-December 12th, 2041, London
A stunned silence overcame the room.
"I-I'm sorry, Senator Potter, could you repeat what you just said? I-I think I may have misheard you." Kingsley declared, visibly shaken, his thunderous, commanding figure slowly shrinking back into the high-backed chair.
"I...said 'No', Chairman." James Potter replied, biting his lip, as though he was holding tears back.
"Hold it!" cried the Senator on his right, previously indifferent, now emanated worry and irritation.
"Is he not your brother? How can say tha-"
James turned his now icy gaze on the Senator at his right hand side. "Alfred Selby, if even I can't trust my own brother, don't you think it's slightly presumptuous to assume you know him better?"
Senator Selby, not backing down, retorted "But, surely, the two of you are so close, you could-"
James shook his head, and began to stride down the row, addressing the whole of the assembled Senate with steely eyes. "This, my friends, is what it has come to. My brother, Albus Severus Potter, has defected. And I cannot say I am too surprised."
One-hundred and nineteen pairs of eyes, all intensely focused on him. Any normal man would not have been able to stand the sheer pressure, and yet James ploughed on as if he were made for such an experience. To be a leader, and stand up in the face of those who disbelieved.
"Albus, has been showing...signs of wavering over the past few years, it is undeniable. His nature, he questions everything. He questions the society that we, as a country exist as. It was his belief that the next Voldemort would rise from within us."
Kinglsey held a wearied hand up. "Is that not inevitable? We will merely quash him before he begins. The law is far stronger now, our forces stand at over a million men! We have nothing to fear!"
"No, Chairman. That is exactly what we have to fear. Albus believed the next Voldemort would rise, not as a man, but as a social ideology. As something that would sweep the nation. There is no 'Voldemort' anymore. We are all Voldemort." James replied heavily.
"What a preposterous, unfounded, idea!" Snarled a pompous, rather rounded woman behind him. "Even so, the French are scum! Why should we care for what he thinks will happen to them?"
"Interesting that you say that, Senator Umbridge, interesting indeed."
"Enough." Kinglsey declared calmly, his words echoing over the lavish halls of the Senate. "We needn't squabble here. Take it outside. We must, however, decide on a course of action. James Potter, despite what you may protest, you know your brother best. And if you say he cannot be convinced to return to Britannia, then what do you suggest?"
"Chairman," James said, speaking with an air of finality, "I haven't the faintest idea."
"Is that so? In that case, I have a proposal. We will issue an ultimatum to the French. If they do not consent to return Senator Albus Severus Potter, by Janurary 1st, 2042, there will be repercussions."
"Sir," James interrupted, "I'm not sure if threats are the best way to deal with thi-"
"Don't forget, Senator Potter. You said you hadn't the faintest idea what to do. If you had one, you should have said it earlier. All in favour of passing the motion, raise your hands!"
Despite James' wild protests, the motion sailed on through. It seemed that the Senate believed the French would easily capitulate to the commands given to them by the Britannians, after Voldemort's crushing conquest of their country in the Second Wizarding World War.
-December 12th, 2041, Paris
"You will excuse my rather uneducated English, I hope?" , spoke a silky voice from across a table. The room was small, but well furnished. Stuffed animal heads lined the walls, paintings hung over the fireplace and mantel piece. The carpet was a lavish green, tasseled, and the finest quality that Persian Wizards could weave with their spells.
"Oh, yeah, of course." The reply came from a young man who sat across from him. His glasses were on in a somewhat lopsided manner, his hair tangled and long, and a goatee protruding from his chin.
"Well then, Albus Potter, what is it you have come here to discuss with us. You must know, that as the head of the entire French state, I have little time on my hands to spare."
"President Felix Loubet, I believe that, within 2 years, Britannia will declare war on your state."
Albus replied hurriedly.
"Senator, if that's all you have to say, you're wasting your time. We know the Britannians have clear aggressive tendencies towards us. I'm sure you remember Voldemort's invasion of 1996."
"I haven't forgotten in the slightest, President. But my primary concern is that you will lose. And there will be no Harry Potter to stop Voldemort from inside this time, oh no. Without him, your state would be nothing more than miles of blood red soil." Albus retorted definitely.
The president twitched. "I don't see why you're rubbing in past wounds that have nothing to do with this. We are fully aware of how much we owe your father and the Order of the Phoenix resistance movement."
"I'm offering to help you, President. If, no, when the war comes, I refuse to stand by idly, watching over a million Voldemorts fill your rivers and soils will French blood. I am a Britannian at heart, have no doubt. But I refuse to allow a repeat of that massacre to happen."
President Loubet looked suspiciously at the rather messy figure sitting before him. "France is much stronger now, having absorbed many of the shattered countries Voldemort left in his wake."
"Stronger, yes," Albus said touchily, "but not strong enough."
The President paused and considered Albus' offer. "I'm tempted. But how do I know I can trust you? After all, any traitor to his own country may as well be a traitor to mine."
"I'm no traitor, Mr. Loubet. I am a man who does not wish to see millions of innocent lives perish. And I believe that I can stop it."
The French President let out a laugh that filled the room, short and sharp. "You think of yourself as some sort of Messiah?"
"No, I would say I am the Chosen One of this generation. If I must defy my country to fulfil my fate, so be it. This is what is right for me to do."
The other man stood, a swift motion supplemented by his thin, tall, body. "I accept."
Just as the offer was completed, the intricately carved wooden doors resounded with two sharp knocks.
"I'm busy! What is it?" Loubet snapped at the closed doors.
"...Sir, the Britannians have made an ultimatum. They wish for us to return Albus Severus Potter to Britannian territory by the 1st of Janurary, 2042, else they threaten to retrieve him...by force."