Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books, or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own any of the Harry Potter books, movies, or games, they belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not meant for sale nor rent.


Chapter 18

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Part 1

=TSA=


October 1991
unplottable location
France

Therapy did help a great deal, otherwise she would have either gone for Dumbledore's throat, tried to fry his ridiculous beard and set him on fire, or properly vented at Dimitri for not doing more when he could. Yet, it was far from enough to keep Chloe's nature at bay all the time. Keeping her emotions and instincts more or less in check so she wouldn't do something she would regret later, took much from her.

Fortunately, Dimitri knew the signs and had a good head on his shoulders, otherwise they might have ended into a "sparing" session, which might have leveled his rebuild ancestral house. Instead, here she was – in the combat pit, pacing like a caged animal and eagerly watching the solid metal doors leading to the pens. She could feel at least a dozen eyes watching her, sense speculative looks, not a little bit of fear and naked desire, making her Veela side preen and the predator in her bask in the appreciation of its peers.

The door opened with barely a hint of creak, the result of well-oiled hinges and magic. A loud grunt, followed by an angry below and a wave of unmistakable troll stench came forth, assaulting Chloe's enhanced senses. Her nose twitched in displeasure and she bared her razor-sharp fangs at the opening door. Two huge Mountain Trolls left the shadows, their armored feet producing thunder with each ponderous step over the stone floor.

The two beasts proudly displayed Dimitri's touch – they wore heavy plate armor, which to Chloe's senses glowed with a faint magical aura. It was stronger and lighter than any mundane steel, yet consigned as an almost useless failure and thus used for such an experiment, to armor the dumb brutes effectively. Protective runes etched into the steel, infused with blood and magic increased the Trolls' resistance and toughness to something which would have terrified any right-minded Witch or Wizard.

As far as Dimitri and his people were concerned, both the armor and the Trolls themselves, were a failure. They weren't tough enough, they weren't fast enough, and most importantly, they weren't smart enough to be useful weapons.

Yet, here and now, they might just prove tough and fast enough to give Chloe what she so painfully desired. She growled at the Trolls, who paused and stared at her lithe form, which looked so tiny and vulnerable in front of their massive frames. One bellowed a challenge at her, while the other merely glared and waved around its weapon, a huge oaken club, enhanced by thick metal spikes sticking out of the business end.


=TSA=

All conversations in the club ceased when the show began. That was a brief state of affair, interrupted by Chloe's laughter, the Trolls' angry bellows, and the clang of steel, which was enough to get tongues wagging and wagers going.

"You know, most people would be at least a little bit concerned if they heard that their wife is facing off against Trolls," Rivera spoke softly, while her friend danced the dance of death. "Even more so, if those Trolls are trained and so well outfitted." She looked at her Patron.

"Does she look like she needs help?" Veil briefly glanced her way, his dark eyes sparkling with appreciation and desire.

"Not the point! She's my best friend as you very well know!"

"True and that's why I'm tolerating most of your stunts, Joanne." Dimitri agreed, and she wasn't sure if she was really missing the point or merely needling her.

Joanne huffed and returned her attention to the fighting pit. Down there, Chloe was a blur dancing nimbly between the Trolls, which flailed angrily while doing their best to strike her. A Troll tried to kick Chloe, who slipped past its armored boot and her hands struck faster than the eye could follow. A moment later, she danced away laughing, barely avoiding a shower of blood that erupted from the back of the knee she just savaged. It was moments like these, Joanne had trouble recognizing her friend in the murderous creature she could scarcely tear her eyes from. Not for the first time, she cursed the Wizard who did this to her to the deepest, darkest pit of hell… and not for the first time she had to wonder how much of what she was seeing was Veil's influence and how much Chloe's new nature.

The second Troll roared in anger and charged at Chloe, who jumped back just in time to avoid his war-hammer. The solid metal head of the blunt weapon slammed into the ground with enough power to crack the enchanted stone. A moment later, Chloe jumped at the weapon and landed on its haft for a long moment, while the armored behemoth stared at her dumbly. As soon as the beast roared at her and tried to throw her away, she used its efforts to jump over it, twist in the air, and land lightly on its shoulders. Then she grabbed its helmet with tiny in comparison hands and everyone could hear the unpleasant sound of screeching metal. A moment later, Chloe heaved and sharply twisted her arms. A deafening crack echoed through the silent club, while the Troll slowly, ponderously collapsed in a heap.

The gathered crowd, small as it was, erupted in cheers, there were even a handful of curses from people who bet wrong, all the while, Chloe pumped a blood-coated fist in triumph, preening at the attention in a typical Veela fashion. Joanne simply watched her friend in exasperation. This right there, was so much like the old Chloe that it was painful to watch, especially when she knew what would follow soon.

Rivera was right too. Chloe spent a few more moments basking in the attention before her glowing eyes turned upon the second Troll. It had gotten on its feet, using its spiked club for support. It looked in confusion at its dead buddy, then at Chloe. The beast let out a keening sound of distress and slowly tried to get away from the monster it was locked up with, to no avail. Chloe stalked after it, passing by the weapon racks, where she picked up a sword. She whirled it in her hands, just like Veil liked to do, to show off, even if he always claimed it was merely to check the balance, and skipped after the retreating Troll. At least Chloe no longer wanted to play with it and went straight for the kill…

Rivera closed her eyes, not wanting to see the inevitable conclusion. She heard it nevertheless, the sound of steel crashing into steel, the painted grunts of the Troll, and Chloe's gleeful laughter ringing in her ears. Then it was all over – an almighty crash came from the pit and the crowd went wild again. Jeanne cracked an eye open to see her friend waving her bloody sword around like a warrior-queen from a fairy tale while standing on the corpse of the monster she just vanquished.

Yes, she was going to blame Dimitri for this one, Rivera decided. Speaking about the Dark Lord, one moment he was up beside her, watching, in the next, he appeared beside Chloe in a whirlwind of shadows. The two of them stared at each other for an endless moment, and then they were kissing as if the world was ending. Shadows rose around them, hiding them from sight and when they melted into the light, there was no trace of them in the arena.

"The show's over people. I want no trouble over your betting, you won or lost fair and square!" Joanne took charge, while her patrons were grumbling that their entertainment got cut off just when it was getting even better.


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Part 2

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October 1991
unplottable location
France

Chloe stirred beside me, cuddling into my side for more warmth, and sighed contentedly in her sleep. At that point, I was once again very happy for warming charms. While due to my mastery over the Dark Side, I was more than familiar with both bone-chilling cold and boiling fury trying to consume me from the inside, this was different. When awake, Chloe had enough of her Veela nature left and active to keep her warm. When asleep, without warming charms, it felt like an ice sculpture hugging me.

I gave a silent thanks to Merlin, Morgana, and Magic itself, which pointed at me going almost fully native already. After that, I focused my mind on the latest trouble that manifested itself.

Mind stirred with plans for the future. While Chloe wasn't as bad as Bo, when adopting strays was concerned, her newest brainstorm was going to complicate my plans. It already had my timetable disrupted as well. The disruption so far was of the most pleasant nature, but that wasn't the point.

At best, I had until the summer to get my Apprentice into a better home, and that was a can of worm I wasn't looking forward to opening. The most present complications were political. No matter what my wife wanted, I wasn't about to start a war over my Apprentice as long as there was a viable legal way to get an arrangement I could live with. That, unfortunately, meant even more entanglement with the British Ministry of Magic, something I wanted to keep at a reasonable minimum for the next few years. That ship obviously gleefully flew into the nearest black hole, thus leaving me with my current predicament.

With plan A gone the way of the dinosaurs, it was time to dust off certain contingencies. Early in the morning, I would be calling a number of my solicitors to begin preparing cases. Next on my agenda would be issuing marching orders for my intelligence department to get as much blackmail on all notable persons in the British Ministry and the people sitting on the Wizengamot. At the same time, their other new project would be to ensure lay enforcement would catch the Dursleys with tons of evidence on how they mistreated my Apprentice.

That would be the easy part. There would be more than enough magical residue after Harry spent a decade living in a cupboard to be easily detected. That by itself would not bury his aunt and uncle legally speaking. It would also get them disqualified as viable guardians for a goldfish, much less a young and famous Wizard.

The hard part would come next. With the Dursleys out of the picture one way or another, my Apprentice's new guardians would be a political question. When all was said and done, I wasn't sure I could influence a vote enough so that Harry would end with guardians I would find agreeable. People among Dumbledore's bunch might ensure Potter's safety. However, if he ended up in such an environment, the busybodies would cripple his proper training. Not to mention, he might snap and do something regrettable.

The same was true if a 'Dark' family got custody of my Apprentice. In that case, either he or they might end up dead or worse depending on their loyalties. On the other hand, in such a case, I might have a freer hand as long as he doesn't end up with a bunch of Voldie's fanatics.

At any rate, depending on where my Apprentice ends up, my vows might compel me to take direct action. We were bound by magic, not just the Force, and those vows usually went both ways. In this particular case, the vows binding a Master and Apprentice, they most certainly did. That usually was a feature to protect the Master's secrets and ensure that said Master wouldn't be mistreating their Apprentice and would teach them. My problem was that depending on the fallout, my vows might push me towards options that would be considered insane and not viable for most Wizards and Witches. Most of them couldn't potentially wage war on the Magical governments across the world and have a prayer of winning.

I've been preparing for such an eventuality just in case for years now.

In practical terms, the current mess meant that I should begin dusting off my plans for taking out the British Ministry at a minimum. And if that happened, I would have to be ready to face the international fallout just in case everything spins out of control next year.

I glanced at Chloe, wondering if I could persuade her to see sense while preparing for a potential disaster. I knew my headstrong wife. The answer was probably a firm no. After all, what I had been doing about my Apprentice's home situation until now was anything but sensible as far as she was concerned.

I closed my eyes and lightly tugged on the Force to faster fall into a meditative state. The odd night of proper sleep was important, however, most of the time it was better to rest and get my mind in order through meditation. Either that or focusing on various emotions through the Force to ensure I would be in control of them and not the other way around.

Surprisingly enough, there was no new disaster raising its ugly head, and I managed to rest until dawn break. By that point, Chloe had curled around me like a python seeking heat, and if it wasn't for the fact that she was almost colder than the depths of the Dark Side, it would have been a very nice way to properly awake.

Needless to say, one of a handful of spells I managed to learn to cast wandlessly was extremely useful in the situation Warming Charm. It wasn't as strong or long-lasting as a proper cast spell using a wand, however, it got the job done. Unfortunately, I simply lacked the power, and time, for that matter, to learn to do anything particularly useful offensively or defensively that way. Thanks to my experiences with the Force and years of practicing the Mind Arts, I had the mindset necessary for wandless magic. That was the primary thing that made such tricks possible in the first place.

Speaking about power… The way things are going I might have to reconsider certain rituals. It was too bad that considering what those entailed, doing them would come with tons of strings attached. A major point of contention would be Chloe wanting to tear off my head, not to mention the risk for my sanity, which was dubious at times. If it wasn't, I might not have found myself in this predicament in the first place.

Getting away from Chloe's death-grip was easier said than done. In fact, without the Force, I wouldn't have been able to gently slip away. Doing so still took some careful and gentle application of telekinesis. Once away, I let my wife hug the stuffing of a large pillow, then cast a few warming charms on the bed, the covers, and pillows. A soft sigh of content was my reward.

For a few moments, my eyes drank Chloe's sleeping form, engraving it into my mind, then I headed for the bathroom. It was time to get on with my day.


=TSA=

Half an hour later, I was in my office nursing hot sweet Brazilian coffee – the best approximation to my favorite blend of Caf. My chief minion was in attendance, along with a personal assistant who lived in both worlds, thus proving himself tremendously useful in my triple life. Thit particular minion was a new addition to my roster of subordinates. He was a "gift" from Chloe's extended family so to speak. Because of that, his secondary duties included keeping an eye on my wife and step-daughter just in case I decided to go full stereotypical Dark Lord. What he was supposed to do in that case besides becoming a smear on the wall, I had no idea.

On the bright side, he was one of the few people we could reasonably trust to look after our daughter while she wasn't back at school, and we had to be away – a present concern after Chloe decided to get out of her self-imposed isolation.
That was one of the reasons why I was primarily using Felix's talents when I was in continental Europe. During our stay in the States for the Senate and Congress hearings, he was one of the primary contacts to deal with any issues arising from having a daughter struggling with her new nature.

Felix Gaston looked like a typical Muggle high middle-class fellow, or what passed for it these days. Relatively expensive suit, but not enough to stand out, the same going for everything he wore. He preferred darker, subdued tones depending on the circumstances and did his best to blend in with the décor. He was there to be seen but quickly forgotten - just another aide.

Despite his efforts, he did stand out due to very distinct Asian features that didn't appear to be watered down by even a drop of foreign blood, name notwithstanding. A blood adoption or two were responsible for that as far as I was aware, along with a long and twisted story that might rival the Three Musketeers in length if written down.

Ignatius looked better than ever and very British in his three-piece custom made suit. The clothing was enchanted to hell and back, both defensively and for ease of movement. Unless you knew precisely what you were looking for, you wouldn't see the pistol he took up wearing – another custom piece. Highly enchanted too and particularly illegal. That thought brought a brief smile to my face. Say what you will for my Chief Minion, what little usual Wizard hang-ups he had left by the time I got my hands on him, he got cured of them a few years ago. That had been fun. For me anyway.

"Thank you for coming promptly, gentlemen." I saluted my minions with my mug.

"You did give us Portkeys for your primary lairs." Vance tapped one of his pockets. "What's on fire this fine morning, boss?"

"Right now? Nothing that I'm aware of. By this time next year? Possibly the whole Magical World and we might be to blame. At least in part anyway."

"What did you do?" Ignatius didn't quite whine, however, his well-practiced exasperation was something else.

"Chloe's on the warpath. It took a lot of effort to get her relatively calmed down."

"Ah. That's what yesterday's performance was about?" Gaston inquired. "By now practically everyone in our circles knows our lady tore apart multiple War Trolls. Do I dare ask what did you do this time, sir?"

"Nothing, which is the problem. Chloe learned some details about how my Apprentice's relatives used to treat him before I entered the picture. My wife demands he has nothing to do with those people."

"Why is that a problem?" Gaston inquired. His expression now matched the exasperation in Ignatius' voice.

"Oh, getting him out of that house is going to be relatively simple and straightforward. It's the political shitstorm that will come as a consequence that might be a spot of trouble."

"Boss, you're a proper British. We still need to work on your ability to blithely understate problems, and outright disasters. You've spent too long in Drumstrang and on the continent." Ignatius sadly concluded. "Your wife is aware of the potential entanglements that will ensure, right?"

"Oh, she is. Point one, we're talking about the British Ministry of Magic, and a great number of British Wizards and Witches. As far as Chloe's concerned, most of them can go drown in the Channel for all she cares."

Felix preened at that statement. Bloody Frenchmen. At least the French women usually had various redeeming features, not so much their men.

"Knowing many of them, personally or by reputation, I can generally agree with the sentiment. Most of the good ones either died or left if they could." Vance nodded solemnly. "Like yours truly."

"I'll be contacting your solicitors then, sir?" Felix inquired politely.

"Among many other people. My Apprentice's relatives will go one way or another. I want no issues legally as far as that part of this mess is concerned. Further, I want us to get ahead of the news cycle. Get our PR department to do their magic on the magic side. Both here on the continent and back across the Channel. Speaking about news… What's the situation with the Prophet? Teen Witch Weekly?"

It was sad but true there were three real media "giants" in the British Magical world paid any real attention these days. The Daily Prophet and the Wireless – which were more often than not pure propaganda machines for their major shareholders, and TWW, which seldom posted real news. That, in turn, made said publication the most factually accurate of the three. Then there was the Quibbler, but the less said about it the better. Both acquiring it legally and turning it into something most people would not laugh at would take too much time and resources. The same was true about starting a new newspaper. Most British Wizards and Witches were not only a conservative lot, to say the least, but they also tended to take what was written in the Prophet as a gospel.

"The Ministry has a controlling stake of the Wireless and won't be letting it go. The way to influence the Wireless is by influencing key members of the Ministry." Ignatius reminded me. "That's something we'll be looking ahead of schedule I guess?"

"You're right on that point. The Prophet?"

"We have ten percent of the shares already. That's practically everything that floated around and could be easily purchased. We'll have our work cut out for us to acquire more. At this point, I can't say sure if we would be able to get enough shares legally to properly influence the Daily Prophet. We're still trying to figure out who controls about thirty percent of the shares. They've been dormant since the war ended. Those shares might be inherited by heirs not yet of age." Felix explained.

"Keep working on it. I want to know for sure where we stand on the propaganda front in Magical Britain ASAP. Next, I have more tasking for our Intel people…"


=TSA=

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