Draco could almost feel the noose tightening around the neck of his master. Another body had already appeared, though this one in Latvia, fortunately burned beyond recognition except for a hand with long fingernails. That, however, is not the true threat. The Dark Lord would be wise to flee when he loses his horcrux.
Before just twelve hours earlier, it had been all but a certainty that the Lord Voldemort had only escaped death because of that particular dark artefact, but now they had it out of Amycus Carrow himself. The young Slytherin allowed himself something of a satisfied smile as he went through his classes. The Death Eaters have won.
It had been a plan secret enough that Draco had not been informed of it. Apparently, Selwyn and his father had conspired to send representatives into the Magical United States, which had previously been deemed too volatile for anyone but the very desperate. They insisted, however, that if done carefully, by sending the right people to the right groups, they could grow their numbers substantially, and the Dark Lord would support the plan if he could be bothered with it, though such concerns were beneath him, of course. The blood purists could be quite sure the organized crime groups would be receptive to those who fought for the Lord Voldemort as a way out of their own criminal histories. With Macnair still in Britain acting the government official, Carrow had gone with Lestrange along with a few of their minions with rap sheets.
What they had not told the Dark Lord loyalists was that they already knew one of the wizards at the meeting, a Quebecois researcher of dark magic by the name of Kaspir Desrosiers and a lifelong friend of Halstead Selwyn. When one of the leaders of organized crime, Vincenzo di Alcantara, asked the obvious question of how their master managed the enviable task of returning to life, and when pressed by general disbelief upon saying that it was a secret, he admitted that a horcrux had been created in the United Kingdom in secret, and apparently the Lord Voldemort had no idea that it would work until he discovered that he was not exactly dead, where he had previously believed them to be entirely unreliable, inclined to develop their own personalities and work against their creators. He was quite content with the one he had, and had no intention of creating any more, as he had it on good authority that splitting the soul more than once would only result in an unstable entity that would continue to divide indefinitely.
Of course, we are perfectly aware that the cited good authority is none other than Horace Slughorn.
Macnair had, as an interrogator for the Department, volunteered to see what could be gained from the old Potions master as soon as he was dismissed by Saint Mungo's and promptly returned to the Ministry school in the process of being reconstructed. In the school days of Tom Riddle, there had apparently been mounting concerns after one too many students started asking about 'dark matters' and the Slytherin Head at the time decided he had quite enough of it and would not be held responsible in the event that anyone either found the Chamber of Secrets or started using dark magic. He started lying to the students when they asked questions whenever he did not simply answer that he did not know.
"Malfoy," someone called out as he walked between classes. He turned around to see a student who would have ignored him a few months ago. "We have the school. The teachers know not to contradict the vassals."
"That would be splendid to know, if I did not already know it. Has the deployment to other schools started?"
"Yes. Three to Uagadou, three to the Chinese school, and the rest are being trained in their responsibilities." Draco nodded. He had kept his expectations reasonable with how quickly the takeover could be accomplished, but it had been quite simple to him that if the Death Eaters could have control over one school, and the children from the most worthwhile witches and wizards from several countries, they could do even better with more. There were things that could not be bought with gold, and children were one of them. He had already heard that the Dark Lord had quite foolishly given up the Philosopher's Stone, but not before buying some previously disturbing percentages of assets around the world, mostly through shells the Death Eaters managed without his asking too many questions.
As the Russian wizard left him and he went to his final class of the day, he supposed that the Lord Voldemort could not be expected to manage every last detail of his organization, and it made sense to leave certain matters to trusted subordinates, but his most trusted followers were always the most capable, and the most capable were, as to be expected, not always the least ambitious. If one thing is certain, however, my pity for the loyalists is at an end. They are simply too foolish to survive, and they were contributing to the problem we had with the Dark Lord.
On the subject of losing the Stone, Bulstrode's death and his wife's disappearance were inconvenient, but the man himself had not been terribly useful. His daughter was seeing a lot of Goyle as he understood it, and he supposed it would be unreasonable for him to make a rule against relations between vassals, since that would mean the simple majority of the students at Durmstrang would be out in the cold, and he did have a girlfriend himself, even if she happened to be in another country. Though it was, strictly speaking, the honorable thing to do, he no longer had any intention of breaking up with the witch, and found himself growing more sympathetic to the perspective of the late Avery, who had told him no later that second year that fathering bastards would result in half-bloods, who were acknowledged to be the tolerable response to the reality of their situation.
The last time Draco saw the two vassals sitting together, they were not saying anything, but the wizard had a hand on the shoulder of the witch. At least the offspring will be pure. I am sure that if I were to ask Pansy or someone who would care about this sort of thing, she would say they are a good match for each other, and coo in a flea of sympathy on the back of pity.
When classes were over, he walked outside to meet with a few representatives. Marcus Flint, the grown son and heir of the Flint family, primarily sworn in fealty to House Black, waited with Travers, on break from his other international duties. An odd pair, I suppose, but a pair none the less.
"Good afternoon, Mafloy," the young wizard said. "I never thought I would say that in this weather." A silent sympathy could be felt. The winters of Britain were harsh enough, but the springs were much milder and whatever chill there was in the morning usually cleared by midday.
"I never thought I would speak English again," he responded. "The Dark Lord and his whims are full of surprises. There is no hope for the Heir, to put it rather plainly. I have reached out to him as earnestly and with as much truth as I dared, and he has rejected us. The legacy of the Great Salazar Slytherin is nothing to him but a source of power."
"It is a source of power he has the right to possess," Travers warned. "He was born with it."
"I am aware. I have learned, however, rather painfully, that not all born with great heritage have lived into it. Consider Sirius Black."
"He never worked with us," Flint said.
"Yes, that is why he is a traitor to his house. In another sense, Evan betrays the heirship by swearing exclusive fealty to the Lord Voldemort, who claims lineage from Gaunt, to be sure, but is a half-blood of no other note." A silence came and passed. "Perhaps those who believe themselves wise think I speak too soon, but those who know the truth and are committed to defending it will be bold enough to say it when it matters."
"In either case, we are going to Iceland. Grindelwald will recognize you from when you liberated him, and he will do well to remember the buttered side of the bread." Draco only nodded at the words of Travers. An invitation had been sent to the Death Eaters bearing the unmistakable seal of the dark wizard, an old fashioned way of verifying one's identity, but an effective one nonetheless. They were quite certain that the letter had not been altered in any way between inscription and arrival. Travers said he had it from Aunt Bella, though the last time he had heard about her responsibilities she was on her way to Havana.
"You said you saw my aunt. Are you entirely sure she was not using Polyjuice potion?" he asked.
"Grindelwald would've been able to tell and he'd have killed her. I did know her before she went to prison. Come to think of it, I knew her when she was in school, though the last twenty years have been unkind to her. Apparently the old warlock said she looked just like old Vinda Rosier. There is some relation there, Druella, her mother- your grandmother-"
"She was a Rosier, yes," Draco supplied.
Nothing more needed to be established. They were going to a small fishing village, one easily cut off from the rest of the world. The youngest wizard had been excused from all of his classes for the rest of the day, and had been awarded academic credit for his exploits in service to the Dark Lord, as it was becoming more of an open secret that he currently served as Headmaster. He may have held a faculty meeting and simply informed everyone who did not already know. What concerns me is how the Xian knew how to find him. The Death Eater who serves as our embassy to China is a loyalist.
In mere moments they were in Iceland.
As he knew he should have expected, it was substantially warmer, but if at all possible he would do well not to get used to it. The landscape was quite gentle, though there was more rugged terrain and even mountains in the distance. He thought he was standing on grass, but it looked oddly like some sort of lichen.
"I have been under the impression the wizards here are under the Danish Ministry. I presume that is who they call when the dark wizards turn up?"
"More or less," Travers answered. "The nonmagical didn't have the same good relations, to say the least." Flint seemed to have developed a more Laconic philosophy on life, perhaps because nothing he said had ever been terribly insightful. The oldest of the three of them was more likely to say something useful, but only before or after the opposite.
The three of them walked to a simple, cozy looking dwelling, though for the village it would have passed for a large building. One of Grindelwald's lieutenants greeted them as soon as they came in, though he wore an odd expression.
"Good day; I had thought that we had already spoken to a representative from the Death Eaters. Perhaps you have not heard, but a representative from the Order is here now." Draco had his wand out. "Though there is no Secrecy in this village, it is firmly neutral territory. I would hope you bring your young up with an understanding of diplomacy."
"Wands away, then," Travers said. "I trust we have your guarantee they will not start anything?"
"They're not a government," the unidentified wizard said as though he had just asked if they would buy votes with programs or change the historical texts to suit the current narrative. "It's a young wizard with hand-me-down robes and garish red hair."
"I can only imagine who that might be," Draco muttered. As he walked in, he noticed it was not any Weasley he had seen before, but it was certainly one of them. His robes were not as old as the Hogwarts robes used by almost all of them, but probably chosen to redirect suspicion. He had with him a witch who looked remarkably like his Aunt Bellatrix, but was not the same either.
"Who the devil are you?"
"I'm Charlie Weasley. This is Andromeda Tonks."
"She's not my aunt-"
"My father Cygnus Black would agree with you, had he not passed shortly after you started school-"
"Then you're the traitor, Andromeda."
"At least you know my name, I suppose. If you had ever seen my face, or even a representation of it, you might have some idea of the incredible resemblance to Bellatrix, but you were denied that opportunity. To lay my cards on the table, as it were, I did not come here to kill you, or to exact any manner of revenge for being removed from my station, as that was the best thing my father and mother ever did for me. I came here because it has been my responsibility to follow developments coming out of Durmstrang, where I understand you have amassed a following loyal to you specifically."
"So I have. Despite the cobbled heritage of the school, the majority has discovered the truth."
"They have discovered strength and fear," the blood traitor said. "They follow you because you freed our host here, not because you have convinced them. I came here to tell you that this is the exact way that the Death Eaters intend to establish a state ideology. Every night at the dinner table when I was growing up, my father told me that sooner or later, the mudbloods would have to be systematically eradicated, slowly and carefully enough that they would never realize it until it was too late. They had a wand to our necks in the form of exposing us to the muggles, so the priority would be to keep them out of the most important offices, the better to keep them from realizing what we were planning."
Draco scowled. He had talked with numerous blood purists in his day, and when each of them spoke of the truth, he spoke of purging the lies that stood in the way. He had to admit it would be rather cathartic to see if those who wrote about the witch trials could survive fire charms themselves, but it hardly seemed necessary for the purposes of spreading the truth. As soon as those blood traitors are out of their offices, there will be no need to kill them.
"I am not your father," he said. "I care not at all about what he has told you of his plans, unfulfilled as they are today-"
"Yes, for this reason there is some point in talking to you."
"I wouldn't be listening to a blood traitor," Travers advised. "Looks like the other one has had the good sense to remain silent."
"Don't read too much into it," Weasley said. "We don't agree on everything, just because we're both blood traitors. I hear from some of our younger members that the Ministry brats called them traitors to their government, same as you lot."
"Draco, you must understand that it is not too late to change. In the Order of the Phoenix, there is more to the moral world than allies and enemies; our principles are not mere mechanisms of gaining and securing power. If you were to renounce your previous allegiance and forswear plans to murder people for their blood status, we would welcome you. We have many differences of opinion among us, and we would regard your views the same as those of any other student of your year. Perhaps misinformed, in my view, but certainly not a threat in and of themselves."
"You only desire my following at Durmstrang," he accused. "Dumbledore had the chance to take the Ministry at any point, and he could have won the war in a stroke by separating the Death Eaters from their master; all he would have to do would be to publicly acknowledge the truth as we have always known it. He did not take power, though, nor did he resist the effort to teach lies in school. He deserves a nominal amount of credit as a truly committed fence sitter for refusing to allow the Fudge government to destroy the books of dark magic, until his inevitable death made that decision irrelevant after the school itself was destroyed."
A silence came and passed. It was interrupted by the return of Grindelwald, through the door as would come the muggle who followed him. The man wore a strange expression, like that of a child who had just lost his parents in a war.
"Ah, it is pleasant to see you again, Malfoy. I brought our guest here today to demonstrate that he and his kind are not to be hated, nor are they to be feared." The man in the distinctly muggle suit said nothing; he only looked around with an openmouthed stare. The shock has not worn off, then. The wizards and witch in the room in turn stared back at him, though they could tell he likely felt rather like a zoo animal, perhaps a pangolin or anything else from the endangered species list. "Does anyone have any questions?"
"Are there any of your kind anywhere who know of our existence?" Draco asked, taking point.
"I'm... afraid I can't rightly say," the Icelander said. "I don't know what everyone else knows. I truly don't believe I'm qualified to represent everyone in the world who can't do magic." He paused. "If I could say anything, though, I would have to agree with those saying we don't mean you any harm. I really can't imagine what we might have against you."
"We have nothing to fear from squibs," Grindelwald said, satisfied with the muggle's explanation. "How different are they from muggles who know of our existence? The Statute, you see, was a mistake and not one we should continue for how long we have spent making it. We have spent far too many resources trying to keep them in the dark, when it is much simpler to demonstrate their place in the natural order of things. Some of us, to be sure, may die, for example a child may be shot by a begrudging muggle, but in the long run far fewer will be spared. Without the Statute, wizards need not fear going to prison for practicing magic, they need not even fear conflict into which the muggles could drag us."
"Are you implying their wars would end?" Travers asked. "Hyenas and lions haven't stopped fighting."
"I suppose they have not, because we have not made pets of them," the dark wizard answered. "They could fight for our amusement, to be sure, but what would be the point of that? Their conflicts are not interesting or noteworthy; they concern themselves with skin color and imaginary lines." Even Draco could tell he was oversimplifying things, but he supposed there was a point to be had. "When they see we are superior, they will unite against us. I have every expectation of this. It will be all of them against all of us, but they would never dare attack us outright."
"There are scores of them for every one of us-" he started.
"Perhaps there are, but what good will that do them? They will recognize that conflict with us is perfectly futile, and that will be the end of it. We are quite capable of being benevolent rulers." He turned to the young Slytherin. "Perhaps you have heard the Burmese perspective on Secrecy is quite different from our own. With no secrecy anywhere, there will be no need for disagreement between magical nations."
If Grindelwald's ideas sounded utopian to the point of being unrealistic to everyone else, there was no visible disapproval universally. The muggle's expression had not changed from being scared and disillusioned, the Death Eaters had pensive, opaque expressions, and to their credit the Order Members were glaring with barely disguised anger. Well, perhaps you should have listened to us if you wanted to remain under the Statute.
There were however, no objections. Instead there was a long silence during which everyone seemed to stare at everyone else, much to the increasing concern of the solitary muggle.
"Excellent," the dark wizard said. "If you have doubted either my beliefs or my convictions, doubt them no longer. If they are not directly proven to be ill-founded and incorrect, the My first act as ruler over the magical world will be to reveal its existence to the muggles."