A/N: Chap 20 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.
Chapter Twenty-One: From Across the Pond
No one spoke. The ring of Ministry officials simply stood in absolute, terrified silence as they watched the monstrous features of the Dark Lord Voldemort absorb the news that a third of the already halved student body of Hogwarts escaped. They escaped, despite the fact Voldemort knew of the attempt in advance and had forces at the castle to stop them.
Voldemort sat in the chair formerly occupied by Algie Croaker deep in the heart of the Department of Mysteries. The scholar in him loved the research aspect of the DoM, while the Dark Lord in him loved being secure in the deepest, most guarded part of the Ministry. His office, a huge space lined in Slytherin tapestries, originated as an old bunker dating from the Second World War. He remembered reading about the Ministry funding it when he was a teenager.
Black eyes turned and stared intently at the red nose and swollen eyes of Narcissa Malfoy—it was the only sign of the grief she felt over the loss of her son. Otherwise her face was blank and her head held high. Beside her, Lucius Malfoy stood stiffly, as if expecting to be punished for this latest failure. Voldemort despised weak wizards almost as much as he hated strong witches, but he could not deny that of the two, Narcissa was by far the stronger now that his dear Elezeta was dead—taken away from him by treachery. Perhaps not magically, but Narcissa had more of a spine that Lucius ever would.
His eyes travelled back to where Snape stood before him, head bowed. "You followed my instructions?" Into the silence his voice stabbed cold and brittle.
"Yes, m'lord. The most ardent of your followers among the student body remained in the Common Room while I cut off their escape route. Miles Bletchley was still un-bonded despite being a sixth year and was powerful, and has demonstrated for you in the past his willingness to kill. Draco and Pansy were also there, and both as you know were loyal."
Voldemort closed his eyes as his mind ran through the events of what happened. "You are omitting something, Severus."
Snape sighed. "Yes, m'lord. From Bletchley's memories, he, Draco and Pansy were entertaining themselves with a younger Hufflepuff girl when McGonagall entered. He was caught literally with his pants down and unprepared for battle. I will say from all evidence Draco acquitted himself well, but I suspect Flitwick used his illusion charms to trick Draco into killing his own bonded, and thus ending his own life. The failure to stop them from leaving the castle, however, was mine. I did not anticipate the forces Potter would dedicate to the attempt."
Fifty witches and wizards. Voldemort closed his eyes. "And your own wife left you?"
"She is dead to me, my lord," Snape said. It was a testament to his skill as an actor and spy that he sounded sincere.
"Yes, she is," Voldemort said. The Cruciatus Curse that followed surprised no one, most especially not Snape. Voldemort held it for nearly ten minutes before releasing the screaming, convulsing man.
"Cowards," Voldemort snarled when Snape's howls quieted to gasping tears. No one thought less of the headmaster—there was no other possible response to the Cruciatus curse. "You are all cowards and fools! How can I go from the success of destroying both the British Sabbat and the Covens Majeure in a matter of just weeks to this?! THIS! We are on the verge of conquering not just Britain, but the whole of Europe, and we can't even keep our own children in our schools? I am surrounded by cowards and fools!"
What Voldemort did next should have been impossible. He swung his wand in a wide slash, and the entire roomful of people fell to their knees gasping in pain at the touch of the Cruciatus magic. "THIS IS MY COUNTRY!" Voldemort raged. "YOU ARE MY SERVANTS! NO ONE SHOULD HAVE SURVIVED HOGWARTS! YOU CARRY OUT MY ORDERS OR DIE TRYING!"
Around the room, witches and wizards gasped back tears of agony. Voldemort walked back around his massive desk and sat. "Narcissa, Pius, Lucius, Snape, you will remain here."
The others in the room, even those over a century of age, jumped to their feet and scrambled out of the spacious office as fast as people a quarter their age. As they scrambled out, Snape struggled silently to his feet. His face remained flushed red and perspiration poured down his face, but showing strength of will that at any other time Voldemort might have admired, he regained his feet.
"Our plans are moving too fast to stop and consolidate," Voldemort admitted in a much calmer, albeit brittle tone. He leaned back from his desk and stared at them. "I'm meeting with Boyko Parvanov and Nicolae Ghita in two days. It is the goal of these meetings, now that these Elders have been freed from their shackles, to begin the revolution in Europe as well. And we are making good progress with Durand. Killing the head does not necessarily kill the snake; the Covens Majeure will reconvene with new Dames. Before that happens, I must have a foot planted in the door, and I must do this personally."
Black eyes scanned the three wizards and the sole witch standing before him. "I will not have all our gains collapse while I'm gone. Unleash the goblins. Let them keep whatever they catch, so long as they limit themselves to our enemies."
Narcissa paled but said nothing. The other wizards remained silent. "And when I get back," Voldemort continued, "it will be with a continental army of witch-born large enough to put the little beasts down and bring the United Kingdom under my absolute control. I am depending on you four to ensure Britain is ready for my return. Do you understand?"
"Yes, m'lord," Lucius said, and the others followed suit.
"Two more items," Voldemort said as those black eyes fell on Narcissa, stripping her robes in his mind to reveal the luscious body within. "I've lost a fighter from the Malfoys. Lucius, now that you have only one bond, you are to take Antonia's place with the Law Enforcement Division. It will be up to you to coordinate with the goblins. You, Narcissa and Pius, will ensure he has the tools to do so. And in the process, get with child, Cissy. I don't care whose or how, but start producing children. Likewise, Snape, encourage your upper years to become pregnant as well. I want babies to replace our losses. I don't care if the witches volunteer or not anymore."
"Yes, m'lord," Snape said in a ragged voice.
"Now, someone bring me Bletchley and his family. I wish to discuss his failure to defend the dorms."
The four left the room quickly. Voldemort leaned back in his chair, flushed with rage and the anticipation of violence. It seemed impossible that such an impregnable fortress as Hogwarts would so easily fall. But then again, hadn't the greatest fortresses always fallen from treachery?
"I won't let you beat me, Potter," he whispered. In truth, he could not say for sure whether he spoke of the mother or the son.
~~Firebird~~
~~Firebird~~
The fireplace in the International Arrivals section of the Ministry Atrium billowed with green fire. Moments later, two women in thickly woven, dark blue robes emerged with smooth, practiced steps. At the right breast of each the robes bore a badge of the United States of America's flag overlaid by crossed wands.
The young Ministry Hit Witch on security duty eyed the two witches warily as she activated a set of wards that surrounded them. "All incoming international Floo must pass security," the witch said. "Identify yourselves and present your wands, please."
The shorter of the two stepped forward and said, "Natalie Cooper, Auror Captain and Ambassador for the Eastern Confederation of America. I'm accompanied by my adjutant Darlene Vancet."
She presented her wand through the ward. The security witch checked it before handing it back, and then did the same with Darlene Vancet. She waited a moment before nodding. "The Senior Undersecretary was only recently advised of your visit and is on her way."
The two witches merely stood and waited until the toad-like form of Dolores Umbridge appeared. "Hello," she said with a strained smile. "Welcome to London, Ambassador Cooper. I'm Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to Minister Thickness."
The security wards dropped to allow the Undersecretary to great the two diplomats. They did not shake hands, but rather bowed from the neck. "It was an unexpected pleasure," Umbridge continued. "I only received the missive from the Secretary of Magic this morning. I'm afraid it did not specify an agenda for your meeting, however."
"That is entirely our fault, Madam Undersecretary," Cooper said smoothly as the two taller witches walked beside Umbridge. "As you can imagine, the events in Geneva last week have left many of the world's magical ministries in an uproar. Dame Samantha was the sister to the American Secretary of Magic, as I'm sure you know. According to eyewitnesses, Dame Evdokiya of Bulgaria claimed that Harry Potter somehow destroyed the British Sabbat and that he was also responsible for what happened to the Covens Majeure. We're here just to ascertain what actually happened."
Umbridge skipped a step but recovered quickly. "Well, I can tell you from first-hand experience it was quite terrible, what happened here. I'm lucky to be alive. I wasn't in Geneva, though. Luckily for me, I suppose."
For the next two hours they listened to the harrowing tale of how Dolores Umbridge survived the brutal assault by Harry Potter and his army of anarchists and traitors against the British Sabbat. By the end of the story, Umbridge was without a doubt the bravest, most powerful witch to ever grace the face of the earth. She even graciously agreed to take them to Stonehenge in person to view the site of the terrible magic battle.
A Portkey later, the three witches, under Veils, blended in with the many Muggle tourists as they walked around what looked to the Muggles like stone ruins, but which stood intact and glorious to the three witch-born. As Cooper and Umbridge discussed how Umbridge managed to save not just herself, but also Drusilla Hughes and Annabeth Flint-Knight, Darlene Vancet surreptitiously passed her wand over the stones of the ancient circle.
Finally, after another two hours of Umbridge talking, Cooper cut her narrative short and said, "This has been most helpful, Dame Dolores, and on behalf of the Eastern Confederacy we cannot thank you enough. With the permission of the Ministry we will seek lodging here for the night before returning home to make our final report."
Umbridge smiled and said, "Of course, Ambassador, that would be just fine. If you let us know where you will be staying, we'll be sure to have security available. We cannot risk an attack by Potter on our guests, after all."
"Of course not," Cooper agreed with an easy smile.
That night, after checking into an Inn deep inside Diagon Alley, the two witches began to sweep their suite to expose the forty or so listening and monitoring charms that peppered both the room and the wash room. Nathalie Cooper sighed and sank onto her bed before glaring at "Darlene Vancet."
Vancet, who more often than not went by her birth name of Arlene Vance, handed over a slip of Muggle flash paper with a note on it. The note said, "Potter's magical signature was NOT at Stonehenge. Umbridge is lying; prepare for an attack."
Cooper read and rolled her eyes as if to say, "Well duh!" before allowing it to disappear in a burst of flame. She then held up a fist; Vance did the same and the two women made punching motions until after three thrusts Vance held out her hand flat, while Cooper made a fist. With another roll of her eyes, she nodded while Vance lay down in her own bed fully dressed to sleep through the first shift.
The attack came an hour after midnight. Vance had just awoken for her shift when she felt something with ill-intent trigger her passive wards. She cast a low-level stinger which brought Cooper awake in a second with an indignant sputter which lasted only until she saw Vance at the door with a wand in one hand and a foot-long serrated knife in the other.
Grunting at the effort, Cooper jumped from the bed and ran to kneel down before the door. With her wand she began burning runes into the floor just three feet inside the door. She worked quickly and efficiently, and in moments had a runic ward established. At her nod, she and Vance backed away from the door just moments before a powerful blasting curse vaporized the door and four witches in mottled green robes rushed in.
The assault would have been deadly, if not for the ward. The ward was short-lived but very nasty. It delivered a flash of lightning that not only blinded the four attackers, but left them stunned and twitching on the floor. It was quick and easy to disable the four, and when they were stunned, Vance put her wand to the folds of one of the robe and cast a silent Finite. The mottled green faded to British Auror red.
"Right, fine," Cooper muttered. "Let's go."
The two women left their rooms at the inn and made their way down the hall where their supposed Ministry security waited. The two Aurors, wearing the same robes as those who attacked, were stunned on the floor. "You're the Legilimens," Cooper muttered, motioning to the stunned witches.
Arlene knelt down beside the nearest, pried the young woman's eyes open, and silently cast the spell. She stood a moment later and said, "Sometimes I hate being right."
"It must be a novel experience for you," Cooper said.
"Not so novel, or have you already forgotten Chicago?"
Cooper blushed angrily but said nothing. The two witches could not Disapparate through the wards of the inn and so made their way not down, but up until with powerful blasting charm they broke through the locks and emerged onto the steeply sloping roof. Around them, Diagon Ally spread like a shadow in the heart of the still brightly-lit London.
Each witch removed a satchel the size of their fists and with their wands removed from the tiny satchels a pair of sleek, militarized brooms. In minutes, draped in disillusionment charms, the two witches soared over the city. "Do you even know where you're going?" Cooper demanded.
"More than you do!" Arlene snapped back.
After half an hour of fast flying they cleared the densest portions of London and its surrounding suburbs and descended to an open field. The two dropped their charms while Arlene stowed her broom and instead removed a piece of paper. On it was coordinates; she cast a silent spell that created the illusion of a three-dimensional map of England crisscrossed with lines of longitude and latitude.
"What the hell kind of spell is that?" Cooper asked.
"Join the WestCon army and you might find out," Vance said absently as she zoomed the spell down to astonishing, street-level detail. "While you Yankees sit on your ass thinking up new ways to make everyone miserable, we actually advance magic."
Cooper ground her teeth. "Don't start that shit now, Vance. We're supposed to work together. When the mission is done, I'll be glad to finish what we started in Chicago."
"We did finish. You lost." Vance nodded to herself and cancelled the charm. "There's no guarantee she'll be home, but my grandparents will be and they'll undoubtedly be able to contact her."
She looked back at Cooper, whose angry glare made her magic flare in her eyes in the dark. "I knew this was a bad idea."
Vance sighed. "No, it wasn't. Both our governments want to know what's happening. I have a door into Potter's group. You supposedly had a door into the Ministry. Granted, your door closed and the British Ministry just tried to murder us and frame Potter, but at least we have some news."
"You killed my sister," Cooper said, glaring.
Rather than provide a snide response, Vance merely nodded. "Yes, I did. She was a soldier, and she fought well. She could just as easily have killed me, and it might be my sister glaring at you right now. We've been at war for over a century—lots of brothers and sisters have died fighting. And where has it gotten us, Cooper? All we've done is fed the fires for our funeral pyres, nothing else. I'm sick of it."
"Then give up!"
"Some genies are too big to put back into the bottle," Vance said with a sad shrug. "Now, are we going to fight, or continue the mission?"
"Fine." Cooper said nothing as Vance took her hand, and the two disappeared with a pop.
~~Firebird~~
~~Firebird~~
"Do you know where my mummy is?"
Harry awoke with a gasp from the middle of the same dream that haunted him all through the summer months. Beside him, Luna murmured absently. Harry noted with a smile the delicate-boned hand that had snuck under Luna's arm and held her breast. He was fairly sure Tori was not in their bed when they fell asleep last night.
Of course, with Potter Cottage so crowded he didn't blame Tori for sneaking in. At the moment, they had nearly forty people living with them in Potter Cottage, all of whom were friends from school. With Sanctuary now literally overflowing at the seams, it was difficult just to find a place to sleep. There was not a single room in the cottage (save Harry's wand shop in the basement) that did not have at least six to seven people sleeping in it.
The sole exception was the master suite, which at present contained five—Harry and his family. The sleeping arrangements were necessitated by the harsh reality of overcrowding at Sanctuary. Harry never realized how truly difficult it was to cast a Fidelius charm. Though many had heard of it just because of Harry's own story, the idea that the Potter Coven had two-Fidelius charmed properties struck many as simply astounding.
"Mr Potter, while I may be half-goblin, my magic is purely wizard and I am un-bonded," Flitwick explained when they discussed the overcrowding problems. "And yet casting the Fidelius charm on this property nearly killed me. Albus could do it somewhat more easily since he was significantly more powerful, but the fact remained that only two or three wizards in all of Europe could even consider creating that charm from scratch. Of those, only Albus and I knew the details of how to do it. As Amelia showed us, it is much easier to transfer the secret of an existing charm. So, given it will be at least a year before I would risk casting it, and it would take easily four years of intense study for me to teach you, we will have to do without any more Fidelius-charmed properties for a time."
And so Harry and his family slept in a single room. For the sanity of all those involved, they adopted the Hogwarts approach, and conjured posts and curtains for the four beds, one of which Harry shared on a rotating basis as determined by Luna. If he felt resentment at being passed around like a piece of meat, the threat of the chaos and fighting that was the alternative convinced him to swallow his own feelings. And at least Luna discussed it with him first; he knew that traditionally wizards had little say in who their First Wives sent to their beds, or if they slept alone.
And on that precious fifth night when he was allowed to sleep alone, he sought out the comfortable cot in the wand lab. Never, in his wildest dreams, would he imagine valuing a night not spent in the arms of a beautiful girl. Except, experience showed that being in bed with a girl did not automatically mean sex, and Ginny snored as loudly as her brother did.
And that was loud indeed.
He turned onto his side and stared at Luna's face. In the dim light of the bluebell flame that flickered in a corner (Luna and Tori both were afraid to sleep in the dark), her face seemed peaceful. Her features seemed petite compared to the wider oval of her face, save for her eyes. Closed as they were, they looked smaller than they truly were. In a purely objective way, she was not the most beautiful woman in the world. Both Hermione and Ginny were physically much more attractive.
And yet, when he stared at her like this, in those brief, precious moments of stillness, he felt an odd pull in his chest and magic. At first, in New Mexico, he thought it was simply the pull the bond. But with time, he began to understand.
Luna, attuned to his magic through their bonds, fluttered her silver-blue eyes open. His face was so close to hers that their eyelashes touched. She met his gaze openly, and after a moment he saw points of pink on her cheeks.
"You love me," she whispered.
"I do," he said.
Ignoring Tori's hand still clutching her breast, she reached over and cupped his cheek. "The hardest thing I have ever had to do, Harry Potter, was to share you."
Harry knew on an intellectual level that Luna struggled with each successive bond. Hermione's was the most difficult not only because it was the first they shared, but also because she and the Gryffindor witch simply did not get along. Even now, as sister wives, they could not say they were friends. But staring at her now, Harry felt that pull in his chest and loins again, and realized just how deeply it pained his first wife to watch Harry make love to another woman; and worse yet, have to do so herself because of the unique nature of their Aether bonds. At the time, watching as the bonds virtually forced Luna and Hermione to love each other, all fifteen-year-old Harry could think was how incredibly awesome the sight was.
That was only a year ago, and yet it seemed like a lifetime. What seemed like a fantasy to fifteen-year-old Harry Potter now was a terrible burden to Luna.
Why didn't he realize that? The question rang in his skull like a bell. Why did he not realize just how terrible the experience must have been for Luna, who was only fourteen at the time?
Her hand shifted on his cheek, and her lips against his drew him from his melancholy. Then, with a wistful smile, she turned and rubbed Tori's bare back. The Slytherin sunk deeper into sleep at the touch-magic Luna used to spell her.
Effectively alone, she turned back to Harry and pushed him until he lay flat. She mounted him and then lay flat against him, moving slowly and gently while Harry held her close. "You're the bravest person I've ever met," he whispered to her. "If it was only you and me, I'd still be the luckiest, happiest man on earth."
He did not understand why Luna silently wept, even as she kissed him fiercely enough to hurt and moved with greater urgency. Afterward, he realized it didn't matter if he fully understood everything. He just needed to know enough to know how truly fortunate he was that Luna came to him first.
She stayed on top of him, pressing her slim figure against his, and he gently ran his fingers through her hair. "I love you, Luna Potter," he whispered.
"And I love you, Harry," she finally whispered back. "I've loved you since before we were even born. I loved you when you watched me in your map, and I loved you ever since. I may have to share you for now, but you are mine."
Against that fierce declaration, Harry could only smile and nod. "Always."
He never noticed, or thought to ask about what she meant by the "for now".
For that one, beautiful moment, Harry was truly, beautifully happy. The emotion was so powerful and shocking he felt his own eyes water as he held this precious, incredible girl against his chest. He sobbed, not with tears, but just with a need to release the feelings he had never known with such intensity and understanding.
Naturally it was at that moment he heard a knock on the door, followed by Sybil Trelawney sticking her head in. "Rise and shine, Harry! We have a situation."
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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.