A/N: Chap 28 Review Responses are available in my forums as normal. As a special treat for the holidays, and as an acknowledgment that Chap 29 was much shorter than normal, I'm giving everyone a two-fer. That's right, Chap 29 and Chap 30 are both being posted this morning. Have a happy holiday.


Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Price of Life

"Harry Potter wants to come in."

The Right Honourable Dame Andrea Bath, KBE, PC, Home Secretary, looked up from the two hundred page report that had been numbing her mind and consuming her time for almost two hours, and stared intently at her Permanent Undersecretary, Dean Holywell. "Come again?"

"We just received a call on our secure line. Harry Potter wants to come in," he said. "Specifically he asked to meet with you by name. Said he was referred to us by Lady Allison Finch-Fletchley."

Very few people in the Home Office retained any memories of the fiasco that was Finch- Fletchley's initiative last summer. Unfortunately, she was one of them, and had the ultimate task of reporting to the PM why she lost fifteen personnel and a 17th Century manor, as well as almost four million in equipment.

She seriously thought she was going to lose her job that day.

Since then, her relationship with Downing Street felt stressed to say the least, and the best approach had been simply not to talk about it. However, Harry Potter remained a person of interest. For that matter, so did Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger and Justine-Finch-Fletchley.

"Terms?"

"No terms. He and one companion will come here and present themselves if we guarantee them one hour of their time with you. He said that we could take any preventative measures we felt necessary otherwise, but that he had 'matters pertaining to the safety of the realm' to discuss with you. His own words, that."

Dame Andrea thought it odd how Holywell stressed that. It niggled something in the back of her mind. "Bring him in, as fast as you can."

"On it."

When he left, she removed a set of personal keys and unlocked one of the five drawers at her desk. In this particular drawer she kept a series of manuals gathered over the years by her predecessors, going as far back as its original formation in 1782.

She rifled through the books, mostly hand-written notes until just the past few decades, and came across one that her subconscious tugged at her as being important. There was one particular book she was looking for, written by Sir Alexander Maxwell during the Second World War.

She flipped it open, and found what she was looking for. …Approached by an aged gentleman wizard with the most unusual appellation of Albus Dumbledore, claiming a need to discuss 'matters pertaining to the safety of the realm' as outlined in Article 26 of the Treaty of Union, in which the Magical Union of the Greater Empire was formally recognized as an autonomous ministry under the crown. As memory serves, the phrase requires the delegate to be given due consideration as a representative of the Ministry of Magic and may thus not be detained for fear of reprisals…

If her memory served, Potter was just a teenager. Surely he wasn't claiming to be…

The ringing of her phone disrupted her thought processes. She answered, and immediately Holywell said, "I don't understand it, Dame Andrea, but he's here. He's accompanied by another person of interest, one Hermione Granger."

"I'm on my way."

When she arrived at the holding rooms, she looked through the one-way mirror and saw a pair of teenagers sitting with straight backs and carefully blank faces. Both were looking right at the mirror, though neither spoke. She did note that they were sitting very close to each other, but were not otherwise touching.

"Were they armed?" she asked.

The officers who brought them in each shook their heads. "Not that we could find, ma'am. They both set off the metal detectors, but we could not find any metal on them. The young man explained it had something to do with his body, but wouldn't elaborate."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't," Bath said. "I want a minimum of four armed guards outside that door at all times."

"Yes, ma'am," the officer said with a sharp nod before he left to fulfil her orders. That left her and the Permanent Undersecretary.

"Dean, do you know what those two are?"

"Yes, I do. They're witches."

"Good. Stay here, take notes. If anything happens to me, order the men to shoot to kill. We can't forget that young man killed over a hundred people on a metro line last year."

With that, Dame Andrea left the observation room. In the hall, the guards were already in position. With a deep breath to steady herself, she stepped into the holding room itself.

It felt like walking into a power generator station. The air tasted of ozone and she could feel the hair on her arms and neck standing on end. Still, she pushed through the odd feeling until she approached the table. Oddly, the two teens stood in greeting.

"Madam Secretary," the boy, Potter, said. "Thank you for agreeing to see me. My name is Harry Potter, this is my wife Hermione Granger. Before we begin, I am required by international law to ask if you, and any who might be observing this discussion, know what we are."

The question caught Andrea off guard, and that bothered her. She needed to regain control of the conversation. "I am quite well aware of what you claim to be, Mr Potter. I…"

"Madame, I am terribly sorry, but I must ask that you hear me out," Potter continued. "I am the duly appointed Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the Ministry of Magic. I am here to discuss matters pertaining to the safety of the realm in accordance with Title 14, Paragraph 56, under Article 26 of the Treaty of Union."

She stared intently at the rather intense young man. "You'll have to forgive me, Mr Potter, if I find that difficult to believe. You are a teenager, married or otherwise."

Instead of becoming upset, she was surprised when he grinned. "Yeah, I told the Minister they were daft, but they insisted. I'm a bit of a figurehead, I'll admit. But nonetheless, it's true."

"And this would be Minister who?"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt was appointed as Minister for Magic," Harry said. "I understand you may have seen him years ago. He provided Ministry protection for the Prime Minister during Voldemort's first uprising in the late 70s."

Bath looked at the two young people, who looked perfectly normal. "Very well, well proceed as if I believe you for now. Please, have a seat."

The teenagers waited until she was seated, and Potter waited until after his young wife was seated before sitting himself. "Thank you again for your time, Madam Secretary," Potter said. "I've come today to report that a state of Civil War now exists in Magical Britain. Additionally, we've received alarming reports that similar states of conflict are occurring in France, parts of Germany, Bulgaria, Austria and Turkey. Italy is also on the verge of collapse."

And suddenly, just like that, Andrea Bath understood the reports that had been flooding into her office. "What is the nature of this war?"

"A Dark Wizard called Voldemort is attempting to overthrow the established Ministries of Magic for most of Europe," the girl, Hermione, said. "Once he has control of Europe, he plans to move on to other magical populations. We speculate he wants control of all witch-born before he turns his attention to non-magical populations."

"And what is the nature of this rebellion? What is his motivation?"

She noted how the two looked at each other. "Well, he rather hates witches," Potter finally said. "Ours is a matriarchal society, and…well…"

"In magical society, wizards have historically been treated as chattel," Hermione said, a touch of indignation in her voice. "Witches too, but only as a side-effect. There is a massive dimorphism in magic between witches and wizards, and centuries ago witches found a way to eliminate that power gap through the use of wands and the biological bonds that we form as mating groups. The process became so entrenched in our society that wizards were sold and traded at the whims of their coven dames like property. Harry personally faced institutionalized rape on his fifteenth birthday because he was more powerful than the covens felt comfortable with."

"Instead, I bonded with someone of my choosing," Harry said. "And as a result the covens sent out assassins to kill me. It was while fighting those assassins that we caused the rail accident last summer. I was fifteen, facing two older Hit Witches, and used a spell I did not fully understand."

The two kept talking, describing how they helped lead a change in the magical government of England. They talked about the two separate Ministries in Britain, and the war they were fighting. And finally, they got down to the real reason they were there.

"Goblins," Andrea Bath said.

The two teens nodded. "The Minister is willing to enter negotiations with the Prime Minister in return for military assistance against the Goblins. We must be clear—we may only receive your aid for dealing with the goblins. We cannot enlist any assistance with dealing with the Dark Ministry for fear of severe international repercussions."

"Why doesn't this Kingsley fellow just pop in the PM's office."

"All major governmental structures were heavily warded," Hermione said. "It uses a special ward so as not to damage anyone with magical radiation, but any attempt on our part or the Dark Ministry's part to enter Downing Street would be rebuffed for all but maybe Voldemort himself. Or Harry."

She walked through everything they told her. "I would have to discuss this with the PM's office, you understand."

"We do, Madam Secretary," Potter told her. "Our mission today was to simply open a dialogue at the bequest of the Minister for Magic, nothing more."

"Although…" Granger hesitated. "If it is allowed, I would like to ask one personal favour. It is not related to any of this, really. I was wondering…well, could I use one of your telephones to call my parents in Australia? I haven't seen or heard from them since last Christmas. Frankly, I'm not even sure what their number is or where they are."

"I might entertain the notion, if you tell me what happened last summer to Sir Marcus Fletchley."

Hermione winced, visibly. "We, that is, his daughter and I, discovered that he was abducting, torturing and then dissecting young women, Madam Secretary. We reported him to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"He was in a fortified, armed home with a unit of highly trained…."

Harry shook his head. "He could have had a whole battalion of soldiers there, Madam Secretary, and it wouldn't have mattered. We're not perfect, and our society can sometimes be outright disgusting. But there are people alive today who remember the last bits of the Inquisition in Spain, and remember watching you burn our people at the stake. It is the most basic tenet of our society, both personally and in governmental affairs that we have the right and responsibility to defend ourselves. We will never negotiate that right away."

For the boy to speak so confidently on the issue startled Andrea—and in fact frightened her. "I see. Well, you have answered my questions for now. I'll see if it is possible to get a phone for you. Please wait here."

In the end, Hermione got her phone call, and the Home Office even located a phone number for the Grangers. Andrea watched through the observation window as Granger suddenly transformed from a wife and stateswoman into a teenage girl as her face lit up with happiness at first speaking to her parents.

"Do you believe any of it?" Holywell asked.

"Fortunately, Dean, I don't have to. This is one mess I will gladly hand off to the PM."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

A good stone's throw from the small village of Westerdale, where once lived the head Templar Preceptory of North Yorkshire, nestled now a small hamlet of witches and wizards of no more than fifty. Like most magical communities, most were witches. And right now, every single one of them was fighting for their lives from the horde of goblins that were steadily trying to take them.

Harry was there, half-drunk with visions of his people dying. He had a unit of fifty witches and wizards to fight off an attack of over a hundred goblins, all armed with shotguns. He knew the shot pellets were the easiest thing for the Goblins to enchant, and made powerful close-quarter weapons. But he also knew a few had rifles with a much better range, as witnessed by two of his fighters on the ground with bullet wounds, and a third dead from a head shot.

"Savage, move in, you have twenty seconds," Harry ordered.

Savage's squad ran toward the defensive line the embattled residents managed to conjure to afford them some protection. The goblins overran the barrier twice; the first time the townships only two young male wizards managed to push them back, only for one to die and the other to suffer injury. The second breach would have been the end if not for Harry's arrival.

Now Savage took advantage of the time the goblins took to reload their weapons that Harry foresaw and dashed with his people to the defence lines. Harry had sappers trying to locate the wardstones the Goblins used to install powerful anti-apparition and anti-Portkey wards, but at the moment they were looking like it was going to be a straight fight.

Suddenly, inexplicably, something shattered the fragile battle meditation Harry had been using since his arrival. Despite all the work he, Hermione and Luna put into translating Rowena Ravenclaw's works, it was still difficult to move and function in a semi-trance state for Harry. So when he heard the heavy thump-thump-thump sound he at first couldn't identify it.

And then his charmed earpiece buzzed. "Potter, go."

"Director, this is Control," came the voice of an older witch he knew by face but not name. "Our request for assistance to the Muggle Minister has been granted. An attack helicopter is on its way. They request you mark enemy positions with green smoke."

"Damned right!" Harry didn't stand—he liked his head. Instead, he switched his earpiece to another magical frequency. "Listen up, Muggle weapons are en route. Mark the goblins with green smoke!" With that, he reached over the barrier and conjured a cloud of green-tinted smoke.

When the helicopter suddenly popped up from behind a line of trees, Harry felt his heart stop a moment. He'd not seen anything like this in his meditation, but he still exulted as the ugly beast of a Westland Lynx bore down on the battlefield. The huge, monstrous machine had one door open, and occupying it was a very large gun set on a rotating drum with a Muggle soldier behind it.

A rain of conjured smoke marked the general position of the confused goblins, and with that marker the gunner opened up.

Even from behind their conjured barriers, Harry could hear the angry barks and screams of the goblins. Armour designed to withstand and repel magic was hard pressed to handle the bullets that shot down at them from the helicopter. The goblins returned fire, but they were armed to fight wizards, not attack helicopters.

"Bloody hell," Hestia Jones muttered. Her own people were further down the barrier, waiting for a chance to flank the attackers.

The machine gun fire broke off—the helicopter turned on his axis and fired a clumping of rockets from a pair of pods on either side of its landing struts. The rockets crashed toward the largest clumping of goblins with a series of loud explosions that shredded any resistance.

With that last blow, the helicopter popped back down behind the treeline before turning and flying off. "All units, go, go, go!" Harry shouted.

Witches and wizards rushed over the barriers and ran toward the last goblin fortifications. The most astonishing thing wasn't that the Goblins had been pulverized, but that so many were still alive despite the pounding. Harry learned this when he felt a spike of danger and started to call a warning only to watch another witch fall before a gunshot from a goblin who only had one arm and looked dead already.

Harry gave into his rage and cast the most effective curse he knew against goblins—a piercing curse that cleaved the monster's head in half. Around them, the other witches and wizards did the same. There was no mercy for goblins because they would continue to kill their enemies until they, themselves, died. A wounded goblin wasn't a prisoner, it was a threat. Only dead goblins were safe.

"Remember to be careful for rigged bodies," Harry called when they managed to kill the last goblins. Every one of the attacking monsters had injuries from the Muggle strafing run, but only a few were actually killed outright.

Despite that, Harry had no doubt at all that without Muggle intervention, they would not have been able to hold the attack off.

"Savage, find those ward stones," Harry muttered tiredly. "Hestia, you injured?"

"Isn't my blood," she said, darkly.

Harry nodded, sadly. "Start the clean-up. I'm going to go talk to the villagers to see who they lost."

Before he had a chance to go any further, a mottled green Land Rover came roaring up the road. "Scratch that, I guess I'm talking to them," Harry muttered.

He walked out of the battlefield in his camouflaged green battle robe, and waited for the boxy truck. It pealed to a stop and revealed four people and a mounted machine gone on top of its open frame. The man in the front passenger seat was the first to climb out—the others appeared to be his escort.

"Are you Harry Potter?" the man called.

"I am," Harry said.

"Captain Avery Whitehall, Army Air Corps."

"Harry Potter, Director of Magical Law Enforcement," Harry said. He took a close look at the man and said, "And you're a squib."

Whitehall blinked. "Well, yes, I suppose I am. Who better for the job, eh?"

Harry laughed tiredly. "Absolutely. You saved a lot of people today, Captain."

"A pleasure. I remember seeing a goblin as a child, before I ran off and took the Veil. Nasty creatures. I've been appointed as your liaison, Mr Potter. Special Projects is very interested in getting a hold of a few of those beasties for study."

Harry nodded. "I imagine so. We'll need to have our own liaison with the bodies at all times in case of magical booby-traps." And to make sure the Muggles didn't try to glean information that could be used against all witch-born.

"Yes, I suspected you might. I look forward to working with you, Mr Potter."


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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.