He winced slightly, easing the tight grip Maia had on his hair. She looked upset, pouting fiercely even as he curled an arm around her.
"What's wrong, little love?" he asked, smiling as she continued to pout. It was more adorable than anything else, and Harry pressed a kiss to her soft curls.
He had lamented at the sight of them, seeing the wild hair that was undoubtedly a Potter inheritance. The Potter women had laughed, those born into the family sympathizing with Maia and offering tips on how to ensure it didn't end up looking like the hair their male relations sported.
It had been many years since there had last been a baby in the house – Aegon just past a year when they had first come – and Harry and Elia were relearning the many ways a baby could get up to no good, a magical baby at that.
Maia's accidental magic had kicked in sometime during her sixth month, summoning the small toy that had been charmed to relieve her aching gums.
"Mama," she said, reaching for Elia.
Despite the nursery, there were some nights Maia spent in their room, and Harry scooped her in his arms as he sat up in bed, moving away from his sleeping wife.
"Mama's tired," he muttered, knowing Elia had spent most of the week by Maia's bed, the little girl colicky.
"Mama," she insisted, hand outstretched toward her mother.
"Mama needs her rest," he smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he ran a hand down her back, attempting to lull her to sleep.
Maia continued to pout, brightening the slightest bit as he conjured small coloured bubbles. It was the dead of the night, the rest of the family sleeping after the excitement of the past week, the ritual complete and a prefect badge arriving along with the Hogwarts letters for Teddy and Rhaenys.
He had hit a breakthrough months earlier, able to open a small portal between the ritual room in Black Manor and the Peverell home drifting in it's own parallel universe. All he had left to do was calculate the time differences, adjusting the ritual to account for the shorter calendar used in Westeros and make certain the two time streams were as closely aligned as possible.
Easy enough, he had guessed, once more lamenting his poor choices in school.
It would take several more months combing through their timelines with Elia before he felt confident enough to attempt the changes, certain that they would work and helped by the small bit of felix felicis he had taken before completing it, thankful it hadn't dragged him on an adventure.
Maia's babbling forced him to raise a one-way silencing ward, singing an old lullaby in quiet tones as she giggled, her toothy smile and bright green eyes melting his heart. He was a goner, wrapped around her finger as he had been her sister and brothers.
She fell asleep against his shoulder, and Harry adjusted his grip, letting her head rest in the crook of his neck as he continued to hum, waiting until he was certain she was fast asleep.
They had decided to wait before attempting the ritual. Maia was not yet a year, younger than Aegon had been when he'd crossed dimensions, and the risks of arriving unconscious in Westeros were greater with a small babe.
Three years, Elia had decided, was the minimum age Maia had to be before they attempted to cross, refusing to go alone in case of separation.
Westeros would be a different place from when she last saw it; darker, perhaps more dangerous – certainly for their children – and grasping at any potential player in the game of thrones, she had told him. They would spend these next years preparing to face her family, to offer some aid to the country, and face the possibility that the family she loved could no longer be there.
All coherent thought had been pushed from his mind, Harry gleefully giving in to the attentions of his wife.
Having the kids off to Hogwarts, while bittersweet, meant more time alone but for the small child running around the house. Maia had worn herself out some hours ago, the little girl napping as her parents reacquainted themselves.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Elia asked, nails scratching wonderfully against his scalp.
"Hmm?" He was distracted, idly rubbing circles on her side as they remained tangled. He felt boneless and temporarily sated, unwilling to leave when he had her all to himself.
She was smirking, dark eyes twinkling at the effect she had on him, and Harry pushed himself up to catch her lips, drowning himself in the feel of her.
"Much as I would love to continue," she murmured, "You have a meeting to get to."
He groaned against her mouth. Hang the bloody meeting. There are more wonderful ways to spend my time, he thought, before he sighed. Duty called, and Harry had become a dutiful tosser.
"I've got an hour before I have to be there," he remembered, grinning at the short laugh his words garnered.
He made it to the meeting just before they were seated in their private room, hair freshly dried with magic and glamour in place, ignoring the look Neville sent him.
"Harry," Ernie greeted.
"Lord Potter-Black," a guest said, voice low and raspy.
"Lady Wilkes," Harry said in masked surprise, blinking as the woman sat amongst them as if they had not spent years at each other's throats in the Wizengamot.
There were four others besides Harry, Ernie, Draco and Neville.
Emmeline Wilkes sat proudly, as if this were not a business transaction with people she despised, Everett Gibbons to her left and Calliope Spinks to his left. Next to Lady Wilkes sat Gerald Runcorn, the DMLE prosecutor's youngest cousin and a clerk in the Office of International Cooperation.
Runcorn had the same mud brown hair and powerful stature as his cousin, eyes a pale blue that were staring warily at them.
"Now that we are all gathered," Wilkes said, a pointed look in her cold brown eyes, "perhaps we can begin with the first course."
Harry withheld the curl of disdain, eyes flitting between his cousin and friends as he made idle talk with Lady Spinks, their talk surrounding her newest family member. Spinks was one of the more milder purebloods, proud of her heritage but unwilling to bow or scrape before either faction in the war.
It was as they were wrapping up their main course, a small note appearing under the plate that Harry palmed and placed in his sleeve after glancing quickly at the words that they got down to business.
"We have reason to believe things in the Britain will soon become…difficult," Lady Spinks said.
Difficult enough that you masked this talk as a business proposition, he thought darkly.
Very few things worried these purebloods, their inherent belief in their greatness remaining intact even after the havoc Voldemort had caused.
"How difficult?" Ernie asked, straightening in his seat even as his brown eyes flashed in scepticism.
"As difficult as the years before the birth of any of your parents," Gibbons drawled, blue-grey eyes dark as he swirled his glass of wine. "Before the last Grindelwald war."
Their eyes shifted to Gerald Runcorn, the man shifting slightly in his seat as he spoke softly. "There are…rumours floating around that someone was recently found in Bavaria. Someone of great interest to the Unspeakables."
Someone of great…a spy?
The Department of Mysteries had never forgiven themselves for the mistake that was Augustus Rookwood, and Harry had heard the whispers that considered the man lucky to be placed in Azkaban.
"Another Rookwood would be of concern to us all," Neville agreed.
Gerald Runcorn's face twisted, eyes flashing too quickly for Harry to decipher what he saw. "Were it another spy I would not discuss it."
"What do you know of the DoM?" Wilkes asked, eyes scrutinizing them. "One of your cousins served as an Unspeakable, Lord Potter-Black."
"The portraits hold to the same oaths," Harry told her, watching the woman smile thinly.
"Of course," she said dryly.
"There are fault lines that govern the world, sides chosen for as long as we have had magic and drawn together as nations," Gibbons spoke. "Before we had family magic, when the world was filled with wild magic and people who could do unspeakable things with it, people that were coveted and feared."
A tendril of dread curled in his stomach as Harry forced his face to remain blank.
"Elementals," Draco said, a disturbed note in his voice. "The Unspeakables found an elemental."
"The Germans found an elemental," Runcorn corrected in a slight whisper. "The Unspeakables have worked to keep Britain away from the wars of the continent," he said, Harry stifling the scoff he wanted to release.
The Unspeakables had sat out the war, feigning their work as researchers and letting Voldemort wreak havoc on the populace.
"Anyone who remembers their history remembers what happened the last time the continent had an elemental fall into those hands."
"Grindelwald's hands," Harry refuted. "Not the German authorities, but those of a dark lord that escaped the ICW more times than I care to count."
"One and the same in the eyes of the Department of Mysteries," Spinks countered. "You may have fought in the most recent war, but you do not recall what it was like in those days. Britain is on the verge of something greater, something that we are not ready to tackle."
"What do you expect us to do?" Ernie asked. "The DoM answers to the Minister—"
"Who is no friend of ours," Wilkes cut in, eyes fastened to Harry. "Shacklebolt remains holed up in his office and we've had to work with Roper, who despises everyone who sits on the Wizengamot. Including you, Lord Potter-Black."
"There are a number of people who despise me, if you recall," Harry said coolly.
"The next budget," Runcorn cut in. "The Minister will move to increase funding for Magical Cooperation and the Unspeakables."
They shared a glance, disturbed at how quickly things were beginning to move.
"I'm sure we can manage to stop that budget," Draco drawled.
Lady Wilkes smiled coolly, eyes flicking over them before she rose to leave. Harry was on his feet, bowing sardonically as the woman and her compatriots walked out.
"Well fuck," Neville muttered, hand running down his face. "This is just what we need."
"An international incident waiting to happen," Draco added.
"We have what…just over a year?" Ernie asked. "The budget doesn't get approved until two thousand fifteen."
"Fuck," Draco muttered, swearing as he thought on the work that waited them. Convincing people to vote out a budget was hard enough; doing so when the budget would likely be marketed to improve the pockets of the purebloods sitting in the court would make it an impossible nightmare.
"I have to head out," Neville said, eyes glancing at his watch. "Make sure my students aren't causing havoc before I drown my worries."
"Are you not leaving?" Draco asked as the others made their way out.
"Go on without me," Harry waved him off. "Just something I need to think on."
There was a sceptical look on his cousin's face before he nodded, the door barely shut behind him before Harry was on his feet, wand moving as he threw wards at the door.
"You can come out now," he called, wand still in hand as he felt his magic gather in anticipation. It had been years since he'd truly fought – nothing like the small skirmishes he had when practicing with Elia – and Harry felt the heady feeling before battle.
"You can lower your wand," a familiar voice said, before Harry tightened his grip at the sight of red hair.
"Percy?" he asked, slightly astonished.
"Lord Potter-Black," Percy nodded, a grim look on his face that made him look more dour than usual. "I don't have much time to talk."
Harry gestured to the chair across from him, warily eyeing Percy as he sat down.
They had never gotten on after his fifth year, Percy considering him a deliberate troublemaker and Harry thinking the man a pretentious prick, but they had crossed paths a few times in the Wizengamot or at the balls held by Wizengamot members.
"There has been talk of your family in the Ministry," Percy stated bluntly, his words raising Harry's ire.
"My family?" he asked lowly, green eyes hard.
His lips pursed, brows pinched as he stared uncomfortably at Harry for several moments. "I don't like you," he told him, voice quiet and assured. "I've not liked you for years, but I know what it means to stand by as despicable things happen. I swore I would never do so again, which is why I am here."
Harry felt his hand clench tightly against his wand as he asked in a disarmingly soft voice, "And who would be doing these despicable things?"
"I cannot say their name while oath bound," Percy admitted. "But you have already agreed to work against such acts just now. All I know is they have decided you were a subject of interest after the...incident in the war, and continue to watch your family even now."
His lips tightened in displeasure, the tendril of dread fighting to grow into panic as he nodded tightly at Percy.
The urge to destroy something was strong, his magic thrumming in tandem with his fear and rage as it sought an outlet, but Harry had mastered control years ago.
Instead, he had come home and spent his time with Elia and Maia, shoving the thoughts that ran wild to the back of his mind until he could sit with his wife and discuss what the hell they were going to do.
"Papa, dagin!" Maia crowed, her green eyes glued to the window as the shadow of Auriga and Iacomus fell over them. There had thankfully been no incidents with the two dragons and Harry had been unsurprised to see the glee Maia showed at the sight of them.
"Yes, Maia. A dragon," he said, tossing her in the air as he roared, the giggling girl clapping her hands as he led her high above him to the couch.
Maia slipped free of his grasp, toddling over to stand near the window to watch the dragons as Harry wrapped his arms around his wife, letting her presence calm him.
"Something's bothering you," Elia stated.
He quietly told her what he had learned from Gerald Runcorn and Percy Weasley, feeling her hand tighten in his.
"That's who was following us," she murmured, and Harry felt sick at the thought of how long they had been watching them. Watching her, his mind added darkly, knowing that others would know his family was the easiest way to get to him.
"We have just over a year until the budget review," he reminded her.
"It won't work," Elia said with a shake of her head, eyes focused on Maia. "We've seen how very closely they value their vaults. Any move to limit their funding will backfire."
She was right, he knew, even if he hated the thought of the others allowing the Ministry to do something so monumentally stupid.
"I can't talk to Shacklebolt," Harry murmured. "Not without raising questions we'd rather avoid."
"Maia will be two," Elia said softly, eyes turning to face him. "Still young but…"
But able to make the journey was left unsaid.
He railed at having to make a decision to haul his family across dimensions. Westeros was meant to be a short stop - a visit to family - but the Wizarding World refused to leave him alone and Harry would never again leave his family vulnerable to them.
His heart had raced upon hearing the words, and he knew there might not be another choice. He was not the boy who had taken everything they had thrown at him, unable to protect himself.
He would kill whomever he had to if it meant protecting them, and Harry knew Elia would do the same.
He understood, now, what his father had meant. In the absence of an exit, they had prepared for the worst-case scenario in order to give him a chance at survival. There were potions to brew, books to pack, his emergency funds prepared and expanded.
Harry had years to prepare for the best chance of their survival and he was not going to squander it.
