Yes.” He touched the globe briefly. “I wanted to contribute to your bloodstone in a meaningful way so you’d understand that I’d much rather walk this world with you all of the days that I have left than live without you.”

“It might be less dangerous for you to walk it alone,” Draco murmured.

“Yes, but I’m willing to take that risk, if you are.”

“I am,” Draco assured. “I want you and everything that comes with you.”

Harry exhaled slowly, then nodded. “So be it.”

The End