Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to the proverbial Duchess of Magic, JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. No matter how much I whine about not owning anything related to the HP universe, other than a few fanfic plots, I do not profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world... Damn it!
Chapter Eleven - Frustrating Supposed 'Lords'
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―==(oIo)==―
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Sirius was in the library and reading through yet another book on combat magics from out of the Black library at Grimmauld when an owl flew in to drop off a letter for Sirius. He was looking for more curses he could deconstruct to a single syllable to add to the quite extensive repertoire he already had.
He scanned it and its load, then freed it of the letter it was carrying with a simple untying charm to the string holding the letter to its ankle.
With the letter free, the owl flew out again. It didn't even wait for the treat Sirius was already reaching for.
With a shrug, Sirius returned his attention to the letter now sitting on the side table next to him.
After another lot of intent-based magic on the letter to see if there was anything harmful, he soon had it open and read. Frowning in a little confusion, he sought out the others currently 'at home' to speak with them about it.
After Harry had read it, he handed it to Luna.
"They're fact-finding," she said. "They want to know who you are. That's why they sent Sirius this letter, asking if he knew who you were."
"They want to know who I am because I spanked the living Hell out of Dumbledore and his minions," Harry qualified. "And they sent it to Sirius because any mail sent by owl to 'Hardwin Peverell' won't find me and thought Sirius might be in contact with me due to the Peverell and Potter fortunes."
Sirius nodded in acknowledgement and said, "You should go. I can send her a letter, informing her I've spoken with you."
"Not everyone receives a personal invitation from the Minister, Harry," Luna quietly stated.
"An invit-ation to an interrog-ation," he smiled at her.
"Yes," she shrugged. "But an important one. And don't go thinking this is a muggle third degree or anything. As you're now a recognised Lord they're going to be very wary about how they approach you with their questions. They're going to be exceedingly polite... but wary."
"Because, as far as they know, I'm an unknown." he said.
"Yes," she replied.
Sirius cut back in and said, "For what it's worth, I think you should go, too."
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I should."
He thought about it for a few moments before he said, "Fine. I'll go. However, I'm not going to turn up via the public floos in the atrium and have to tolerate all that crap getting through bullshit security to visit her."
Looking to Sirius, he said, "Let her know I'm willing to meet with her... on her turf... but I'll need to be granted direct floo access to her office or whatnot."
"Good idea," said Luna.
"You'll need another owl to send her a response," he said. "Can someone organise that― wait. Have Dobby take it to the owl post office in Diagon and send it that way."
"You don't want to use Hedwig for this," said Sirius. "Smart."
After writing his letter and having it gone over by both Harry and Luna, then making the minor corrections they suggested, Sirius had Dobby take it to Diagon for him.
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―==(oIo)==―
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Late the next morning and after a long 'briefing' from both Sirius and Luna about how to behave when meeting with the Minister, Harry was finally given the all-clear by both his godfather and girlfriend he could go.
While rolling his eyes in front of them, he took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron and waited for ten seconds shy of his meeting time with Minister Bones. He needed only wait less than a quarter minute. Then he cast a silencing charm over himself and the floo grate before tossing a large pinch of the available 'public' floo powder into the flames and firmly calling, "Minister's Office, Ministry of Magic."
He waited for the connection; then, giving the temporary password he was told, said, "Lord Peverell, visiting." And, after first taking a deep breath, immediately stepped in.
Elbows tucked in he allowed the floo network to carry him the short distance to his destination, waited the half second as he came to a stop and stepped out.
Unlike 'Harry Potter', 'Lord Hardwin Peverell' knew how to use a floo - even if it did take he and Luna stepping back and forth between The Rookery and Grimmauld Place quite a few times before he finally worked out what he'd been doing wrong before.
No one, until then, had bothered to tell him he needed to pause that half second on arrival before stepping out. However, to be fair, it was because there were very few people who had his reflexes that would otherwise step out too soon.
He stepped into the Minister's office to find four wands pointed at him from four widely-spaced places in the room. Two of those were either side of him and one was the Minister's own.
Straightening up from the crouch he was in to step out of the fireplace, he had one eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his face. "I must say, Minister... if this is the nature of your hospitality when receiving guests... I would have decided to be just as rude and ignored your invitation."
Unsurprisingly, Minister Amelia Bones only very slightly coloured in her cheeks. However, the tip of her wand never wavered. Instead she firmly, but softly, demanded, "Password, please, Lord Peverell."
"Lady Bones is soon to marry Edward Carmichael," he wryly returned. "At least you said, 'Please'."
As Bones lowered her wand in barely concealed relief, so did the other three.
"I will not apologise," she said. "There've been far too many assassination attempts on my life since that... man... has been back."
She then gestured to a chair before her desk, a nice and comfy one, and said, "Please. Take a seat."
"Oh?" he asked, as he moved to the indicated chair. As he sat he smirked and asked, "That then begs the questions; just how many is 'sufficient' assassination attempts? And how many is not enough?"
As she sat herself, she paused as she blinked back in surprise, gave a slight snort of amusement and finished sitting. "Very clever," she drolly replied.
He grinned and said, "I thought so."
The bare flicker of a grin passed across her face before she'd managed to school it back to one of pleasant demeanour.
As she then sat there, critically examining him, he asked, "Well, Minister? Do I pass?"
A little confused, she asked, "What do you mean?"
"You've been eyeing me off," he replied. "Do I pass whatever visual examination you were making of me? And, will you please tell your attack dogs to stop staring at the back of my head? It's quite rude, you know."
She gave a very slight wince before she softly replied, "Sorry." She gave a slight flick of her fingers and Harry heard the three aurors behind him all move about a little.
Then her posture changed slightly and she said, "You are somewhat of a puzzle, Lord Peverell."
"Oh?"
"I would like to know both where your family... specifically, you... has been hiding for quite a number of generations and why you've suddenly turned up."
He gave a slight snort of amusement and replied, "You would not believe me if I told you. As such, it would be pointless."
"Try me," she almost, though not quite, demanded.
He thought about it for a long moment before he replied, "Very well. Walk outside on a cloudless night. Look up at the brightest star in the sky; it's in the constellation of Canis Majoris. It's name is Sirius, but is often called the Dog Star. And it's actually a binary star; caused by two stars with one, Sirius B, orbiting another, Sirius A.
"Also orbiting Sirius A is a planet. For many years, that planet was my home. And, very recently, I returned to Earth with the assistance of the muggle United States military.
"Does that answer your question?"
At first she looked at him in shock, then that shock turned to slight frustration. "You only had to state you did not wish to divulge that information."
He grinned back and said, "I know."
With a shake of her head she then leaned forward in her chair to rest her elbows on her desk blotter. And said, "I wanted to talk to you about the attacks upon you by Albus Dumbledore; both times, after you stepped out of Gringotts, I believe."
He gave a slight shrug and said, "What do you want to know about it? I also remind you, Minister, you are no longer an auror. It's not your place to investigate."
"No," Harry heard from the woman behind him. "It's mine."
Without even turning around Harry said, "Well... person standing behind me, staring at the back of my head and probably with her wand in her hand... perhaps if you were to ask me questions, instead of the Minister, I might be willing to answer you. However, you've been nothing but rude since I've entered the room. So... nup."
Minister Bones cocked an eyebrow at Harry as she tried to smother the smirk she was desperately trying not to show.
Harry saw it and openly grinned at her.
In response, she just gave a huff of annoyance and adopted a slightly annoyed mien, but Harry could see she still saw humour in the situation. It was in her eyes, if not on her face.
Finally giving herself the slightest of shakes, Bones finally looked at Harry and asked, "If you don't mind sharing, how is it you came to inherit the Potter fortune?"
"The old fashioned way," he replied. "Trace back through the line of Potters and you come to a Peverell."
Curious she asked, "So, it's true that the Potters were descended from the Peverells?"
"The main branch, yes," he replied. "However, a Hardwin Potter married an Iolanthe Peverell. I'm sure, from that, you can see how it is I'm called Hardwin. The line by which I inherit through primogenitor is by her father, Denzel."
She gave a nod and said, "You clearly don't want to share where you've been. How about other details?"
"Such as?" he asked.
"Date of birth?"
He grinned back and replied. "I'm over the age of consent, if that's what you're implying."
She didn't so much blush as her cheeks pinked a little. "I'm sure you are," she wryly said. "However, we should have your pertinent details for our records."
"Should?" he pressed. "No; you mean, 'want'. Sorry, no."
Frowning slightly she said, "In these times of heightened concern, we prefer―"
As Harry started to snicker a little she shut up. Then frowned at him.
"'Heightened concern'?" he asked, smirking at her. "Wow! Is there something about moving into this office that makes idiots out of politicians?"
Leaning forward a bit, he stared at her and firmly stated, "You're in a civil war, Minister Bones. Call it what it is." Then sat back again. "'Heightened concern', indeed. You are in a civil war brought on by an insurrectionist movement based on bigotry and hate and which is led by a man whose only goal is for him to become supreme ruler of everything, or he destroys everything.
"The one you lot keep calling 'You-Know-Who', etcetera, has already caused deliberate breaches of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy; if not directly, then through the actions of his minions. In some countries, such as the MaCUSA, that's an automatic death sentence on the spot. The MaCUSA do not naff about with threats to that specific Statute, because they know what it means if the muggles... or the no-majs, as they call them over there... actually discover the magical world exists.
"Sooner or later, Minister Bones... unless you start treating this as the war it actually is... by first formally declaring it the war it is... you're going to have to inform the ICW you are unable to stop Tom. That means, the ICW are going to have to step in. When that happens... have no fear... you and your government will very likely be sacked on the spot by the combined might of the ICW for sheer naffing incompetence. And, why? Because you've had it in your power since you moved into this office to have the issue dealt with... and you haven't done it. I have little doubt your 'heightened concern' would not have existed beyond less than a week once, for example, the MaCUSA Pride turned up on your shores.
"So, I have to ask... as a concerned citizen questioning the head of my elected government... when are you going to release your aurors to fight 'He-Who' and his minions as the insurrectionist movement they are, or admit defeat and call in the ICW?"
At first showing anger caused by Harry laughing at her, as Harry talked Bones finally slumped a little in defeat.
Finally, she said, "I'd never get a Declaration of War past the Wizengamot."
"You don't need to," he returned. "You only need to get such a Declaration past the Wizengamot when you're intending to initiate an International war. You're not doing that. Firstly, you're not the one initiating it; and secondly, this is not yet an International war.
"All you need to do is inform the Wizengamot you've declared... past tense... magical Britain is in a state of civil war. Once you've done that, you declare you're putting the country on a war footing. Part of that will be you releasing your aurors from treating Death Eaters as criminals, even though that's currently exactly what they are, and ordering they be treated as enemy combatants.
"As enemy combatants, they will no longer be recognised as 'pure-bloods'; meaning, when you catch one of them, you can pour Veritaserum down their throats. As enemy combatants, when your aurors go up against them, they're not there to arrest them they're there to stop them. As you'd now be in a state of war, that means the use of lethal force right off the beater's bat. Your aurors will not be arresting those who give up, they'll be taking into custody enemy prisoners who survive their encounter with your aurors.
"Trust me; if the ICW step in because they feel you've for too long shown yourselves to be incompetent in dealing with this little insurrection problem of yours, putting the Statute of Secrecy at even greater risk, they won't be coming in to arrest Death Eaters; they'll be coming in to put them down like the disease-riddled dogs they've shown themselves to be. There'll be no, 'Aurors! You're all under arrest!'; it'll be, 'Deprimo! Bitch!'; right off the bat."
Giving that a moment to sink in he gave a slight shrug and said, "Mind you, if your aurors start doing that, I happen to think that could only be a good thing.
"At the moment, those who can think about the situation realise that if they oppose the Death Eaters, then there's a very good chance they'll die after first being raped and tortured. However, if they become a Death Eater and oppose the aurors, then it is far more likely they'll just be stunned, arrested and thrown in jail. In other words, not being a Death Eater can get you tortured and killed; being a Death Eater means you're more likely to live. When you think about it like that it's kind of an easy choice, isn't it?
"If you want to stop people joining Tom and his merry band of thugs, you need to make it so joining up and becoming a Death Eater will be even more hazardous to your health than not. Do what the Pride are going to do when they breach your borders if you continue down the path you're on; go lethal on first contact. Make becoming a Death Eater literally a suicidal choice.
"Anyway," he sighed, "You're the Minister. It's your job to do what is right, rather than what is easy; not mine."
"I... am not prepared to do that," she lowly replied.
He just shrugged and said, "And I don't care. I happen to think this country needs a clean sweep; not of leadership, but of all its bigotry; its bigoted laws, its bigoted beliefs, its bigoted practices.
"I'm firmly of the belief that the Death Eaters are finally going to go too far and either the muggles are going to learn of your existence... and utterly destroy everything; or, the ICW are finally going to have enough and invade you.
"Of course, they will have the full right and backing of the rest of the ICW nations when they do so, because they are all united in one purpose at least... the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy must be protected, no matter the cost. And, if that means destroying magical Britain, so be it. You know this. Either way, magical Britain, as a society, will be destroyed.
"Of course, muggle-borns will still be born. And, sooner or later, there'll be enough of them that they can form a new society upon the ashes of your old one. I'm of the fervent hope they'll learn from your mistakes and there'll be no bullshit bigotry... which you currently have and which happens to have been the cause of the last five of your home-grown dark lords, including this one... and the new magical Britain will prosper.
"Either way, your current dark lord will lose. The only thing that should matter to you is, are you... let alone your society... still going to be standing at the end of it."
As she looked back at him in horror, it was a while before she asked, "You're willing to see our society be destroyed?"
"Yes," he replied, as if he couldn't understand how they could not know it was obvious. "That is, of course, unless you recognise you need to change first and actually change; before the ICW or muggles step in. Once either of those two do, it'll be far too late for you.
"Now," he suddenly said. "You asked me here for the purpose of... and don't deny it... finding out if I'm the real supposed Chosen One, rather than Longbottom. That's why you were asking me for my birthday."
The sudden change of topic had Bones's expression momentarily reflect her surprise and guilt that he'd nailed it.
He gave an amused snort and said, "Knowing my birthday will not clear that up for you."
"Pardon?" she asked.
"Knowing my birthday will not make it any clear for you whether or not I'm a possible supposed 'Chosen One' of the prophecy," he replied. "That's because you're making far too many assumptions.
"First, you're assuming that the seventh month is July. And that's because you're assuming that the calendar to determine the seventh month is the modern Gregorian calendar. The prophecy doesn't state it is. There are about thirty different calendars in use throughout the world and it could, for instance, be the Chinese calendar... meaning the seventh month runs from mid July to mid August in our calendar. Even if it is the Gregorian calendar, it could be an older version of it, which would mean the seventh month is September. You do realise, don't you, that sept is Latin for seven?"
"Then you're assuming that the calendar starts on the First of January. What if the seventh month is based on the financial calendar - the First of July to the Thirtieth of June - making the seventh month January? Or, what about based on the school year; which means the seventh month is March? Trelawney was a professor at Hogwarts, wasn't she?
"Then you need to consider whether or not the seventh month dying means the last day of the month under the modern Gregorian calendar. Since the calendar is based on the moon cycles, the dying could represent the phases of the moon, meaning the month dying in July 1980 would be, for that month, the Eleventh; not the Thirty-first."
He then chuckled at Bones's expression and said, "Try this for a scenario that fits the requirements of your prophecy: Back in the late sixties, a young French couple who recently emigrated from France with a young boy child who was born on the Thirtieth of September, have been approached three times by the one who became your current dark lord with the intent to get them to join him. They refuse him each time. After the third time they decide, 'Naff this, let's emigrate back to our home country and away from the fool.' And do so. They certainly don't want their son going to Hogwarts in the current worsening climate.
"Approximately fifteen years later it's early 1980. Their son is now a young auror with the French aurors. At the same time, the ICW are quickly reaching the point - approaching the point - they're going to send in International aurors to deal with your dark lord problem. And... wouldn't you know it?... one of those aurors is the son of that couple who emigrated back to France.
"You now have, back at the time Trelawney gave her prophecy, a young French auror who is both 'approaching' and 'born of those who thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies'. And he fits the prophecy quite nicely.
"You... as has Dumbledore and the dork lard... have leapt to conclusions based on little, but the flimsiest of, evidence.
"Where is your evidence that the Chosen One, as you've all been calling him, was born on the Thirtieth or Thirty-first of July, 1980? Where is your evidence that he's even British? And, further, where is your evidence he's even a magical? Have you even bothered to find out? For all you know it could be a muggle with a gun who finally 'offs' him; such as a police officer with the Metropolitan Police Service."
As he sat back and smirked at Bones, who now had her head resting by her forehead on her fingertips of both hands with her elbows on her desk, he could hear the nervous movements and quiet mutterings of the three aurors behind him.
He chuckled again and said, "You've all been so happily going along with whatever bullshit Albus Dumbledore spews out of his mouth as if it's the gospel truth that, when someone like me comes along and asks for proof, you're all left floundering. 'But-but-but... Albus said so!'
"Albus Dumbledore has mastered the art of, 'When you cannot bedazzle them with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit'. And you idiots have all been falling for it." And laughed.
He was the only one, though.
"Good gods, woman!" he chuckled. "How about you speak with an Unspeakable who is a Master of Divination and ask them! Stop falling for Dumbledore's dissembling bullshit and actually investigate! You were, after all, once an auror. Put that training to use."
After a few moments, she sighed and sat back, "Yes. Yes, I was."
After another long look at him, she asked, "Any other pearls of wisdom you wish to share?" That she asked it almost plaintively had him smirking back.
"Ask and ye shall receive," he grinned. Her returned grimace of pain made his grin widen.
"Let's look at your actual prophecy, shall we?" he asked.
"I think we all know what it says," she grumbled.
"Yes," he returned. "But do you know what it means?"
Puzzled, she asked, "What do you mean?"
"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...' right? Now let's deconstruct it.
"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...' Nowhere, in there, does it state the one with the power will actually vanquish him; only that he has the power to do so.
"It also states 'born as the seventh month dies'; not will be born... not has been born... just born. Stop assuming that means he's about to be, as of the time the prophecy was given. For all anyone knows, the person could have been over fifty years old, for example, at the time.
"Next, 'And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...' Firstly, you're assuming that means a physical mark of some kind. At least, that's what you thought when it was believed it was Harry Potter; and that was only because of his quite visible forehead scar. Dumbledore had to go through quite the song and dance routine to have you all believe it meant something else and the Chosen One was Neville Longbottom, didn't he? Even then it could simply be your dark lord indicating someone and saying words along the lines of, 'that one is my equal'. As such, he has marked them as such.
"Then there's the 'power he knows not'. It doesn't say the dark lord does not understand the power, it states he doesn't know it. In other words, any power that Dumbledore believed it to be... Love, anyone?... it cannot be the power the dark lord knows not. That's because, until a few years ago, anything Dumbledore thought he knew about the prophecy he told Severus Snape. And anything Severus Snape knew went immediately to the dark lord. As such, within hours... days, at the most... the dark lord would know of it.
"Then you also have to consider that your dark lord also attended Hogwarts. He was Head Boy in 1945. As such, anything taught at Hogwarts cannot be this supposed power because the dark lord would already know of it. Therefore, if the Chosen One is Neville Longbottom, then... as long as he remains at Hogwarts and only learns what Hogwarts and its staff can provide him... he's never going to learn a power the 'dark lord knows not', is he? Which means, he cannot be the Chosen One; at least until he gets away from Dumbledore's clutches.
"The next one is the most hilarious of all. 'And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ...' That one is a clear nonsense if you also... as you've also seemed to have done... accepted that Neville Longbottom is the Chosen One. You all accept that the one you consider is the dark lord of your prophecy... and there's nothing in the prophecy that states he is... is the current one. You also have all accepted he is alive; just as you all accept Neville Longbottom is alive. Therefore, either Longbottom isn't the chosen one, or Volde-monkey isn't the dark lord. Pick one, because it cannot be both... if it's either of the two in the first place!
"Then the final line, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...' is nothing but a summary of the first line.
"Next, Dumbledore seems to think that the one with 'the power' will then use that supposed power to off your dark lord. There's nothing in the prophecy that states that. That is nothing, but yet another assumption on your part; and which Dumbledore firmly espouses and spruiks. Again and again and again... where's your naffing evidence?"
With a sigh and a massage of her nose bridge, she asked, "So, your birthday?"
"Is irrelevant," he replied. "How about you tell me yours and I'll see how it could be you who is the Chosen One?
"More than thirty different calendars, remember? As for 'thrice defied him', that doesn't just mean fight; it can also mean refuse. And it doesn't mean to your dark lord's face, either; it could simply mean to his propaganda. Care to find out if you meet the conditions of being the so-called Chosen One?"
Slumping in defeat, Bones gave a pained sigh before looking back at him.
"The only person who originally began stating the Chosen One was Neville Longbottom is Dumbledore," he continued. "And you folks all accepted it without once... once... getting from the old man any proof as to his claims.
"You were all so happy it wouldn't be you... that you could palm it off on someone else... you simply accepted his bullshit as divine fact. Shame on you.
"I magically spanked Neville Longbottom's arse the other day to prove to you all that Longbottom cannot possibly be your alleged Chosen One. Now you're running about trying to learn other people's birthdays to see if it could be them, instead.
"I'm not going to share with you mine because, as I said, it's irrelevant. Having already researched it I can tell you there are approximately fifty-seven days out of three hundred and sixty-six it can be. And those dates change depending on which year you're also referring to, because they relate to the cycles of the moon.
When you do what Dumbledore did and take a day earlier - Neville Longbottom was born on the thirtieth while Harry Potter was born on the thirty-first - then the number doubles. That's one hundred and fourteen days out of three hundred and sixty six. That's a little under one third of the entire year."
He laughed at her resultant expression. "Now knowing my personal particulars are not yours to know, is there anything else I can help you with?"
She then tried to get other information such as; Was he was seeing anyone? - "Yes, who that is is a personal particular and none of your business" - Where was he staying? - personal particular - Why can't owls find him? - "Consider it, 'Family magics'" - Was he going to take his Seat on the Wizengamot? - "Yes, but I don't know when" - and others. In the end she got very little and nothing of his 'identifiable' particulars other than his name; at least she thought she had that.
After they'd talked a bit more he said, "Well, I must be getting back. I have people who worry about me."
"And, who are you staying with?" asked Bones, as Harry started to rise.
As he reached his full height, he smiled and replied, "With new friends."
The very slight frown he got back meant that was something else she really wanted to know.
"Well, then; would you mind doing something for me?" she asked.
"That depends entirely on what that 'something' is," he replied.
She gave a single nod back and replied, "If I offer you an emergency portkey, would you carry it on your person?"
"Not without a whole heap of assurances from you, I won't," he returned.
Again frowning a little in frustration, she asked, "What sort of assurances?"
"That what portkey you want me to carry is only a portkey, there are no tracking charms or the like on it; that said portkey cannot be activated by anyone else simply by, for example, calling an activation phrase to me; that the portkey is not a timed portkey; that you inform me first where the portkey will take me upon activation; that sort of thing."
As he spoke and listed his conditions out, she nodded along.
"Wise, I think," she then said. "Very well..."
Then she pulled out a small medallion out of a desk drawer and offered it to him.
He didn't reach for it. "Your assurances first, please, Minister Bones."
"You have them," she firmly stated.
He then took the small medallion with his off hand and dropped it into his pocket.
"The activation requires you to tap the medallion with your wand, pushing a little of your magic into it and calling, 'Activate'," she explained. "It will take you to the DMLE portkey point."
"Will I be locked in place, or similar, if I arrive there that way?" he asked.
She frowned a little and said, "No. The medallion is an 'auror' portkey. As such and though you will arrive there, you will not be hindered in any way. You have my word."
"As a daughter of the House of Bones?" he firmly asked.
"Yes; as a daughter of the House of Bones," she just as firmly returned.
He gave a nod and said, "Very well. Thank you."
"Thank you for coming to see me, Lord Peverell," she said.
"And thank you for hosting me, Minister Bones," he returned.
As he headed for the fireplace, one of the aurors piped up.
"I need you down in the DMLE office, Mister Peverell," said the elder witch Auror. She'd remained quiet the whole time he was there until now. "I need a statement from you regarding the two attacks upon you by Albus Dumbledore."
Turning to look at her, he smiled and said, "Liar. Firstly, you do not need me down in the DMLE office; you want me down in the DMLE offices. Secondly, you address me as Lord Peverell, not Mister Peverell.
"You, whoever you are since you didn't identify yourself, are quite rude. As such, do not lead yourself to believe it's done you any favours."
"I'm Director Hammer," she frowned. "Head of the DMLE."
"Bully for you," he returned. "Doesn't make you any less rude, though."
That frown deepened. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to accompany me down to the DMLE―"
"Afraid, are you?" he smirked. "Why, exactly, are you afraid to ask me that? Aren't you supposed to be the Director of the DMLE? Not a good look for the Director of the DMLE to be afraid to ask a question, is it?"
Now getting more visibly upset she snapped, "You're coming down to the DMLE with me to answer questions I have."
"Am I under arrest?" he shot back.
Clearly thrown by the request, she was a moment before she said, "No, of course not."
"Of course not?" he immediately asked. "As far as I'm aware of the law in this country, unless I'm under arrest you have no right to make such a statement to me.
"So, you are quite wrong about me accompanying you down to the DMLE to answer any questions you have for me; unless you are attempting to circumvent my rights as both a Lord of a Noble House, let alone two, and have decided to flick a big 'fuck you' to the laws of this supposedly just society."
Then ignoring her, Harry turned his attention to Bones. "Minister; your employee, here, is acting outside her authority as Director of the DMLE... not Head... and is trying to illegally force me to go with her to the DMLE. That would be attempted kidnapping of the Lord of a Noble House.
"It is behaviour, such as this, that has me of the mindset I'm quite willing to sit back and watch you all self-implode while waiting for the ICW or the muggles to finally have enough with the whole naffing lot of you and step in.
"Or... are you going to finally do your naffing job and do what is right, rather than what is easy?
"Deal with her, would you? Or prove... me... right."
With a pained expression, as Hammer began to splutter in indignation, Bones finally snapped, "Connie!"
When Hammer turned to her she continued, "Unless you have something on him to arrest him with, he's free to go. You know this!"
Spluttering in shock Bones had denied her, Hammer was a moment before she said, "But... Minister!... He―"
"Is free to go," Bones firmly cut in.
"Thank you, Minister Bones," said Harry. "It seems Director Hammer has forgotten she has a set of laws to obey. That is, of course, unless you've already declared you're in a state of civil war and enacted war legislation?"
She only scowled back.
"In that case, I'll be going," he said. "Maybe there's hope for the current British wizarding society, after all. Time will tell, I guess."
Reaching into her floo pot he withdrew a pinch of floo powder and turned back to Hammer. "Oh, yes. You know I am Lord Peverell. The next time you fail to address me with suitable respect for my Lordships, you'll find out exactly how it is I magically kicked Dumbledore's arse."
With only her surprised and shocked look back at him he spun back and tossed the floo powder into the grate of the fireplace. "Diagon Alley!" he called; then stepped through.
Once he was gone, Hammer whirled on Bones and was about to say something when Bones got in first. "Connie," she quietly said. "The next time you are rude to a guest of mine... especially one I'm working hard to curry favour with... you'll be fired before you can be rude to them a second time. I'll even fire you while the guest is here, just so they see me do it. Am I clear?"
As Hammer gaped back, Bones added, "He was also correct in that you had no right to demand he accompany you to the DMLE. You definitely, as he said, overstepped the bounds of your authority. Overstep the bounds of your authority again and you won't just be fired, you'll also be under arrest and on your way to one of your own holding cells. Am I clear on that point, too?"
"Y-yes, Minister," Hammer finally responded.
"Is that 'Yes, Minister' on both points, Director Hammer?"
"Yes, Minister," Hammer firmly replied.
"It is often better to gain compliance through honeyed words and actions, rather than vinegared. You should have been polite and respectfully asked the man for his statement against Dumbledore; rather than trying to demand it off him, which you had no legal right to do. Do you understand?"
A bit more quietly and apparently not a little ashamed, Hammer replied, "Yes, Minister."
"Good. You may go," said Bones, chin-pointing towards the door.
Hammer was quick to leave with her own personal auror escort. She knew Bones wasn't one to rant and rave when she was upset, unlike her predecessor. Instead, she became cold and quiet. That was what she was right now.
Besides, she had surreptitiously cast listening and tracking charms to monitor.
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
As Harry stepped out of the floo in the Leaky Cauldron, before he did anything else he scanned himself for listening charms and the like.
Shrugging his cloak off and checking it, he found two tracking charms and two listening charms up near the collar at the back
Quietly, he firmly stated, "Placing listening or tracking charms on a Lord of a Noble House is grounds for having you both before the Wizengamot for your effrontery alone. Do it again and that is what will occur to the both of you; aurors or not." Then he immediately banished all four.
Halfway between the Minister's office and her own, Hammer stopped and scowled. She didn't see one of her aurors, the male of the two, also scowl.
Turning around, she demanded, "Which one of you two also cast listening and monitoring charms on Peverell?"
The male auror, replied, "I did, Ma'am."
With a huff she said, "Points for being proactive. But, next time, gain my permission from me first."
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied.
At the Leaky and after re-donning his cloak, Harry then recast his silencing ward around himself and the floo, tossed in a large pinch of floo powder, barked out his destination and follow-up password and was away.
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
After giving it a couple of days, Dumbledore again tried to contact Longbottom at his family home.
This time he managed to get the call to connect, but again had to wait on a house elf to inform his 'protégé' he was on the floo for him.
As he waited, he went over in his mind what he needed to say to get the boy... young man... to return to Hogwarts.
However, the elf did not collect the young Longbottom Lord. Again it was his grandmother, the Dowager Longbottom, who walked into the room.
"Mister Dumbledore," she said. "To what do I owe what is not a pleasure?"
A little frustrated behind his Occlumency, Dumbledore said, "I need to speak with young Ne- Lord Longbottom, most urgently."
"What about, Al- Mister Dumbledore?" she demanded, throwing his own 'slip' back at him. "Unless you provide an honest and straightforward answer to that question, I am under instructions from my Lord not to request him to come speak with you."
"He needs further training in facing his destiny," Dumbledore huffed. "His... reluctance to face it will be his downfall. And only I can properly guide him towards a successful conclusion of it."
"According to him, you've done very little of any of that," she smirked. "Instead, you've been palming him off on others, while you sat back and did nothing but serve him platitudes and condescending cordiality, telling him to work harder.
"As such, based on your own actions to date, he only needs to contact others who can provide him with that training you... clearly... will not yourself provide. He then merely needs to hear from you approximately once every few days, where you'll tell him to work harder, and nothing will have changed other than where he lives.
"Is that not true, Mister Dumbledore?"
With a slight scowl, Dumbledore said, "Perhaps if I was to step through and speak―"
"That's not going to happen," she snapped over the top of him, cutting him off. "The wards are specifically set to instantly and forcefully eject you from the grounds if you attempt to enter, even if you use your phoenix."
He'd also temporarily forgotten he wasn't allowed to leave the school grounds.
"If you wish to speak with my Lord you will continue to provide satisfactory answers to my inquiries before I then inform him of your responses," she continued. "Even then, it is entirely up to him whether or not he speaks with you.
"Now, my Lord wishes to know what efforts you have made towards discovering whether or not Lord Hardwin Peverell is the true Chosen One. What have you so far discovered?"
"That is sensitive information I am not willing―"
Before he even had a chance to finish explaining, again Augusta's wand flashed up and down and again Dumbledore found himself forcefully ejected from his own fireplace.
"Merlin, damn it!" he furiously muttered, climbing back to his feet.
When he turned to look at the two aurors in the office with him, both were lightly smirking at him; infuriating him even further. He was further annoyed at the reminder he could do nothing about getting rid of the two and their compatriots who followed him everywhere in the school except the toilet and his private apartment.
Even then he had to tolerate them affixing him with a tracker and wasn't allowed to remove it. The first time he tried was also the last time. Within moments of his removing it, both on-duty aurors burst into his room with wands drawn.
After being told off for it, they immediately affixed another to him and told him if he or another removed it they'd immediately drag him off to a cell at the DMLE.
"And don't go thinking you can just transfer it to something or someone else. As soon as you fiddle with it, we'll know," he was firmly told.
That was a point concerning the DMLE-level tracking charm he had forgotten about. And he knew the auror had told him the truth... as far as he was aware.
The DMLE had been provided the charm by the Unspeakables on their request. They needed a tracking charm that could not be removed or transferred without the caster immediately noticing it and the Unspeakables had come through for them.
What frustrated Dumbledore the most was that the Unspeakables were unwilling to share with him the secret of how to remove it without the caster knowing. He knew they had to know, as they both designed the charm and would have left that loophole in for themselves. He was very disappointed with them for not sharing that information with him. They'd told him there was no such loophole, but he knew they were just attempting to mislead him.
If he'd known the truth it would have surprised him to discover they actually didn't leave such a loophole, after all.
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
Later that day and at the Ministry, Augusta Longbottom was now sitting with the Minister, Bones, in the discussion armchairs at the front of her office. These were two armchairs sitting 'kitty corner', ninety degrees, to one another with a small coffee table between them. Each of them held a tea cup and a saucer in their hands as they talked.
"So," said Longbottom, "We've all been fools in automatically accepting that 'the seventh month dies' is the last few days of July; or that it even refers to 1980."
"Yup," said Bones. "I ran it past Saul and his boys and girls down in the DoM and they concur. Actually, Saul said, 'We'll, it's about bloody time you folks started to open your minds to other possibilities. We've known that, right from the start.'"
"Then, why didn't they say anything?" asked Longbottom.
"They did," Bones returned. "They even sent an Unspeakable to visit Dumbledore and told him directly. He basically threw them out of his office and said he knew, for a fact, it would be either Mister Potter or your grandson even before the two boys were born.
Then, as he was still Chief Warlock at the time, he ordered Saul to not come forward with that information to anyone else under his imprimatur authority as Chief Warlock, as he considered it a security of the realm issue."
Longbottom scoffed and said, "He really abused that authority a lot, didn't he?"
Bones nodded and said, "He did."
"Bastard."
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
"Bastard," said Neville Longbottom.
He and his grandmother were sitting at his Head of House desk in the office at Longbottom Manor; he, now sitting in the office chair, while she sat opposite. His grandmother had just relayed to him what she and the Minister had discussed.
"That was my thought, too," she said. "Both of us had also run through the mental exercise to see if the prophecy could also apply to either of us if we were male. It can, if you stretch things a bit.
"And, if we can logically deduce either of us could be the Chosen One if not for our gender, then it is not a difficult exercise to extrapolate that to recognise there would be a great many people - wizards, squibs, muggles - to whom it could also apply.
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
A week later and at the Black Townhouse, Harry had barely left the house for the past week. His focus was on getting his girlfriend (Luna), godfather (Sirius), honorary uncle (Remus) and his honorary uncle's girlfriend (Tonks) up to some level of snuff with his way of performing combat magics.
And the four had made significant leaps and bounds in accomplishing what they needed.
When he was honest with himself about it, Harry realised they were learning it so fast because of a number of factors. Firstly, they were in a war and getting fast at casting and dodging could mean the difference between life and death 'tomorrow'. Secondly, they had trust in him not to lead them astray; or, at least to not 'bullshit' them. Thirdly, with the exception of Tonks - who still had to go to work as an auror - they had nothing else to do with their time, but learn and train. And fourthly, Harry was actually a damned fine teacher.
The other matter was Harry and Luna's relationship.
Harry had sat her down in their room and asked the young woman outright, "How long have you known you were the one for me?"
"Off and on since just before we headed to the Ministry that night," she replied. "It actually became clear to me I could be your future spouse just after the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
"I tried to See what I could do to resolve those visions over summer and into fourth year... my fourth year and your fifth. That's the main reason I joined the DA; one of the first to join, too."
"When were you sure?" he asked.
"That night in the Ministry, as you were knocked back through the Astra Porta. It was you going through the Astra Porta which firmed it all up. Before that, my visions mainly centred on you eventually marrying Ginny."
Harry took only a moment to consider that before he gave a shudder of distaste. "No way."
"Yes, way," she returned. "Potions."
Horrified, he asked, "She was going to use potions on me?"
Nodding, she replied, "Her mother would have driven her to employing them. However, after a couple of years you would have discovered what she'd done and was doing and handed her over to the DMLE to be prosecuted.
"From that, she and her mother would both have been tossed through the Astra Porta after first being convicted of Line Theft. Fred would have been killed before then in battle with the Death Eaters, so that left only Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George and Ron still alive.
"Ron would have married Hermione. However, he'd have killed her in a drunken rage only a few years later when she received a promotion while working at the Ministry. It would have been the same day he was also kicked out of the Auror Academy in his final year for stealing from his fellow cadets. That she was receiving a promotion while he was being fired was all too much for him.
"You would have then hunted him down and, when he resisted arrest and tried to curse you, you'd have killed him. It would have led you to cutting all ties with the remaining Weasleys, right there.
"At that point I would have stepped in and we'd have married within the year."
"So, we were going to marry, anyway?" he asked.
"If all had gone as it was heading... yes," she replied. "However, I'd have never let things get that far that, for a start, the Battle of Hogwarts would have occurred as it would otherwise have occurred. That meant Fred Weasley, along with a great many others, would at least have lived. Then I'd've made sure Hermione never married Ron."
Suddenly realising something, Harry said, "You advised Sirius to get Hermione out of the country, didn't you!"
"Yes," she replied. "It was the only way to save her from Molly Weasley's potions and Albus Dumbledore's manipulations. It was the only way I could See, at the time, to save her life."
"Thank you!" he gratefully returned.
She just nodded back and replied, "You're welcome. However, I only had that option because you went through the Astra Porta. If you hadn't, she'd have never willingly left; even with Sirius arranging with her parents for her to go."
"Because I would have still been here," he said, understanding her point.
"Yes," she replied. "And, she'd have come back, even if she was forced to go. Then she'd have still succumbed to the potions and..."
He continued, "And, she'd have still been murdered by Ron Weasley?"
"Yes."
Harry was a long moment, thinking things over, before he said, "You know... I think I could kill him just for that. He might not have killed her now... he might not ever kill her... but he still represents a threat to her."
Then he looked to her and asked, "Does he still represent a threat to her?"
"Yes," she replied. "However, it is a very tiny one. A lot of things would have to happen... I would have to allow and steer them to happen... for Ron to be a threat to Hermione ever again. You no longer need to worry about Ron harming Hermione, even through accident."
He gave a nod back. "And, you? Do you See yourself happy... safe... into the future?"
"Yes, I do," she smiled; "Now we're together."
He smiled back and moved in for a cuddle... which turned into more in short order.
A little while later, breathing just a little heavily, she said, "You know... for someone who's lived a celibate life, especially for the past three-plus years, you sure are a randy bugger."
He chuckled and replied, "I think it might be because I've got a lot of catching up to do."
She gave a huff of amusement and quietly replied, "Liar. You're just a randy bugger."
He laughed.
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
Unknown to the five in the Black Townhouse, elsewhere in magical Britain things were moving from a constant state of simmering tension to boiling.
The Dark Lord, Riddle/Voldemort, was getting quite frustrated with his minio― Death Eaters. After a week of not hearing anything from any of them about the whereabouts of the Peverell Lord, he summoned his Inner Circle to a meeting.
"Why has no one found him?" he angrily demanded. "It cannot be that difficult for any of you to track down where he is and give him my invitation!"
Malfoy, his 'executive officer', knew it was his job to reply. "Since his trip to visit the Bones traitor, My Lord, he has gone to ground. None of our spies have seen him. Nor do our spies within the Ministry claim he has again visited Bones."
Voldemort now knew 'Peverell' had visited Bones. And that he'd done so via direct floo to her office, leaving the same way less than an hour later. However, they did not learn of that until hours later; when the 'faithful' auror, who'd overheard from one of those who'd also attended, reported it. Since then, they'd fixed things by kidnapping certain senior aurors so they'd know much faster.
"Find him!" Riddle demanded. "Whatever it takes, I want him willingly before me."
Malfoy looked to one of his remaining friends, Goyle Senior, and gave the man a look of intense worry. Neither said a word.
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
After a further week of having to put up with the auror presence, Dumbledore finally managed to get enough support together within the Wizengamot through judicious use of the floo system to get the aurors removed from Hogwarts.
As soon as he did and close to the same time Riddle held his meeting, the so-called Light Lord, Dumbledore, summoned his most faithful supporters to a meeting. He was getting quite frustrated with his minio― Order after a week of not hearing anything from any of them, even with the constant auror presence until that day, about the whereabouts of the Peverell Lord.
"Why has no one found him?" he angrily demanded. "It cannot be that difficult for any of you to track down where he is and let us know so we can capture him!"
Tonks, who he believed to now be his 'executive officer' after Moody resigned, replied, "Since his trip to visit Minister Bones, he's gone into hiding again. No one's seen hide, nor hair, of him since."
Dumbledore now knew 'Peverell' had visited Bones. And that he'd done so via direct floo to her office, leaving the same way less than an hour later. However, they did not learn of that until hours later; when the person in the Magic Detection Grid office, who'd overheard from one of those who'd also attended, reported it.
"Find him!" Dumbledore demanded. "Whatever it takes, I want him captured and brought before me!"
Tonks glanced to Remus and rolled her eyes. Neither said a word.
What had Dumbledore in such a royal snit was that he'd been, yet again, rebuffed by the Longbottom Matriarch in trying to speak with 'young Neville'. Oh, he knew he could beat the woman one-on-one in a duel; but, not while she was in the Longbottom manor. After all, the magics of the manor aided her. How else could the woman have so handily bested the likes of the LeStranges and Crouch Junior at the same time.
Now, if he could only get her... or, better yet... young Neville out of the Longbottom manor for a confrontation, he'd soon have them dancing to his secret jig.
He had no idea how 'young Neville' was able to rebel, considering the loyalty potion he was ensuring was in the boy's food. However, that was because he did not know Longbottom had an inkling of an idea someone would try to potion him - Ginny Weasley, he'd thought - so had, for the past six months, been only eating meals and imbibing drink prepared and brought to him by a Longbottom elf.
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ