The Prime Minister wasn't really keen on socializing, especially with characters such as Rufus Scrimgeour, and he wondered, sometimes, how in the hell he had ended up at Number 10. Often he thought he wasn't a very good PM, really.
His wife said he'd got the job because he was relatable. A regular laborer. People liked the sort of leader they wanted to have a pint with. And supposedly, his calm, British stoicism made up for the fact that he was pants at diplomacy. The disastrous meeting he had hosted with the President of the United States this morning was proof.
A surly man of few words though he was, the Minister tried very hard to be as pleasant as possible. Especially since the President seemed to be in a bit of a fix. Which wasn't really too surprising, though the nervousness was new. He'd never seen the President so fidgety.
"Do you know about… well…" the President had paused, his gaze moving from side to side. "The magic thing?" he'd murmured out of the corner of his mouth.
Having a vague idea what he meant, the Prime Minister said he did.
"Wizards," he went on. "We employ them in the states. I heard you let 'em run free here. Have you thought about policing them?"
"I…" he cleared his throat, wiping his forehead hastily with his handkerchief. "No. Well, we have a few working for us, too. And they've got their own police, I think."
He still had Kingsley Shaklebolt working in the adjoining office, and he was a DI of sorts.
"We've got a police. We call them hit wizards," the President explained. "Efficient men. Get the job done. Not like your Minister for Magic over here, and I can't say I agree with - "
The Prime Minister started to object, but the fellow plowed on. "- them leading and policing themselves." He shook his head. "Bad idea, Minister. We have an entire department that controls our wizards, you know."
"I, well… yes. I suppose," he stumbled over his words. It was suddenly too hot in the room. "But their Minister seems responsible enough. Not very friendly, sure, but certainly capable."
The President shot him a displeased frown. "Does he know what's happening on my end?" he asked wryly.
Confused, the Minister shook his head.
"There's been talk. Some people don't like that the wizards hide, and they're planning to do something about it," the President said, shifting forward in his seat conspiratorially, "they think we've got to strike first, scare them a little."
"Are they mad?" he squeaked, shocked. "How...How are you containing this?" the Prime Minister demanded.
The President sat back. "I'm not," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "I agree with them."
"You - ?" he said, agape, holding up his hand in disbelief. "You agree?"
"The Vatican was destroyed almost a month ago, Minister. It was wizards that did it, did you know that?" he snapped. "A historical landmark. A church. completely destroyed thanks to them. And not even an offer of reparations or so I hear."
"We don't have any proof - "
The President glared at him. "Yes. We do. My department was there. The place was crawling with spell residue. What other proof do you need?" he interrupted.
A number of terrible scenarios ran through the Minister's head, images of mass destruction and an uncontrolled populous. He swallowed audibly, wondering briefly if he was doomed to go down as the worst Prime Minister in history if he couldn't convince the man to see reason. "I - "
"You think we're no match for them," said the President, shaking his head and looking determined. "You think I should put a stop to it. Well I'm not going to. But I won't get involved either. There's no harm a small show of force. Just to remind wizards that we can fight if we need to."
"No, we can't fight them," said the Minister, gritting his teeth. "They've got magic for godsakes - I don't...look, you're forgetting that we don't actually want the general public to know they exist. If you let this...militia, start some guerrilla campaign, I really doubt they're going to be careful about keeping it hush-hush."
The President waved a hand. "It won't get that far," he said dismissively. "I'll keep an eye on it."
"This could very quickly grow out of hand," he asserted, laughing without humor. "What if they go too far? My god, what if the wizards actually respond? You've no idea how they'll take it. They might say, well to blazes with you and attack us. Proper. With magic."
The President shook his head. "No one wants a war, Mr Prime Minister. But you can't deny that we need some sort of plan if we ever have to fight."
"Yes, I do believe you thought the same about nuclear weapons."
"Now, come on - "
"No," the Minister interrupted. "Just wait. This doesn't make sense. I'm missing something. You can't possibly think this will end well. What do you know that I don't?"
The President shifted a little, but lifted his chin and said, "there's...a new product. On the market. My people managed to get a few models. It's a new type of weapon." He paused and looked away, tentatively explaining his motivation. "It uses magic - to fight magic. It was made expressly for our use. To protect us."
The Minister sat back. "But it's not government funded?"
"Not yet," he said confidently. "Well, we're in talks. Our end game is to buy the rights and equip a few agencies in-the-know." He smiled warily. "It's just preemptive planning. These weapons are all anyone can talk about, you know. They're high in demand. So even if the militia doesn't end up doing anything, we'll still have a way to beat the wizards if we...ever have to." He sighed, and then summarized persuasively, "it's an investment."
For a while, the Prime Minister did not respond. Then he licked his lips and said, "what does your cabinet say about this? Your defense secretary...your house? Did they agree to this?"
"Well, yeah. They brought the idea to the table in first place, and I signed off on it."
The Minister gaped, speechless.
"So did yours, actually. Your department heads talked to mine, and they mentioned you might not know about it so I thought I'd give you a heads up."
He had nothing to say in response. The rest of his meeting was rather one-sided, and he sat in something of a daze; letting the President talk at him until his assistant gathered them up for pictures.
Now he waited for Minister Scrimgeour...and he worried. What on earth was he to say to the man? Should he warn him? Of was that treason, considering his cabinet had gone over his head and agreed with the plans already? And why keep him out of it? He knocked back a shot of whiskey and shuddered.
Then the fireplace turned green, and he raised his eyes as two wizards stepped into his office. Scrimgeour, looking happier than the Prime Minister had ever seen him, shook his hand enthusiastically and waved an arm to introduce his companion.
"This is my good friend, Harry Potter," Scrimgeour said grandly, though his voice still maintained the severe manner it always had.
The Prime Minister was startled. Scrimgeour's friend was a young man, a very young man, actually, who shook his hand firmly and smiled at him. His eyes were bright green, and intelligent.
For the first time during any meeting with the Minister for Magic, they sat down. Slightly taken aback, the Prime Minister glanced at his bottle of whiskey and offered them a drink.
"No, thank you," Scrimgeour answered for the both of them. "I'm here to bring good news. Very good news."
The Prime Minister could not help but perk up; he'd never heard good news when wizards entered Number 10. In fact, he usually only saw Scrimgeour when things had gone tits up. But the Minister for Magic grinned at him and turned to his companion, and said, "Perhaps, if you will, Harry…?"
Harry nodded. "You've heard of the Dark Lord," the boy began. "The one who caused all that trouble before? Well, he's dead."
"Our Harry was the one to nab the bastard," Scrimgeour said, uncommonly jovial. "I wanted you to meet him, Minister, because from this point on, he's going to be my liaison for the Muggle world! He's a good lad; the only one I could think of for the job!"
The Prime Minister didn't respond, but his look of disbelief said enough. Scrimgeour seemed a bit offended to have not got a better reaction than that, and the Prime Minister smiled sheepishly. Harry Potter, however, did not appear put off.
"I know I'm a bit young," said Harry. "But I'll try my best."
"He was the Chosen One, you see," Scrimgeour added, as if the muggle Minister should know what that meant. "Despite how young he is, he's done the Wizarding World a great service. Grew up in your world, with muggles! So I asked if he would be an ambassador, of sorts, now that the war is over." He clapped Harry on the back. "He's a hard worker, Minister. He'll do great."
"I'm sure he will, yes," and The Prime Minister had no choice but to nod at Harry in welcome.
"I'll leave you to it, then!" the Minister for Magic said, rising.
"You're leaving?" he asked, gaping.
Scrimgeour smiled politely. "Yes, I think I will," he confirmed, moving towards the fire. "You two can have a nightcap and get to know each other. I'll see you later, Harry."
Scrimgeour left, and Harry turned his eyes onto the man in front of him. The Minister smiled awkwardly.
The lad waved a hand very suddenly toward the talking portrait the wizards used, and the man in the picture went to sleep.
"Sorry, don't want to be overheard, sir," the boy explained as, nervously, the Minister prepared their drinks. He handed one over to the wizard.
Fearing another long silence between them, the Prime Minister said hesitantly, "You, er…" he cleared his throat again. "You grew up in the mug - well," he stopped and coughed this time. "In our world?" he finished woodenly.
"This is good whiskey, sir," Harry chose to say instead, examining his glass. "I grew up in London."
"Oh, yes." The Minister took a large gulp of his drink. It burned the back of his throat and distorted his next words. "Which did you find better?" he asked without thinking.
Harry laughed, and it was a pleasant sound that put him a bit at ease. Thankful that the boy hadn't taken offence, the Minister chanced a smile and waited for his answer.
"The Wizarding World by far, sir. Muggles are rather useless, and once I'd joined Wizarding society I couldn't imagine going back to living like that! Being so backwards and weak! Lord."
The Prime Minister's smile dropped.
"I mean, I know we must seem generous and liberal and all that, but realistically," Harry continued, swirling his drink. "Muggles are beneath wizards. It's ridiculous, I'm not sure why we keep you around! But, well...hopefully it won't be long until your species dies out. Like this position - it's a bit of joke. I've only agreed to be an ambassador for a price, and the Minister can't really afford to say no to me."
He felt the sweat bead on his forehead once more, but he finally found his voice. "I don't understand," he tried, licking his lips. "We've always lived and worked with each other so peaceably…" he stopped when the boy laughed again, and much less kindly than before.
"Merlin no, you didn't work with us. You worked for us," he laughed. "There's so many of you, and you're so easy to control. And you like fighting with your own kind so much anyway, we figure one day you might just kill each other off," he said. "Save us the hassle."
His face was very very hot. "Then why are you here, if you think so little of us?" he spat.
The boy blinked. "I mean no offence," Harry said consolingly, "I'm here because we're too kind for our own good, really. The Ministry wants to help you...your their charity project, I guess. Makes them seem open-minded. And most of the Wizarding World adores muggles, truly! A good friend of mine collects some of your little inventions as a hobby!"
The Minister said nothing.
"How I figure it," the boy went on cheerfully. "Is that we really don't have to meet up that much. All that ambassador nonsense." He waved a hand. "I'm sure you'll be fine on your own and I'm looking forward to having some fun now that the Dark Lord is gone. So this," Harry gestured between them, "is more of formality than a real post. Something to look good on my CV."
Clenching his teeth, the Muggle Minister said nothing. Potter was oblivious to his anger, however, and finished off his drink with a smack of his lips. He got up. "Thanks for the drink, not as good as Firewhiskey, but - "
"Was it your lot that destroyed Vatican City?" he cut the boy off.
Potter thought about this for a moment, looking as though he was racking his memory. "Oh right. Yeah, that was us. Was it an important building? Sorry. Wasn't really our fault though," said the boy, shrugging.
"Not your fault?" he repeated disbelievingly.
"To be honest you probably should have restored the place...strengthened its foundations or something. I don't know how you muggles build things, but no wizard construct would have fallen like that piece of rubbish!" He laughed, making his way to the fireplace.
The Prime Minister had never been slapped in the face before, but it certainly felt like Harry Potter had done just that. He gaped openly at the boy. "You - " he started, but could not finish. In a stupor, he shook his head and simply stared.
"Good to meet you," Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. "Let's have drinks again." He stepped into the fire and disappeared.
The Prime Minister sat for a long while, staring into the fireplace that had served as a magical transport system for far longer than he had been Minister. Another whiskey, dry this time, made its way into his stomach and settled there, hard and hot. A while later, he rose from his seat with purpose, swaying a bit, but managing to stay on his feet.
Bypassing Kingsley entirely, he called for his assistant, and she soon trudged in with a worried expression on her face.
"Are you alright, sir?" she asked, and he waved her concerns away.
"I'm fine. I'm fine," he told her. "Well," he paused thoughtfully. "I'm fine enough. I want you to send a message to the President of the United States."
"But sir - "
"I know we're not using the proper channels," he cut her off. "But I don't give a fuck. Tell him I've thought about it, and," he swallowed heavily and nodded, "I'm investing."
"Investing, sir?" she repeated, bewildered.
He nodded and sat down in the closest chair. He put his head in his hands. "He'll know what I mean."
.o00o.
Bill and Fleur's wedding was crowded and cheerful. Everyone was in the best of moods. And besides Ron's Auntie Muriel making a few people cry and enraging Granger with a comment about her ankles, the party went swimmingly. Fleur had looked beautiful, as usual, and Bill was her very handsome complement. And despite the last minute tasks she still needed to do before all of the guests arrived, Molly had pounced on Harry the moment he'd shown up.
"Oh, Chrissie!" she had called, clasping him to her tightly. "It's so good to see you, dear!"
Harry hugged her back just as fiercely. "It's good to see you too, ma'am." He was entirely sincere; the Burrow was like he'd never left. Arthur moved in to shake his hand next, but Harry by-passed it and gave him a hug instead.
"And I thought my boys were too old for hugs," Arthur chuckled, drawing back to look at him. "How are you, Harry?"
"I'm good," he beamed. "Very good, actually."
Ron tackled him, then immediately joined forces with him against the tide of family members. Ginny, who looked stunning in her bridesmaid's dress, had popped out of her room with her hair not quite done yet and gave him a beaming, dangerous smile.
"I'm glad you're here," she said, and Harry winced. Before she could likely go off on him like she so wanted to, her mother corralled her back to her room to finish getting ready.
"She's really not that hacked off," Ron tried to reassure him, scratching at the stubble on his chin. "We heard about what you did for Remus and Tonks, anyway."
"Did you?" Harry asked as they made their way back to the kitchen.
Ron nodded. "It's all over the news, isn't it? The Werewolf Reform," he said, and Harry could hear the capitals in his voice. Ron stopped at the foot of the staircase and grinned at Harry bemusedly. "That, and you becoming the new ambassador for the Muggles, of course. It's mental, mate."
"A small price to pay for Remus and Tonks," Harry told him sullenly. "I'm a bit of a Ministry Mascot now. Scrimgeour has also requested I give the Auror Department tips on Defense. I'm not keen on it, to be honest."
Clapping him on the shoulder, they continued towards the kitchen. "Well, it's a job, isn't it?" he said proudly, as if he were Harry's elder. Harry rolled his eyes.
"I'm going to get my O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T's done before all that," he explained. "I don't want the Wizarding World to think I've got the job just because of Voldemort."
"No one would blame you if you did, you know. Oh, bollocks, Auntie Muriel's early."
After the wedding, Harry sat surrounded by Weasleys, including Bill, who had let his wife tour about the yard chatting with guests. They toasted Bill on his marriage, with Fred and George drinking liberally, their loud humor interrupted when Remus and Tonks came over to wish Bill and Fleur well.
"Can I speak to you a moment, Harry?"
When Harry nodded and rose, Tonks met his eyes, and her grin was so fond that Harry had to turn away from her awkwardly. He hoped Remus wouldn't be too sentimental about it. The man led him to the far side of the tent, where a few lit bobbles started to glow brightly as the afternoon dimmed into evening.
"I know it was you," Remus said to him quickly. Then he seemed to chastise himself and started speaking again, a bit slower. "I… the Werewolf Reform, I mean. I know it was you."
Slightly speechless after that, Harry blinked and dipped his head. "It would have happened sometime, anyway. I just...sped things up."
Remus was a little baffled at his nonchalance, but he waved it off unconcernedly. "Tonks is pregnant," he blurted instead.
Unsurprised, since Sirius and Mr Weasley had already told him, Harry smiled grandly anyway and shook his hand. "Congratulations! That's wonderful, Remus," he said.
"Because of what you've done, I'm not as worried anymore," Remus went on, and then he leaned in a bit and spoke softly. "I was scared that the baby would go through what I went through. The prejudice, you know? Because of you, they won't have to. There's no way for me to repay you, really, but - "
Harry started to object, but then he stopped. After a moment's thought, he looked carefully at Remus, at the hopeful look in his eyes as the werewolf stared back. "I'll hold you to that," he said, grinning. "You can do me a favor one day."
The man grasped him by the shoulder, shaking him a bit as a joyful grin stretched across his face. "I will," he answered happily. "Anything you need. Oh, and I think Sirius is here."
Remus jutted a thumb at the guffawing man standing by the Weasley table, where they had all gathered around to take shots from numerous bottles of what looked to be some wildly colored alcohol. Ron wobbled in his seat as he waved Harry to them. With a last, very quiet, thank you, Remus left to gather Tonks, and Harry made his way over to the table. There was a rousing cheer when he arrived.
"Harry!"
"ChrissieHarry!"
"Defeater of Voldemort!"
"Have a drink, won't you?"
Harry sat down with a smile and did just that.
.o00o.
Tyler's manor was lit for the first time in a long while, and Henry was struck dumb for a moment as he traipsed across the stone walkway to the house. It seemed as if every light in every window was lit, and it reminded him of the time before Tyler had died, when his entire family had lived there. Henry forced himself back to the present and moved up to the door. Little Jessica opened it and immediately hugged him around the waist.
"Uncle Henry!" she exclaimed happily.
Alarmed at her new moniker for him, he moved through the doorway, with the girl still attached, and kicked the door shut behind him. "How are you, Jessie?" he asked a bit awkwardly.
"Good!" Jessica said, and decided his question was her cue to begin a tangent about Bo, her mother, and her whining little sister, and by the end of it Henry's head was spinning.
"Oh, it's you," McKay said, walking into the entrance hall to inspect the fracas.
"How goes it, McKay?"
John merely grunted, before turning back to go into the kitchen. Henry followed, with Jessica close behind. Then Cassie came out and cried "Uncle Henry!" just like her sister had, and the two began to bicker about whom, exactly, Henry belonged to.
"A laugh riot, this uncle business," Henry told McKay as Mary shooed her children upstairs. He sat beside John and grimaced. "Very funny, McKay."
"You want to tell me why I've got two wizards, well, three now, in the house? Around my family?" John asked quietly, sipping his coffee.
Henry flushed. "I'm sorry about that, John, really - "
"You're sorry? You're sorry," he laughed sardonically. "Didn't stop you from bringing them here, did it?"
"They had nowhere else to go, McKay," Henry said to him, a note of impatience in his voice. He sighed and ignored the man's rising anger. "Are they settling in well?" he asked tiredly.
"Up with that rude boy of theirs all the time. Never see them."
"Well, then, what's the problem?" he couldn't help but argue.
McKay put down his coffee cup and turned to glare at him. "I don't like them. Any of them," John said.
"Neither does Denny," Henry pointed out before moving to grab a mug. "But he doesn't whine about it over and over again."
"Denny's in New York, not here. You got him out of this hellhole, but not me," McKay grumbled, the obvious 'thanks for nothing' at the end of his sentence made Henry bristle a bit.
"I'm sorry," he responded, dropping sugar into his coffee. "They'll be out soon, John. I promise."
John gave him a sideways glare. "Sure they will," he said, finishing his cup and putting it into the sink. Henry sighed and moved the mug towards him, but, before he could take a sip, John snatched it from his hand and poured it down the sink. Looking up at the ceiling for help, Henry rolled his eyes as a snickering McKay left the kitchen.
He made his way upstairs, resolved to ignore the man if he was going to be childish. Henry knocked on Draco's door briefly before he let himself in. The room had been expanded to fit them all, and he was momentarily shocked at the changes. Lucius Malfoy sat pristinely on a dark chair, but his wife, Narcissa, was on the bed with her son, who seemed to have been in the middle of a heated argument with her before Henry interrupted.
"Potter," Draco said when he entered, his teeth clenched.
"Mr Potter," Lucius greeted him, almost at the same time.
"How are you settling in?"
Lucius inclined his head politely, casting a quick warning look at his son, before he said, "These accommodations are fine, thank you. We hope to be in France by the end of the week, though. We have a house there, you see, Mr Potter." A house not full of muggles, is what he meant.
"Thank you, Mr Potter," Narcissa abruptly said. "For our freedom."
She seemed bitter, though, and Draco took up where his mother left off. "But not mine, right Potter?" he hissed. "You've let my family go, but not me!"
"Draco," Lucius said, warningly, but his son ignored him.
"Yeah, thanks," he snapped, raising himself off of the bed. "Thanks a lot. I'm still imprisoned here, in this house, with a bunch of muggles, and you go and pardon my parents without pardoning me. You think that'll make me your slave? Piss off!"
"Enough, Draco," Narcissa said soothingly, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. Though Draco went silent in response, he did not stop glaring at Henry.
Henry stared back, calmly. "Do you mind if I speak to Draco alone?" he asked softly.
Lucius nodded semi-respectfully and lead a hesitant Narcissa out of the room. Draco watched them go wistfully, but when he turned his stony eyes to Henry, they were even more furious than before. Henry sat down on the chair Lucius had vacated.
"Can you sit?" he asked, but when Draco merely frowned, he added, "Please?"
The boy did so, but made it clear in his expression that he wasn't likely to follow any more of Henry's requests. Henry nodded shortly and sighed.
"I did not free your parents to gain favor with you," Henry began, ignoring Draco's snort. "And neither do I keep you a prisoner for malicious reasons."
"And yet there are wards on the door that won't let me leave," Draco interrupted angrily. "You're always lying, aren't you? I think it's all you ever do."
Henry looked away from him, trying to remain patient, and cleared his throat. "Have you made a decision?" he asked.
Draco was taken aback, and he frowned and snapped, "About what?"
Henry was the one to scoff now. "To live or die, Draco. Have you made a decision?"
There was very little for Draco to say, then, because, in the end, he wanted to live more than he wanted to hang onto his pride. Henry hoped to change his mind. To make him appreciate what was being offered. He hoped that by the time the war was over, he would not only be loyal to Henry, but loyal to himself as well. Having seen the way Draco could work, with cunning and determination, Henry did not want to lose such an obvious asset. For Draco to stay useful - he had to have confidence. Self-esteem.
And maybe, perhaps, when all was said and done, there would be a little attachment there for them to work with.
Henry was startled to find he was hoping for that more than anything else. After all, he did like the unreasonable pillock, and there wasn't any harm in having a soft spot for the blond. Infuriating, yes, but Draco was interesting and attractive and worth it.
He didn't want to lose Draco, and not only because of his material uses. If Henry was completely honest with himself, it wasn't even all to do with being an opportunist. His libido might be influencing him...just a smidgen. Not enough to worry, really.
And besides, it took a lot of balls to double-cross Henry Brooks, and he had to admire that. Never mind that anyone who had ever done so usually ended up dead. Henry liked to ignore that bit.
.o00o.
Gringotts was crowded with merry wizards and witches, unconcerned now that Voldemort was gone and quite happy to go about their normal business. Harry was glad he had chosen to drink Polyjuice. He was disguising himself as Lucius Malfoy for the time being, and it was an good choice, he realized, since the public gave him a wide berth.
He was glad the Malfoys had moved to France, actually, because living in Wizarding England would have been murder for them. All the dirty looks and outright disdain...poor Narcissa would have hated that. He went up to the desk and asked for Griphook, hoping the goblin was prompt, given his hour as Lucius was just about up. Luckily, his friend seemed to be waiting for him.
"Ah, I thought you would come," Griphook said, leading him to the carts. "But I didn't expect you to arrive in disguise."
"Griphook," he said slowly. "I think we should free Tenebres."
Far from being shocked or angry, as Harry thought he would be, Griphook laughed merrily and said, "I thought you might say that."
"No objections?" Henry asked, surprised.
"No, I don't think so, wizard." They shuffled into the cart. "But you thought you would do it as Lucius Malfoy?"
"Well, yes - "
Griphook looked at him briefly. "There's no need, Mr Potter," he said, chortling. "The goblins owe you one freed dragon, at least."
"I'd think you'd owe Ten that," Harry argued without anger.
"He resolved to stay and see you through the end of the war," Griphook said, looking as if he wanted to thump Harry on the head. "The Elders figured you would ask for his freedom, which can only be gained through a wizard. No goblin owns another creature. You know this."
Harry adjusted himself a bit in the cart, then, declining to give Griphook a response as he tried to sit more comfortably. The goblin took the initiative and said, "I will be leaving the bank as well."
"You…" Harry began, rather shocked, and he jolted when the cart came to a stop in front of the hall that lead to Tenebres's den. "Why are you leaving?" he asked once they'd gotten out.
"I am going back to my people, to prepare them."
Griphook moved to the front, and Harry followed him down the hall. "But I thought all of the goblins worked here?" he exclaimed, feeling foolish when Griphook eyed him. The Polyjuice potion suddenly started to wear off, but instead of drinking from the flask he had in his pocket, Harry whisked a hand over his clothing to change them back to normal.
"Wise, I'd say, to not been seen this day. Many of us are considering leaving the bank. My freedom as well as Tenebres' will not go unnoticed by the wizards."
Harry was silent, waiting for the goblin to speak, but Griphook seemed to be waiting for him to interrupt. "We are all supporting this war you propose," he went on when Harry said nothing. He suddenly stopped and turned to him. "Wizards have thought themselves superior for far too long, and, though we have no sympathies for muggles, it is fitting that they should be the ones to challenge them. I suspect you do not have sympathy, either. It is perhaps why we get along so very well."
Having to smile at that, Harry raised an eyebrow at his goblin friend. "How ever did you come to that conclusion?" he said teasingly.
"You are more than a wizard, Mr Potter," Griphook told him as he started to move towards the den again. "More than a muggle, as well. We have known this for a very long time. Our prophets, however, are better than yours. Resign yourself to the fact you will never be normal."
He laughed, following Griphook quickly. "If I have to," he responded wryly, but he dropped the subject when Ten and Bo saw him.
"Human father!"
They exchanged greetings as Bo tackled Harry affectionately. He only laughed, allowing Bo to wrap around him as he had done when he was tiny. Tenebres nudged him happily, hard enough to drop him to the floor had Bo not been supporting his back.
"Hullo," he said, petting Bo. "How are you, my dear?"
"Heard about the Dark Lord," Bo said with satisfaction. "Griphook said it was your destiny!"
Henry raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the goblin. "Did he? Hope that's no my only one," he laughed. "Bit boring from here on out if it was."
"Don't be ridiculous," Griphook snapped. "Of course you're not done."
Ten huffed. "Ling has plans for you yet, young drake!
"The prophets never lie," Griphook added casually. "You have much to learn, though."
"Prophets, Ling…" Harry raised his eyes and turned to share a look with Bo. "No offence, but I don't believe in that sort of thing."
"You should!" Griphook snarled at him just as Ten said despondently, "You did when you were a baby drake!"
Bo blew out a cloud of smoke and nudged Harry in the ear. "Oh, he's only pulling your leg," Bo exclaimed loudly to them. "He believes in something! He's always believed in something."
"Dearest, please," Harry interrupted crossly.
"More than a wizard," Griphook reminded him, glaring at them both. "Think what you like, but the truth will out."
Harry smiled wryly. "I'm so lucky to have friends like you," he murmured sarcastically. "Which god should I thank?"
Bo snuggled closer to him again, and Harry couldn't help but laugh. Griphook, however, remained irritable. "You have much to learn," he snapped at Harry. "You can start by being properly grateful."
Harry smiled apologetically and, grudgingly, Griphook let it go with a nod. "Just finish your task, Harry Potter. Perhaps one day you will have your answers," he said.
Harry didn't like those rather ominous words, but he decided he did not want to quarrel with Griphook anymore today. The goblin turned to Tenebres.
"Your freedom is on offer."
Ten twitched violently, one of his wings hitting Bo square in the face. "Ow!" Bo cried.
"Sorry, my drake," he said absently, and, though Harry quickly rubbed the place where the wing had hit, Bo sniffed indignantly. "You are proffering for my freedom?" he asked Harry.
"Yes," Harry told him, holding Bo close. "You shouldn't be here, Ten. It isn't your home."
"I fear the goblins have done you a great disservice by bringing you here," Griphook said, apologizing for something he could not have controlled. "Though I have long wished to aid you to freedom, I could not do so without a wizard."
"Gold dealers are so presumptuous," Ten grumbled to Bo and Harry. "You've no need to apologize. What's done is done."
"Everything is hunky-dory!" Bo said excitedly.
"Hunky dory?" Harry repeated, amused.
"Don't make fun of me!"
"Never, love," he laughed, turning to stare at Griphook and Ten.
Rather cheerfully, Ten swung his large head around to bow to Griphook formally. "I thank you, Griphook," he said sincerely.
"I would not thank me," Griphook said, waving a gnarled hand. "Harry Potter is the reason why your freedom is a reality. The Elders and I do this for revenge."
"Ah, yes, Ten," Harry spoke up, grinning. "God forbid you think goblins are generous!"
"No one would mistake that," said Griphook, before he turned to stare up at Ten. "Are you ready to go?" he asked him.
"I am," Ten said grandly, obviously overjoyed. He bowed low, and Griphook moved forward and jumped onto the dragon's back.
"You're going to fly out of here?" Harry asked, askance.
Bo jumped up too, untangling himself from Harry. "Adventure!" Bo shouted as he stretched his wings.
"Well…" Griphook grinned at him over Ten's back. "I figure we may as well leave with a bang. Scare the wizards a bit, you know?"
Harry couldn't help but laugh. Ten reared as Griphook cut the golden chains around his feet with a flash of bright blue light. They were off in a matter of seconds. "I will see you soon, wizard!" Griphook yelled as they gathered speed.
Bo gave him a nudge and a nuzzle before quickly taking off after them. "See you soon!" he shouted joyfully.
"So long, human drake," Tenebres's voice flittered through his mind, soft and happy. "We will meet again."
He stood in the wreckage of the dragon's old den, watching the rubble and dust rise up as the barriers of the canals fell to the dragon's fire and Griphook's quick casting, Bo following gleefully in their wake. Harry Apparated onto the street just in time to see them launch into the air, as black as night in the clear blue sky.
Witches and wizards flooded into the streets, shouting and pointing at them. Only Harry, unnoticed as he stood amidst the destruction of Gringotts, was smiling.
