A/N I apologize for the delay! This chapter is a bit longer than usual but I hope it's worth it. As well, I'm in the process of getting a new Beta and this chapter may be updated to reflect their good work, I know there's a few sticky bits. Until then, enjoy!
Hogwarts was just visible from the attic room of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade; the stone fortress ignoring the blustering flurries of snow with ancient dignity. It was the first snowfall of the year, whirling flakes descending from a grey sky onto the village, forest, and bluffs below. A jack o'lantern carved from a mottled pumpkin was host to handful of wisps, streamers of faerie fire reflected on the window.
It was five in the afternoon on Hallowe'en. The anniversary of Harry Potter's first defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort.
Harry pushed up his glasses and rubbed at his nose. He had visited Godric's Hollow the night previously and a lingering sense of loss remained with him, a hollow in his stomach that no food or drink had filled since. Now, he was worried about his daughter. The Book of Merlin... Damn it, how could they!
In the window of the inn, Harry could see his own face wavering above that of the carved pumpkin. Rather, Harry thought as he scratched at a hairy wart on his chin, he could see his current face. His new form was of average height and build with shaggy salt-and-pepper hair, a shadow of stubble, and a handful of warts. His unfortunate visage was a product of a controlled version of the Polyjuice Potion that used multiple strands of hair or samples of flesh to create a hybrid body.
Harry heard a pop on the other side of the door, immediately followed by a knock. He felt the familiar kiss of adrenaline before beginning a mission and shoved his anger and fear aside, concentrating on the task at hand. Controlling his breathing, Harry pointed his wand at his feet and cast Silencio Sonopodus. He made his was soundlessly to the wall beside the door and, wand in one hand, and removed a Foe-Glass from his pocket. The misty glass showed only the indistinct outlines of distant threats. Harry flicked his wand and detected only a single person on the other side of the door, but could tell little else—Harry hoped it was who he was expecting.
"Who is it?" Harry said in a gruff voice.
"Ms Bishop,"
"This is Mr Knight," Harry responded.
The door swung open and a figure swaddled in a green cloak and hood, their face obscured by a grey scarf, entered the room, wand at the ready in a gloved hand. They stared at each other for a moment.
"Good morning, Ms Bishop."
"I believe you mean good afternoon, Mr Knight."
Harry's Sneakoscope was still as they exchanged code words. The Auror finally relaxed, it was Annabel Entwhistle.
You can never be too careful. Harry smiled and gestured at the battered table by the window.
"Thanks for meeting me again," Harry said.
They sat across from each other at a battered wooden table in one of the rented chambers nestled beneath the oak eaves of the inn. A brilliant Ravenclaw, Annabel Entwhistle had attended Hogwarts at the same time as Harry and had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. A Muggleborn, Annabel had lost her brother during the War. He had died in Azkaban after being imprisoned by the Muggleborn Registration Commission. She had buried herself in work after the war and joined the Department of Mysteries, but she hadn't truly forgotten.
No one could forget.
Annabel and Harry stared at each other for a moment, before Annabel took a huge breath. "I'm sorry but we're getting closer," Annabel said in a rush, "They'll be done Phase One by the end of the year."
Harry rocked backwards. He wasn't surprised, but he was angry. "So they would have the enchantment ready to be tested, but not ready to be written into the Book of Merlin," Harry clarified as he thought.
The Unspeakable nodded.
Annabel wasn't supposed to share anything she learnt outside of the walls of the Department, on pain of imprisonment in Azkaban. Thankfully, the wording of their various secrecy charms and vows left several loopholes, the least of which Harry was abusing as they spoke—she was allowed to share information relevant to an ongoing investigation conducted by the Auror Office.
"Granger's a genius," Annabel continued, "The theory is solid. The spell is different of course, but the Americans know what they're doing."
Harry wanted to hit something. Just this once, Hermione, couldn't you have been wrong? Argh, I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault...
"No one's told us what to do with the spell yet," Annabel said hesitantly, "Without a decree from the Minister we won't be able to implement the enchantment, and you know that it takes the International Wizengamot to approve anything going into the Book."
"Damn it all if they won't all bow to the Mugwump!" Harry steamed. Malfoy and Hermione were working slowly and carefully in the Wizengamot, gathering allies and votes. But in the interim he had to do something.
Harry forced himself to reach out and capture Annabel's trembling hand; he disliked his Aurors working in the field without him and he hated sending witches and wizards into danger, but he knew he had to do this. It was too important. "Is there anything you can do to slow it down? Anything at all?"
"I...can't, I don't know..." she whispered.
Harry leant closer, "There has to be some equipment—"
Annabel bit her lip, "The Loom. They'll need it after Christmas when they want to add the enchantment to the Regesta in the Book. It's extremely delicate. But if it's broken, they'll know someone is trying to sabotage the project."
Harry only knew the vaguest details about the mysterious device but he barreled ahead, feeling a combination of anger and self-loathing, "I...know, but we don't have a choice, Ms Bishop. We need more time. Trust me."
"But if they investigate..."
"I can provide you with the tools, you won't have to use your wand."
"I... I'll do it," Annabel replied after a moment, "We have to stop this."
Harry felt a little sick. He released her hand and, after a moment, Annabel withdrew a piece of parchment from the thick folds of her cloak, "This is what I will need..." she tapped the parchment and blocky words appeared, "Get it to me when we next meet. Please...Mr Knight."
Her parchment shook as she slid it across the table. Once again Harry took her hand and squeezed gently before easing the paper out form under her fingers and slipping it into his robes.
Annabel rose, nodded jerkily as if she had received terrible news, and held out her hand to shake. Harry shook it. He felt as if he had done something terrible.
The witch Disapparated with a pop, and Harry knew she had appeared in the loo down the stairs, where she would revert to her normal clothing and simply meld back into the afternoon crowd in the Three Broomsticks. After that it was safe enough for Annabel to Disapparate in the midst of Hogsmeade, hiding her clandestine meeting in the middle of some regular shopping. Harry, on the other hand, had to avoid the regulated means of transport. His presence was far too much of a giveaway.
Harry waited for ten minutes before he descended into the common room, where he spotted Hannah Abbott behind the bar and resisted the impulse to wave. The pretty Hufflepuff had taken over the Three Broomsticks, which allowed Hannah to spend more time with her husband at Hogwarts, when Madam Rosmerta had finally retired after forty years in the village.
Hannah had hung a small placard from one of the tall mahogany-handled taps: the placard said that they were out of Hagrid's Extra-Hopped. It was a code indicating that Hannah had spotted nothing suspicious during Harry's meeting and no one had followed his contact. Just in case, Harry ran his eyes across the warm interior of the inn and didn't spot anything unusual.
Harry stepped out into the cold air where a thin layer of snow dusted the cobbled street and caught on the lintels and windowsills of the picturesque cottages. Jack o'lanterns glowed in every window. Most of the shops were closing early for Hallowe'en and Harry wrapped his cloak around him and walked towards the alley where had had hidden him broom. He passed a uniformed member of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and recognized Alexander Williams from around the office. Harry ducked his head and waved, "Evenin,' fine fellow. 'Appy 'Allowe'en!"
The Patrol Wizard tipped his shiny black hat. "Happy Hallowe'en to you too, sir. Have a good night now."
Harry grinned toothily and kept walking, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder. It was strange to pass a member of the Patrol and not be noticed, as there were only a hundred, and after over ten years around the office Harry knew them all by name. The average Witch or Wizard only ever encountered Patrol Wizards like Williams, who handled drunkards, petty mischief, and theft as they patrolled the nooks and crannies of Magical Britain. When Harry had been in school, Patrol Wizards had worn voluminous purple robes and he had thought they were just another funny outfit; now they wore a more distinctive purple uniform with lots of brass buttons and shiny hats.
Harry risked a glance over his shoulder and saw Williams spinning his wand around his hand, stopping in front of a glowing storefront and chatting with the proprietor who was locking up for the night. Harry shook his head. Sloppy.
The Patrol Wizards were hardly up to Auror standards. Even Hit Wizards didn't receive the specialized equipment and training of the Dark Wizard catchers, and Aurors were the only wizards allowed to use the curses that could do real damage. Of course, there were only two dozen Aurors in his office, a number that had shrunk from a height of fifty during the War. Nowadays, there were far more witches and wizards in every other office of the D.M.L.E. There were even more pensioners and members of the Dark Arts Defence League than there were Aurors. It was a shame that most of them seemed to have more bravura than common sense, like Hengist Hoarwell and so-called contributions to the Second Wizarding War.
Throwing two Snatchers through a window, quite the battle. Completely idiotic.
Harry kicked at a drift of snow and realized he was venting some of his self-loathing out onto the Patrol. He had just convinced a brilliant witch to potentially sacrifice her career, or even her life, just for him. Harry stared up into the snow. How did you do it, Albus? How did you live with yourself?
The Auror slid into a narrow alley and summoned his broom from underneath a leather tarpaulin protecting a stack of firewood. The Disillusionment Charm rendered him invisible and, silent and hidden, Harry rose into the snowy sky. In a second he was an invisible rocket heading south, protected from the wind and snow by a screen of charms.
From the top of the East Tower Lily Potter looked out over the shadowed grounds and towards the forested gully that separated the castle from the village of Hogsmeade. She looked towards the east where a cloudy cloak of gloom hung over the school. The moonlight was diffused in a hazy pool of clouds.
Shivering slightly in the brisk night air, Lily leant out between two merlons. The darkened surface of the tower stretched out below her; the base of the tower was illuminated by the golden light emanating from the Memorial Courtyard.
A burst of noise, squeals of laughter and excited screams, echoed up the stairwell behind Lily.
"Listen to this," Grace said suddenly, and Lily looked around; the Slytherin girl sat on a bench set against the crenelated parapet, the same bench that Lily was standing on to take a peek at the evening sky.
"What?"
Grace was skimming a glossy green and silver pamphlet, "The Societus Alumni Slytherinus was founded over a eight hundred years ago to promote the 'bond of fellowship formed during our formative years at the noble institution of Hogwarts...'" Grace tapped the paper, "And they have the largest endowment of the four Hogwarts Houses!"
"What's an endowment?" Lily slid down the wall and sat beside her friend.
"I think it's like a bank account," Grace said, "It's a store of galleons but its only for a school, like our dormitories."
Stretched across the entrance to the spiral staircase was a banner that read: 112TH ANNUAL SLYTHERIN HALLOWEEN PARTY.
Downstairs the party continued and a fresh burst of happy screams announced that Professor Slughorn had probably released another cackling Imp. The students were attempting to corral the Imps into cages with jinxes, competing for dozens of charmed prizes. Lily looked away from the lighted stairs, instead focusing on a cluster of Upper Years on the other side of the parapet, passing between them what appeared to be a tiny glowing stick of some sort.
"What's wrong, Lily?" Grace asked, slipping the pamphlet into her robes. "Wasn't the feast fantastic?"
"It was," Lily agreed, resting her head on the flinty stone.
The Slytherin felt like she had a handful of chocolate frogs bouncing around inside her stomach. For the first time since her...well...disastrous first week, she was going to see her parents again. This time, she had questions. Questions that she couldn't ask using a letter.
Grace hesitated, "Do you wish Sabine and the others were here?"
Lily lifted one shoulder, "I'spose. Sort of unfair that the party's just for Slytherins."
Grace chuckled, "You were making fun of them not ten minutes ago. We got the best House!"
Lily shrugged. "Right."
Grace kicked her feet through the air with a disgruntled look on her face, "Well, I'm grateful you convinced me not to study. This was fun."
She placed a pointed emphasis on the 'was.' Lily tried to feel sorry and couldn't.
Grace had initially panicked and refused to attend the Feast, instead, she had been rereading Contemporary Magical Theory (Grade 1) for the umpteenth time. It had been Lily who convinced her to come to the Feast. The food was sumptuous and the Great Hall had been decorated with hundreds of carved pumpkins, gourds, and turnips, thick strands of spiderweb, and sheafs of corn and hay bundled with orange ribbons. The Slytherins had been most excited for what came after the Feast however—earlier in the day the Prefects had informed the First Years that the Slytherin Alumni Society organized spectacular parties throughout the year, including Hallowe'en. At seven the Slytherins had left the Feast and gone to the East Tower. There, a large hall had been Transfigured into a maze of skeletal trees, bales of hay, and stands of corn while House Elfs dressed in plaid with pumpkins stuck on their heads offered bags of sweets and toys. At first Lily had been excited to explore the maze, but she had soon lost interest.
She was suffused with a strange sense of dread. It can't be about my parents, she thought. Slughorn's Party doesn't start for half an hour... Wel, you could stop being silly. You know what this is about, Lily.
They had been studying hard for their Magical Theory test, and, as a result, Lily had been thinking about the Book of Merlin for the past three days, turning the ramifications of Lestrange's revelations over and over in her mind. On the one hand, Lily realized that the truth had been kept from her. They were taught how to use the spells of Merlin, Prince of Enchanters. But until Lestrange had revealed the Book of Merlin, Lily had never known why. Gideon wondered what would really happen if he didn't sign the Magical Contract, claiming that it was no fun at all. Grace had almost had a heart attack: Gideon would be thrown out of the Wizarding World. His magic would fade over time as his incantations failed-just like Witches and Wizards that broke their wands and went to live with Muggles. On the one hand, a part of her was intrigued. She wanted to learn the secrets of the Book of Merlin. The secrets of the fundamental forces of creation.
Lily put her chin on her hands. I can't believe no one told me. My mother, my father. No one... When I turn seventeen...
Grace levered herself upright and pulled on her black robes over her uniform, the dress robe was made of shimmering black velvet embroidered with silver thread around the edges and with heavy silver clasps at the front. She rubbed at her arms, "Lily, it's freezing out here, can't we go inside?"
Lily stared up at the grey sky. Cloudy streamers of moonlight were drifting across the cloak of clouds, borne by a cold wind.
Harry arrived in London little over an hour later, returned to his normal shape and size, and landed at Grimmauld Place. Stowing his broom in the front hall he made his way to the dining room. "Evening," Harry said as he spotted his wife, Hermione, and Draco Malfoy.
"Harry!" Ginny gasped and, in three steps, the redheaded witch threw herself at her husband.
Harry let out an oomph as Ginny pressed herself to him and, feeling his anger abating as his sensed his wife's supple curves through her sleek turquoise gown with a rather daring neckline. Her dangling gold earrings glittered in the candlelight of the chandelier, formed of miniature fluttering snitches that Harry had given her a few years ago. Ginny stroked his stubble absentmindedly and then planted a swift kiss on his lips, "Well? The meeting?"
"Fine, it went fine," Harry embraced her and inhaled a subtle perfume mixing notes of spicy cedar, citrus, and vanilla.
Hermione, nose in a book, was sitting at a table across from Draco Malfoy. Hermione wore long black dress robes with a high neckline and long sleeves, her only adornment the Order of Merlin on the breast (a gold-and-silver pentacle hanging from a blue-and-gold ribbon) and a large black bow on her left side. Harry rather thought she was dressing for a funeral.
Draco was wearing a reserved pinstriped suit with a silver chain across the breast. The blonde wizard idly flipped a single page of an open tome back and forth with a bored expression on his face. A stack of brown leather books sat between them.
"Harry," Hermione said distractedly, her eyes moving rapidly across the page.
"Any progress?" Harry said, feeling a fresh surge of anger.
"No," Hermione said, drawing a finger down the page, "I'm sorry, Harry. Not only is it too late, there's nothing we can do it about it."
"But it's not taught till they Come of Age!" Harry smacked a fist onto the table, "Of age! She's eleven!"
Draco rolled his eyes, "My, Potter, do keep it down, we don't want everyone at the Ministry to hear you."
Harry lowered his voice to an angry whisper, "So, did you find out how did they do it? It certainly wasn't an Educational Decree."
"No," Hermione said disgustedly, dropping her book with a loud thump, "It appears it was all Loyola Lestrange, a S.H.A.M. at the Sorcery School. And he didn't break a single law!"
"And it's all your fault, Potter," Draco closed his own book with a single finger and tapped the gilded cover, "You wrote the rules."
Harry glared at Draco, noting, as he did so, the dark circles forming around Malfoy's eyes and how his lip was twitching. It's his son that is affected by this as well, Harry reminded himself, and then sighed and looked at the stack of books. 'Acts of the Wizengamot of Great Britain and Ireland, Establishment of the Superior Sorcery School of Hogwarts and British Organization for New Education Studies (B.O.N.E.S.)' Harry went a bit cross-eyed. "Hermione?"
"It's in the rules," Hermione moaned, "Lestrange, well, he's a Research Fellow at the School and he approved his new curriculum with Professor Clearwater, that's all he needed to do!"
"This can't be a coincidence!" Ginny flared up, "He's a Lestrange. Someone must have put him up this."
Draco raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps. He's a French Lestrange."
"He's, what, a second cousin?" Ginny said.
"First cousin once removed," Draco said smoothly.
Hermione was rubbing her forearm and Harry knew she was thinking about the scar, the knife, and Bellatrix Lestrange.
Harry sat down heavily, feeling drained. "That's it then. We lost."
"A battle, not the war," Draco murmured.
Harry grunted. "What are you even doing here, Draco?"
"Ms Granger insisted on reviewing every statute on the Book of Merlin," Draco drawled, "I... assisted her...while I waited for your arrival, Potter."
Harry smacked himself in the forehead, "Right, the party at the Ministry...I need to get changed," Harry grumbled, massaging the bridge of his nose.
"How could he..." Hermione was still staring at the statute books, as if angry that it had failed to provide her with an excuse to arrest Loyola Lestrange, "Every theory says that informing them too early can stunt their magical development! They need confidence! How can Hugo focus on his schoolwork with the Book hanging over his head... Drat it, the curriculum was decided years ago."
Hermione had written the new theoretical studies curriculum in consultation with Professor McGonagall and the other leading experts of Wizarding Europe. They had designed a more modern, principled, and rigorous approach to teaching the fundamentals of magic. But one thing they hadn't altered were the ancient rules that established how witches and wizards Came of Age and fully entered magical society.
"Remember when we found out? 'Course I skipped Seventh Year, so I missed a lot of it," Harry chuckled darkly, "By the time I came of age we had bigger issues. After the War we learnt that if we'd gone a lot longer using our spells we'd end up like, well, Stan Shunpike before long."
Ginny growled, "That's not funny, Harry. It was a serious concern."
"Even underage you were already registered as a Wizard," Hermione said sharply, "After you Came of Age, the incantations written in the Book of Merlin require the contract. And the contract requires your blood."
"Notice they didn't tell the children that part," Malfoy drawled.
Hermione wrung her hands.
"Honestly I don't think I would have done anything different," Harry mused, "We needed to save the world, after all."
Draco laughed, "Right, Potter. Thanks."
"Once I learnt about it, Harry continued, "I always wished we could just take out all the bad stuff—no more curses."
"It doesn't work like that," Hermione breathed, "It records, Harry, it can't remove. The Libra Merlinus has three components, the register of wizards, and the register of spells too, and the terms of the contract that governs Witches and Wizards. You can't change the laws in the contract that easily."
Ginny frowned, "Look, I didn't spend the past twenty years at the Ministry like you lot but I thought that's what we are worried about—changing the book?"
"We are!" Hermione said testily, "Because, like Voldemort, he's going to modify an existing law, don't you see? They're doing two things. You all know that the Ministry uses the register of Wizards to monitor underage students, they want to expand it to include everyone by changing the age. Then they take the Trace and add a new spell, my spell!" Hermione swallowed. "So, you see— "
"I got it!" Ginny said quickly to forestall any further explanation.
Hermione swallowed, "The Book is like any law. It's up to people to protect it. It's not set in stone."
"Should've been," Harry grumbled.
"Then you would never have been able to free the House Elfs or bring about Werewolf Rights," Draco interjected with a smile, "We need change—it just turns out we also need courage to protect our rights."
Harry sighed and stood, "Thanks, Draco. Look, I'll have someone investigate Lestrange and we'll get to the bottom of this."
Draco gave a long-suffering sigh and stood, adjusting his dress robes, "Well, if Potter is on the case, I'm so reassured. In the meantime, shall we hope that our children have the presence of mind to focus on their studies and not be too disturbed by their future...commitments?"
Harry looked at Hermione, who was biting her lip. "Y-yes," she agreed shakily, "Draco is right. They aren't supposed to know, but if they can focus it shouldn't matter."
"They'll be alright, Hermione," Harry said, "We'll see Lily at Slughorn's party, and you can go see Hugo and Rose."
"And Scorpius," Draco nodded as he made his way around the table and offered Hermione a hand.
Looking surprised, Hermione took Draco's hand and the wizard drew her gracefully to her feet.
"Shall we leave for the Ministry?" Draco murmured.
"We shouldn't arrive together, it's too suspicious," Hermione retrieved her hand from Draco. "I need to join Ron and Arthur, anyways. I'll Apparate home and then take the Floo."
"We'll take the car," Ginny said firmly, "I'm not Flooing in this dress."
"Very well," Draco sighed, "I'll bring my own car around, then, and meet you at the Ministry in an hour."
Harry and Ginny arrived at the Ministry in a black sedan with small purple and gold flags fluttering on the hood. The sedan pulled into what appeared to be an underground car park. As it did so, the car passed through a series of protective enchantments and Muggle Repelling Charms. After that the car arrived at a security checkpoint where Patrol Wizards ran silver aerials underneath their car before raising a white bar and allowing them to continue.
"I can't..." Harry mumbled as he jabbed himself with the pin, "Ouch! Bloody Order of Merlin!"
"Here," Ginny sighed, sliding across the black leather seats towards him, "Let me..."
She raised her wand and fastened his medal to the front of his dark green dress robes with a single charm, "You always forget, Harry!"
Harry kissed her.
"Stop it!" Ginny batted at his chest and twisted her lips to the side, "You'll mess everything up."
"We are's arriving as you canoodle, Master," came a growl from the driver's seat, "Kreacher has driven you, master and mistress..."
Harry chuckled as he glanced at the front of the car, where Kreacher, wearing an embroidered white pillowcase and a red fez, sat in front of an array of brass dials and a leather-covered steering wheel. "Thank you, Kreacher. We'll let you know when it's time to go."
"Of course, Master," Kreacher beamed, revealing his single remaining tooth, "I shall be's gettin' the doors."
The elf Disapparated with a pop and, a moment later, opened Ginny's door with a bow.
Harry and Ginny emerged into a vaulted antechamber carved from jade marble columns and adorned with golden lamps lighting a red carpet stretching towards brass doors engraved with filigree M's. Security Wizards tipped their hats at Harry's approach. Behind them, their car wheeled around back into the car park, while another car appeared behind them and disgorged a be-robed couple onto the red carpet.
Harry forced a smile as Ginny slid her white arm through his and whispered, "Don't worry, love. Just a minute in front of the cameras and then we'll grab the Minister. Fifteen minutes and we'll be at Hogwarts."
"Right," Harry said, and he pinned a false smile to his face and patted at his black hair.
The brass doors opened and Harry resisted the urge to cast a Shield Charm as a dozen cameras exploded in clouds of acrid blue smoke.
"Mr Potter!"
"Mrs Potter!"
"Over here, Mr Potter!"
"Smile, Mrs Potter!"
Blinking, Harry spotted two-dozen reporters straining against a barricade of red ropes.
"Just ignore them," Ginny breathed in his ear, "Ignore them!"
Harry forced himself to wave and nod in what he hoped was a dignified manor. Concentrating on not tripping over his shiny shoes, Harry exited the red carpet and entered the foyer of the Ministry of Magic. The antechamber was a good six stories tall and lined with emerald-veined columns. The checkered cream and jade flagstones rang beneath the feet of arriving guests as the Floo Grates set along the left-hand wall flashed; there, more reporters stood ready to accost the arrivals.
Avoiding the reporters Harry and Ginny walked around the Memorial Fountain. The Memorial Fountain was a cenotaph of translucent white marble engraved with the names of Voldemort's victims, ultimately, the same witches and wizards who had defeated him. A darkened bronze statue of Justice mourned at the top of the cenotaph, one hand pressed to her eyes, the other holding a scale. Red-tinted water dripped from her eyes and flowed down the memorial to puddle despondently in the basin below.
On the other side of the Memorial Fountain were the lifts. Harry and Ginny neatly avoided the reporters and entered, and a pair of House Elf porters in maroon uniforms delivered Harry and Ginny to the Reception Room. There, the important guests mingled in a Regency stateroom, dressed in magnificent robes and adorned with gold, silver, and jewels. They were drinking and chatting while more House Elfs circulated with gold plates bearing glasses and canapés. Some guests admired the Chinoiserie in nooks in the gilded walls or the paintings of famous magical events, while others stood in glittering circles complaining about very important things.
Harry first scanned the room and identified the ten Aurors in maroon dress uniforms standing around the edges. Then, relaxing slightly, he flicked his gaze across the guests. He recognized the majority—Ministry Undersecretaries and Heads of Department, foreign dignitaries and diplomats from the Continent, a few members of the Wizengamot, and the heads of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses.
"Do you see the Minister?"
"Over there, with Ron, Hermione, and Percy," Ginny replied, gesturing. "I'll find Malfoy, you get the Minister."
They split up and made their way through the crowd. Harry was forced to shake hands and smile a lot before reaching the Minister of Magic, standing with Percy and Ron. Ron was wearing canary-yellow robes with flashing jack o'lanterns bounding around the cuffs as he waved his arms, flashing his gold watch, "...so Victor and Lynch were arguing and I swear, if I hadn't been there, Lynch would have cursed him!"
Everyone laughed and Harry took a moment to examine the Minister. John Dawlish had thinning grey hair and wore pinstriped black robes atop a matching vest with silver chains, a lilac tie, and a purple handkerchief folded in his breast pocket. He looked slightly strained as he laughed.
"Happy Hallowe'en, Minister," Harry said, "Percy, Ron."
Dawlish held out his hand, corded with thick veins and tendons, as a vein throbbed in his temple, "Please, Harry, do call me John. How many times, eh?" He laughed like it was an old joke.
Harry bared his teeth and shook. "Right, what was I thinking."
Ron drained his glass of bubbly and then clapped Harry on the shoulder, "Harry! Did you hear? Bulgaria smashed Ireland right at the Dublin friendly. It was priceless."
"That's nice, Ron."
"Cheer up, Harry, Victor's here, I'm sure he'll want to see you too," Ron said cheerfully as he snagged another glass of champagne.
"Right, Ron." Harry nodded, "Minister, may I have a quick word? In private?"
Dawlish immediately stilled, like a hunted animal, and Harry was reminded that he had been an Auror for over thirty years, "What's this about, Potter?"
"In private," Harry met Dawlish's eyes.
"Fine, fine," Dawlish snapped, "Percy, hold them off, will you?" He waved a hand at the crowd.
Harry followed Dawlish to a corner of the Reception Room where Lucilda Marchbanks, a grizzled blonde lioness, saluted and allowed them to access a hidden door. Dawlish was silent as they stepped into a sitting room, adorned in striped lime and off-white wallpaper. The room was set up with elegant ebony chairs with black leather trappings and fire crackled in an ornamented grate. The Auror followed them into the room and closed the door, cutting off the sounds of the party. Immediately Harry began casting a series of protective charms to obscure their conversation. Dawlish raised a grey eyebrow but said nothing. He drew up a gilded chair and said, "So, what do you need to talk about, Harry?"
Harry sat reluctantly and sheathed his wand, "In a moment, John."
The door opened and Draco Malfoy entered. Harry waved at Marchbanks and the Auror let Draco pass; Dawlish stiffened. "What's this about, eh, Potter?" he growled.
"Good evening Minister, no, don't get up," Draco drawled.
He waved his wand and floated a chair towards them, sitting and crossing his legs, "Mr Potter invited me to this little tête-à-tête. I shared some...concerns with him earlier, concerns shared by myself and my colleagues
"Colleagues?" Dawlish's lip curled as he looked at Draco, "Potter, I'm surprised at you, collaborating with Malfoy and his like."
"Whose like, Minister?" Draco replied smoothly, "The Greengrasses? The Slughorns? The Sheikhs? My colleagues are respected members of the Wizarding community, Minister. Your community."
Harry suppressed a smile. Who would have thought I would be working with Draco Malfoy. "You know me, John, you know I'm not a 'collaborator' or anything like it. Trust me, Draco has some legitimate concerns."
"Concerns about the Confederation, Minister," Draco's eyes glittered.
"Merlin's beard, is this about the Nexus?" Dawlish snapped, "It's done. The Confederation is behind it, half the Wizengamot is behind it. I thought the Auror Office would appreciate the new powers! This will make your job easier, Potter."
Harry scowled and leant forward, "Can't you hear yourself, John? You were an Auror, you know that the job we do is never going to be easy! I don't want new powers!"
John hesitated, "I..."
"What are we so afraid of, John?" Harry said, "We're at peace. Nothing's happened for years. The Mugwump's trying to bamboozle us!"
"My constituents—"
"Trust you, for a reason, Minister," Draco interjected softly, "You're a good man, John. You did everything you could to fight against the corruption in the Ministry from the inside. You saved a lot of lives, and, yet, you never broke the law. Now, tell me, doesn't this situation feel familiar? A powerful warlock promising safety and security? Trust me, John, it feels very familiar."
Draco and the old Auror stared at each other for a moment.
"There's a lot of political...pressure..." Dawlish stalled.
"That's why I'm here, Minister," Draco said, "You said half the Wizengamot supports the Confederation. I'm here to remind you that the other half does not."
"I'll stand behind you, John," Harry insisted, "Between the two of us, people will see the truth. There's nothing to be afraid of."
The door to the sitting room opened and a second Auror appeared and handed Lucilda Marchbanks a violet-tinted memo. Lucilda looked at Harry, who nodded and flicked his wand.
Immediately, the Auror strode over to Harry and handed him the note. Harry unfolded the pink paper and read. His heart stopped for a single instant. Everything felt hot and heavy. And then the blood was rushing in his ears and he leapt to his feet.
There's nothing to be afraid of...
"What is it, Potter?" Dawlish's eyes widened.
"I have to go, Dawlish." Harry growled, "There's been a mass breakout from Azkaban."