Notes for the convenience of readers: The boys of Kreighley Beach include Kevin Stern, who has Muscular Dystrophy, and his brothers, Larry and Warren.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note that this is a story for adults. Young people could find some of the content disturbing.

Chapter 21

**A Year On**

Another year passed quickly for Harry and Sarah. They were busy and contented, and very happy with each other. Harry scarcely glanced at the wizard newspapers these days though he'd noticed the American one was no longer available, and the Quibbler had also ceased production.

He was at a funfair, sitting beside Kevin Stern in his wheelchair. Kevin pointed, "Jack and Tom. And I see they've got Hoks in trouble as well." Ross was looking furious, striding along, the three boys hurrying to keep up. Jack and Tom were not looking much daunted, but the other boy looked utterly miserable. Kevin said, "They're expert pickpockets, though after the last three weeks punishment, I'm surprised they tried it again."

"Hoks?"

"Leith Hoskins. He only came a few weeks ago. He does anything people ask him to do. He's a bit of a fool."

"Have you spoken to him?"

"He doesn't come near me. I think it's because I'm a cripple. Some people are like that."

"I guess."

"I'll have Ryan talk to him. He's sort of leader, like."

"He's one of the ones hoping to go to Uni, isn't he?"

"Larry is too." Larry was Kevin's older brother.

"You'll miss him."

"The boss asked if I wanted to go when I was old enough. He said that special arrangements can be made, but there's really no point. I'm comfortable at home. Warren and Larry will have to make their own lives, not worry about me. Anyway, they're allowed to stay in their rooms with me as long as I'm at Kreighley, so they'll be with me at holiday times, weekends whenever they want."

Aaron Bates returned with an ice-cream for each of them, and Kevin nodded his thanks. Aaron was now a paid full-time carer for Kevin, though aside from a short course at the local technical college, plus a 'How to lift safely' training day at the Falmouth hospital, he had no actual training. It wasn't difficult, just a matter of helping with showers and dressing. Kevin could still manage to stand, barely, but was quite rapidly deteriorating. He was sixteen.

The gossip was general for a bit as they ate their ice-creams, and then there was a loudspeaker announcement that anyone missing their wallets should go to the Steward's tent.

"I knew it," said Kevin, "And I bet they had Hoks holding them for him." He glanced at Aaron, and said, "I want to talk to Lee for a bit, Aaron. Would you mind making yourself scarce?"

Aaron nodded obediently, glanced at Harry, and left.

Harry asked, "Is there something you wanted?"

"Aaron told me you were at Kreighley yourself. That was before he knew it was supposed to be secret, because someone was after you."

"I've relaxed a lot these last couple of years. I doubt if I'm in danger any more just because I choose to help out now and then."

"It's just..."

Kevin came to a dead stop, and Harry said slowly, "Ross told me there are funds for you, whatever you need. Things to make your life easier."

"There will come a time... I hoped that laws would be changed, so that when I've had enough, I can finish it. Instead, they're making it harder and harder."

Harry said nothing, and Kevin said in a low voice, "I can't stand the thought of being totally helpless. I want to die before that happens."

"There is a suicide drug, as I understand. But if you don't want to implicate anyone else in a crime, you'd have to do it before you're ready to die, and that would be a shame. You're an asset to Kreighley. Look what you've done for Paul and Staffy."

"If you were taken by those people, couldn't get away, and they did awful things to you, you'd want to die, wouldn't you?"

Harry acknowledged, "If I were helpless to get away, I would prefer death to the humiliation."

Kevin looked away, "I don't like asking for help. The boss wouldn't dare help me, and I don't want my friends in trouble. But you could do it."

"I know a nurse with unusual methods. When I first heard about you, I asked if she could help you. She said not. Her methods just don't work on ordinary people. And anyway, she'd never heard of Muscular Dystrophy. She treats a different sort of people you see? Can you keep a very important secret, Kevin?"

"Are you going to tell me the big mystery? Who you really are?"

"Part of it, but it's dangerous to know."

Kevin laughed, "Dangerous! I don't think it matters to me, does it?" Kevin rarely allowed his bitterness to show, but he was only human, and he'd had a raw deal in life.

Aaron was hovering at a distance, and when he saw Ross approaching, put himself in his way, saying gruffly, "They're talking."

Ross glanced at the pair, and nodded. Lee, Ricky as he'd been, had sometimes worked miracles with his boys, though he never seemed to actually do much. He'd been helping out quite a bit this past year, and all the boys knew him. He said, "We're taking Jack, Tom and Leith home, and we'll return for everyone else. Just spread the word, would you?"

"What did they do?"

"A dozen wallets in the sample bag that Leith was holding. They'd promised him 10%."

"I'll pass it around."

Ross cast one more glance at Harry and Kevin, and strode to where the bus waited with three boys, one of them miserably repentant, two merely regretting that they'd been caught.

Harry cautioned Kevin, "You have to keep it very quiet, not just for yourself. The thing is that if there's a war between the species, it would be disastrous for normal humans and for Anirage."

Kevin asked in a curious tone, "Are you mad by any chance?"

Harry laughed, but he'd reddened, "Not mad. It's just a bit difficult to know how to tell you. But I can help you, and without you feeling as if you have to do something even one minute before you want to."

"That's the problem, see? If I wait until it's time, then I'm already past the time when I can help yourself."

"Swear to tell no-one?"

"I'll swear anything if you can help me," and then solemnly, a hand across his chest, "I swear that I will not divulge the secrets of Lee Chase."

"I've told my wife, not Ross, nor any of the Chases."

"Tell me."

Harry took a deep breath. It was such a matter of habit to keep silent about himself. He started, "There are a sub-species of humans living among us. We are Anirage. When I was a little younger than you, I made a lot of enemies, and ran away from them. I am Anirage, not exactly human as you are human."

Kevin had one eyebrow raised in a very sceptical look.

Harry held out a hand, "Look."

Kevin looked, and suddenly there was a little fire burning in the centre of Harry's palm. Harry continued, "Anirage can work magic. It's why I was so afraid of being found. They have weapons that ordinary people don't have."

Kevin still stared at the fire, and queried, "Magic?"

"Remember I told you that the Aniragi nurse I spoke to said that magic could not cure ordinary people. I asked her years ago, when Ross told me about you."

"You can't help me then."

"When it's time, I can help you die, easily and painlessly. Even if you can no longer speak, I can know what you're thinking. You can give me instructions even if you're entirely helpless. Knowing this, you may want to live longer. Even when you're helpless, you help the boys here. I've seen it."

"Do the fire again?"

Harry showed him again, and Kevin shook his head, "It's just a trick, I know it is. Like Donna who says I should accept God's will and trust in his ultimate goodness." His voice had taken on a distinct tone of irony.

Harry said, "They shouldn't have a Councillor who's too religious. If there is a God, he can be far too cruel. But I'll show you something else if you like. Only that it has to be inconspicuous."

"Um... Turn your hand green?"

Harry glanced around, but no-one appeared to be watching aside from Aaron, still hovering out of earshot. Even so, he turned his back to Aaron before turning his hand green, and then, briefly, his face.

"If you can do that, why did you bother disguising yourself? Tell me that."

"Modifications to appearance don't last very long, though I could have changed hair colour. The thing is that the Aniragi world thinks I don't have magic any more, because of something they did to me, so I take no chances that they'll find out."

Kevin still stared at him, "Yet you told me, and you can help me."

"I can help you."

"It won't be for a while, maybe years."

"I will not lose touch, and when it comes time, I will help you."

For a moment, Kevin's voice quavered, "It won't hurt?"

Harry's voice was also a little unsteady as he answered, "It will not hurt."

Kevin still stared at him, still not quite believing. He asked, "Can you tell what I'm thinking?"

"If I try. I don't usually try."

"I'll think of something then, and you're to tell me what I'm thinking of."

Harry said easily, "The ferris wheel," but he'd felt more than that from Kevin. The hope and the remaining fear that it could not be true. The fear of being tricked into living helpless, the fear of becoming a vegetable. He said, "Think of that famous physicist. His body might be a wreck, but he's never lost his intellect." He moved his hand, and it turned red, then yellow, then purple, before returning to normal. He said, steadily now, "You can rely on me, Kevin. I will not let you down. There is the remote possibility that I could be killed, but even then, I will organise that someone else will look after you in the way you want."

"Someone else?"

"Just as a backup. No-one's going to kill me, but insurance is a good policy." He had Hermione in mind, who was a good person as well as a qualified Healer. He felt sure that Hermione would be willing to help. Or Severus, though he wasn't sure about Severus. He didn't think that Severus cared about Muggles, and anyway, he lived in France. Maybe Poppy.

That evening, there was another party at Kreighley beach. Kevin was the instigator, Aaron and Larry the suppliers of alcohol. There was no problem, the tide was well out, and Ross chose to pretend he didn't know. He hadn't missed the hilarious good spirits of Kevin. He'd been worrying about Kevin.

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The small group of Muggle-borns strolled Hyde Park in London. On each of their wrists was a quite narrow band of brown leather, made impervious to interference. The wrist-bands incorporated tracking spells and anti-disapparation spells. They'd been administered without the option after a close call with uniformed Muggles apparently trying to access Diagon Alley. It had taken some urgent work to convince them that there was nothing there. The crisis had been blamed on the Muggle-born, Ted Tonks. Now all Muggle-borns were monitored quite closely. At one time, any incoming Muggle Prime Minister had been informed of the magical world, but that had been stopped years before.

This was a meeting of AMBA. They liked to meet outside these days. No-one knew of any magic capable of watching them when indoors just as long as they were not foolish enough to have magical portraits, but they still felt more free to talk when in the open air. They always called them social meetings, and took care to have events like cake competitions, knitting exhibitions, and little quiz contests, with small and harmless prizes. There were no male members. Some had disappeared, the same as Ted Tonks, and others thought it too risky to continue being a part of it. The women were apparently deemed a lesser risk, as their small club was allowed to continue.

Hermione was a little away from the others, talking to a half-sister, another of Dumbledore's byblows. Greta was thirty, and as clever as Hermione, though without the same frantic need to excel. She had red hair with a gentle wave in it, quite beautiful. The hair colour was the reason her parents were divorced. Her father had refused to believe that a red-headed child could be his, and the suspicion had poisoned the marriage.

Greta asked, "Have you been forced to take a drop in pay yet?"

"Not exactly. But quite a few patients notice the wrist-band and request a different Healer. I may not last."

"I've had to move in with Lisa. We can cope with the rent if we share."

"Space for three?"

"If you need to."

"Maybe not yet. But it's getting worse."

Greta said bitterly, "The three of us, sisters, treated dreadfully, unable to escape, and yet our sire is still revered as the greatest wizard of our modern age."

Hermione said, "There's only three female members left of the Wizemgamot. Did you know that?"

"It's not just Muggle-borns, they're reducing the power of anyone female."

"They wouldn't dare take our vote. Would they?"

"Trevor showed me something the other day. Would you like to see?" Trevor was Greta's fiancé, almost twenty years older than herself, but there were not many takers for a Mudblood. Trevor was Half-blood, so it would be a rise in status for her.

"What is it?"

"When the flower quiz is over, come with me to Nocturne Alley? I'll show you."

"Just me?"

"You know it would be unwise for all of us to go together."

One of the group around a flower garden raised a decorated bell, and shook it. There was a pretty tinkle, and a quiet watcher not very far away, yawned. Just a harmless group of women, not really worth worrying about in spite of the furious objections when they'd had the wristbands put on. Probably if the wrist-bands had been dainty and decorated, they would have accepted them without a murmur. He didn't follow when they dispersed.

Nocturne Alley was not the cheerful place that Diagon Alley was, but it was far from the dark and dangerous place it had once been. With no powerful dark wizards to keep in check, the Aurors were able to ensure that not much happened that was against the current law of the Wizemgamot.

Hermione and Greta were ignored as they passed an attractive shop window of a jeweller, a potions ingredients supplier, three bookshops all in a row, that had both women hesitating before deciding they couldn't afford more books, and then they came to a shop marked only with a small picture of three youths, nude, classical Greek style. Hermione cast a puzzled look at Greta, who was looking grim. Greta said, "Barnabus Cuffe used to be the editor of the Daily Prophet. He left after the Ministry took it over. Then this, started a few months ago. Trevor told me. We're going in."

"What is it?"

"Slaves, Hermione. Muggle slaves for perverted old men!" Firmly she pushed open the door and walked in. They were in quite a large room, almost empty except for a gleaming desk in the corner. A bell was ringing but both women were inspecting the pictures on the walls, all of young girls and boys. Hermione glanced back at the door where it had closed behind them, and saw a picture of Harry from a couple of years ago, dressed in a formal robe, and looking stern.

A man shambled in and paused, raising his eyebrows. Greta said, "I understand you deal in slaves. May we see some?"

The man raised an eyebrow, "For yourselves, ladies? We only have young ones you understand. I can do a special order if you like of course."

"What sort of order?"

The man's eyes swept them up and down, though not seeing the wrist-bands under the long, fitted sleeves of both women, "A virile young stud, maybe? A strapping young man to keep you satisfied? Or is it a girl you'd like? A nice little maiden to wait upon you."

Hermione had not yet said a word, trying not to show her horror. Greta asked, "If we had a young man, what would stop him turning on us? Or just leaving for that matter?"

"No fear of that. He would adore you, only want to please you."

"How much?"

"A special order, with the slave spells? 9,250 Galleons."

"A little expensive. Do you have anything cheaper?"

"The slave spells are what makes it dear, but you couldn't count on controlling even a Muggle man without them, no matter how much you punish."

"A young girl then, with just the collar to punish."

"Normally 5,000, but I do have something special. Very obedient, and only 1250 Galleons. Just fifteen. Not a virgin of course, for that money."

"We do not require a virgin."

"Would you like to see her?"

Greta said, "It's to be a present for an uncle. It's not for myself or my friend. Do you have this girl available?"

Hermione was beginning to overcome her shock, but still felt quite ill. She asked, "Could we see a selection if you please? Whatever you have?"

The man tilted his head to the side, surveying them suspiciously, but then shrugged, "Come with me, then."

There were seven altogether, girls and boys between the ages of twelve and fifteen, each with a collar, and wearing only silken long pants, sheer enough to see they wore nothing underneath. Harry had worn one of those garments once, though not for long. The girl pointed out as the cheap one had a bruise on the side of her face, but smiled at them, trying and failing to be coquettish. Her breasts were bare, but she showed no shame, though one of the others did. She looked to be about twelve, her breasts only beginning to develop. Maybe she was still very new. They were all attractive, but so young.

Hermione looked away, shocked to the core. Greta asked, "The bruise?"

"She's had anti-bruising lotion, but it never works very well on Muggles. And only use the listed spells in the owner's booklet. They're too fragile for most spells. They're not like us."

"Did you bruise her?"

"Don't be silly. Would I damage my own merchandise? As long as they're obedient, they're treated like little princes and princesses."

A boy of around thirteen cast the man a very cynical look, which luckily he didn't notice. The rest ignored the comment, most just staring into the distance. Hermione asked, "Are they under the influence of any spells at the moment?"

There was a ring at the door, and he firmly ushered the women toward the exit, saying, "Well, get in touch with me if you make up your minds," and then he was fawning over an elderly gentleman who looked too old to have any use for sex slaves. There were virility potions, of course.

Greta was still looking back, but followed Hermione who was walking very fast, fuming. That children should be used like that. They were just children! Slavery belonged in the dark ages. Even being in possession of a slave collar was against the law. Wasn't it?

When Greta caught up, she said decidedly, "We'll go to the Aurors. That shop has to be closed, Cuffe arrested. That hideous old man too."

"The man was Craddock Shunpike. He's head of a Pure-blood family. A pair of Mudbloods have no chance against any of them."

"My name is Carlyle. It still has some influence."

Greta said sceptically, "Really?"

"Well, a little."

"The thing is we must not go to the Aurors. Any excuse and they'll arrest us. Or worse."

"Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was questioned for three days only because he was suspected of knowing where Harry Potter is."

"Do you know where he lives, Hermione?"

"Why would he trust me with that? I'm the one who made him take the Cerlikh Potion."

Greta turned to her, stunned, "You did? Why?"

"Harry always said I believed too much in the teachers, or in adults. The headmaster said, and so I did what he said. I didn't know of course. I was told he was just to be bait, that he'd never be touched."

"It gave us a few years free of the threat of Voldemort. But now we're just as badly off as we would have been if he'd won."

"Voldemort could never have become so powerful if he hadn't been speaking the common view. But getting back to the slaves..."

"You could write to your Carlyle relatives, at least the female ones."

"Maybe. I could try. I might ask Anthea."

"Anthea?"

"Anthea Jones, Senior Healer now, and my immediate supervisor. She's Mixed Blood, I think. She's kind. Nice. I think she'd listen, and maybe at least ask the Aurors about it."

"There's one over there, watching us. Do you think we'd better buy something, just to cover our tracks?"

Without a word, Hermione turned into a bookshop. She didn't expect to buy anything. She mostly read Muggle books these days, usually sourced at a library.

The Auror made a brief note, that Hermione Carlyle and Greta Drysdale had been shopping, seen to have gone into Flourish and Botts. The pictures of all the remaining single Mudbloods were prominent on the Auror Department walls. They didn't bother as much with the married ones, and the ones with children. They were deemed to be more thoroughly integrated into the wizarding world, and thus less of a risk. Eighty-three of them remaining, twenty-seven living in London. Some had disappeared into Muggle society, others were living in France where their kind was tolerated, and a few had been treated with a thorough obliviation, and then abandoned close to a mental hospital. Sonya, widow of Vance McKenzie, had been one of those. There were others who'd been found dead. Vanstone had a feeling that Gumboil might have had something to do with that. Gumboil was a Hit-wizard. No death notification was published for those, though no attempt had been made to stop the gossip spreading. It did no harm for the Mudbloods to know to be very careful.

When Hermione told Anthea that there was a slave-shop trading openly on Nocturne Alley, she wasn't believed at first, and Hermione had to give details.

Anthea at last nodded, tears in her eyes, "Children, you said. I know there was a fuss a few years ago, but I never quite believed it. It was the Daily Prophet."

"It is fact that the Weasleys tried to sell Harry Potter as a slave."

"I guess." Anthea checked her schedule, and at last said, "I'll drop in at the Ministry straight after work. Owl you with the results."

Hermione waited expectantly that evening, sitting at the table. She rarely had any mail, except for deliberately innocuous notes from fellow AMBA members. When finally a small owl flew to her, she impatiently grabbed at the letter, earning herself a sharp peck. She apologised even as she was tearing open the letter. It was brief, 'It is illegal to ill-treat a slave, defined as deliberate torture for amusement, it is illegal to allow a slave to escape, but it is not illegal to keep a slave, or trade in slaves. I was told it was better to keep quiet about it, that it was not a suitable subject for women to discuss.'

Hermione carefully folded the letter, put it aside, dropped her head onto her arms, and sobbed. The owl scratched its head, decided there were no treats pending, and flew back out the window.

***chapter end***