Chapter I

June 27, 1996 (two weeks after the Ministry's fall)

Dumbledore and Harry shared an amused look while Daphne, face practically pressed against the windowpane, stared out at the cars that zipped past them. The section of track they were on at the moment ran parallel with the Autobahn for about a half-hour, and the pureblood heiress was stunned at the sight of the huge metal machines traveling nearly as fast as a racing broom.

Their trip, starting in the Netherlands, had carried them into Germany, though they'd turned south, toward Austria, to intercept the northernmost of the Seven. Dumbledore had made the travel arrangements using judicious applications of Confunding and Notice-Me-Not Charms to get them the necessary accommodation on a train to Berlin.

He'd greatly enjoyed speaking with his two former pupils; Harry, as always, had refreshing and novel takes on transfiguration, as well as a number of fascinating stories from his travels around the world. Daphne, though more insecure and uncomfortable at their muggle environs because of her pureblood upbringing, proved to be passionate about arithmancy, and the three of them spent many hours simply discussing magical theory in a way that Dumbledore had not had time to do in decades. It was refreshing.

Of course, the purpose of their trip remained at the forefront of their conversations. Harry had shared what he knew of the Sibittu, and they had attempted to brainstorm potential countermeasures. All of their ideas were purely conceptual; without knowing precisely how each of the Seven's abilities manifested, the three of them could only guess what would be the best method to destroy them.

"We're about two hours away from the next stop; I have to step out and visit an old friend. I trust that you two will be able to make the transfer without me?"

Harry nodded. "It won't be a problem. Where are you going?"

"As I said, to see an old friend. I'll be in no danger, and Fawkes will bring me back to your side when my errand is complete."

"Then we'll see you soon."

Dumbledore nodded, tapping the portkey with his wand and feeling the jerk behind his navel. As he was deposited at the arrival site, he smiled and raised his hand in greeting. "Master Flamel, you're looking well."

"Save your flattery, Albus, I look like a walking corpse and you know it." Indeed, Nicholas Flamel looked nothing like the distinguished, elderly man that he'd visited three years prior. "What is so urgent that a pariah should require an immediate audience with a dying man?"

"I hardly think that those adjectives are befitting either of us, old friend."

"Is that so? You've been unceremoniously sacked from every position you held, your defense of that insane brat costing you the last bit of your influence. Meanwhile, I sit here, day after day, waiting for the clock to run out. Our time is up."

Dumbledore's genial smile faded away, his expression taking on a tinge of grief. "Perenelle?"

"She's gone. Perhaps a year? Maybe slightly more? I can't explain why she deteriorated so much quicker than I, much as I regret the fact that I've been forced to wait for the end without her."

"I'm sorry, Nicholas. I'd wondered why you took so long to reply to my messages. She was an incredible woman and a fantastic teacher. The world is far worse off with her loss."

Flamel nodded absently. "Well? What's so important that you needed to see me?"

Removing a wrapped parcel from within his robes, Dumbledore seemed to consider tossing it to his former teacher. Taking in the way that Flamel's weathered and aged skin hung off of his bones, how he was hunched over, standing only with the aid of a sturdy cane, he reconsidered. Walking over, Dumbledore placed it in his hands. "Here."

Releasing a heavy sigh, Flamel tottered over to a chair, slowly and painfully easing himself down onto it. Resting his cane against the table, he unwrapped the parcel with trembling fingers, the skin on his hands so thin it was nearly transparent. A sharp exhalation was the only immediate reaction as he beheld the item on the table.

"The 'insane brat', as you termed him, that I've sacrificed my influence to defend gave me that, following the Battle of Azkaban."

"How…? Where did he get it?"

"The mid-east, in the Iraq desert. It's a rather sensitive subject to him, but from what little he told me, apparently the Sumerian 'gods' each had a horcrux and Philosopher's Stone fashioned for them to ensure their immortality."

"This- he gave it to you? Freely?"

"Yes. Perhaps he thought it a repayment; Fawkes had healed him of a rather grievous injury during the battle."

"And, and you're giving it to me? Why?"

"I need your help, old friend. Harry needs your help, although he does not know it."

Flamel directed a sharp gaze to his former apprentice. "You expect me to help that boy destroy everything that wizards have built over the last three hundred years? That, what, you could extort my support with the Stone, to bring back the days of witch-burnings and inquisition?"

"Of course not! I would never demand your loyalty in that way. This is a gift, from a student to their teacher, from a friend to a friend. Harry knows nothing of my visit to you, though I don't doubt he would support saving your life."

"But you admit that you came seeking my help."

"Yes. There is more to this young man than what you've heard from the ICW, or read in the newspaper. He is not a seditious rebel, seeking to expose our secrets."

"Perhaps not, though his intention is irrelevant, given the consequence of his actions."

Albus was quiet, his disappointment remaining unexpressed. Eventually, he spoke again, "I fear that the Confederation seeks his death."

"I have no information that would allay those fears."

Dumbledore ran a hand over his eyes. "You have been in contact with the ICW? Do you know their plans?"

"I doubt that I know anything more than you. The Confederation knows that I am a broken relic, one not long for this world. They do not seek my counsel as they did in years past."

"Would you at least meet with Harry? Allow him to tell you his story?"

Flamel hesitated, running his hands over the large red stone on his table. "Very well. I will meet with him, though my mind will not be changed. I am perhaps the only man alive to remember what the world was like before the Statute was put in place; there is no single life - not mine, not yours, not that boy's - that is of greater worth than protecting magic's secret from the muggles."

"I will send word when Harry and I can return, then."

"If that is what you wish. Now, my old apprentice, would you care to witness the creation of the Elixir of Life?" Flamel grasped his cane, and Dumbledore was quick to hurry to his side and assist him into his laboratory.

July 1, 1996

"Minister, your daughter is here to see you."

"Send her in." Randolph MacDougal stood from his seat, making his way around the imposing desk to embrace his only child as she walked in. "How are you, dear? Come to see your old dad at work, like when you were a little girl?"

"It's a far cry from the hippogriff ranch, that's for sure," she commented lightly, looking around the finely decorated office. "Cedric Diggory is your secretary?"

"Personal assistant is his preferred title, I believe. He came highly recommended from the Edgecombes." Leila Edgecombe had assumed the role of his Senior Undersecretary in the provisional government established under ICW supervision. "Why? He was Head Boy, with impeccable marks at Hogwarts."

"Nothing. Just surprised is all; he comes from a fairly prestigious pureblood line."

Randolph frowned. "The entire point of this new Ministry to erase such concerns, you know that. It doesn't matter if he's pureblood or muggleborn, Mr. Diggory was an outstanding candidate fully deserving of his position."

"He's also dating Edgecombe's daughter's best friend. Might have colored their recommendation of him, don't you think?"

"Is this why you came? To criticize my pick for my assistant?"

Morag lightly blushed but shook her head. "Sorry, Dad. I was wondering if you had any news on the search."

"No, he must have been tipped off and gone to ground. Lord Black allowed us to search his home, but had no knowledge of where he'd gone to."

"Did you ask him under Veritaserum?"

"Morag, that's a violation of the law. We cannot just go around dosing people with potions-"

"You're after a murderer, you should do what you have to!" she replied in a heated voice.

"Harry Potter will be brought to justice, I can assure you. We've brought the muggles into the search; he will find no sanctuary in nonmagical spaces."

"Minister, the ICW representative and Madam Edgecombe are here for your two o'clock meeting. Shall I join to take notes?"

"Please," he agreed, turning back to give his daughter a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you at home, dear."

"Minister, good afternoon," greeted the ICW representative, Senio. It had taken some time to get used to the… eccentric man that had been sent to oversee MacDougal's leadership, what with him never wearing the same face twice. "We have much to discuss."

"Of course, of course."

"We've replaced all of the department heads with more suitable candidates, as you suggested," Leila Edgecombe started. "The penalties for violating the Statute have been vastly increased, up from fines to prison terms. We've made remarkable progress in such a short time, Mr. Senio."

"And yet, the search for Potter meets failure at every turn. I believe it is time to take more direct action."

"What do you mean by that? We've done all that we can do within the bounds of the law."

Senio's expression did not change from his default of forced politeness. "Then, perhaps, the laws should be changed. You could have used Veritaserum or legilimency against Black; I remain unconvinced that the boy disappeared without his knowledge."

"The Wizengamot would never allow a Lord to be treated in such a manner! It was only the nature of the crisis that allowed us to search his home, to begin with!"

"If that is so, then I believe we will need a new Wizengamot. The Lords can decide which is more important - our mission or their power."

MacDougal shifted nervously at such a proposition. "I still don't like-"

"You are not in this office to have opinions, Minister. We put you there, and can just as easily find someone else to fill that seat," Senio commented. "I'm sure that with your connections to the elite, you won't have any problems pushing through the necessary reforms. Our aurors will be standing by."

"Mr. Senio, wait - what about Hogwarts?"

"What about it?"

MacDougal and Edgecombe exchanged a glance. "Access to the school has been barred since your aurors took it over. Will school be back in session in September?"

With a thin smile, Senio nodded. "Of course. Those faculty unwilling to teach ICW curriculum have been replaced. Ensuring the proper magical education of young wizards and witches is an essential duty of every member-state of the Confederation. Classes will begin on time, as usual."

"Right, excellent. That will reassure many in the Wizengamot."

"If there's nothing else…?"

"Thank you for meeting with us." Handshakes were exchanged, and the meeting came to an end.

Cedric Diggory returned to his desk outside the Minister's office, bidding Madam Edgecombe farewell as she left to return to her own office. The rest of the afternoon went by slowly, with him carrying out his perfunctory duties before finally being dismissed for the day.

Opening his desk to replace his quill and inkpot in their proper place, Cedric looked around to ensure that there were no late visitors for MacDougal and that his office door was shut. Once he was sure that he was alone, he cast a silent Duplicating Charm, sliding the copy of the minutes from Senio's meeting into his robes before walking back to the Atrium.

Stepping out of the Floo, he took a seat at the dingy bar and raised one hand, calling for a butterbeer. Predictably, in a bar that had no kitchen, there were few patrons present during dinnertime. Cedric popped the cork from the dusty bottle and took a swig.

"Thanks, Abe. I've come to look forward to unwinding here after work."

Aberforth grunted, seemingly irritated at having to acknowledge that the clean-cut pureblood was one of his regulars. "I'm going to have to start ordering more butterbeer, or you're going to have to start drinking something that'll put hair on your chest."

Cedric grinned at the surly barkeep, tilting the bottle back to finish the last of the drink. "Maybe next time. I'll leave the firewhiskey for you and my dad. Four Sickles?"

"Plus tip."

"A tip? You're asking a lot. How's this - provide service with a smile. There's your tip!" He laughed as the filthy rag Aberforth held hit him in the face. Cedric pulled the rag off his face, his hands momentarily dropping below the bar before he set it down next to his empty bottle. "As sunny as ever. I'll see you tomorrow."

Abe watched him walk out the door, grabbing the empty bottle and bar rag and turning away to drop the silver coins into the till. As he did, he unwrapped the bar rag, pocketing the shrunken documents that Cedric had wrapped up within it.

Susan grumbled, wishing she had a Pain-Relieving Potion, or at least a wand to cast a cooling charm. Her breasts had been heavy enough before, but being twelve weeks pregnant had them sore and tender and larger than ever. Her bras were too tight, everything made her nauseous, and worst of all, her aunt - 'More like my prison warden' - refused to let her so much as imagine contacting anyone outside their manor.

"Missy Susan, dinner be ready."

"Thank you, Mimsy, but I'm not hungry." The house-elf frowned at her response. "Is my aunt home?"

"Mistress be waiting in the dining room."

Squaring her shoulders, Susan stood from her desk and walked down the stairs to where Amelia sat, the table set with dinner for two.

"Ah, glad you decided to come down. Take a seat, Mimsy outdid herself."

"How long do you think you can keep me here? Really?"

Ignoring the challenge in her niece's words, Amelia took a bite and chewed before answering. "Who would seek you out? Harry Potter has disappeared, Black is doing his best not to draw attention from the ICW enforcers, and everyone else is petrified at the American occupation."

"So what's your plan? Keep me and my child in this house for the rest of your life? We can't live off our vault forever. We'll need more gold eventually. And what happens when Hogwarts sends out his or her letter? What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking! I wanted to keep my only surviving family safe! I had to get you away from Potter, he's nearly gotten you killed over and over! Even now, the Confederation seeks any opportunity to draw him out. You would have been targeted yet again, simply for standing at his side!"

"He always protected me-"

"Then why did I find you, barely alive in that infirmary? There's a reason no one questioned the story about your death, and that is because you very nearly died!" The two were shouting now, the meal long since forgotten.

"But I didn't! I survived! Now let me live my life!"

"What would that entail? If the ICW cannot find your lover, what makes you believe that you can? You going to Sirius would accomplish nothing but sending an announcement that he knows where Potter is. Face it - it's over."

Susan ignored her, returning to her original point. "You still haven't answered me. What next?"

Amelia exhaled loudly, pushing her plate away so that she could rest her elbows on the table. "Now, we have to find a way to disguise the heritage of the bastard you carry."

"How dare you! Don't speak of my child that-"

"It is nothing but the truth. You know how your pregnancy will be seen within our community. Unwed mothers carry a stigma, especially with the fears over line theft."

Susan grit her teeth but said nothing in return. Her aunt was right, as distasteful as her phrasing may be. Children born out of wedlock usually elicited two standard responses in Magical Britain - either that the mother was a sign of the loose moral ways of muggles infecting society (if she was half-blood or muggleborn), or that the mother had tried and failed to commit an act of line theft by entrapping the father deliberately (if she was pureblood). Both carried a heavy social penalty.

"I believe that I have a solution, if you will hear me out."

"You can't honestly believe I'd trust anything you say after what you've done."

"Even if it is the only way to protect your child? You may still be young, but you are going to be responsible for keeping that baby safe, Susan."

Unconsciously, she placed her hands protectively over her swollen womb. "I- I won't let anything happen to my child."

Amelia nodded firmly. "I feel the same way. Your child will be a Bones, after all. Now, will you hear me out?" She waited for Susan to reluctantly nod, then continued. "I believe that if we were to quietly approach the Abbotts, a contract could be drawn up between you and Alfred-"

"What!?"

"-that would give you and your child legitimacy. Our families have always been close, I'm sure that this union would raise no eyebrows. We could claim that with the recent upheavals, we feared filing the documents with the Ministry, and that you have been recuperating after the battle and did not want to draw undue attention while in such a delicate state."

"Absolutely not!"

"Please, just think it over. In the meantime, you may take your meals in your room if you so despise my presence. It's not good for your baby that you aren't eating."

"... and like the rest of you, I can tolerate no more the indignity of having foreign wizards lording over us on our own land! Britain belongs to the British!"

There were rousing cheers from several of the assembled wizards, and murmurs of agreement from the rest. A simpering, high-pitched voice though, called out the moment that the crowd died down.

"Who are you, that would purport to lead us? I've never heard of your family name. Proper wizards will defend our homeland, we don't need some jumped-up half-blood to tell us the way to do so!" Dolores Umbridge drew furious glares from those wizards behind the speaker, and disgusted glances from the more subdued attendees. "Lord Nott, surely a wizard of your prominent heritage is better suited to take command of this resistance!"

The young man who had just finished speaking smiled dangerously, turning to the man that stood behind him to his left. "What do you say, Octavius? Do you have doubts about my leadership?"

"No my- no, certainly not. This man has my full confidence; I believe that he offers the best hope to liberate us from these foreign devils."

"As unpleasant as Madam Umbridge's words may have been, her point stands," said Lewis Macmillan, who had taken up the reins of the Conservative faction from Elphias Doge following Dumbledore's disgrace. "I'm not sure how comfortable I am throwing my support behind someone so young that is obviously ingratiated with Death Eat- pardon me, former Death Eaters such as you, Nott."

The young man held up his hand to forestall any words from his associate. "That is a fair point, all the more so given what has taken place over the last year. I serve no one; until this summer, I'd lived in isolation for most of my life, only returning to Britain when things appeared to have calmed down. Madam Umbridge is correct – I am a half-blood. My father was not even a wizard, and I grew up in the muggle world."

"What was your mother's family name?" This question came from Amos Diggory.

"Is that important? I have been gifted with the blessing of the gods – the ability to wield magic. Names are irrelevant. If it is so important to you, then I fear you will remain disappointed. My mother died soon after birthing me, and my father did not speak of her." He looked around, seeing critical expressions on many of the Conservative members that had come. "I had not thought it necessary to defend my lineage to you. Are there not more pressing issues at hand?"

"Indeed there are," Macmillan answered, "but before I hear more, I will have your name. You speak of open rebellion; if we were discovered to be colluding with such activity, our families could lose everything. Trust has to go two ways."

"As Lord Diggory has told us, you stand to lose everything whether or not you act. These foreigners aim to steal our gold, our commerce, even the very land upon which we stand. But I have nothing to hide from those that would rally to my cause. I am, if nothing else, an honest man. I go by the name Tom. Tom Riddle."

At the same time that members of the Conservative and Traditionalist factions were meeting, business was winding down at the Hogs Head.

"I said 'out', you lousy drunks!"

"C'mon Abe, I've barely had a sip o' me mead, you can't roust me yet! Barely closing time, it is!"

"I made last call a half-hour ago, Samuelson, you shouldn't've nursed your drink. Get out!"

The man, clearly soused, continued to grumble. "Why the bum's rush? You've let us stay loads of times before. I paid for this drink, I ought'a be able to finish it!"

Abe whistled loudly, and a moment later a huge hand came down the intoxicated man's shoulder, so heavy that it nearly knocked him off his bar stool. "Mister Dumbledore asked nicely, ye' best be gettin' home now. Sir."

"Crikey! What's all this, now?"

Abe smiled widely. "I'm getting too old to keep breaking up fights between you louts. Decided to hire myself a bouncer."

"Aye, but this 'un don't look to be the type to cause no trouble, now do 'e?" Rubeus Hagrid said cheerfully, eyeing Samuelson. "Bet 'e'll be a right gent about this and run along, won't 'e?"

"Right, I doubt I needed another anyway, seem to be feeling a bit lightheaded as it is. See you next time, Abe!"

"Come back soon now!"

Abe waved his wand, casting the complicated locking charm that sealed the bar, cackling loudly. "I tell you, Hagrid, bringing you on was the best decision I ever made."

The half-giant pinked at the compliment, but his smile was more wistful than anything. "Don' think I'm not 'ppreciative, Mister Dumbledore, but I do miss ol' Hogwarts. Only home I've ever really had."

If he was expecting a sympathetic ear, he was talking to the wrong Dumbledore. "Well, at least you can still see it from your new home. Come along, the others will be here at any moment."

Sure enough, no sooner had they turned away from the door than did the hearth flash green, with several wizards and witches stepping out into the bar's general seating area.

"Howdy, Abe!"

"'Howdy'? What, have you been working undercover with the Yanks or something, Nymphador- ow!"

"You thought because you're my cousin I wouldn't pop you in the mouth? Think again, you mangy mutt!"

"Really, you two, is this necessary every time we go somewhere?"

"Hush, you were no better when you were her age."

"Maybe not, but what's his excuse?"

"Excuse me!" Abe's annoyed voice loudly called out. "If all you're going to do is bicker and argue, let me know so I can go grab my customers before they leave. I'd rather listen to a roomful of drunks than this insufferable twaddle."

"Right," Minerva McGonagall said primly, somewhat embarrassed at having been taken to task by the old barkeep. "Let's all settle down and get to business."

Sirius, Tonks, Remus, Neville, and several others all grabbed empty seats, while Cedric remained standing. "I had Abe call this meeting because it seems that the ICW is growing frustrated. They're pushing the Minister to demand more invasive powers from the Wizengamot; likely in order to go after you, Sirius."

"Invasive in what way?"

"Legilimency and potions were mentioned." There were discontented rumblings from the group at that. "I know, but they're sure that he's hiding something."

"The stuffed shirts in the 'mot will never go along with it," Sirius said confidently. "If they allow the ICW to do it to me, it could be done to them. There's nothing to worry about."

Abe guffawed from behind the bar, nearly spitting out a mouthful of whiskey. "You're pretty confident for a lad that spent a decade in Azkaban without a trial."

Cedric nodded. "The ICW contact that's been overseeing MacDougal said that if the Minister can't get approval, then they'd simply get a new Wizengamot that would grant them the powers they seek."

The room exploded in cries of disbelief. Stolid and inflexible it may be, the Wizengamot had been the cornerstone of Magical Britain for centuries.

"They really think we'll just accept that?" Tonks asked in disbelief.

Neville spoke up for the first time. "Haven't we already accepted their occupation? It's not as though they've faced any resistance. Let's face it, there's only a handful of British aurors left. As far as combat-ready forces, they outnumber us about fifty-to-one."

McGonagall turned to Sirius wearing a worried look. "You need to leave Grimmauld Place. It's not safe."

He waved away her concerns, reaching over the bar to pull out a bottle of his own. "I think not. Not even You-Know-Who tried to take down the Black wards."

"I hope you know you're paying for that!"

Both of them ignoring Abe's outraged exclamation, McGonagall's expression didn't change. "We have no idea what kind of forces the ICW can marshal. You have two underage witches that you're responsible for; you can't take their safety so lightly."

Sirius lowered the bottle of rum he'd raised to his mouth, his lips set in a straight line. "You're right. Hey Nymphie, got room for a few lodgers?"

"Three more people in my flat? Are you crazy?"

"It'll be fine, I'll send Kreacher over to do some redecorating. Besides, I'm sure the girls will love having a fashionable young woman like you around more often."

Neville coughed, having endured Tonks' wicked sense of humor before, and tried to get things back on track. "Was there anything else?"

Cedric nodded, relaying what he'd heard about Hogwarts, much to the evident fury of McGonagall and Hagrid. "And that was it."

"While this is worrying, I think that there is an opportunity to be found." Attention shifted to Remus, who continued, "If they disband the Wizengamot as they plan, we'll see a great deal more outrage. The public won't tolerate such an act. Open resistance becomes much more possible in such an environment."

"I think you're right," Cedric said, "I shared what I heard with my father, and he left to go meet with other members of the Conservative faction. I bet they'll be a lot more agreeable that the ICW has to go if something like this happens."

"They should have been against them from the start. After everything Harry did for them-"

"Let's not get into that tonight. I think we've heard enough," McGonagall said primly. "Thank you, Mr. Diggory. Please keep us informed of any further happenings."