The Tower

From a young age, Narcissa Black had begun to learn that the levers of power were much, much more complicated than a simple Avada Kedavra flung into the face of an enemy. That there was a subtle magic in the way that one reached power, and reached out inside of a society to create alliances and network with interested parties to accomplish your interests and intents. She had become the consummate Slytherin, right up to and including accepting her arranged marriage, and making the very best of being Narcissa Malfoy.

Frankly, her eldest sister had probably just argued her way into the House because it was traditional for all the Blacks to be there. Bellatrix was more of a Gryffindor than anyone would care to admit. Or, Dumbledore altered the sorting hat to make sure that all Dark Witches and Dark Wizards could be in Slytherin and not with his precious Lions. Have to maintain their reputation, after all.

Sometimes, Dumbledore had been a very good Slytherin, for all of his hatred of the house which had been barely disguised while he was the Headmaster. Narcissa knew that many Slytherins presently considered her a traitor, but in fact, she didn't care a fig about it. She was going to save their entire culture, and she was going to do it exactly by being patient and cunning.

That meant, among other things, that symbols mattered. One of them, for Narcissa, was 10 Downing Street. They were still making repairs after a series of indifferent Death Eater occupations, but she was already living in it. Narcissa was quite well aware that the people of the British Isles would want a symbol of a return to functional, normative governance. The symbols and traditions of the past were more important than the exact nature of government now. She could, and would, pursue her reforms quickly and efficiently, taking advantage of her firm control over the Rump Parliament, but to the broader world she must absolutely project the image of a Prime Minister, as people expected one to be—living at 10 Downing Street, giving press conferences, flashing a V sign for Victory when the Press caught up to her with a camera. And this, Narcissa Malfoy knew well, was a fair price to pay for the power to get things done.

She'd moved quickly on the most controversial legislation. The Parliament Act of 2004 held that the passage of the Parliament Act of 1911 had never been approved by the Lords Magical (that is, the Wizengamot) and was therefore unconstitutional. Against a constitutional challenge to this theory—which relied upon reserved powers to the Wizengamot which had not been used in centuries because of the Statute of Secrecy—the Act provided for a proscriptive repeal of the Parliament Act of 1911. The Parliament Act of 1949 was declared secondary legislation and, unconstitutional (such a theory had been mooted before, but never tested before the Law Lords). The Act provided for the regular seating of the Lords Magical, and addressed the issue of a dispute between the Chambers, by allowing for the Commons to force a joint seating if a second attempt to pass legislation, after a delay of one year, failed; in the joint seating of the Lords and Commons a simple majority would count equivalent to passage by majorities in both chambers separately, and this measure, inspired by the Australian Constitution, would mitigate the risk of deadlock while creating an enduring power for the Lords, and the Wizengamot.

Buried in the series of lesser legislation of less extreme constitutional import was the Marriage Act of 2004. Narcissa was well aware that her government would be highly dependent on Conservative support. She had also promised her sister that she could marry Hermione, and Narcissa was not the kind of woman who reneged on promises to family. Fortunately, in ancient times, the Priests of the British Gods had conducted certain ceremonies between those of the same sex, and some of the present practising Priests and Priestesses, accurately or not, considered them equivalent to Marriage. So the Act innocuously provided for any religion's internal rules on the sanctification of marriage, to be considered valid before the law of the Realms for the purposes of the Government considering two persons married. This maintained the ban on polygamy, but implicitly gave her the power to decide, by policy (and this was a given at the moment, considering the wizarding population's high proportion of traditional polytheists) to recognise her own religion's rules in such a way as to provide for lawful homosexual marriage. In the stroke of a pen, Narcissa legalised gay marriage without calling it gay marriage, and in a way that would let her defend it before Parliament as an Act supporting religious freedom. It would doubtless create some administrative problems later with matters like Islamic divorce, but once the principle was established, it would face less opposition to be subsequently reformed and expanded. Entrenchment was the first step in any social reform, though Narcissa would not countenance calling it a reform, as she was not a Christian to begin with, and thought nothing of the idea of her sister being wedded to another woman, even if the wizarding world had long ago adopted such morality, its time, like the time of blood purity laws, was well and truly done.

That all brought her to the final matter for consideration, which was she was reviewing with her Cabinet, in the Cabinet Room. Her back to the fireplace, which was roaring—she had insisted on proper fires and other traditional means of heat, and it was a chilly morning for May. The world still felt the impact of a touch of Nuclear Winter. Morning frost would last straight through the whole month, like as not, that year. Hot tea in hand, and a list in front of her, settled in comfortably to the only chair with armrests. An Act, but also a list.

An Act of Attainder which had 11,568 names on it. William Hague was sitting at the position of the Leader of the House of Commons. He had somehow managed to avoid collaborating (Narcissa wasn't really sure how, but it barely mattered) and provided perfectly willing to support to agenda for the government. In this case the role was critical because Narcissa needed someone to control the Commons for her, sitting in the Lords. Narcissa was confident he could be controlled to execute her agenda.

The Home Secretary was a young, hard-charging Indian woman who had survived the purges of the politically active because she had resigned from the Conservative Party to enter the private sector. Priti Patel had been selected in part from among those older and more conservative precisely because, unencumbered with pre-war attitudes about Capital Punishment, she had been perfectly willing to support the implementation of an Act of Attainder.

"The logistics will be difficult, Your Grace," the Home Secretary was explaining. "We will use Smithfield for the bulk of the executions, by axe and hanging. Church-men on the list will be executed at St. Paul's. Military personnel and Lords who are condemned, will be shot or beheaded on Tower Hill. Execution sites for those condemned in Cornwall, Wales, the Duchy of Lancaster, Scotland, Mann and the Channel Islands will need to be established separately. Completing all the executions before the Summer Solstice like you have requested will be difficult."

"Witches and Wizards on the list will be executed at Tower Hill with the nobility and military personnel," Narcissa noted, making a brief note. "We will have no echo of the witch trials; it will be beheading."

"Of course, Your Grace." The Home Secretary's background meant she had no particular association with the complexities of identity as a Witch in the British Isles. To her it made the job somewhat easier; Smithfield would be too bloody busy, otherwise. "We will have to execute more than two hundred people a day at Smithfield, Your Grace. Seventy-five gallows, prepared and used thrice daily except Sundays."

"Your Grace would be advised that even with the mood of the people angry for the outrages against them, that it will not look good to conduct such mass executions," Hague observed.

"I understand, Mister Hague, however, we have recommended more than fifty thousand others to Royal Clemency who otherwise would also be executed. We have already reduced the number from the sixty-five thousand who deserve it, down to those who are truly the most loathsome."

"It will look worse if we don't show the people that those who oppressed them are being punished. And, it will acknowledge the plain fact that both of our worlds have changed forever." Rittogott observed. He had been made the Minister for Goblin Affairs; there were two Goblins at the table today, the second was Therais Gringott, the Chancellor of the Exchequer. For the moment Narcissa was holding the portfolio of Minister of Magic, along with being the Prime Minister, along with being the Regent. She did not get very much sleep. And she let the Goblin and Hague have their exchange for a bit before interjecting. "The reality is, criminals of this kind can't be allowed to have a future place in civil society. I acknowledge that the sheer logistics of the executions are problematic, but we will make the situation look better by assembling a number of those who have been given clemency, to receive their clemency, at the same time as the executions, to make it clear to all involved that there were many more criminals, and only the very worst are being put to the gallows. We will make a clear differentiation-the same way the new Scottish government will handle the execution of the collaborators, having those nationalists who did not commit crimes organise the executions of those who did."

Narcissa leaned back, settling her empty glass down, to where it was quickly refilled. She always took at least two cups of tea with the morning cabinet meeting. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are still fighting a war against the Dark Lord's power. We cannot afford to spare those who would betray us, when combat yet rages around half the globe. The people will support us. Now is the time for decisive measures. Let the executions begin tomorrow, starting with the senior Death Eaters and department heads of Voldemort's magical government."

The Elder Nott, at least, died with some dignity. He was taken from the Tower, where he had been held since the surrender of his forces at Discretion (the surrender would not save him, but it had saved most of his troops). He mounted the scaffold on Tower Hill, and stood before the chopping block, which had been established in front of 10 Trinity Square. An immense man of a British half-Giant had been selected as the Executioner, so that the blows would be clean and he could accomplish many of them in a single day. Nott handed him a bag of galleons, and then addressed Narcissa, who stood on the steps of 10 Trinity Square.

"I believe you have prostituted yourself out to the muggles, Your Grace, and have agreed to terms that will mean the end of our people. I die as I live, having believed firmly from the first in pureblood superiority justifying pureblood supremacy. I swore an oath to My Lord, and admit the power of no muggle government, even one whose Minister is a Pureblood Witch, to judge me. You have made yourself, Your Grace, into a Blood Traitor, and I believe your work in conquering this nation from My Lord will ultimately be undone. However, I ask you to consider, and for you and all the people of this realm to know, that it was I alone, as the Pater Familias, who made the decisions for my family, and that if you come into power over my son, that his actions were in conformity and obedience to me, and the Government of My Lord which I taught him was lawful since his birth, and therefore which ever charges you lay against me, cannot be held against him, for he only obeyed those who had power and influence over him from the first moment of his life. I therefore now go to my death with my only regret being that I could not better serve My Lord!"

Held in enchanted Goblin-forged manacles which prevented him from trying to cast any wandless magic, he was now made to kneel and place his head on the block. In the grey sky of a May spring day, the axe raised, glimmering and glinting in even the faint sun. Then it felt, and blood flicked through the air, and in a single clean stroke, Nott's head rolled from his body, into the basket prepared for it. A roar erupted from the crowd. Truly, Voldemort had broken the modern world. A decade ago, most of the people cheering at the execution would have been horrified at the prospect of a public execution in the United Kingdom, or even an execution at all. Now they cheered one.

It was precisely for that reason, among others, that the executions had to take place, and Narcissa watched them with cold composure whilst standing on the steps.

The next one brought forward was Umbridge, also brought from her cell in the Tower. She was screaming and sobbing, struggling against the guards who dragged her toward the scaffold. The crowd responded appropriately; they mocked and jeered her and threw garbage at her. The list of her crimes, from desecrating the dead to torturing children for entertainment while the Headmistress at Hogwarts, was extensive, but of course the plain fact as it was announced was that she had been Attaindered by Parliament, and that was sufficient to put her on the block.

Even the Home Secretary looked disgusted with her lack of composure, particularly when Umbridge soiled herself as her head was laid on the block.

"She should be quartered for what she did to the bodies of the defenders of Hogwarts, and my late husband," Narcissa remarked softly to the Home Secretary, with a savage chill in her whispered voice. "However, I will not take a personal vengeance for those I know, when I am not quartering those who brutally massacred the people in Birmingham or Manchester, or gassed York Minster."

"Truth be told, Your Grace," Patel answered, "Perhaps we should have included a few quarterings." The comment made Narcissa think that, while she had her faults, Patel was certainly the best choice for a Home Secretary in the circumstances!

"I AM PURE!" Umbridge was screaming now, looking toward them. "HAVE YOU NO DIGNITY TO EXECUTE WITCHES AT THE BEHEST OF MUGGLES, MALFOY!? OUR BLOOD SHOULD MATTER TO YOU MORE THAN THE WHOLE OF A MUGGLE NATION!"

With her blonde hair held tightly braided and her blue-grey eyes focused in a frigid gaze, Narcissa said nothing.

"HOW CAN YOU LET A SUBHUMAN TAKE THE LIFE OF A WITCH?"

You really shouldn't say that about your executioner, Narcissa mused. While she did not have Umbridge quartered, she couldn't say she was upset when somehow, despite his strength, it took the Executioner four blows to part Dolores Umbridge's head. Perhaps you should have been more polite.

High-ranking muggle government collaborators would be next on the block.

Hermione arrived in London feeling perfectly numb to the executions happening in the city. They were an inevitability of the Liberation. Passing Smithfield on her way to 10 Downing Street, she could see the bodies swinging from the dawn executions. They would soon be taken down and the gallows prepared for the Noontide executions. Voldemort had tried to overturn all of society, but society had, in the passage of time, survived. And, Hey Then, Up Go We.

When she arrived at 10 Downing Street, a guard got the door for her—she was saluted, she was a Colonel, after all, and in dress uniform, even though she was meeting the woman who would be her sister-in-law, a certain formality was very much demanded.

"Your Grace."

"Come sit," Narcissa gestured to one of the chairs in her study. "Is all well at Ancient House?"

"Very fine, thank you. Bella has busied herself with making arrangements to put the rest of the land back under cultivation," Hermione answered, feeling odd about the idea that small talk now included the details of how an estate was being farmed.

"I have appointed a reliable Goblin to head the commission running the affairs of the Duchy of Lancaster and I confess I haven't had the time to think about it beyond that, for even a moment," Narcissa admitted with a wry smile. "I have already covered today affairs related to the naval construction programme, the National Conscription Act—we are calling for a million soldiers—the rights of Coal Miners to organise unions—I have heard a real earful from my conservative coalition partners about that—and of course repair work to the railways, which with fuel for automobiles and lorries rationed are hideously overstrained."

"And executions?"

"Patel is perfectly capable of handling that," Narcissa shrugged lightly. "Tea?"

"Of course." Hermione took the offered cup. "You wanted to speak to me about Ireland?"

"Yes," Narcissa agreed. "You had quite the victory there, but it was also unexpected. The successful coup d'etat against Voldemort's High Commissioner was something of a surfeit of victory. We have managed to get two divisions of troops into Ulster, but the situation there remains quite tense. Since you worked with them on the coup, I want to ask your honest opinion—do you think the Irish government might take up arms against us?"

Yes, that would be important enough for this conversation, and in person, too. Hermione's expression tightened. "It's a deeply complicated matter. You're Celtic, the Wizarding community of Ireland sees itself as part of a broader Celtic nation. There is much support for your government in Dublin. I think that the Irish political parties broadly wish to support your government, but they'd all be happier if it seemed more like a smaller version of the European Union than an enlarged United Kingdom, to put it bluntly. The Republican sentiment against the Crown remains strong in Ireland, and … Well, as the Taoiseach himself put it, if you were the President of a Celtic Confederation, you would probably have the support of ninety percent of the Irish population at this point. The problem is the image of the Crown."

"Well, that's what he says, at any rate. In fact, in my conversations with the Government in Dublin, they openly encouraged me to declare myself President," Narcissa noted.

Once upon a time, Hermione might have supported that, though her own family had always generally been pro-Monarchy. Now, she understood that was simply not something Narcissa would countenance. She would not put the spirit of political parties, faction and ideology back into a country where it had largely been exorcised. Narcissa Malfoy's objective was depoliticisation, in the context of the British constitutional order, but depoliticisation nonetheless, and Voldemort's hammer sweeping through the British elite before her had made it possible.

Hermione had become part of the family, now, and Britain had become the family business.

"Narcissa," she said, softly, "It will be a thorn in your side, unless there's some way to keep distance in our institutions."

"There may be one, Hermione," Narcissa answered, looking at the young woman thoughtfully. "I know you are politically ambitious, to put it frankly, and I think that's good, for you, and for Bella. You understand just how important putting this all behind us will be, for your own personal goals in life, and for your fiancee."

"We haven't formally proposed yet!" Hermione spluttered.

A soft laugh. "Maybe one of you should fix that. But, let's stay with the matter at hand. I have spoken with the King, and an interesting solution may arise which provides a compromise to everyone. You see, the King has heavily invested himself in the defence of his realms in the South Pacific. Australia, New Zealand, and most of the islands of Polynesia and Melanesia, whether or not they were originally part of the Commonwealth, or another country, like New Caledonia—are now united in a Federation. Because of the destruction of the government in Canberra at the start of the War, the King has essentially been running the government on a day to day basis there, and is seen as a successful commander and wartime leader by the people; support for the monarchy and the new federal government reaches ninety percent. New Guinea and the Christian Molucca Islands, including Timor, have similar rates of support and Federal troops have launched a series of invasions, now that Voldemort's allies have been thrown back in that theatre. I have encouraged the King to devote himself to the continued building of this Royal Federation in Oceania."

Hermione rocked back. "You mean to reverse the normal order. The King in Melbourne, a Governor-General in Britain."

"Yes. I think the appointment of a Gaelic Governor-General of Britain would overcome most of the concerns that the Irish government has, keeping the Crown at a remove, and would quiet most of the risk of armed resistance in Ireland. They know that they cannot win, not if the Gaelic wizarding community refuses to support them. And, most of the political class that supported the Republic is on thin ice in some way or another, and knows it, of those who are not dead or under arrest. Finally, the King can send one of his sons back to Britain to be raised, outside of London, to be fluent in at least the principle Gaelic and Brythonic languages—Irish Gaelic and Welsh. Ultimately, one of his sons can inherit the crown of Oceania, and one the crown of Britain."

"I think it's the kind of compromise that, liked by no one, might just be the basis of an enduring political settlement," Hermione offered, admitting, once again, that she was genuinely impressed by how clever Narcissa was. That it would tend to reinforce her own rule wasn't something lost on Hermione, but if she was going to have a family with Bella, the younger witch acknowledged that was—simply an imperative.

"Thank you. Then we seem to be in concurrence, Hermione."

"We are… Was that really all you called me here for, Narcissa? It seems like you already had your mind made up about it."

"I still wanted a read on the situation from the woman who had seen that government with her own eyes," Narcissa answered. "However, you are right. I didn't call you here just to discuss that, as I had already decided it was the best course of action, and you merely confirmed this. Rather, I'm here to address the second element of an enduring settlement. The reality is that even this proposed compromise will be insufficient. As we have discussed before, my intention is a union of the whole of the British peoples, which means both the Celtic nations, and the Anglo-Saxon nation in England, which is admixed to our soil, comprised primarily of our blood regardless of language, and as much a part of this place as we are—as much as some Celts would rather not admit this. But to balance the population of Britain between the Celtic and Anglo-Saxon elements, we must consider the mainland populations as well. This government has already been in negotiation with the independent regimes of Galicia and Brittany. Of course, Brittany has a healthy Brythonic language community; Galicia does not among muggles, but does amongst Wizards. I also have a personal connection to Brittany. As you may remember, Draco and I helped defend Brest, during the Night of Fire."

Hermione listened, her attention rapt. She knew that, at some point in the future, this might cause deep bitterness in the nations of western Europe. But the plain fact was that Britain had not been nuked, and France and Spain had. They might well never regain their old power, while Britain, free of Voldemort's rule, might enjoy an unearned prosperity from the simple fact of being the country under his power at the hour the war began. The Night of Fire. For a moment, Hermione was haunted by the memory of the fireballs rising to the sky in eastern France, which would never quite leave her until the day she died.

"You mean to publicly have them switch sides as part of the constitutional settlement? They will be immediately invaded, the Death Eater forces on the Continent are strong."

"That is what we are raising a fresh Army for, Hermione. To defend Brittany and Galicia, and turn them into ulcers on Voldemort's western flank, while we figure out how to arrange his decisive defeat. The arrival of fresh Indian troops in Iraq slowed his Army's pace toward Ararat to a crawl, but now that we are back in power here, we must turn our attention, without hesitation, to finding some way to work his utter destruction. President Nazarbayev expects me to invade the Continent to support Russian Arms in the field, without hesitation. He has every right to, and I do not intend to short him. And, the Governments of Brittany and Galicia understand that this is the only way to save their national autonomy and their own necks. So they'll run the risk of their lands being turned into war-zones. As a gesture of confidence in the alliance, in our forces, and in the union of the British peoples, I intend to go to Brest to personally receive the key to the city, the homage of the wizards, and sign documents establishing the allegiance of Brittany to the Crown. I would have you make the security arrangements and command the guard force."

The younger witch couldn't help it, she gleamed with pride, even if it meant abandoning the idyll at Ancient House, and returning once more to the saddle. "Another chance to strike a blow against Voldemort's regime? With pleasure."

When they arrived in Brest, with the Royal Navy off the coast, providing cover for the operation with two fleet carriers and two light carriers, the first thing that Hermione saw was the massed bagpipe band. Their pipes skirling before the Château de Brest, the throats of a thousand singers took up the song of An Alarc'h, The Swan. The story of Jean de Montfort and his defeat of the French after his return to Brittany. The people of the city had assembled.

Hermione, spreading out with the other witches and wizards, of Russian and Scandinavian and loyal British extraction, and the special forces teams, could only watch in astonishment at what was a truly medieval spectacle. The wizards of Brittany came to do homage, as troops were put ashore to reinforce their divisions, which switched sides. The Black-and-White flag was hoisted over the Château.

A swan, an overseas swan;

A swan, an overseas swan;

At the top of the old tower of the Château d'Armor.

Narcissa, witch, pagan, Lady, widow, mother, Duchess, Prime Minister, Regent; Hermione might have loved Bellatrix without her, no, surely would have. But there would have been no happy ending, if she hadn't refused to give up on her elder sister and her future.

Now, receiving the homage of Brittany, she had completed her transformation from hunted exile, desperately protecting her son, to one of the most powerful people in the world, and probably the most powerful woman. If fortune and boldness were enough to carry it home, she would found a new pan-British identity in her most ancient family's vision of what it had meant to be scions of Yr Hen Ogledd.

It was June First, and the papers back home would be declaring it the Glorious First of June, come again.

Hermione tried to pray, and banish the quiet sense of unease, to ascribe it to the professional duty of a force protection officer, paranoid to every threat under the sun—but it was an uneasy feeling, that the liberation had all been just a bit too easy, that Voldemort could not let his Empire crumble so lightly.

But on that glorious morning, with the sun banishing the mist off the sea, the pipes welcomed Narcissa to Brest.

Thus concludes "The Matter of Britain". What will come next is nothing less than "The Matter of Voldemort", the final full book in our story—the story of what Voldemort has planned, the story of the unkillable Dark Lord, whose power may have suffered terrible blows at the hands of our brave heroines and heroes, but whose dark design has not yet been put paid.

Our heroines will find that the Matter of Koschei, too, has a second half, and just what the price is, to cheat death.

Notes:

"And, Hey Then, Up Go We." is a song mocking certain attitudes during the English Civil War, and how they will end in executions, i.e., a euphemism for a hanging.