Chapter 25

12 Grimmauld Place,

London, United Kingdom

Thursday, 11th December 2003

"You wished to see me, Regulus?" Theodore Nott Sr stepped out of the fireplace; he sounded both weary and disinterested, as if he'd really rather not be keeping this appointment.

"Yes," Black confirmed, rather put out by the terse greeting; he'd expected at least an apology for keeping him waiting for a day or two to meet him. "I wanted to discuss our response to Potter's manoeuvres and the ousting of Walden and me."

"'Our response'?" Nott echoed, stopping his host in his tracks; he'd expected that the faction would be planning to overcome the loss of two of its members (and one of its seats in the chamber) and be looking to come out swinging in the New Year.

"Potter's attacked our group and his move has threatened to permanently shift the balance of power in the Wizengamot! Are you telling me we're just going to let him?"

"You misunderstand me," Nott replied. "Moves are afoot, our new leader is to meet with the Minister today. What I mean, Mr Black, is there's no us anymore: you two were expelled from the chamber; we can't be associated with you anymore."

Black was stunned. "So that's it? Despite how long we've been allies, friends! Despite how long we've worked together in the chamber – it's just thanks and goodbye?"

"It has to be this way," Nott replied calmly; the shake of his head may have implied remorse but there was little in his voice. "Your standing now is that of borderline traitors," he pointed out, "we can't afford to be associated with you right now. Without the protection of a Wizengamot seat your every move can and will be closely scrutinised; if we stay associated with you then Potter, Crouch and Longbottom will look very closely at you and use anything you do to further marginalise us and our aims."

By now Regulus was shaking his head in disbelief. He managed to collect himself. "What if there was a change of Minister? Say to someone of a less radical persuasion, someone who didn't view things so… one-dimensionally as Potter?"

"Be very careful where you go with this conversation, Mr Black," Nott warned formally. "As I said, you no longer have the protection of Wizengamot membership."

"Merely a hypothetical, Nott," Black replied with forced calm; he decided to rephrase. "So nobody in your," he spat out the word as an acknowledgement that the faction was under different management now, "group would be interested in… dialogue with the Eastern power?" his voice was delicate but the challenge was evident.

"After seeing the loss of two members' seats? Nobody will be going anywhere near those lands on an unauthorised visit for a long time," was the reply. Regulus and Walden were clearly on their own for now.

Minister's Office,

Ministry of Magic

James sighed as he looked at the clock. The Minister's schedule had meant being able to put this meeting off for a couple of days but finally he could delay it no more. Right on time there was a knock on his door; Lily announced the visitor, one who looked thoroughly displeased that she had introduced him.

"Mr Jugson, what can I do for you?" Potter was surprised at the identity of the new leader of his main rival faction; Jugson had always struck him as a follower rather than a leader, certainly not somebody who had the sort of presence in the chamber that his predecessor did. He wondered if this was intentional; that they were licking their wounds and lying low for a while in the aftermath of losing Black and Macnair.

"You can tell me what you're playing at, Minister," the other asked without preamble, taking a seat and pulling it closer to the desk. When James looked perplexed (more at the unexpected aggression than anything else) he continued, "Changing the balance of power in the chamber the way you did, getting Black's brother in there."

"Oh come, sir," James's tone was a little condescending, "our whole life is about affecting the balance of power isn't it? Trying to persuade people to join our little groups, influencing the Independents so they vote one way and not the other. Sons often vote differently to the way their fathers did when they inherit a seat so this situation is far from uncommon."

Jugson did not look convinced. "Tread carefully, Minister; the weathervanes don't like it when one faction becomes too powerful."

"It would be a nice problem to have," Potter smirked, "but I can assure you that I won't be going for more reforms at breakneck speed."

"That would make a change," the other griped.

"What we've done hasn't actually been that much or that fast," he countered defensively, "when you take 'our run' as starting with Barty Crouch. Look, Andy," he leaned forward on his hands; Jugson frowned a little at the familiarity implied by the diminution of his name, "no matter how much your group have clung to the old ways and wanted to continue to do so – things are changing; the country is changing. Ignoring First-gens…"

"Has been done for centuries," Jugson interrupted.

"And look where it's got us! The Great American Exodus left a rift that our world still hasn't recovered from – almost four hundred years later! You might not like having First-gens involved in things but continuing to just send them abroad after they finish school is a national catastrophe!"

"I don't see why," his guest retorted. "It means they're not trying to change things and we just carry on as always."

"Yes," Potter nodded scathingly, "we carry on as we always have while the Magical World around us changes and, crucially, advances. New concepts, new ideas, new magic – all leaving our shores and going abroad, enriching other countries, strengthening them, advancing them while Britain is left in its own bubble. Splendid Isolation was a great idea when mundane Britain ran a global empire – for a small nation of a couple of hundred thousand magicals it's a death knell."

"You will never get me to agree, James," Jugson shook his head.

"I know," the Minister conceded, "but so long as the Independents agree, we can continue to push our agenda and make First-gens think there is a future for this country. Without it… eventually our country will die – either from inside or out."

"What do you mean?" Jugson's eyes narrowed.

"As I say, people are taking their ideas and talents abroad all the time. Other countries are advancing faster than we are. Eventually someone would decide we're weak enough to be worth invading."

"Never!"

James looked at his guest; he spoke very slowly and deliberately. "Tell that to the deposed leaders of Romania, Transylvania or Poland. It would take longer for them to overthrow us, sure, but no country is immune to its enemies if they are determined, numerous and advanced enough."

The visitor shook his head and stood, sensing the discussion wouldn't lead to any common ground being found. "I still don't believe it, Minister. As I say, you need to be careful; you're playing a dangerous game."

"Why do you care?" James smiled. "Surely the more dangerous my game becomes, the better your chances of winning are."

Jugson reached the door; he looked back with a dangerous smile. "I want there to be a country left when I win," was his parting shot.

Sofia Airport,

Magical Annex,

Sofia, Bulgaria

Friday, 12th December 2003

"British?" The attendant handled the two men's VIP passports suspiciously (they had yet to surrender them following their expulsion from the Wizengamot). "What business does the British Ministry have in our country?"

"We seek an audience with your Minister; I believe he will want to hear what I have to say," Black stated smoothly.

Eyes fixed on the two men, the attendant raised his wand and fired a few green sparks into the air; a man in Bulgarian Aurors robes appeared at his side and the two began conversing in rapid Bulgarian.

"My colleague tells me you have a message for our Minister?" the newcomer spoke in heavily accented English.

"That's correct," Black confirmed.

"Well? What is it?"

Regulus hesitated, not wanting to give the information to an underling; he wanted (and thought he deserved) to be meeting the big cheese. "It concerns the abduction of several young Veela girls from your cells," he disclosed.

The two Bulgarians exchanged looks before the newcomer spoke simply. "Come with me," he turned, expecting them to follow him.

"Why are we here?" Macnair asked in a low voice. "Why not go straight to the Emperor?"

"This is our way in," Black explained. "Malfoy laid the groundwork, we already have an in in Bulgaria. Plus, those creatures came from Bulgaria; information on them will help ingratiate us with Oblansk, and through him we can start to deal with Karkaroff from a stronger position."

Macnair looked doubtful; now that not only was their faction not in government but they were no longer even in the governing chamber, he suspected that their position would not be regarded as 'strong' no matter what they did.

Minister's Office,

Bulgarian Ministry of Magic

It took a couple of hours of questions and discussions with various people before Black and Macnair were granted an appointment, and a further hour before they actually met Minister Oblansk. In that time Black remained tight-lipped, saying his information was for the Minister's ears only; despite annoying everyone he spoke to, he stuck to his position and was finally rewarded with entry to the plush office.

"Mister Black," Oblansk gestured to a seat. "Walden, good to see you again. Now," he continued when the two men sat, "I understand you have news about my missing Veelas?"

"Indeed, Minister," Regulus nodded, putting on his most sycophantic tones. "I can confirm for you that the girls who were stolen from your Ministry were taken by a taskforce of British Aurors."

"I already suspected that," Oblansk replied evenly. "I trust that you have proof?"

"I can tell you exactly how it was done," Black retorted, and took the Bulgarian through the mission to the best of his knowledge; Oblansk took careful and copious notes as Black spoke.

"Why are you telling me this? What's in it for you?" the Minister asked finally, keeping his tone and facial expressions calm.

"When you air your legitimate grievance with our government – and threaten some much-deserved reprisals of course – it will make trouble for the incumbent Minister," Black explained. "Once that happens, Potter's position will have become untenable: when he goes we will be replaced by a Minister more… in line with you and our other friends in the East; this, I'm sure, will improve relations between us and bring in a new alliance between ourselves and you – leaving behind the backward-thinking countries the fool currently has us allied to."

"I would have to put it to Karkaroff," Oblansk cautioned. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Black smiled. "A promise that the day I take over as Minister I will recall Potter's spawn from the creatures' haven and hand him over to you to be tried for his crimes against your Aurors."

Oblansk's smile mirrored his at this. "That would certainly be something that helped improve relations between us, Mr Black," he declared.

When his guests left, Oblansk hurried to contact both the Emperor and his man in the ICW.

ICW,

Geneva, Switzerland

Monday, 15th December 2003

"If there is no other business?" Dumbledore's tone was hopeful as he peered around the slumbering chamber before he hurriedly banged down his gavel, rousing some of the snoozing membership, many of whom looked around in bewilderment as if trying to remember where they were and why they were there. "This term's gathering of the ICW is officially at an end; I wish you all a pleasant break and will see you in the New Year," he declared, though he privately wondered how many of the more veteran wizards would still be around after Christmas.

"Albus," Minkov, the Bulgarian representative, sidled over to him as he was gathering up the scrolls of parchment that he, as Supreme Mugwump, held. Legend had it that it contained the constitution of the ICW but in truth he had no idea what was in them; they'd been passed from predecessor to successor for centuries and spent most of the time residing in the Supreme Mugwump's office gathering dust, unless the chamber was meeting. Like, he suspected, the bulk of his predecessors he'd never actually unravelled them; for all he knew it was a millennium-old shopping list, he'd thought more than once in amusement.

"Yes, my friend?" Dumbledore turned to him.

"Bad business, Albus, very bad," he shook his head. "Two members of your government came to Bulgaria late last week and admitted to our Minister that your forces were behind the abduction of those children a few weeks ago. My government has to respond, you know."

"Ah, my dear Aleksandar, I trust you can supply proof of these claims?"

"The gentlemen's names were…" he consulted the documents he had with him, "Macnair and Black."

"Ah," Dumbledore forestalled any further comment, "are you aware that neither of those men are a part of our government anymore? They lost that right over their involvement in some of our government's secrets finding their way into your government's hands. I also note that our stolen property was never returned."

Minkov glowered; he'd expected Dumbledore to be a lot more receptive to the approach (not appreciating that most of his ambivalence to Bulgaria's earlier complaint came as a result of his dislike of James Potter and that the Minister's son being implicated in the complaint). "Was there a formal request?" he bristled.

"There was indeed," Albus confirmed. "I daresay it got lost somewhere in your bureaucratic workings?" His tone bordered on mocking; this wasn't going the way Minkov was expecting at all.

"Be that as it may," he groused, "they stated that British Aurors were responsible for the abduction of these girls. I warn you that, through me, my government will promise reprisals if nothing is done about their return by the time we reconvene. You know, Albus, that my country is part of a powerful alliance these days."

"I would advise against threatening me or my country," Dumbledore countered; Minkov's fury ratcheted a further notch. The veteran wizard continued, "Their evidence is unreliable and would never satisfy this body, never mind our own government. They were expelled from their positions, as I said, and ran straight to Bulgaria. It would be easy to portray them as bitter and vengeful agitators at the very least. No," he shook his head, "I believe that the prime suspects remain those rogue Irish magicals who entered your lands that day; you will need far more evidence to persuade anyone to the contrary – other than the Irish themselves, of course – and they maintain that neither the girls nor the mages ever returned to Ireland."

"This is unacceptable, Albus," he threatened. "Rest assured my country will continue its investigations and once we have proof that your government was involved… there will be repercussions, especially in the light of your continued refusal to hand Harry Potter over to us." He turned to leave before looking back. "Merry Christmas," he spat.

"And to you," Albus replied serenely at the retreating Bulgarian's back. The aged wizard returned to his office, locked it down and flooed to the British Ministry to warn the Minister of the latest developments.

Royal Office,

Le Chateau Delacour,

Location Unknown

"Enter!" Fleur barked from behind her paperwork as the guards knocked on her office door. The women opened the doors and escorted Ambassador Potter into the room.

"Ah, Ambassador," she greeted him with a smile, getting up from behind her desk, grateful for an excuse for a break from the work of running the small nation; with a wave of her hand she dismissed the guards who left with a bow, closing the door behind them. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company 'Arry?" she asked once they were alone.

"I merely wanted to say goodbye and to wish you a Merry Christmas Fleur," he replied; the blonde forced herself to suppress a smile at his use of her given name rather than her title.

"So you are leaving today for some time?" she asked; he nodded.

"I will be returning after the New Year, probably on the 4th," he revealed.

"It is good that you can safely visit your home again," she smiled. "I take it you are not travelling alone," she observed, knowing that Danielle had mentioned the plan for them to attend a Quidditch game that weekend.

"No, Your Majesty," his smile broadened. "Danielle will be accompanying me this weekend."

"We agreed that she may stay as long as she wishes; I expect she will be with you for the whole of the holiday?"

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise; while they had discussed Danielle spending Christmas in Godric's Hollow he hadn't realised that she was going to be there for the whole period. Seeing his surprise Fleur continued,

"I have granted her permission to leave the court until the New Year. I suspect she will take the opportunity," she added with a knowing grin.

The more Harry thought about it, the more appealing it sounds. "I hope so," he replied with a grin of his own.

"Enjoy your break, Ambassador," she declared; after a moment's hesitation she kissed both his cheeks before he left the room. She wrinkled her nose as he left, silently ruing his charmed robes and their effect of dampening her allure.

Ambassador's Suite

Danielle was waiting for him outside his quarters with a small trunk. "Ready to go?" he asked; she nodded. "Everything you need for three weeks away?" She nodded again, though her look was slightly querying. "The Queen told me," he explained, "said you had her permission to be away for the whole period."

"Ah, and I was hoping to surprise you," she mock-lamented. "I hope it is not a problem?"

He shook his head vehemently before taking her right hand in his left and, after locked the outer door to his rooms, he picked up a small bag of essentials that he wanted to take home with him and led her into the fireplace. With a call of 'Godric's Hollow' the two disappeared.

16 Peverell Way,

Godric's Hollow, United Kingdom

"Harry!" Lily's cry greeted the couple as they appeared in the kitchen. The redhead flung herself on her son, engulfing him in a hug while Danielle squirmed her way past them to get a bit of room. This put her face to face with the British Minister for Magic, who greeted her warmly.

"Danielle, lovely to see you again," he spoke in faltering French, having tried to learn a little so he could at least attempt to converse with his son's latest belle.

She thanked him, furnishing him with a radiant smile as he took her hand and gently kissed the back of it. No sooner had James let go of her hand then his wife, having finished welcoming Harry back, pulled the blonde into a hug and welcomed her into their home while James turned to Harry to greet his son.

"Dinner will be in about half an hour," Lily told them as Harry levitated their bags and the new arrivals followed them towards his room.

Friday, 19th December 2003

"You seem happy this morning," Danielle observed as she awoke to Harry nuzzling at her neck; his hand cupped her breast, fingers toying with the nipple. She noticed that he wore underwear so surmised that he had got out of bed while she was still asleep; a steaming mug of tea on her bedside table, and another on his, seemed to confirm it.

"I wake up next to you each morning, what's not to be happy about?" he enthused before continuing his assault on her neck. She squirmed with pleasure and let him continue for a little while before trying again.

"You have been happy to be home, but you are definitely happier this morning."

"Ok," he sighed. "You're right, my baby sisters are coming home from school today; it's going to be nice to see them again."

"Yes, you mentioned a school train?" She frowned, wrinkling her nose in a way he found adorable. "They will be using that?"

"No," he shook his head. "Not for this trip. They're in their last year so they'll probably take it in June for nostalgia's sake – most do for their last ever trip from the school – but these days everyone either floos or some even apparate if they're old enough, though you can't apparate directly into the Minister's house so that option is out," he added with a small snigger.

"It would be like apparating into the Queen's office," she agreed with a nod. "So nobody uses this train now?"

"The new First year do every September; it's something of a tradition and it gives them a chance to meet their classmates without being too intimidated by all the older kids being there. The prefects are expected to," he grinned, knowing that many of them were rather remiss in that duty after the initial trip on 1st September when it was absolutely compulsory (as some had found to their cost when they lost their badge on day 1), "to keep an eye on things and look after the new kids and a lot of the First generation kids do too because their houses can't be connected to the floo system and they've no other options until they're old enough to apparate. So there will be a fair few on the train but those who can avoid spending all day travelling the country will do so."

Danielle nodded, wondering why on earth any school would send all its kids from one end of the country to the other when it was a safe bet that the vast majority lived somewhere in between the two stations.

Shortly after they'd finished breakfast the fireplace glowed green before the two identical girls leapt out of it into the kitchen.

"Hi Harry," they announced in unison as their big brother shot to his feet and pulled them into a three-way hug.

"Did you miss us?" Heather asked as they stepped apart; Rose, meanwhile, eyed the tall blonde, hanging back a couple of steps from the siblings.

"You must be Danielle," she addressed the Veela in French. "I'm Rose, Harry's better-looking sister; it's a pleasure to meet you," she offered a hand and Danielle shook it. Heather rolled her eyes at both her twin's words and the formality behind them.

"I'm Heather, it's great to finally put a face to the name, Harry's told us so much about you," she enthused, also in perfect French, and pulling the surprised blonde into a hug. "Don't worry, it was all good though, to tell you the truth, he didn't do you justice," she added conspiratorially, causing the Veela to laugh and her boyfriend to look a little awkward.

"So…" he called loudly, putting a momentary stop to the girls' giggling, "you two should take your stuff up to your room while I floo mum and dad to let them know you're here."

"Yes sir," they mock-saluted in unison, causing Danielle to laugh again, before levitating their belongings upstairs, following on behind and still chuckling.

"I don't know why I was looking forward to seeing them so much," he grumbled as he sat down at the table again; a still-grinning Danielle slipped onto his knee and wrapped her arms around him.

Imps Stadium,

Ilkley Moor, West Yorkshire

Saturday, 20th December 2003

The crowd gasped as the seeker plunged into a dive; her counterpart, the visiting Halifax Hornets' seeker, followed about half a second behind, urging his broom on as fast as he could. The two were evenly matched for speed, Jen's head start, though, was being swallowed up by the other's better angle. It turned out to be immaterial as a bludger whistled through the air, clipping the brunette's shoulder and causing her to veer into her rival, knocking them both off course to the groans of the crowd. As Jen fought for control of her broom again she scanned in vain for a flash of gold; the snitch had gone. With a rueful shake of her head she rose back to her position high above the rest of the play, as did the Hornets' seeker. While he held fast to his broomstick with both hands, Jen absently rubbed her shoulder, feeling a little ache despite her armour bearing the brunt of the glancing blow.

"It is such a violent game!" a wide-eyed Danielle exclaimed from her position in the stands, nestled against Harry's side (she had borrowed and resized some heavier clothing – jeans, a thick jumper, a heavy coat, a woolly hat and thick, woollen socks – from Harry's sisters as her limited wardrobe was not really suited for Yorkshire in December). On his other side sat Neville, who wore a look of mild concern at the blow his girlfriend had taken. The three were flanked by Harry's twin sisters; while not huge Quidditch fans they were eager to spend time with their big brothers (in which they included Neville) over the holidays, and also get to know their girlfriends.

"She'll be ok," Harry replied; Neville nodded gratefully. While Harry was clearly responding to Danielle (as he spoke in French) Neville drew some comfort from his words, knowing Harry had received more than his fair share of hits from bludgers over his time at school.

Danielle's appearance in the crowd certainly turned plenty of heads; she was a little nervous about the number of gawping males who stared at her (not something that she would have experienced in the all-female-Veela confines of the chateau) while a number of the witches in attendance eyed her with envious suspicion (the resized clothes may have had a little to do with it as she had ensured that everything showed every curve, much to Harry's delight, although some of them were now hidden under outer layers). It was an eye-opening experience for her; despite having visited Britain as part of the Royal Entourage she hadn't encountered too many ordinary magicals. She made up her mind that she wouldn't be leaving Harry's side in public for the duration of her visit.

The Hornets' beater who'd sent the bludger into Jen looked to have done his job; she was a fraction slow in spotting the snitch when it next made an appearance and her opponent took full advantage in opening up a lead in the race to snag it. The tiny golden ball was fluttering close to where the group were sitting; Harry pointed it out to Danielle (who, like the others, was struggling to locate it, not having trained themselves to do so the way Harry had) and there was another audible groan from the home fans as they saw the seekers rushing towards them with Jen clearly second in the race.

"Maybe I should send some of my allure towards him?" Danielle suggested mischievously, causing Neville, Heather and Rose to burst out laughing (much to the confusion of their neighbours). She wouldn't, of course, given that she was already rather nervous of the other people in the stands and their reactions to her. Unlike the others, though, Harry looked mildly scandalised at the proposal.

"That's really not allowed," he replied strenuously. "It's the reason, the only reason Veelas are actually banned from playing Quidditch in England. The ban's been in place globally for centuries," he explained as the blonde turned inquisitively towards him. "Someone using it from the stands? I think that gets you a lifetime stadium ban and could see the team penalised if they're found to be culpable in any way."

"It was just a thought," she shrugged, redoubling the girls' giggles while she pulled herself closer into his side. They were the only ones to be laughing, though, as the snitch was seized handing the victory to the Hornets, keeping the visitors' title hopes well on track while putting a major dent in the Imps' own. Jen was close enough to her friends to be able to throw an apologetic look in Neville's direction (she had been desperate to win today with everyone here to watch her play) before steering her broom dejectedly to the ground. As the Hornets' celebratory huddle broke she shook hands with each of them in turn, as did her teammates, before the Imps trudged back to the dressing room. The Hornets, meanwhile, remounted their brooms and flew over to a knot of their supporters to carry on celebrating with them.

"Sorry about that, it wasn't the result we wanted with you all here," Jen declared miserably as she joined them in the players' bar of the club house after she had showered and changed. The barman shared a glance with her before plonking a pint on the bar in front of her; she nodded her thanks and took a draught. Harry and Neville also drank beer though Danielle and the twins had butterbeers (Danielle did sample her boyfriend's beer but quickly screwed up her face at the bitter taste and decided that particular beverage wasn't for her).

Her boyfriend silenced her with a kiss. "It wasn't your fault; the beater did his job and distracted you enough to give his guy the advantage. Are you ok?" He gently rubbed her shoulder and she smiled at his touch.

"There was a small bruise but the medic fixed it up, put some paste on it." She shrugged the shoulder. "Good as new now."

The barman leaned over to Harry; seeing him, Harry bent towards him. "I've seen some people looking over towards you guys – probably to your blonde friend," he nodded at Danielle. "There won't be any trouble in here," he stated determinedly, his voice still low, "but if you want you can floo from behind the bar rather than using the public one or the apparition point."

"Thanks," Harry muttered back. "I'd seen her getting some attention during the game. I know she can look after herself," he smiled at the memory of the Veela transformation and the fireballs that accompanied it, "but we'll take you up on your offer when we're done. Thank you." The bartender nodded.

"What is it?" Neville asked, leaning towards his friend; Harry beckoned to Danielle and replayed the conversation in French.

Danielle shivered. "I saw some of the looks," she revealed, "and they did make me feel uncomfortable. Don't worry, though, I will stay close to you both for the day. I would prefer not to cause an incident if one can be avoided," she added with a small grin.

While the rest of the evening passed peacefully, between the barman's caution and the Imps' loss there was something of a cloud hanging over the group. Once the clientele of the bar began to dissipate Neville turned to his girl.

"How long do you want to stay?" he asked; she smiled gratefully.

"I'm good to go whenever," she disclosed; turning to the Potters she gave a weary smile. "Sorry guys but I'm never too sociable after a loss; I prefer to just go home and mope."

"That's ok," Harry assured her, "I won't feel comfortable until we get Danielle safely home."

"You're coming to ours for Boxing Day, right?" Neville asked; Harry nodded.

"The whole gang," he gestured to the three girls with him.

"Great, I'll see you then if not before."

They said their goodbyes and Neville and Jen left the bar to apparate back to her house. Harry, meanwhile, shepherded Danielle and his sisters behind the bar to floo home.