"Yes, Madame Prime Minister, we are serious."

"But, Ma'am, to declare war without consulting the Defence Council..."

"This is not war as such. We are merely bringing some disobedient citizens to their senses."

"Not that there's much sense in 'that sort'," Mrs. Thatcher muttered.

"Indeed. And besides, do you really want to shoulder the task of explaining to Parliament that magic is real?"

"When you phrase it so… But still! Leaving it in the hands of children." She shook her head. "It's just not done."

"And when is a person most malleable and capable of learning? Besides, I believe these young people will do an exemplary job."

"One of them has barely put a name to her talent, another is of the most hidebound conservative faction, and the other two are the product of child abuse." She shook her head. "I fear you are overly optimistic."

"We have several years to heal and educate them. We must support them, for if they fail, with the recent history of that world, I fear for the Commonwealth."

"Yes, they seem to have recurring nasties in their bunch. So when are you planning to extract the other three?"

"The Royal Equerry pulled the Potter boy from the care of his unpleasant relatives last week, and he is under the care of the Royal physicians." (There was a reason that particular child had been retrieved first. The Princess of Wales, once she learned of his condition, had declared that he would not 'spend another night at that beastly abode. Even if I have to kick their arses and drag him out myself.') "The newly appointed Magical Equerry will work on the families ensconced in the other world."

"Best of luck to him."

Her Majesty gave a small chuckle. "He won't need it. From what I can tell, those imbeciles haven't studied their historical documents in decades, if not longer."

"The Malfoys are not accustomed to taking orders from muggles, queen or no."

"Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you are not aware…"

"That is Lord Malfoy to you."

"Actually, sir, it is not." As the man before him began to gasp as if he were a beached fish, Wisseldon, previously Head of Security for the Crown, continued. "You may call yourself 'Lord' until you are blue in the face, but the fact of the matter is that there are no nobles in the magical world. The closest you could be is a Scottish 'Laird'; that is, one who owns a large estate and is responsible for a number of people. And, as Wiltshire is not in the northern part of our fair isle…" He allowed his voice to trail away.

"Preposterous!" he huffed.

"It is well recorded that magical origins were not from the nobility but from the common people. Some may have married into non-magical noble families before the segregation of our societies, but there is no corresponding rank in the wizarding world."

"I will not allow you to so besmirch my family name," he snarled as he grasped the head of an ornate cane.

"It would not be advisable to draw your wand on me, Mr. Malfoy." He tapped a badge on his chest. "This is the emblem of Elizabeth II, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of her other realms and territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith. An attack on me would be the same as an attack on Her Majesty, and the magical adjunct to the Magna Carta would then enforce the punishment for treason." He leaned forward. "That would be death, Mr. Malfoy. Quick. And. Permanent."

The man stiffened, feeling the overwhelming power roll in waves from the gold jewelry, and removed his hand from the hidden weapon. "I will assume that you speak the truth."

"Most prudent."

"So," he drawled, "what is the purpose of this visit, if not to denigrate my position in society?"

"As I earlier stated, Mr. Malfoy, there are no ranks of nobility among Her Majesty's magical subjects. However, she has recently become interested in this portion of her empire and would like to offer your family a patent of nobility."

He sneered. "Of what benefit is a muggle title to me?"

"You misunderstand. One, the title will be honoured in both 'worlds', and two, it will be bestowed upon your son, not you."

"On Draco?" His eyes sharpened. "What interest have you in him?"

"Her Majesty is inclined to educate and train a group of young people who will be able to traverse easily both communities to help maintain the Statute of Secrecy. This will be an elite association, its goal to unify the ethea of said communities for mutual advantage. The benefits of its success, Mr. Malfoy, include placing your son at the vanguard of change and in a position of enviable power."

"You have my attention, Mr. Wisseldon. Please explain further."

"Your Majesty?" The head of the Royal Physicians bowed.

"Yes, Dr. Casasana?"

"I would like to discuss the young man whom we are treating."

"And how is Mr. Harry Potter progressing?"

"Well, his injuries from 'clumsiness' have been taken care of, and in a couple of weeks the potion regimen should have him up to normal height-weight percentiles. It is his scar, Ma'am, which is of concern."

"The one on his forehead? You just said that you took care of his relatives' abuse." She waved her hand. "No need to sugarcoat the terminology."

"That particular trauma is neither recent nor of muggle source. It is from a curse, most likely from seven years ago."

The Queen removed her glasses to polish them. "It appeared fairly fresh in the photographs which were taken to chronicle what had been done to him."

"It never heals, Ma'am. According to the boy's anamnesis, it would bleed periodically, most likely whenever he was pounded by his massive cousin."

"That will not happen again, we assure you."

"Of course. But my scans show a residue of dark magic. I would appreciate some time off to research the matter."

"Absolutely. Do whatever is necessary to make that child whole and healthy."

"Mr. Wisseldon?"

The man, still acting as Security Chief while Gutermann, his replacement, wound up his affairs in Australia, raised his head. "Pierson, is it?"

"Yes, sir. Sir, it is about the Privet Drive observation."

"Go on, lad."

"A woman from over on Wisteria Walk has been seen walking up and down the street looking at Number Four. She tries to peer through the windows and has attempted to access the back garden. Nosy old bat, if you ask me, but I was wondering if there was more to it than that."

"Hmm. Perhaps a spy for whomever condemned that boy to hell on earth. What have you on her?"

"A Mrs. Figg, sir. The magical resonance scanner registers her, but barely."

"A squib, then." He leaned back in the office chair, pen tapping on chin. "What to do? What to do?"

"Sir, would it help if someone disguised himself as the boy?"

"Polyjuice? No, then we would have to explain his presence to those poxy Dursleys and make sure they would not take right back up where they left off. No, I do believe I will send 'Squad O' to visit her. Not to take all of her memories, but just confund her enough to believe that she sees the boy around the neighbourhood."

"Do you think that she reported his condition to her spymaster?"

"If so, that would damn the person who placed him there that much more. If he was left in those circumstances for years with no intervention, I suppose a false memory continuing the abuse should reassure the bastard. No need to expose our hand yet. Pierson," he looked up, "well done and keep up the good work."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."