Disclaimer: I do not own the rights of Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. The title for this chapter is not my creation either, but that of JKR. No profit is being made from this. And considering I'm flat broke, even with a job as a Soda Jerk, it is so not cool but, heh, I rather not be sued.
This is the unbeta'd version.
This chapter is dedicated to HarryReader, he will understand why.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
By forfie
Chapter 14.) Felix Felicis
Monday and Sunday rolled by easy enough. No one had complained with the change of leadership from Harry to Dean for the morning runs, it was effectively still the same. Harry had not told anyone about his detention with Sun Gao because he felt that if the others knew he had a hand in Malfoy's and Goyle's, it might be perceived as unjust or biased. Monday had meant he had Intelligent and Sentient Beings in the morning, Herbology before lunch and Charms before dinner, a whole day of three classes where the most interesting thing that happened was a promise from Algernon Beamish to try and find a vampire to talk to the class. Neurloading his Transfiguration and Charms text books had insured Harry that he would never have consult them, as well as practicing most of the spells in his spare time on Sunday, and have full knowledge of them. He had to work on some of the spell casting, but time was something he had spades of because of all the independent study periods. It was also the first night of a week of detentions with Snape, where he had to scrub down all of the cauldrons of the first and second years twice. Harry speculated that he would have to do the third and fourth years the next night.
Now it was Tuesday and it was also time for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry had had Creation class in the morning, which was interesting as the class from Thursday, though nothing really new as a topic, just research into past creators and their creations. Harry was slightly worried, and it was quite evident on his face, as well as the toll it took on his body, for he had to make a quick stop to the 'little boys' room before making it up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Effectively making him a good five minutes late.
Harry stepped through the oaken door in the bamboo clad room to hear the sounds of heavy panting, cursing and the continuous spin of machinery. Harry looked over to the right wall, Malfoy and Goyle looked well into their runs. They had removed their robes, button down shirts and ties, with dark sweat stains on their backs. The rest of the class, the Clan really, was looking on them with a mix of pity and justice.
Sun Gao approached Harry right away, "you are late Chwen."
"I'm sorry, sir," replied Harry evenly, his eyes not leaving Malfoy or Goyle, "but I had to make a stop to the bathroom."
"You had a whole independent study before hand," replied Sun Gao.
"I really had to go," replied Harry biting his lip.
"Very well, Chwen," replied Sun Gao, "come, join the rest of us."
Harry followed Sun Gao the rest of the group. He took a spot standing next to Hermione and Ron, both had mixed emotion over what they saw. Hermione's were a battle between justice, anger at the lack of concern and pity, while Ron's were a mix of justice, righteousness, and a look that can only be described as 'he got what he deserved'. Harry's face was blank as he watched them.
"How far are they," asked Harry.
Hermione pointed to the green number that was etched into the wall between the two that read ¾ of a metric mile. They're dead, thought Harry, if they are like that after ¾, there is no way they can go for 70.
"Come to…gloat…Potter," spat out Malfoy as he was out of breath, inhaling through his mouth hard.
"Shern, it will help if you inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth," said Harry, wanting to assuage some of the damage down by his decision.
"Shut…up…Potter," replied Malfoy, "and…I am…a …Malfoy."
"Not here, you are," replied Sun Gao.
"I…won't stop…being who… I am…for you….," said Malfoy breathlessly, Goyle grunted next to him, the lug had listened to Harry's advice to breath in through the nose instead of the mouth and it was making it easier.
They continued to run late into the night. The others watched on, some gain concerned looks when Malfoy and Goyle started to stumble on their feet. Everyone skipped dinner, an action that would not go unnoticed, and stood their watching two of their classmates, albeit one arrogant prejudicial aristocrat and his crony, as they slowly tired from exhaust to the point that when they had finished sometime around three in the morning, they collapsed on the still moving treadmills and were flung back. Surprisingly, Hermione, Padma, Michael and Susan all tried to help them back up using their rudimentary knowledge of healing charms.
Sun Gao brought out two canteens of water and gave them to Malfoy and Goyle, both of whom drank from the proffered water receptacles greedily. They had completed their run of seventy metric miles, a feat that not everyone thought they could obtain in one day. The group of students said nothing, just stood there, in the same spot they had been standing in for hours, looking at the two people before them, they chest heaving up and down with every breath they took. The room was stricken by silence, no words were said; only the wheezes of Malfoy and Goyle were herd.
Sun Gao surveyed the classroom, looking into everyone's eyes, no one faltered under the aged Asian's eyes as they slowly canvassed the crowd, "this is their punishment for not doing as I ordered," he intoned to the whole class before turning to Malfoy and Goyle, "Shern and Tsong Jiau, will you miss another run again?"
Goyle shook his head while Malfoy glared at Sun Gao, the anger was palpitating through the blonde's eyes. Shaking, he got to his knees and proceeded to stand up. Trembling all the while, Malfoy tried to steady himself by taking three large breaths before leveling his eyes cold grey eyes on Sun Gao.
"My name is Draco Walpurgis Malfoy," he growled out, "and you will not take that away from me."
Sun Gao looked unimpressed, "there will be no run this morning, everyone go back to your dorms and sleep in a bit this morning. However, Shern, you will remain here while the others leave," he turned to the class, "go now."
Everyone picked up their belongings without a word, Michael was hauling Goyle with Blaise because he was too tired, sore, and exhausted to move himself. They all left the classroom, no one looking back at what might happen to Draco.
Ω∞†∞Ω
It was Friday, September the 13th in the year 1996 read the date line of the Daily Prophet. Then again, the sometimes truthful newspaper had no importance for the day except telling Harry the date. The only thing that was interesting was a small article stated that the Minister Fudge would be meeting with the newly appointed President of the Magical Federation of Russia, and his undersecretary. As well as the Ministers of Canada, Iceland, Norway and Greenland, including other dignitaries that were not listed, on the 21st of the month which will be the biggest meeting of nations in the magical world, outside of the International Confederation of Wizards and Quidditch World Cups. The article was a square that was about three inches wide and long that was buried beneath comments on the latest lost of the Chudley Canons to the Holyhead Harpies.
Harry dropped the paper to the side, to see Hermione still reading hers and Ron stuffing his face in an attempt to get out of a conversation with Katie Bell, who was a Holyhead Harpies fanatic, over her quidditch teams latest win, and Ron's quidditch team's latest lost. Two owls landed in front of Harry, one was a regular nondescript brown owl, the other looked a lot like Percy's. Ron spluttered for a second, spraying the mix mass of food that was in his mouth all over the prim screech owl, who turned to face Ron with an indignant look.
"What are you doing here, Hermes," asked Ron accusatorily, "if that ponce has sent me another letter to tell me to stay away from my friends, I'll…."
"You'll what, Ron," asked Hermione, "hurt the owl that was a messenger."
"Well…no not really," replied Ron, "but I'd tear up the letter with out reading it."
"Couldn't Percy be trying to apologize," pointed out Hermione.
Ginny mockingly laughed at that when she sat down next to Hermione, "Hermione, this is Percy we're talking about. I would agree with you if it were any of my other brothers, yes, even you Ron. But Percy would never apologize."
"I understand that, Ginny," replied Hermione, "but with the Ministry admitting Voldemort's—both Ron and Ginny shuddered when Hermione said the name—return, it might have knocked some sense into him."
"Boys are complicated beings," replied Ginny.
Harry and Ron looked at each other and tried not to laugh, "I think he's here for me," said Harry as Hermes turned his eyes toward Harry.
"See it, might be an apology," replied Hermione.
"Only way to tell is to open it," replied Ginny, Harry didn't need to be told twice before removing the letter from Hermes, the owl flew out of the Great Hall, and began to read.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Your presence is requested for the attendance of a conference between multiple dignitaries, including that of the Minister of Magic, in the Ministry of Magic, at 10:00 a.m. on the morning of the 21st of September, 1996. Transportation will be provided from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as well as permission from Headmaster Albus Dumbledore for you absence from school, that will collect you from the gates of Hogwarts at 7:30 a.m. promptly. Professional attire is required.
The meeting will commence at 10:15 after introduction have been made, in the Minister's conference room. No response is required, your presence is required. You may tell no one of this meeting.
Sincerely,
Percy Weasley
Assistant to Minister Fudge
This must be the same thing that the Ministers of Russia, Iceland, Canada, Greenland and Norway are going to, thought Harry, what is this all about, why do I have to attend, and how did Percy get to be Assistant to the Minister?
"Well, Harry was it an apology," asked Hermione, "it would have been mature of him to apologize to you."
"Err…not exactly," replied Harry as he folded up the letter, tell no one of this meeting was the only thought he had as he pushed the letter into his satchel.
"What did my so called brother say now, Harry," asked Ron as he piled more food onto his plate.
"Nothing really," replied Harry.
"Percy wouldn't write to you out of the blue, Harry," stated Hermione.
"Look, just drop it, okay," said Harry as he took his other letter from the brown owl, "I couldn't talk about it with anyone anyway."
Harry unfurled the letter to see a mix mash of squiggly lines with hard corners. He looked at the foreign text oddly before the back of his right calf tensed like a cramp and his vision blurred before he could make out the letter. Gobbeldegook thought Harry as he rubbed his back leg.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Upon receiving your letter a few days ago, I used as many Gringotts' resources available to me to research the backgrounds of Mr. Cripps and Mr. Kelpurn. I have fair reason to accept them both based on past records and public portrayal of their opinions. I understand the prospect of this corporation you have in mind, and find that it is rather ingenious. I have been keeping a short list of companies that you might like to look into Mr. Potter, of which I would like to talk with you in person, along with Mr. Cripps and Mr. Kelpurn, on the 28th of the month. I hope this time will suit you well.
Also, I have an updated report on your ventures with both Mr. Jordan and Messers Weasley. The night club construction has continued with out a hitch and all structural work was completed before the start of your term at Hogwarts. As of late, all the façade and some of the interior have been completed. Along with the hype caused by some articles in the Daily Prophet about your part ownership of Fairy Tails, the parlours have all been booked for up to three months and paid for in advance. The profits that have come in, as well as the 'back to school' sale at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, have given you a monthly dividend totaling around 7,000,000 Galleons. All of which were properly deposited into your account.
The Head of the British Gringotts' division, Gudrun, has expressed interest into you, in general terms only, and would like me to report a financial review of all of your actions. I have also transferred the amount of 5,000,000 Galleons to the Ministry of Magic, along with your explicit instructions. Everything seems to be in perfect order.
Cordially,
Griphook
Harry folded that letter up placed it with the Ministry summons in his satchel and whipped his face with his hands, his stubbly jaw scratching his palms. He took a gulp of his pumpkin juice and walked out the room, having completely ignored the questions from his friends. He walked aimlessly through the halls, his thoughts swimming between Ministry requests, monthly dividends, and the Head of Gringotts looking into him. Harry finally stopped and rested his forehead against cool steel object, hearing the footfalls of shoes as they approached him from behind.
He turned around fast and held Hermione's wrist in a grip that was neither firm nor weak, but oozed of his feeling of not wanting to be mollycoddled. For Merlin's sake, he thought, every since Sirius died, Hermione has been treating me like a piece of crack glass. Ron came into the hallway to see Harry holding Hermione's wrist away.
"I thought it was me and Hermione that were supposed to be lover birds," said the red head.
Harry started to smile and let go of Hermione's wrist before he slid down and backwards slowly, his head resting against the cool metal of the large trophy he was relaxing against.
"I thought it would be too soon before I entered this room again," continued Ron as he made his way to his friends.
Harry opened his eyes and looked around the trophy hall, the same one that Ron had to clean with out magic for detention in their second year. Sighing, Harry adjusted his seat against the large trophy cup, Ron sitting next to him, leaning against another trophy, Hermione sitting in front of them both, cross legged in the middle of the floor. Anyone that would have been crossing the hallway would have raised an eyebrow at the three of them. However, most people were still in the Great Hall eating.
"Are you alright, mate," asked Ron finally after a long silence.
There was a pregnant pause before Harry answered, "I told myself to stop saying fine…but I just can't seem to stop…don't worry about it."
"Harry, we want to help," replied Hermione
"Mate, look, bottling up emotions is like…making a potion in front of Snape," said Ron, "your cauldron will explode."
Harry laughed at the humour of Ron's statement before sighing, "guys, I just feel that…I have too much on my hands…right now."
"Harry, we understand that the loss of Sirius has taken a big toll on you," said Hermione.
"It's not just Sirius…" replied Harry, don't mention the Prophecy, anything except the Prophecy…
"Is it because of V-vol- vold-vold…" said Ron, trying to over come his fear of the name.
"C'mon, Ron," urged Hermione, "it's only a name."
"Crickey, don't you think I know that," replied Ron, "Harry, is it because of V-Voldemort?"
Harry looked at Ron with a small smile, "not just him, mate."
"Then who," asked Ron.
"Or what," added Hermione.
"How well do you two know my financial background," asked Harry, deciding to blow the secret that would most likely be discovered shortly by journalist.
"You're rich, mate," replied Ron instantly, no jealously in his voice, "though I'm surprised Sirius left you no money, my parents told me about the will. If Sirius was here, I'd like to thank him."
"Wouldn't we all," replied Harry.
"Harry, what aren't you telling us," asked Hermione.
"The money you saw in my vault was the tip of the iceberg," replied Harry.
"Tip of the iceberg," asked Hermione.
"I found out for myself when I visited Gringotts," continued Harry, "I…inherited money from six pureblood families…no one left alive in any of them…and reward money for my defeat of Voldemort when I was one…"
"Six families?" asked Ron
"Reward money?" asked Hermione.
Harry sighed and rubbed his face, "you both know the details of that night… I rather not have to rehash them. Crouch had offered a reward of a million Galleons to the person that defeated Voldemort…"
"You have a million Galleons," Ron nearly shouted.
"Not quite," replied Harry, "after fifteen years of interest, it's more like two million Galleons."
"Two million," shouted Ron.
"There's more, isn't there, Harry," said Hermione, giving Ron a stare that clear said he wasn't helping the situation.
"Yes," said Harry and rubbed his face again, "a lot families lost their sons and daughters in the war…they wanted to make sure that their money went to a child they knew would survive…so six families chose me…I used some of the money to help out the Order…and I used a fair portion to help the Ministry's war effort… and I just got a monthly report and…I gained seven million Galleons."
"Harry," stated Hermione, clearing not like the idea of giving money to the Ministry.
"I have in excess of nigh hundred million Galleons," replied Harry, "and I don't know what to do with it all."
Ron whistled and started laughing while Hermione remained calm.
"Harry, with all the money, you won't have to live with the muggles anymore," replied Ron ecstatically, "Hell, mate, we could rent an apartment in London if we wanted to…that sounds like a good idea."
Harry looked at Ron wistfully. Wishing that he could do such a thing, but also realizing that the blood protection from his mother still resided between his aunt and himself. Harry shook his head, dispelling any ideas of living in London with Ron, let alone anyone else.
"Harry, this is a lot for you to handle," replied Hermione, "you need to higher some kind of lawyer and accountant besides Griphook."
"I know," replied Harry, "and I am."
"Does the Order agree to them," asked Hermione.
"Their backgrounds have been checked," replied Harry, "I meet with them on the twenty-eighth."
They sat there in silence for a while, before Hermione reminded them that class would be starting soon. Ron helped Harry up, Hermione got up by herself. Ron looked up and whistled, the other two looked to him questioningly.
"Did either of you know about that," he said and pointed to a trophy, "the one between David Fiore and R. J. H. King."
Wedged between the two plaques was a plaque for Special Services to the school with the name of all the students that were at the Platform 9 ¾ths attack. It wouldn't have been noticed, except for the fact that the dates were out of sequence, David Fiore was presented in 1973 and R. J. H. King was presented in 1975, and the obvious names that alerted Ron.
"Harry, did Sirius or Remus ever mention an R. J. H. King," asked Hermione.
"Not that I know of, why do you ask," questioned Harry, the last name King did strike a cord with him, being one of the families he inherited money from.
"Because it says that he was in Gryffindor," replied Hermione, "and the time suggest that he was there around the time of your parents, Sirius and Remus."
"I don't know if they knew him," replied Harry, "though…one of the families…I inherited money from…were the Kings…that must be their son…the one that died in the war."
"The money feels kind of different when you know the names behind it," stated Ron.
"No," replied Harry, "the money feels the same…the feeling of not being able to get rid of it is what gets worse…"
Ω∞†∞Ω
The next week flew by for Harry in anticipation of his meeting at the Ministry. Luckily, he was able to convince his friends that he was going to check up at Gringotts, and they knew well enough not to hassle him too much, as he was overwhelmed. He had donned a pair of his school pants and a buttoned down shirt, his Gryffindor tie, with a black school robe on that he took the badge off for the occasion. He secured his wand to his right forearm in his holster, checked that his cuff was still on, and washed his glasses. That was his morning routine of the 21st, currently Harry was being flown through the air by a carriage of threstals, the Ministry arranged transportation.
There was a good tail wind that morning that sped up his arrival to the Ministry, arriving at the muggle entrance of the Ministry of Magic at 9:45 a.m. He stepped into the broken down phone booth and dialed in the code, 6-2-4-4-2, on the rotary keypad. After the keypad righted itself, the usual cool female voice began.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Harry Potter," he replied, pausing for to think about what to say next, "err…here to attend a conference at the request of Minister Fudge."
"Thank you," replied the cool female voice. "Please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes," just then, a sound could be heard in the money chute, where Harry picked up a badge that said Harry Potter, Minster Conference, which he pinned to his Hogwarts robe in place of his Gryffindor badge. "You are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium," continued the female voice as the telephone box slowly sunk into the ground. Surrounded by darkness caused Harry to close his eyes in a vain attempt to avoid the pain of the bright light of the Atrium.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the women's voice before disappearing.
The Ministry's Atrium looked horribly the same, thought Harry as he looked at the constantly lit green fires in the 'incoming' and 'outgoing' floos. The hustle of people was evident, the different languages that flew through the air confused Harry, except for some words in French two guys were sharing with each other about the girls they had picked up thus far. Harry moved forward to the security desk and was halfway there until he noticed that the Atrium was different in one way, the Fountain of Magical Brethren was no longer there, in it's place was a circular pool that rose the mid shin. Around the rim, it said that the Peace and Calming Pool of the Magical World was in dedication to the casualties of war, all proceeds would go to the St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies.
Harry tossed in some of his spare money before he walked to the security desk. Eric Munch, the same badly shaved wizard that Harry had met last year on his first visit to the Ministry of Magic.
"Wand, please," he said sticking out his hand and folding up his newspaper.
Harry flicked his wrist and placed his wand in the peacock blue robe wearing security guard's hand. Munch took out a golden antenna like instrument and scanned the wand, a piece of parchment soon appeared from the instrument.
"Kingwood, 13 5/8 inches long, containing poison sac of a lobulag, feather of a threstal, and the heartstring of a nun…," Eric Munich looked up into Harry's green eyes shocked, his eyes then traveled to Harry's badge, where they began to dilate, "pardon me, Mr. Potter. I…just wasn't expecting the heartstring of a nundu in any wand."
"I wasn't expecting it myself," replied Harry, "your names…Eric, right?"
"Yea, Eric Munch," replied the guard, "how'd you know."
"I remembered the article last year about you catching Podmore," replied Harry.
"Thought I did some good there," replied Eric, "but when he was found innocent I paid dearly for that…shame what happened to him though."
"Whatcha mean," asked Harry, it isn't really a shame for someone to turn from ones country.
"He was part of the detail to guard Azkaban," replied Eric sadly, "they figured that he was already there, why not just keep him on guard. When You-Know-Who attacked it, all the guard were killed…they never found Podmore's body…he must have been obliterated or thrown into the North Sea or something."
Should I tell him the truth, questioned Harry, but Eric continued, "Mr. Potter, if you don't mind my asking…how's it feel to…fight them?"
"Death Eaters," questioned Harry, Eric nodded, "pray you'll never find out. Sorry I have to cut this short…," continued Harry, "but…err…the Minister is expecting me for a conference."
"Good luck, Mr. Potter," said Munch as Harry walked away, "and have a pleasant stay at the Ministry."
Harry looked at his clean shaven face in the golden doors of the lifts quickly before he stepped into an open lift that had several people and paper airplanes in it. The doors clicked shut, the light fluttering around because of the flying memos.
"Shouldn't you be in school, Mr. Potter," asked the even voice of the square jawed, short grey haired, monocle wearing Amelia Bones.
"Madam Bones," replied Harry, slightly startled, the other occupants tired their best not to look like they were listening in, "I…I'm here for a conference with the Minister…"
"Say no more, lad," replied the witch, the worry winkles in her face more profound, "it appears we will get off on the same floor."
The lift stopped and the doors opened as the same cool female voice said, "Level six, housing the Department of Magical Transportation."
"Scuse me, 'scuse me," replied a man that was obscured from view by a box that was overflowing with junk as he got off and made his way down the corridor, an occasion dirty boot and used fizz can falling to the ground.
The doors closed again, and their way up to the first floor continued, Madam Bones turned to Harry again, "Susan speaks very well of you. That club you had last year really helped her on her O.W.L.s. Will you be continuing it this year?"
"I'm trying to," replied Harry, as the lifted stopped again, "but it's not that easy this year."
"Level four, housing the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," said the female voice.
The doors opened and three people left, while one stepped in. He had a familiar florid face with a scrubby beard and winkles at the corners of his mouth and eyes that were clearly from frowning and overall grief. Amos Diggory greeted Amelia Bones in a warm fashion, but it was clearly a front. Harry felt the sinew of his chest tightened once again, the father of Cedric was standing right next to him, what should I do?
Amos saved Harry the trouble, when he noticed him, "how are you… Harry," he asked shakily.
Harry bit his lip, not sure on how to talk with Mr. Diggory, "I've…been alright," he settled on.
The lift stopped again, the women's voice sounding, "Level two, housing the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Department of Improper Use of Magic, and the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts."
The last two people stepped off the lift as Mr. Weasley stepped in. He looked rather haggard as he adjusted his worn brown robes. Even though his family recently came into money because of Sirius' will, he refused to buy new robes for himself on principle, and instead used the money to ensure the education for his youngest children, supporting his other children and investing into business, leaving a little nest egg for him and Mrs. Weasley come time for his retirement. If he lived that long.
"Oh, my," exclaimed Mr. Weasley, "Harry…what are you doing here?"
"Err…the Minister requested that I be...here," replied Harry, "Do any of you know what's going on?"
"Only little parts," replied Bones.
The lift stopped again, "level one, housing the offices of the Minister for Magic, Conference rooms, the Department of War and Auror Corps."
"That's our stop," replied Mr. Weasley as he got out of the lift, followed by Madam Bones, Diggory held onto Harry's shoulder.
"Harry…" said Amos Diggory still shakily, "my wife said it to you a few years ago…but I feel I need to say it to…I don't blame you for Ced-Ced-Cedric's death."
With that, Amos whipped his eyes and followed his colleagues to the conference room. Harry could tell it pained Mr. Diggory to say his son's name. Not knowing what else to do, Harry stepped out of the lift and traveled down the corridor. The occasional door was open to show empty rooms, people looking at charts of the world with glowing red dots on them, memos flying about, and room that housed several hundred cubicles that were the headquarters of the Auror Corps, which had been moved up a level. Harry finally made it to the conference room right behind Amos Diggory.
The walls were a mint green colour that made Harry grimace, in the centre was a pale wood table that was circular that had five pitchers of water in the middle and a glass marked up with every seat. Besides Madam Bones, Arthur Weasley and Amos Diggory, there were three others in the room. A short man, maybe around 5 feet 5 inches tall, with cold unmoving brown eyes, salt pepper hair, which was more salt then pepper. He wore a navy blue suit under his grey robes, and would occasionally flick out his tongue to wet his lips. The other man in the room was tall, maybe 6 feet 3 inches, his skin was darker than the night, which made his eyes and teeth really stand out. He had a tiny afro, no longer then an inch and half long, and a thick goatee that was neatly trimmed. He was talking with a woman that had long brown hair in a ponytail, high cheek bones, extremely slim and petite, creamy white skin. She would not be out of place in a supermodel magazine, thought Harry.
"Grant, it's good to see you're back from Spain," said Mr. Weasley in an attempt at a friendly greeting with the short hard looking man.
"I can't say I'm glad to be back, Arthur," replied Grant in a coarse voice as he walked away and sat down in one of the chairs and poured himself a glass of water to dink.
Harry turned his head to the other part of the room.
"Mr. Rowe, I have heard many splendid things on your behalf from across the pond," acknowledged Madam Bones.
"Madam Bones, you flatter me with your sweet talk," he replied in an American accent, though it was different from Jenn's and her friends, "but please, just do me the honor and call me Graham."
"You suave Yank," replied Madam Bones with a laugh as she sat down next to him.
"I prefer to be labeled as a smooth operator," replied Graham Rowe with a wink before Madam Bones asked him some questions quietly.
"Seeing as the person I was talking to is now engaged with another, perhaps I should introduce myself," replied the high cheek boned woman, "Jamie Fisher."
He shook her hand, "Harry Potter."
"So you're the illustrious Mr. Potter," said cooed.
Harry looked down at himself and tapped his graphorn boot on the wooden floor, "last time I checked, I was. Still am, guess that's a good sign."
Jamie giggled but covered it with her hand before continue, "so can you tell me why you are her?"
"I don't even know myself," replied Harry, "all I know is that this is an odd assortment of people."
"Head of the Department of Law Enforcement, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Head of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," rattled off Fisher.
"Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department," continued Harry as he pointed to Mr. Weasley, "I believe the Ministers of Britain, Norway, Iceland, Greenland and Russia will also be in attendance."
"As well as the Minister of Canada," said Jamie, "one security specialist," she continued as she pointed to Graham Rowe, and then to herself, "and a creator, whose work for the past twenty days has been on the Unspeakable level."
"And the Boy-Who-Lived," finished Harry, "something has to connect us all."
"Looks like we are all going to find out soon," replied Jamie, "here come the Ministers."
Through the open door of the conference room, walked in thirteen individuals. Six ministers, six assistants and one guy that wore black robes over a navy blue suit that had a baby blue shirt with white collar and cuffs, a navy and pink striped tie and a gold lapel button. The ministers and their aides were still talking as the rest of the occupants looked at each other.
"It seems that we are all here," said Minister Fudge breaking away from a conversation and heading in Harry's direction, "please everyone, take a seat. Harry, my boy, I'm so glad you could make it. Sit, sit, everyone, please take a seat."
Harry raised an eyebrow at the fake kindness the minister was showing him and took a seat between Graham Rowe and Jamie Fisher. Rowe moved over a bit to make room for Harry. The Ministers all sat down, their respect aides to their right hand side. The doors of the conference room closed.
"Trying for the dramatic," muttered Graham before he turned to Harry, "Hey, how you doing pal? Name's Graham Rowe."
"Harry, Harry Potter," he said as he introduced himself, as everyone got settled pulling out papers, folders and quills.
"No crap?" asked Graham, "Jeez, thought you'd be a bit bigger."
Harry was saved from making a comment by Fudge.
"I believe it would be a proper time for introductions," said the Minister, "and as I am the host, I shall begin in informing everyone that doesn't know, I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, Britain."
To his left, the short man stood up, and in his coarse voice said, "I am Grant Hughes Lawson, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Britain."
Madam Bones stood up next and said, "Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Britain."
Amos Diggory then stood up, "Amos Diggory, Head of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Britain."
Mr. Weasley stood up next, "err…never was too good at introductions…I'm Arthur Weasley, Head of the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts…err…it's in Britain too."
Harry bit his lip while Percy held his head in his hands. The sandy blonde haired man that was wearing the navy blue suit, stripped tie, blue shirt with white cuffs, gold button, and black robes stood up next.
"Felix Felicis, Head of the Department of War, Britain."
Graham stood up next, "Graham Rowe, security specialist, I prefer to travel," he ended with a wink.
Harry stood up, understanding now why Mr. Weasley was nervous, "Harry Potter…err…Hogwarts Student…"
"Vhat is the meaning of thees, Fudge," asked a Minister that was draped in violet robes and had a thick long sideburns and a bulbous nose.
"I agree, che is only a child," replied a bearded man that had winkled cheeks and yellow teeth in a Russian accent.
"Kinder or no, he es Harry Potter," replied a man that had blonde hair, blue eyes a stock build for someone that was in his forties.
"All will make sense later on," replied Fudge.
"Anyway, I'm Jamie Fisher, a Freelance Creator recently hired to head a team of fellow Creators in the Unspeakable division, no permanent allegiance."
The man to Jamie's left looked like a typical lumberjack that was stuffed into a business suit at the last second, "Eric Warren, Assistant to the Minister of the Magical Commonwealth, Canada."
The young woman to Eric's left stood up, "Jennifer Adams, First Female Minister of the Magical Commonwealth, Canada."
A tall muscular man that looked more like a body guard then an assistant stood up next the man dressed in violet robes, "Hunrod Vatnsdal, Assistant to the Minister for Magic, Norvay."
The man with the giant sideburns and bulbous nose now stood up, "Ulfhedin Fostolf, Minters for Magic, Norvay."
An aged man that had grey hair many winkles stood up next, "Thorgils Holluson, Senior Assistant to the Minister for Magic, Iceland."
The man with blonde hair and blue eyes that had stood up for Harry in way, erected himself for introduction, "Eyvind Hrafnkel, Minster for Magic, Iceland."
Another muscular man that had wavy brown hair, as well as chest hair, stood up next, "Einar Sokkasson, Assistant for the Minster for Magic, Greenland."
A man dressed in golden robes stood up next, "Halvsey Garder, Minter for Magic, Greenland."
A lithe young man that had high cheek bones, white skin and short cropped brown hair that reminded Harry of the Durmstrang students dabbed a napkin to his lip before standing, "Aleksandr Poliakoff, Assistant to President of Magical Federation ov Russia."
"You sound familiar," said Harry out loud, racking his brain to try and remember.
"I visited Hogvarts during Tri-Vizard Tournament," replied Aleksandr, "You've might chave seen me, I am friends vith Viktor Krum."
"Maybe," said Harry, the thought itching in the back of his mind.
The man with the yellow teeth and beard stood up, his green robe swaying from his large frame slightly, "I am Vladimir Popov, President of Magical Federation of Russia, and Sasha chere," he grabbed Aleksandr's shoulder and patted it, "is very modest. Che practically runs whole country for me. Che is like…son to me."
"Thank you, sir," replied Poliakoff.
Percy Weasley now stood up, "I am Percival Weasley, Assistant to the Minister of Magic, Britain. I would like to thank you all for coming today, personally. However, I need to embellish a little in detail, though you will all have to agree with me on this. Nothing that is shared in this room today will leave these walls, at all. The up most secrecy of your respective governments must be held upon this."
"Vhat are we here to talk about," asked Ulfhedin Fostolf.
"Minister Fudge, the floor is yours," said Jennifer Adams.
"First, I would like to thank each and every one of you today for showing up," began the British Minister for Magic with his usual prepared speech, "I realize that the time was fairly short, and most of you are ill prepared and wondering what to day will be about. I will try not to be so longwinded in the private encounter. However, what I am proposing today shall will take time to explain. In essence, all the countries represented in this room are on fairly good basis with each other. What I propose today will put us on a closer basis with one another."
"Closer basis," asked Popov, "Chow do you mean?"
"President Popov, and Ministers Garder, Hrafnkel, Fostolf and Adams," said Fudge solemnly, "I would first like to present to each of you an idea, and from that idea, the true meaning of this meeting will come into place. Mr. Weasley, if you please."
Percy stood up, his eyes wandering to all the occupants of the room, except Harry's and his father's. He shuffled his note cards in his hand and smoothed out his cuffs.
"As of late, one that has fashioned himself the Dark Lord has returned. He will bring strife to all countries he visits in his quest for world domination, it is not just a British problem. From intelligence of an outside force that was set up to monitor the You-Know-Who's return, we have learned of his movements this summer. Originally he was based in near the Scottish and English boarder, around mid June to late July, he and his forces were in Norway. Currently, we have reason to believe he is in Russia, parts unknown."
"Ve all know this," said Popov looking around the table, "Da, am I right? Tell us something ve don't know."
"His amassed force exceeds over one thousand, not including estimated numbers of planted Death Eaters in cells," there were many gasps at this information, "currently, Britain is hindered because the force we have is not suitable to face the enemy, and for those we capture, we have no where to place them. Azkaban fortress was lost, and because it's location has become public knowledge, the Ministry felt it unsafe to reopen a prison in that exact location.
"With the idea and the start of a bank roll from Mr. Potter," Percy practically grimaced when he said Harry's name, "we at the British Minister have sought the help of outsiders for this creation. All of the people before me," Percy indicated to everyone that wasn't a Minister or a Minister's assistant, "have been given a small piece of information to elaborate on. Adding the subsequent pieces together, ladies and gentleman, the creation of Fortifien Wazzar, a shared prison between all of our respective countries, as well as an international one, if need be later, that shall be located at seventy degrees north, ten degrees west."
"Does the International Confederation of Wizards know about this," asked Minister Adams.
"No," replied Fudge, "I want this to be kept under strict lock and key. I would rather not have an underwater prison made a target."
"Undervater," questioned half the occupants of the room.
Jamie pounded her petite fist against the table, "it all makes sense now!"
"I see someone's enthusiastic," replied Graham Rowe.
Fisher turned her head to Rowe, "you know what Graham, bite me."
"Gladly, Fisher," replied Rowe, "just tell me when and where, babe."
"Yank," muttered Fisher.
"Canuck," replied Rowe.
"Mr. Rowe, please watch yourself," replied Minster Adams.
"I beg your pardon, Minister, I meant no disrespect," apologized Graham.
The Minister nodded in acceptance, Fisher continued, "and for your information, Rowe, I'm Aussie."
"Always did like girls when they are down under," replied Rowe with a cheeky smile and wink, Fisher glared at him and cracked her knuckles. Graham held up his hands, his index fingers pointed upwards and shaking back and forth, "I meant when they are from down under. From."
"Elite scum," muttered Jamie.
"That's the biggest oxymoron I've heard," said Rowe, "and please, don't dis my former profession. Do I disrespect you for being a former exotic dancer?"
Jamie blushed a shade redder then the colour of a Weasley's hair, both of whom were blushing furiously behind their ears and necks as they listened to these two bicker, "well you got the moron part right," shot back Jamie.
"Children, do I have to put you both in time out," said Felix Felicis evenly as he leaned over the table, palms on it, "you know, I have a special room just down the way where you can both finish this in private and allow the adults to finish the meeting."
"Even de child es bechaving better den those two," muttered Popov to Poliakoff.
Harry glowered at still being referred to as the 'child'. Graham Rowe and Jamie Fisher seemed to gain some semblance of where they were and who they were in front of. They offered apologies for their behavior all around.
"If we may proceed with presentation, Miss. Fisher," said Minister Fudge indicating the young woman, "you are give permission to present any and all information on project Picekis."
"Thank you, sir," replied Jamie as she stood up and opened a folder in front of her, "Minister Fudge, if I may, I have a model of the project I would like to enlarge."
"Clearance is given, Miss. Fisher," replied Fudge.
Jamie took out a small button from the folder, placed it in the middle of the table and enlarged it, "I am the head of a team of Creators, thirteen in all, that were hired through the Department of Mysterious around twenty days ago. We were give the details that we needed to make at least a seven building structure that would not allow anything for the smallest drop of water to penetrate it, as well as hold up against unidentified, though extremely large, amounts of pressure, and use for long periods of time. At the time we did not know we were building a prison, but now it all makes sense."
In the center of the table stood a screw shaped complex, point facing downward and rounded head facing upwards, that had seven outer structures that all connected to the 'head' of the screw by a single to each corridor on the bottom. It looked like more like a squid that was swimming down realized Harry as he tilted his head to the side. In the center of the head was what looked like a spout, though with no turning head.
"The team decided that the best way besides the casting of unbreakable and impervious charms on every inch steel support, and stone structure, was to burry 75 percent of it…into the ocean floor, I guess it would be now," continued Jamie were she should the ground level on the model by indicating everything under the head, including half of the auxiliary buildings.
"Miss Fisher, would unbreakable and impervious charms be enough?" asked Jennifer Adams.
"Quite enough," replied Jamie, "if you cast the charm twice on an object, it should hold for well over a hundred years."
"Cheating, air, light, did your crew think of thees," asked the Russian Minister.
"Yes, we did," replied Jamie, "were told this will be a long term stay and have prepared certain aspects for it. Climate charms would be continuously going through out the whole building, as well as the floating orbs of light that are common in hospitals, like St. Mungo's. A continuous air circulation charm with be put in to keep the air fresh, traveling through the entire corkscrew design. However one of the problems we faced was the ability to create oxygen, no such spell can generate it. We over came this by having the top section—she pointed to the head of the screw—be filled with vegetation, both muggle and magical, which would renew the oxygen in the system, use the carbon dioxide, provide food for the crew, not to mention a quidditch pitch.
"It can house around 30,000 people, not including prisoners which would be confined to six of the outer buildings, one being used for occupants of the…station."
"Fortifien Wazzar," corrected Percy, "we have already come up with a name for it."
"Anyway," continued Jamie, going over what Percy was saying, "in truth, this will be more of a town than anything else."
"A town, you say," asked Poliakoff as he was making notes.
"Yes, even Australia started off as prison colony, it has been done before," said Jamie.
"Es it just me, or do any else of you see problem chere?" asked Popov.
"Problem, there is no problem with the design," defended Jamie.
"Chow are ve to transport prisoners to…to…thes theng," asked Popov.
"I believe that is were I come in," replied Lawson coarsely, "recently I came back from Spain were I met certain individuals from the muggle United States Navy secretly. They have three submersibles that they will be forced to scrap in five years time," he handed out three photos from his folder that had pictures of the three submarines on it, "I was able to procure all three of them at the lump sum of one million Galleons."
"One million Galleons," exclaimed the Ulfhedin Fostolf, "vhere is thes money cooming froom."
"Err…that would be me," replied Harry.
"Preposterous," said Ulfhedin, "you are but kinder, vhere could you get money at such age?"
"I have nigh hundred million Galleons," replied Harry, which caused the ministers to shut up and look at him, "and just the other week, I gained seven million from a monthly dividend in the two businesses I share ownership with. Though I am not the richest person in England, not even second from what I'm told."
"No, that honor has befallen on me, Mr. Potter," replied Felix Felicis, "and I plan to match any donation you make to this project, though I haven't told anyone of that yet."
Harry raised his eye slightly at the comment, Felix continued, "I believe have gotten off topic, perhaps we shall wander back?"
Everyone got the clue, though Graham had a point, "a while back, the Elites tried something similar with the submarine idea," seeing the confused expression on most faces he elaborated, "before I became a security specialist, I was an Elite, which is similar to…the Auror Corps, the Zansteps, and respective other Special Forces and Tactics units."
"Only the Yank version is set up for not using their brains," muttered Jamie Fisher.
"I'll get back at you for that later," replied Graham, "but this point is to important to let go. Anyway, what happened with the Elite models is that there was too much magical interference inside the submarine, which caused the equipment to go haywire and the whole thing to sink to the bottom of the San Francisco Bay useless with a crew of thirty entombed. Also, to my knowledge, there is no magical power source."
"It pains me to say this," said Jamie, "but Graham is right. Any magic that is done inside the submarine would cause and REMP, or residual electro-magnetic pulse, which is a small wave that is created from magic that negates electronically devises and would short circuit all of the wiring and doom the vessel."
Graham sucked in his breath slightly and looked at Jamie, "what if I were to say I had some information that is sort of…illegal for me share?"
"I say eff legality and tell us," replied Jamie.
"Nothing will leave these walls," said Percy again, "we will not tell anyone the information you posses."
"Well…a friend of sorts told me about this new chip she and several others were working on for the US Department of Defense," said Graham a bit uneasy.
"Pray tell, how many times did you have to sleep with her," asked Jamie as she rolled her eyes.
"I won't even remark to that," replied Graham as he continued and Jamie muttered to Harry 'that's only because he was horrible in the sack' which caused the teen to laugh, which was turned into a cough, "anyway, barring any other interruptions, I was going to say that my…friend…is halfway complete with making a chip that is EMP survivable."
"EMP survivable," asked Jamie wide eyed, "if that's possible, the melding of magic and electronics will be getting closer. That would be…"
"No it wouldn't," replied Graham, "magic around a muggle power source would disrupt the flow because of the…err…"
"REMPs," replied Jamie.
"Yeah, those things," said Graham, "and the chance of a magical power source being invented in our life time is slimmer then getting hit by lighting."
"That's it," exclaimed Jamie standing up fast and knocking her chair back, "the Skin Effect!"
"Jamie, now is not the time to talk about your former career as an exotic dancer," replied Rowe.
"It was interpretative dancing for one thing, and the Skin Effect solves the short term problem with the submarines," replied Jamie as she got her chair back up right, Graham leaned over to Harry and muttered 'interpretative of not, doing it topless still counts as exotic to me,' Harry fought hard not to laugh, "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"Hear what, babe," asked Graham.
Jamie glared at Graham, who tried to look the other way as he pulled at his collar, "Miss. Graham, you've intrigued me with this…err…what did you call it?" asked Minister Fudge.
"It's called the Skin Effect," she replied as Graham snorted, "when lightning hits an enclosed conduit, like a automobile, the charge will travel on the outside or skin of the object, and the motorist is perfectly safe inside, unless he has a window open or a medal pipe hitting the window. If you were to charm all the metal on the outside hull of the submarine to be impervious and unbreakable, it would be able to dock to the station."
"Fortifien Wazzar," corrected Percy.
"Whatever the eff it's called," replied Jamie hotly.
"I believe I was just called here to check the legality of all of this," replied Arthur.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, you were," replied Percy in a tone that made him sound like he didn't acknowledge Mr. Weasley as his father.
"Well, some laws would be broken," replied Arthur, "however, I will…add some amendments to them for this instant."
"Thank you, Arthur," replied Minister Fudge.
"What of an outside attack," asked Halvsey Garder.
"Is that were I come in," asked Amos Diggory.
"Yes, Mr. Diggory," replied Percy.
"Well, a few weeks ago, I was in discussions with the artic Merepeople," replied Amos Diggory.
"Merepeople," replied Ulfhedin, "vhat kind oof circus you running here."
"We have been in friendly relations with the Merepeople for a long time," continued Amos, "and they were quite astonished that we were looking for protection underwater, now I can see why. The coordinates that Percy gave in the beginning, seventy degrees north, ten degrees west. Right between the Greenland Sea and the Norwegian Sea, and only a few miles from the coast of Iceland. It is on the Norwegian Basin underwater, were flat land is plentiful of and there is already an existing artic Mere-town called Nuffink. They have agreed to help us in our endeavors whole heartily, and will protect the outside of Fortifien Wazzar."
"Chow trust vorthy are thes…Nuvvinkians," asked Popov.
"They will not disappoint us," replied Amos, "they are always willing to help us, but this is the first time that they have been given a true chance because of their…ability."
"Da," was all Popov said to Mr. Diggory before he spoke with his assistant in Russian.
"Madam Bones, Mr. Felicis, would you like the floor first," asked Rowe.
"Ladies first," replied Felix Felicis.
"My only assignment was to find and select a crew of two thousand people that would like to serve their country by guarding criminals and get a high pay," said Amelia Bones, "I got the names and signed forms, though if what you said about the housing capacity, Miss. Fisher, this is nothing but a skeleton crew."
"Actually, Madam Bones," said Percy as he looked for confirmation from Fudge, which he got, "that will only be part of the crew. Ministers, if you are in agreement so far with us, we will ask the same thing of you, just two thousand individuals that you need to back check at least three times, and if they pass, a signed form of commitment. This crew would be the main crew for respective nation's prison."
The ministers all nodded their heads, Popov raised his head and asked another question, "vhat of security."
"I believe that is were I come in," replied Rowe, "first, every prisoner will be on solitary lock down in a room that is eight feet by eight feet, seamless walls and ceiling, will full medal doors, viewing holes on top, food tray slot on the bottom. Lights on for twelve hours, lights off for twelve hours. Bare minimum of necessities, irremovable toilet, irremovable bed, everything will be fire proof. Two, required outfit will be shorts and shirt, nothing long or that will have folds, I like to eliminate as many hiding spots as possible. Jamie, is it possible for a gate system in the corridors leading to the buildings?"
"You can use magic in the complex, no problem," replied Jamie.
"Fortifien Wazzar," replied Percy.
Everyone turned to the read head, all saying, "shut up already," in some degree.
"Continuing onwards," said Graham, "I would place a five gate system in all the corridors leading to the prison buildings. The gate you want to open will not unless all the others are closed. The first floor will be totally for prison guards. No wand can pass that point at all, not even on guards. I do not want the off chance of someone slipping a wand to the inmates, even accidentally. In case of emergency, I want a squad of guys that know how to use non magical ways of fighting to subdue the prisoners. I created a list of twenty people that would be willing for such a service, mercenaries that are looking for a long period job, I included myself on the list."
"What is the profit for you," asked Fudge, surprised at Rowe's last comment.
"Steady job for a time with goody pay," replied Rowe, "and I'm the only one that can keep the team together as a unit."
"We'll talk more about this," replied Fudge, his face a beginning to get florid.
"Maybe I should take over now," asked Mr. Felicis.
"Please do, Felix," replied Fudge as he whipped his brow.
"I am the head of the recently reinstated Department of War, for those that don't remember," replied Mr. Felicis, with a little mirth in his voice that cause the others besides Harry to laugh, "the reason of my department's reinstatement should be apparent. You-Know-Who is back, and he has more troops then ever before. He has upped the ante this time, instead of his goal to take over England, he seeks the world, and will go through any means to get it, even attacking a country so as to gain a seat of power there," he looked right at Popov as he said that line, "we can not be on the defensive, it has already cost us dearly, and will come to cost us all even more. With a whole functioning crew, there is still room for eighteen thousand people. These people will be military personal, both fighters and the thinkers. It will be a military command of sorts for all our nations. It is a prime location, between Norway and Greenland, close to Iceland for refueling, transport, and supplies. Easily assessable to Russia and Canada. It would be a prime military base, considering that prison will also hold war criminals, and P.O.W., who we can interrogate in seclusion, out of the eyes of the enemy and public opinion. Fortifien Wazzar would be a true fortress.
"By agreeing to all you have seen and heard today, the six countries here will enter an alliance. If one of us is taken over by You-Know-Who, or in a serious stand still, we six will band our forces together to fight against the common enemy. This bond, this Artic Alliance, will be better for us all," said Felicis, a fervour in his eyes, "the International Confederation of Wizards would take months to deliberate on a course of action. This Alliance will mean immediate and unequivocally help and response to you and your countrymen. We will not lose this war, and we will not go quietly into that dark horizon that is filled with nothing but servitude to a despot."
Felix Felicis was winded and took heavy breaths as he sat down in his seat to get clapped on his shoulder by Graham Rowe and Madam Bones. The rest of the individuals, ministers, aids, and department heads were all clapping. Percy with drew a parchment from his leather attaché case that had been standing next to his chair.
"I believe now is a proper time to sign as any other," said the red head as he held out the already drawn up Artic Alliance Treaty.
"I vill sign," said Ulfhedin Fostolf, "hoowever, I vill not allow two Eenglesh mun to bank roll entire project. I match their donations weeth my personal money."
"As vill I," seconded Popov.
"Me tree," replied Eyvind Hrafnkel, who had not spoke a lot during the meeting, choosing to listen instead.
"I shall noot be left oout," said Halvsey Garder, "part of Fortifien Wazzar es Greenland."
"I feel I shall have to agree with my colleagues," said Jennifer Adams.
"And I have already wrote my check for five million Galleons," said Fudge, Percy looked at his boss for a second, whose right shoulder, Harry saw, was moving up and down in a way that said hand communication was going on under the table.
All the national leaders that were present in the room signed the contract just after signing their names on their individual personal checks, each for five million Galleons. Fortifien Wazzar had a collective total of forty million Galleons for production, though one million Galleons were set aside for the purchase of three submarines. The party of people headed across the way to Fudge's private office where refreshments, including some alcoholic libations, though no Corona, and light food items were served. Harry had shed his robe off at some point in the conference room, he would have to retrieve it later.
He walked over to Graham Rowe and Jamie Fisher, because they were the only ones somewhat close to his age, even though they both could have been his parents, figuratively.
"Interesting day," replied Graham to Jamie as he folded up his button down sleeves and checked his watch, "night I mean," he indicated his watch.
Harry looked at his own, it was 9:07 p.m. already, it seemed the day had gone by so fast. Harry then realized something, besides when he shed his robe in the conference, Graham and Jamie had been the only ones to wear muggle clothing. Both were wearing vests, Jamie's was a brown leather one with tassels that was over her olive shirt and barely reached her khaki pants. Graham was wearing a white shirt with black fabric vest that had may pockets sown into and on it, as well as a knife holder. He was also wearing combat fatigue pants, the ankles tucked into his black dragon hide boots, that had many side pockets as well, and was in tones of grey, white, and blue. Now Harry understood why Graham looked so…cool.
"Like the gear," asked Rowe, noticing that Harry was looking.
"Yea, is that Elite wear," asked Harry.
"Not quite," replied Graham as Jamie sighed and rolled her eyes, "I designed the get up, but the Elites are still wearing robes. They need to test out the muggle style more, better motility and blends in to the larger world."
"Please, Mr. Potter, don't get him started," pleaded Jamie, "once his on the topic of his former life, he won't stop."
"Shall we talk about yours then, babe," asked Graham.
Jamie blushed a little, and Harry tried to help her out, "actually, I'm interested in creation."
"You sure it's not a certain Creator, pal," asked Rowe with a wink.
Harry chuckled, "I'm positive, I rather not steal away your girlfriend."
Rowe and Fisher looked at Harry with narrowed eyes, "We're not going out," they said in unison.
"We did date…"
"For a while…"
"But it's over!"
Harry was about to break down laughing because of the two. He was fighting it so hard that his ribs were hurting. There was a tap on the back if Harry's shoulder that was unexpected. He turned around quickly and put his hands up in a defensive position that Rowe picked out with a keen eye.
It was Mr. Weasley, he didn't flinch at Harry's defensive stance, of which Harry soften to a simple standing. Mr. Weasley looked tired from the long meeting.
"Harry, I just received word from the Headmaster, he would like you back on school grounds immediately, or as before curfew as possible," said the patriarch of the Weasley family.
"No problem Mr. Weasley, I just need to grab my robe and we can head out," replied Harry.
"He has given you permission to floo directly from my office to Gryffindor Common room," said Mr. Weasley.
"I'll be out in a tic," replied Harry to Mr. Weasley, he turned to Graham and Jamie, "it has been a pleasure meeting you both."
"You got some nice moves, Ace," replied Rowe, "perhaps we'll see each other again."
"Have a good night, Harry," replied Jamie, "and if I don't see you again, I wish you well during your time at Hogwarts."
Harry turned to outside corridor and made his way to the conference room. The door was slightly ajar and barely any whispers could be heard from it. Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry whispered 'ex audio' under his breath and tapped his ear.
"Cornelius it is the only way," said the voice that was clearly Felix Felicis.
"I know, Felix, though I wish it weren't so," replied the Minister.
"We just don't have the numbers," replied Felicis.
"But the Aurors…" the words died on Fudges tongue.
"Will not be enough," replied Felicis, "if what the Order of the Phoenix has told us is true, the only way for us to meet You-Know-Who's number is a draft."
"A draft…that's preposterous…there has never been such a thing in the wizarding world," replied Fudge, "I refuse to force my country to fight."
"Then you force our country to lose," replied Felicis softly, Harry could make out the light sound of footsteps.
"Where are you going, Felix," asked Fudge.
The door opened and the Head of the Department of War looked down at Harry, "care to join us Mr. Potter, and please cancel the Audius Charm on your right ear, so we can speak freely."
Harry canceled the charm and walked into the room. Fudge was sitting at the table, his face red, his brow sweating, a piece of parchment in front of him. A quill was placed in his hand, slowly he signed his name to the document. Felicis had closed the door properly this time.
"What did you hear, Mr. Potter," asked Felicis as he pushed Harry into a chair by his shoulder.
"Nothing really…" replied Harry, "I was just coming to get my robe…"
"True as the last statement may be," Felicis took out a whirling object from his pocket. It was a sneakascope that had a silencing charm on it, so as not to alert others. "Please tell us the truth, Mr. Potter."
"I heard you two talking about…a draft," replied Harry.
Felicis sighed deeply, "Harry, please swear that you will not release such information, I know you are a man of you word. And as such, I will tell you more about the draft, the only thing is, you can not tell anyone."
Again, curiosity getting the better part of him, Harry agreed, "if you tell of this to anyone, in any detail before it is announced publicly, you will be held on counts of treason, punishable by dismemberment. Is that understood?"
"Yes," replied Harry.
"Minister Fudge, you need not be hear for this," said Felicis turning to the Minister, "in fact the less you know about this, the better."
"If the boy stays, I stay," replied Fudge.
Felicis nodded, "What the Minister just signed as you walked in was a release form stating that a draft will begin during the end of July 1997, for all people seventeen to thirty five, dependent on them being out of educational services, not owning a business, not entering a five year training program at St. Mungo's or the three year Auror Academy. Every month, a date will be announced at random, and those born on that day will enter a two month training camp for the Magical Army of Greater England, MAGE for short. Volunteers are welcomed and encouraged, even from outside of Britain and her environs.
"You-Know-Who's force is too great for our Aurors, and those on loan from fellow nations. We need the numbers if we are to make a stand, but this also means that a big portion of the youth of our nation will die as a result. It is unavoidable," said Felicis evenly, "though it is better to die soon, fighting for a cause, then it is to die slowly, wishing you had made a stand."
"What of the families," asked Harry, thinking of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and their reaction if they were to lose one of their children. Mrs. Weasley's he already new from last year's incident with that boggart in Grimauld Place.
"They will know that their son and daughter fought for the right cause and paid the ultimate sacrifice for it," said Felicis.
There was a knock on the door, Felicis being the only one standing answered it. Mr. Weasley walked in and eyed the occupants of the room wearily.
"Ahh, Arthur, do come in," said Felicis with his smile, which Harry now knew was an act, "sit and join us, please."
"I wish I could, Felix," replied Mr. Weasley genuinely, "however, I need to escort Mr. Potter back to Hogwarts. Please get your robe, Harry, we're already late."
Harry picked up his robe and donned it. As he was walking out of the room Felix Felicis held out his hand towards Harry.
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Potter," he leaned in close, "and do remember what we talked about, though not with anyone else."
Harry then shook the Minister's hand and walked to the lifts with Mr. Weasley so as to get to the office of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts to get back to Hogwarts. It was a momentous day, Britain, Canada, Russia, Iceland, Greenland and Norway had all become closer allies, teamed to fight against Voldemort. The plans for Fortifien Wazzar were commencing, and construction would begin soon. The most profound thing was that Harry's fear for his friends were coming true, they were all going to have to fight in this war, the Head of the Department of War for Britain had seen to that more than Voldemort could. He needed to start the D.A. again, and soon. Dear Merlin, thought Harry, what is to become of us all.
A/N: thank you all for reading, I hope this plot is starting to shape for all of you, though there are more twists and turns down the road, make sure you play close attention, and if need be, take note (I'm just playing with that 'take notes' part).
The title of this chapter was created by JKR and not me.
Kinder is German for child I think, I hope I'm not mistaken.
Harry is starting to slip some secrets to his friends, it is just to placate them for awhile so he doesn't have to reveal the Prophecy, he feels it is too soon for that big chunk of information to be released.
What some might have forgotten is that Ron and the Weasleys' are now fairly well off thanks to Sirius. Also, seeing his best mate start to lose it from the pressure of too much money, as well as power, doesn't make him jealous at all, he wants to take the load off of Harry's shoulders because he thinks his best mate has suffered way too much. But then again, he doesn't want to suffer from Harry's problem, Ron is finally starting to realize how well off he really has it.
Malfoy is a persistent little ferret. He's equating losing his name to losing his identity, and in truth be told, Malfoy is right. (Think Roots)
David Fiore and R. J. H. King are mentioned for a reason. Of the two of them, only R. J. H. King has actually appeared in something Harry Potter World related, such as the first movie's picture of the Gryffindor quidditch trophy meaning that he was around the time of Harry's mum and dad, as well as Sirius and Remus. You have heard of David Fiore's brother from Remus.
The cool female's lines from the Ministry's telephone booth are nearly copied from the Order of the Phoenix, as it is a recording.
Halvsey Garder is a play on two farm names from the Old Norse settlement at Greenland, Hvalsey and Garder are both in the Eastern Settlement.
Einar Sokkasson, Eyvind Hrafnkel, Thorgils Holluson, Ulfhedin Fostolf, Hunrod Vatnsdal, and Gudrun are all taken from The Sagas of Icelanders, though mixed around a lot.
Vladimir, is taken from the current President of Russia, Vladimir Putin. The name the Magical Federation of Russia is a play on the government name for Russia currently, which is the Federation of Russia.
The Skin Effect is described accurately for a lightning strike on a car.
Jennifer Adams and Eric Warren were names I created from a list of the Top 100 Famous Canadians web site.
I hope I got the characterizations of Graham Rowe and Jamie Fisher done really well, we will see more of them, I promise.
Percy is still a ponce.
Thanks go to Nita for updating chapter 5, it I now easily readable.
The biggest hint does not need to be stated, I hope you all figured it out.
I would like to thank HarryReader, Ansku, LunarExcalibur, and sirius009 for reviewing the last chapter. I admit that I might not have done my best job in writing it, but I still want to thank you all for reviewing it anyway with inspiring comments. Thank you. And yes, LunarExcalibur, that is pretty much what part of that scene boiled down to, but there is more to see in the future…
Have a good night all, please review.
forfie