Chapter 10: Fallout, Time-skips and More
A/N: Family events and a problem with my eyes have delayed the release of this chapter. Hopefully, it will be all be sorted soon.
Minor chapter correction thanks to Calebros. Cheers mate.
Also, this chapter is longer than usual so...enjoy.
Dumbledore was beyond angry but, none of that negative emotion showed on his serene face as he stood on his podium in the Conclave and he thought about the history of the large hall (and the building that he was part of) and how honoured he had felt when he had first entered the place. The Conclave was the grand meeting place of the International Confederation of Wizards.
It was underground, literally built into the bowels of a mountain in the Swizz Alps, and with no outside entrances. It was designed in 1693 by the renowned wizarding architect and Frenchman Pierre Gaston. Given the uncertainties of that time (the Statute of Secrecy had only been in effect for just under a year at that point) the man had made it not only beautiful but also a literal fortress just in case the Statute failed and they needed a safe haven from the muggles.
Thankfully in all the time since it hadn't been needed, not so far.
Still, it explained the expansive but cavernous Hall along with all of the tasteful touches that came from giving an artist free rein to create his masterwork. It was so large because, for the time, it would have been able to hold the majority of the magical population from around the globe and it even had plenty of other rooms that could have been converted to growing areas for food and eventually formed the basis for a brand new culture to flourish beneath the mountains.
None of which helped Dumbledore's mood.
"I think I can speak for the majority of this chamber when I say that you shouldn't do this," Dumbledore said clearly and firmly. He also managed, if only just, to keep the irritation out of his voice and that was an all the more impressive feat when you took into account that very few things had been going right for him in the last month
Not since Harry left.
"I didn't know that it was your job to assume to speak on behalf of all the members of this body Dumbledore, not when it came to policy. If that's now the case why do all the other members, myself included, have seats and votes at all? Besides don't you have enough problems at home for the moment?" If one was being kind about it, the reply to his comment could be called icy at best.
Dumbledore gritted his teeth together as he frowned at Sebastian Delacour.
Not that he would ever admit it but, politically speaking, it was a terrible mistake to alienate the man. Thanks to the families rather unique position in France (as well as a quick special election) it was now his cousin Alain who was the Minister of Magical France while Sebastian himself had taken up their seat in the I.C.W.
More than that the man was right. At home, Fudge had tried to blame the whole fiasco of Harry leaving on Dumbledore and Harry. He had cited the multitude of ways in which one wizard could appear as another and had originally claimed that it was a nefarious plot against the glorious Ministry masterminded by Dumbledore and executed by Potter on his behalf.
That particular piece of fiction had fallen apart in short order when Harry had not reappeared and seemed to have a great deal of public sympathy and awe. Fudge had adapted though and was even now involved in a pitched battle of words and propaganda, now blaming solely Dumbledore for this 'fake' and 'so-called Dark Lord' resurfacing now.
It was a battle that Fudge could not win. There were far too many people, especially Heirs of Noble Houses (and even a smattering of Ancient and Noble ones) and their Lords, among the crowd for any propaganda to last. The Dark may go along with it, but the Light wouldn't and nor would the largest group, the Neutrals. That is what Fudge didn't understand, those with money had power of a sort of course but the true power had always rested with the pedigree of your blood and, in that, Fudge was lacking.
Especially against so many venerable bloodlines. Dumbledore may not have the same history (and he was humble enough to admit that his star was currently on the wane) but Harry did. His bloodline was Ancient and Noble, his fame as the Boy-Who-Lived and his, admittedly disturbing, skill with a wand could not be denied.
If Harry was still under his guidance then he would be ecstatic. Though Harry using that prestige was not originally to his plans, he had no problem using that to rehabilitate his image and hasten the end to a long and tiring war of words that he was still facing at home. Without that though, he would still win, but it would take far too much of his time and effort, that same effort that he could have used to hunt for Harry.
"If you are referring to Voldemort's resurrection…" Dumbledore began, trying to deflect the line of questioning. Sadly, for Dumbledore at least, he was not dealing with a schoolchild here but rather a hardened politician from a very prominent family.
"No," Delacour answered. "I'm talking about what happened right after Lord Potter left."
"I don't see how I can be blamed for Barty Crouch Juniors actions or what relevance it had to this discussion."
"What happened after wasn't just about Barty Crouch Junior, as well you know, and it does go to your character and your decisions and that is our business if it risks a breach."
"Which it doesn't," Dumbledore replied stiffly.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not, that is why we are discussing it here. At the very least we need to question your capabilities. It was you who let fake Moody in, allowed him access to the security of the Tournament and he not only helped the resurrection of a threat to the entire Wizarding World but he also killed both the last of the Malfoy's and the Nott's, ending both lines."
"To try and blame me for his actions is merely the height of spite."
"Why would I be spiteful? It's not like you put both my daughters in life-threatening danger, is it? Is that why Alastor Moody no longer speaks to you and is contemplating leaving England?" Delacour snarked and before Dumbledore could angrily question where he got that information from, they were interrupted.
"Gentleman," interrupted VonGessler, the Delegate for Magical Germany. "That is not why we are here. We are here only to register confirmation of Magical France's Proclamation."
"A Proclamation that hasn't been made since 1709," rebutted Dumbledore.
"Irrelevant. It is not a matter for a vote, nor is it one open for any consideration unless you want to try and pass a motion against our founding traditions?" Delacour answered with a feral grin, daring him to try.
In truth, that is exactly what Dumbledore would like to do. However, in this culture nothing was more sacred than tradition as it was one of the three things that they were taught, from birth, to hold above all. The three sacred ideals for wizards were family, bloodline and tradition. If he attacked one of those three then any headway that he had made towards regaining political capital (that he could use to find Harry and defeat Voldemort)
Looking around and seeing a mixture of worried and hungry faces, he knew that his allies wanted him to stop before he went flying off the proverbial cliff and his enemies (he had made more than a few in his years here) were waiting to pounce on his weakness if he continued.
"The island of Nysa is recognised as an Overseas Protectorate of the Magical French Republic," he conceded with a deep sigh, knowing that there was no real point fighting it now. "Is there any other business?"
"Yes," Delacour replied while producing a stack of documents with barely hidden glee. "Lord Potter has formally renounced his British Citizenship, both magical and muggle, and has graciously become a citizen of Nysa effective of last month. I believe this satisfies the requirement to inform a member of the former country within the month?"
Now there was uproar even as Dumbledore realised exactly how he had been played. The laws on changing citizenship were clear. You had to move to an official country, you had thirty days in which to register the change and your former Government has those same thirty days in which to present logical arguments to object.
Worse, as a Magical Protectorate, Nysa was beholden only to their client country and dependant on how that was worded, the agreement between the two could be anywhere from remarkably light to obscenely draconian. They had, at a minimum, a seat in the I.C.W. (though it was entirely advisory so they had no voting rites) available for them to take if they wanted it. They were required only to hold up the Statute of Secrecy and in return, all other possible sanctions from the I.C.W. were shouldered by their parent state.
There hadn't been a Protectorate in almost one hundred and fifty years as they had all been absorbed by other countries or become ones themselves. They did not need to obey, save if it was already in the agreement when it was founded, any other laws or traditions that their parent state had.
They weren't even required to tell anyone other than their parent country exactly where they were located and, with magic, that was easy enough to hide. In the past, the easiest way was to find records of the state before it became a Protectorate but no one had heard of Nysa before today.
They did have one other advantage that meant very little in terms of anything but politics. Any awards, titles and recognition that Nysa bestowed would automatically be recognised to the level of its equivalent as if it was awarded by them at the time of their first creation.
In return, most Protectorates had, historically at least, been socially and economically dependant on their parent state. Quite a few of them had been wealthy in terms of natural resources and plundered by their 'benefactors' before either being taken over or cut loose little better than a third world country.
This was the main reason that no country had made a Protectorate in centuries. If, for example, Nysa raised a muggle-born to the level of an Ancient and Noble House, their title would legally have as much weight and be as valid as the oldest of those Houses in France. More than that though, thanks to International Treaty, the I.C.W. would recognise it automatically as well.
The Protectorate was not required to do the same, except for anything coming from France, though traditionally they always had anyway, if only to stop ruffled feathers. They had to make all other agreements separately, from the positioning of magical animal reserves (if needed) to relations with all sentient magical creatures from the Centaurs to the Veela and any race in-between.
"How will Lord Potter finish his education?" VonGessler asked, more out of a desire to stop Dumbledore from asking that question and curiosity rather than any desire to trip anyone up.
"It is my understanding that Lord Potter has hired tutors to gain the International O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. qualifications and he is expected to sit them within six months," Delacour replied smugly.
"Is there a reason why Lord Potter has chosen to sit the International Exams?" VonGessler couldn't resist needling Dumbledore as he asked this question. It was not that he was an enemy of the man, more that he wasn't a friend and found the way that Dumbledore had so often walked through these halls irritating, to say the least.
"I believe he cited the fact that he had bad experiences with Hogwarts, coupled with the fact that he has found out how...ahh… watered-down… the British versions are."
"Will he," Dumbledore asked while biting down on his instinctual and angry response, "be their representative to this body? How will they maintain the Statute of Secrecy?"
"A representative is not required for a Protectorate, only customary as well you know. When asked his reply was simple, that at this time Nysa may be considering sending someone but he will not be it. I believe he said that he would rather go six rounds with a dragon than even be on the same continent as you. As for secrecy, their answer was simple, that there were no muggles that weren't aware of magic on the island and there never would be."
With that bombshell (and Dumbledore's thunderous expression) the shouting of politicians that all wanted their view to be the strongest were heard again in the chamber.
-HPCOD-
The final work to the basic structure of the island was nearly complete, though saying that made it seem far grander than it actually was. There was no grand castle, nor was there finery in abundance in any part of it. What there was denoted skill rather than pomp, quality rather than quantity and the desire to last over the desire to impress.
There was little more than a small hamlet consisting of eight small houses arranged around a building for meetings in the centre at the moment. Each house was a carbon copy of the others (personal touches would come later) and each had a wide and still mainly wild garden at the back.
Its leadership was well established, it had to be as it was defined by the agreement made with France (later known as the Island Accord even as the rights of its people would be defined by the Island Charter) or an outside influence could have nullified or taken Nysa through backroom chicanery as had happened to so many other Protectorates before.
The future Council Room (eventually consisting of the Ten Founding Houses) was one of the few places already fully furnished and fully ready to go. As defined in the Accord, the Ten Founding Houses were mostly obvious if one knew Harry long enough, especially during this year.
These were (in no particular order) the House of Longbottom, with all of the family having been moved barring Neville's Grandmother and his parents, still comatose, were being seen to by specialist Goblin Healers. The House of Bones, (represented by Susan for the moment as Amelia was busy elsewhere) the House of Abbot, (though in Hannah's case everyone had moved and Robin Abbot was now both Hannah's mother and representing the family), the House of Lovegood (represented by Luna), the newly formed House of Granger (with Dan at its head), the even more controversial House of Gringotts (represented, for the moment, by Bonecrusher who portkeyed in on behalf of his people and until the Goblin Nation could be fully integrated), the House of Black (represented by Sirius), Weasley (the new Nysian branch represented by Fred though the twins often switched), Delacour (a very grateful Fleur leading it) and Emrys (with Harry having absorbed the House of Potter into the more ancient line).
News of the last hadn't broken yet, nor had the fact that Potter was now a courtesy title that Harry could use until he had a child of his own who, as his Heir, would be Lord Potter until he too became Lord Emrys. At that point, it would be up to Harry's children whether to continue the practice, once again split the lines or fully absorb it so the Potter name ended.
Regardless, the Council of Ten, in name at least, was complete and all had equal rights under the laws that they were making. They all had seats stylised with their family crests (Harry was particularly enthused at the great red dragon that made up his) and were just now sitting down to a meeting.
"Status?" Harry asked the group when they had settled as it was his turn to lead the meeting. Hermione sat on his right-hand side even as (thanks to conjured furniture) any significant others did the same with their partners.
"The roads are completed," began Dan, "along the cardinal points of the island at least... The island itself is still growing though that is rapidly slowing down now."
"Good. the rest of the infrastructure?"
"This enchanted glass is amazing and far beyond the wizard version," Neville practically gushed. "It can alter the temperature in each of the panels individually and also work together when necessary. Thanks to the charms and enchantments on it and because of that we can do so much, it even provides an illusion, much like the ceiling at Hogwarts, but...more than that it can somehow replicate the weather it displays."
"A gardener's paradise then, not to mention a farmers dream," Hermione commented amusedly. "It doesn't hurt that Nysa's actual growth is done and the rest is limited to expansion runes and the glass can adapt to them."
"There are still problems though," Dan pointed out. "We have a labour shortage and, if you truly want to make this island self-sufficient, we will need a labour force and lots more buildings. Ideally, we will need far more of both and the food supply for them."
"How's is the search for available House-elves?" Robin Abbot asked Bonecrusher as, with their connections, the Goblin Nation would be the best to ask. "Can Gringotts help?"
"The most that my people can grow," he began to growl his reply, "is mushrooms and some moss. We buy most of our foodstuffs and, even with your idea that this Council will own 10% of any business on the island, they will not help financially support you before money is coming in. It's a sad fact but, almost all of Harry's liquid assets are now gone and even the Emrys Account has taken a massive blow."
"I think it's only fair," Susan clarified, "that when we do have the businesses up and running we divert at least fifty per cent of the profits from them into the Potter and Emry's vaults until they are restored to their former levels… plus, say, ten per cent. It shouldn't be too hard for Bonecrusher to assess what we owe."
All of the other Council members agreed, even Bonecrusher, except for Harry agreed. He was of the opinion that was something that a Malfoy would have demanded, not a Potter. He was conspicuously ignored by the others when he tried to raise that particular point as they clearly had discussed it amongst themselves at some earlier point.
"Money is still the main problem though," Bonecrusher said while bringing them back to point. "With respect, none of the people here with the exception of Heir Longbottom, no one has wealth even close to that of one of Harry's Vaults. Even those two accounts are nearly empty at this point."
"Why?" Luna asked, not concerned with the economics specifically but, as the former Ravenclaw that she was, valued all knowledge.
"Take the House-elves for example, there are enough for sale that our needs could be easily met and we would both give them more work and treat them better than most other Masters but, they are very expensive. Far too expensive for our dwindling funds and when you have to buy them from all over the world, given exchange rates, transaction fees and the differences in inflation."
"That's not good," Neville said, "we need them for our home now and, until we can show what the island has to offer, few people from the outside will want to come here. That means any new projects, planting of forests, growing magical ingredients, livestock and food will have to be taken care of by elves that we don't have because there aren't enough of us to do that, nor can we do it as well as they could."
"Are there any plantings, cuttings and ingredients in either the Potter or Emry's vaults that could be useful to grow for profit in small but meaningful amounts?" harry asked, following Neville's train of thought.
"There are and I applaud the idea as potion ingredients alone are worth far more than it costs to grow them, the problem with them has always been space as, in the Wizarding World, rich soil has always been in short supply since the separation. Still, without gold to invest in a fully functioning infrastructure for mass production it just slows the problem, it doesn't fix it. That's even assuming that there is a wide enough selection of plants and fauna, not just rare ones, to make a meaningful difference to our issue at the end."
"If the problem is rich soil, why would they not just ask you to help? Also, since when would you not know what exactly what is in your client's vaults?" Sirius spoke up for the first time.
"We are unsophisticated beasts remember? What help could we possibly be? I am also the first Emry's Account Manager in almost a thousand years, so even if Gringott's was to itemise a clint's every possession, which we do not as it would violate our ethics, I cannot know exact amounts or what is viable and what is not. Besides, I wouldn't trust such a sensitive task to any other and we have been very busy here or hadn't you noticed the island that you are sitting on legally. Magical France may have put the act into motion but, it was the threat of losing our goodwill that negated a very large amount of backlash that could have come your way or the way of Magical France."
"No one here is attacking you or your skills," Harry soothed the goblin while giving Sirius a swift and sharp look and Bonecrusher seemed mollified by his words. "We are just worried about gold coming in, that's all."
Something in Harry's words must have lit a fire in the brains of Luna and Hermione. They shared significant looks as they both seemed to come to a startling realisation while looking chagrined as if they had missed something obvious.
"Where does gold come from?" Luna asked rhetorically. "After what we are about to do today it should be easy enough to access it, assuming there are spells to find it."
"There are, as well as ones for other precious metals and gasses, but they have a very limited radius," Bonecrusher replied, "and even if we do not find them we should find something."
"What about natural gas and oil?" Hermione added. "The North Sea is riddled with it."
"True," Bonecrusher conceded reluctantly. "We even have spells to find it….but, those spells are used to find and avoid both."
"Dear God why?"
"Because we can never sell it. An addendum added to our treaty after the last Goblin Rebellion or, as we call it, protest prohibits us from doing so thanks to the I.C.W. stopping us from trying to compete…"
"You mean dominate," interjected Harry even as his wide smile and glint in his eye took the sting out of his words.
"To compete in the muggle banking arenas," Bonecrusher corrected him, though the truth of it (given his races nature) was far closer to Harry's assessment than his own.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Neville added in his quiet way, "but you must have exchange rates between the Nation and the muggles. More than that… aren't you forgetting that it won't be Gringott's doing it? A small company, that happens to employ Goblins like yourself, based here and owned entirely by Nysa itself wouldn't break any treaty now, would it? Not so long as we maintained the Statute of Secrecy."
"As Gringott's is already required to do whenever we deal with muggles anyway when we exchange currency or wizards wish, rarely enough, to buy muggle goods directly and in large amounts." Bonecrusher grinned at Neville, showing far too many teeth for the humans around the table to be wholly comfortable. "I knew I liked you."
"Is there any other business before we move on?" Harry asked.
"Just one," Hermione hesitated even as she spoke and Harry knew that he wouldn't like this. "We must have a leader for this body even if it's just to keep things running and break ties in the voting. There are ten of us."
"No," Harry said, catching on to what (or rather who) she meant. "I nominate Robin Abbot for the position for five years and, more than that, that the length of the term becomes mandatory… no more than that but certainly no less."
"Seconded," Sirius added, happy to help his Godson neatly avoid the trap set for him until Hermione glared at him so hard that he thought he might literally combust. There were no more objections after that and, after a smattering of applause, the woman in question spoke.
"Thank you all. As my first act, I say we have to be aware of the world around us and to that end, I am aware that most of us here have sacrificed most of our traditional power and prestige to start fresh here. To be taken seriously by the International Community we must remedy that situation as we cannot start by being, in effect, commoners as that would hurt us greatly. I hereby create and bestow the following titles; Fleur Delacour as Lady Delacour with lands to follow, Bonecrusher is already Lord Gringotts but that lordship will be granted a parcel of land for a branch office of the Bank, Neville Longbottom as Lord Longbottom with the lands of Golden Fields (comprising exactly 1/12 of their projected farmland), Frederick and George Weasley as Lords of the Southern Woods with the title passing to the eldest issue of either when appropriate, Daniel Granger is granted the land around the Tower of Sunset and Sunrise our future schools of magic and mundane knowledge respectively as Lord Granger, Sirius Black is granted a parcel of lands on which will be built the Fortress of Hawkhold and named Lord Black, Susan Bones will become Lady Bones and be given the eastern beach of Brightfall, Luna Lovegood will become Lady Lovegood and given the South Point Coves, with your assent I will become Lady Abbot of Arcadia…"
"A bit pretentious, all these titles and whatnot isn't it?" Fred whispered quietly to Sirius.
"She's right though, it is stupid but it will hurt us if we have no valid titles. It's also a jab at that very stupidity though, as much as it is needed, as because we are an Overseas Protectorate our new titles will effectively have the same weight and age as the Founding Houses of Magical France...irrespective of their actual age. It's also one of the reasons why she added the land… so we can't be accused of simply giving out empty titles."
"And finally," the newly minted (or reminted if you wanted to see it that way) Lady Abbot continued, "to Lord Harry Emrys this Council grants the entirety of the remaining Northern Territory including the North Forest, to administer as he wishes..."
Most of the places mentioned hadn't even been created yet or were in their nascent stages of development but, politically speaking, that didn't matter so long as they were created in a short amount of time after today's meeting.
Harry grumbled about that, even as Hermione's eyes shone in victory. He didn't object though, as he understood the necessity of the act and understanding that, if he fought it, he would be voted down. "We further create him the first Ambassador at large for the island of Nysa."
'What the bloody fuck!' Harry thought in astonishment, even as Hermione's face grew even more gleeful before his eyes. 'Even when she loses, she wins.'
-HPCOD-
Eventually, the meeting broke up and most of the people moved away as there was still planning to do. Bonecrusher and Luna especially were busy and in deep discussion with each other.
It was clear from the goblin's facial expression that he was already planning something along the lines of mining and mentally trying to decide, from their relatively small list of trustworthy allies, who would be best suited for the task ahead. It was also clear that he was being confounded and somehow comforted at the same time by Luna's unique nature.
"Please tell me that you didn't nominate me because I'm one of the oldest here and you were hoping to gain more respectability or simply to annoy your girlfriend?" Lady Abbot asked, even as Hermione's eyes narrowed in suspicion and Harry laughed freely.
"Do I look stupid or suicidal? No, I picked you because I don't want or need more responsibility with a Dark Lord already up my arse."
"Harry," Hermione hissed, "language."
"Relax," Robin said, laughing herself now, "I don't really outrank any of you unless there is a tie in the Council. Think less Minister of Magic and more Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."
"What?" Harry asked Hermione as he noticed her gobsmacked look and she saw his complete lack of surprise, "Did you think that I was helping to write those laws simply to speed things along?"
She found him using his intelligence to help streamline governance very vexing as she didn't know about it and he clearly did it (at least in part) to scupper her own designs. She also found it very hot and that was all the more confusing as, at that moment, she wasn't sure if she was going to yell at him or jump his bones.
'Damn,' she thought, 'why can that smile and that brain do such fun things to my mind at the most inappropriate moments?'
"So," Hermione asked, "why did you choose her?"
"You know why," Harry's reply was simple and yet, filled with meaning.
"Oh."
"I'm waiting," said Robin and her comment was filled with a rather large amount of humour at their interaction that was laced with genuine exasperation.
"He chose you because we know that you will resist the temptations of power, no matter how symbolic, for far longer than anyone else. We know your secret… that you used to be an Unspeakable for years before you came here."
"And," said Harry, while he activated a hidden set of runes on the walls of the building even as (at the corners of the island) four very special blocks activated, "you will have a very special advisor. For the present, it would be best for you not to tell her our coordinates though."
Even as he finished those words, the air in front of them shimmered and the Aspect of Hogwarts appeared.
"Are you who I think...or what I think you are?" Robin asked the entity, currently in her Rowena form.
"I am," she said simply.
"It gets better for you," Hermione added to Rowena, "now you have a whole island that will soon be teeming with people to explore."
"We will discuss this later," Robin said to the couple before Ravenclaw could speak. "For now though we should finish what you came here to do."
"Of course," Harry replied. He then moved swiftly and placed his palm (as this act could only be done by him as it was his blood that ran through the magical makeup of the island) on the inlay in the centre of the table which was a beautiful depiction of a winged unicorn in flight.
To Hermione's eyes, it seemed to shimmer with motes of golden-green power even as he spoke the word, laced with all of his intent, that she knew he must. "Sink."
Both the greater island of Nysa and its unnamed smaller islet heeded his command and, covered as they were in domes of enchanted glass, began to move incredibly swiftly and yet in complete silence into the sea like Atlantis of old. Unlike Atlantis, it was not a catastrophe but a plan that caused this, rather the plan that had been in the works from the islands very inception and nothing was lost, broken or destroyed.
The formally passive protections against intrusion and discovery ended as they registered entering the water. They were replaced instantaneously with a much more comprehensive set that focused on making it invisible (outside of its boundaries at least) to wizard and muggle alike. It was once again unplottable to others and the glass that was already more durable than steel gained even more protection. Wards that were etched onto it and embedded in the stones of the island blessed to glorious life until they too were hidden.
Even the difference between the temperature of the water outside and the island itself was regulated. The glass deep below the shoreline was semi-permeable allowing both the passage of water and small amounts of sea life. They wouldn't have another Pettigrew situation though as they had even included protections against Animagi.
The island moved down towards the seabed and, when it settled and integrated there, these runes, protections and enchantments would draw their power from three major leylines (not to mention the nine minor ones as well). That's not all they would power though as, thanks to expansion through overlapping magical means, it was far larger internally than it should be even as it sat slightly more than the fifty-five meters beneath the sea and touched the bottom soundlessly.
-HPCOD-
Several weeks later, Moody was packing his meagre bags and thinking about where to move to on the continent. He knew that one shoulder bag, no matter how large or expanded, didn't seem to make much of his life but, he was content.
He had fought to improve his world, first in the Great War, then in the Second World War and then in Law Enforcement. He was proud of that, even if he only survived these days by being a crotchety and paranoid bastard.
He hadn't been truly happy since his fiancee had died during the Blitz and he still missed her every day. It wasn't leaving his home or packing up his belongings but leaving his beloved Agnes behind when he was done here. He missed her still, as he had since the second of February 1942 and he had received the letter that had destroyed him.
She had died in an air raid, driving an ambulance. She wasn't even in a building, just trying to get another injured soldier to the hospital when one of the German's bombs missed its target and struck her van. There had been nothing left of her in the end and really, aside from the War and later his work, nothing left of him either.
He had buried her favourite things in a private cemetery along the coast, added the mementoes they had given each other and then he had kissed her engagement ring (that he had never gotten to give her). He had laid his heart to rest with her there and still visited at least once a year.
All he kept with him was a picture of her, smiling with him and a lock of her hair in a chunky pendant that never left his neck. He never knew why she had been taken and he had been left behind but the slower path that he walked had never seemed so long to him as it did now.
'I hate them all for making me leave her. Fucking Dumbledore, fucking Death Eaters, fucking Ministry and shitting arsehole politics.'
The last few weeks may have been some of the lowest of his life but, he still got a slight smile on his face when he remembered telling Dumbledore to take a running jump when the twinkly-eyed backstabbing bastard had asked him to rejoin The Order of the Phoenix.
The other man's shocked look had been something to see.
Given the state of Britain then he had considered talking to old acquaintances and contacts about relocating but had decided, at length, that he would tough it out for now. That was because two things had, albeit briefly, changed.
The first thing was a belated realisation that none of his old acquaintances (those that were still alive anyway) was safe enough that Dumbledore and anyone that he trusted, like Snape, wouldn't have eventually been able to find him. They had been friends for years after all and they knew each other well enough that it was a matter of when, not if, he was found.
The second was, strangely enough for him, a brief sense of hope. For a moment there things seemed to be turning out for the better. The Dark Lord had been revealed, Fudge had been quickly ousted from his office and it looked like the Ministry was finally cleaning up its act and taking a progressive stance. They had even detained some of the suspected Death Eaters for questioning, which was more than they had done in the last conflict.
Then Edmund Parkinson had entered his name for consideration as Minister of Magic and the whole world had changed again. Every step forward had been countered before it could truly begin and all the nascent good had begun to be undone.
Of the eight people that had put forth their names (Parkinson not included) six were dead and one had moved, out of the blue it seemed, to Holland having decided that it would be best not only for himself but his entire family as well. They had taken everything they owned, told no one what they were doing, and were gone before anyone could ask why.
As if someone really needed to ask.
The six that were dead were not proven to be murders. Parkinson was far too wealthy and connected for that to be the case and Moody doubted that he actually did those dark deeds himself. No one with even half a brain couldn't help but draw the connection between these accidents as they were being called by the Daily Prophet and Parkinson's easy rise to power.
So Moody, with a vested interest in not seeing the Dark Lord rule the country of his birth even by proxy if it was possible to save it, warned Amelia Bones of his suspicions. She was the last contender (and the Head of the D.M.L. the time) and then, with her tacit agreement, he did what he had been trained to do.
He went hunting.
Parkinson may have been too well guarded and draw too much attention if he was neutralised but, that wasn't the case for his assassins. If there was one thing that Pure-bloods liked above anything else, it was their money and this meant that they were largely incredibly miserly. This obviously extended to the hiring of killers as it didn't take Moody long to find the small group, led by a Yaxley Cousin.
I took care of them all, quickly, quietly and neatly as I was trained to,' Moody thought. 'In the long run, all it will do is provide Bones with some breathing room. There are always plenty of half-trained idiots willing to spill their blood for someone else's coin. If Parkinson wasn't defended so well or he hadn't managed to cover his tracks… I might have been able to do more.'
Two days after he had taken care of that particular Yaxley and his band (as well as discovering that they had taken Unbreakable Vows and selective Memory Charms so they could not reveal who their employer was), Amelia had been attacked.
The most disturbing thing about the assault was the fact that, only on the night of the attack, her Floo had been taken down for maintenance and the person who had done it still hadn't been discovered over a week later.
Add to that the fact that Bones Manor was as ready as it could be for the attack and its wards were set (just shy of full-on war footing) as high as was legally allowed. Also, the fact that she had twenty Aurors with her seemed to make little difference as they had broken through in less than a quarter of an hour.
They had planned well and seemed to have better resources than the Ministry as well as spies riddled throughout their enemies nerve centre. They somehow had access to temporary anti-apparition runestones (supposedly one of the most regulated items that the Ministry possessed) but where they got them from no one seemed to know.
By all logic, Amelia Bones should be dead.
It was only a tunnel built by a Bones ancestor (that had become a family secret soon after its construction) that managed to allow Amelia to escape. It still injured her though and cost all of the Aurors their lives. It also reduced Bones Manor to a smoking ruin.
Britain was clearly not safe anymore, not for her, and she had fled to Nysa as soon as she was able. That was very sensible, in his mind, as even he had no idea where the island actually was. It was supposed to be an island somewhere in the Caribbean near Guadeloupe but, Moody had played the game long enough to realise that supposed to rarely equated to the truth of the matter so he had his doubts about that.
What he did not doubt was, that if he stayed in Britain, sooner or later he would have a mishap, an accident or be murdered in his home just like they tried to do to Bones. All that was left for him really was to decide where he should go.
Hogwarts was not an option. Though he did not doubt that Dumbledore would protect him, it would place him in the man's debt. The same man that, if he were to be believed, apparently was fooled by a Death Eater impersonating for nearly a full year. Moody knew that wasn't possible despite the man's protestations but, once again, he had no proof.
Potter's island could have been an option but, aside from not knowing where it was or how to get there, it would mean going through Gringotts. In all of his life, he had never known them to reveal information without that client's prior permission. If he asked them he had little doubt a message or request would make it to Potter but, the question was whether it could make it in time to help his situation.
No Goblin wished to suffer the automatic death sentence that would come from sharing sensitive information without the clearance to do so. They not only put their own life on the line if they did so but, their entire family as well.
Parkinson would be sworn in as Minister at nine am and that meant, to him, that Voldemort would be in control of everything less than a minute after that. There would be no debate as he was technically unopposed and the clock on his life would then start ticking if it hadn't done so already.
Moody would have respected the Nation's stance on information sharing if it didn't help box him into a corner. He needed viable options and was just contemplating the magical badlands that were in South America as a possibility (as distasteful as he found them) when a House-elf popped in with a note and a very interesting offer.
-HPCOD-
'Portkey's are never good for my balance, thanks to my leg,' Moody thought, even as landed on the small islet (with the Portkey Node behind him) with the portkey he was given in his hand and unknowingly having used the only safe way of travelling to the island. 'Impressive security though.'
His eyes were trying to find evidence of runes and enchantments. It was more out of habit than real distrust but that very paranoia had saved his life more than once.
His eyes, even his magical one, failed utterly to find anything. Far from being concerned over this it only impressed him more. In a place like this, there had to be something and he couldn't see it at all.
The sky seemed to be a clear blue above him and radiated a muggy tropical heat. The air even smelled of coconut, grilled lamb and pineapples which were all clearly trying to enhance the idea of the Caribbean.
"Good afternoon Master Auror," a lightly accented voice interrupted his impromptu investigation and he turned his good eye to the woman who had quietly approached him.
"And you are?" He grumbled at the woman before him, both further impressed and annoyed that his magical eye was telling him nothing that his normal one was not.
"My name is Eleanor Bisset. I am, for now, your guide and also help Lord Frederick Weasley with his endeavours."
"I see," he grumbled and she laughed at his slightly sour facial expression.
She could clearly tell what thought had crossed his mind. In his defence, she was a very beautiful woman and though he was old and still devoted to the memory of Anges he was not blind.
Her blue eyes were piercing, though those of a human girl rather than a Veela, and her face had the delicate features that had been bred into certain French families over the centuries. Her nose was bladed and strong but, it somehow drew the eye to her elegant cheekbones and beautiful mouth. All of that was framed by beautiful dark brown hair that curled, ever so slightly, at her shoulders.
Her dress was clearly feminine and well made, if simple and coloured a light blue to match her eyes. Quality yes, but unremarkable and the only other thing that she wore was a small broach, clearly Goblin made and worth more than a small house that was in the shape of an ouroboros, a symbol in the modern era of immorality but, in other times, of constant rebirth and renewal.
"There is nothing… what is the word... unseemly… between myself and Lord Weasley, he is my boyfriend and I am a virgin. I am also Catholic and will remain pure until I marry."
Moody didn't react. He understood that she was telling the truth but, he was also aware that she was trying to put him at ease in her own unique way. Given who he was that actually had the opposite effect and his mind was now on the alert for the other shoe to drop. "If you could sign this piece of paper we can continue. Feel free to run as many tests as you wish but, you will find that it only stops you from speaking about anything you see here when you leave. It is almost as much for your protection as it is ours."
He was about to refuse but then she swore an oath to prove that she believed what she said. Given that it was only what she believed to be true, he still took a full ten minutes to cast every detection spell that he knew before he did eventually sign it.
Then he watched as Miss Bisset (he could never think of her as Eleanor without her permission and they were not close) turned touched a seemingly random piece of air about half a foot behind her head and when she did so, the tropical sky faded away only to reveal more enchanted glass than he had ever seen.
He whistled despite himself even as his special eye was forced to shut down. It was simply overloaded by all of the enchantments and runes that it saw as the magical nature of each set combined to overload the admittedly powerful artefact. He had no idea how many runes that would take as it had never happened before and they were too small for him to count with his flesh and blood one without using magic on each set.
He was not stupid enough to preverbally poke it with the metaphorical stick as he liked living.
Then he was further impressed as five panels seemed to bend ninety degrees (with one flat to the ground) and formed a cube that shot off soundlessly, stretching and growing as they did so. It effectively made a tunnel that they could walk through to Merlin knows where and the glowing runes even provided lighting, of sorts.
"Potter did all of this?" He questioned.
"Lord Emrys did much of this yes," she admitted easily enough, "through great personal cost and risk he has managed to forge relationships with many different peoples and they helped too."
Moody listened attentively even as his mind tried to wrap his head around Harry's new title. If the boy wasn't full of shit (and every contact, every report that the admittedly paranoid man could view, indicated that he wasn't) then the legitimate claiming of that title alone would cause international waves.
"Not only is Magical France helping politically but, several prominent families here and are helping create what this place can be, what it should be. The Goblin Nation are also full citizens here and are lending their expertise to help us prosper."
She began her explanation as they walked down the tunnel and towards their goal, though Moody could only assume it was to meet Lord Emrys.
"How can you afford all of this?" Moody could barely keep up with the political ramifications of all of the information that he was receiving, let alone the money and time that it would have taken. The amount of planning alone, the forward-thinking that it implied, was staggering and made all the more impressive that at least some of it had to have been done under Dumbledore's nose.
It was also clearly not done.
"In the short term? We can't. In the long term? We have acres of unused land set aside for farming of both mundane and magical produce as well as very controlled and limited logging. We have gold, silver, copper, iron, oil and natural gas around us in abundance that the Nysa Mining Company is just beginning to exploit (she did not mention that it was, currently at least, the only venture up and running). Lord Emrys, Lord Longbottom and Lady Lovegood are also planting rare cuttings of plants on their estates for rapid growth and resale though admittedly, only Lord Emrys is doing so long term. Finally, Lord Longbottom has made a breakthrough in the last day or so in crossbreeding Ashwinders and Silkworms to create firesilk. It is low quality at the moment and still in its early stages but we hope that, shortly, it will replace Acromantula silk as the magical fabric of choice. If successful, it will be the most magically saturated and in-demand silk that the magical world has ever seen."
"Sounds like an ambitious plan and I wish you all the best of luck. None of that explains why I am here or why I am in this fancy bunker." Before she could object to the term, he continued, "Dress it up however you like but it takes either a mountain of protective charms and runes (like at Hogwarts so, being forewarned, he had deactivated the sensitivity of his eye and hadn't looked too hard while he was there) or absolutely none at all. I doubt the people in charge here are completely stupid and I have already felt the effect of some of them, so it is the first and not the second. Let's call a spade a spade… this place is a fortress in the making."
As he finished saying his piece they entered Nysa proper and, though definitely unfinished, most of what she said was either underway in some form or the areas for it were clearly marked off.
This was fine with the ever pragmatic Moody as she hadn't lied per se, more given the impression that they were further along than they were. If he was in their place he probably would have done the same thing and, if he wasn't so observant, in this case, it would likely have worked.
"Hello Professor," Harry said having apparated in. "I meant to meet you myself but I find more to do every day. Thank you, Eleanor, you can return to Hawk training now."
"Thank you, my Lord. It was very nice to meet you, Master Auror Moody," she answered. Without waiting for a reply she apparated away.
"She's a nice girl, Fred is lucky. I wouldn't try and apparate home, by the way, inside the boundaries of Nysa it's fine but outside... not so much."
"Hawks?" Moody questioned, filing away that piece of information for later.
"Our version of Aurors. You are here, Master Auror, to hear a job offer. If you accept it will also be a safe place that you can call home that is as secure as magic can make it. Most of the magical places that are strong enough for this are either taken, like Hogwarts, are too small, are taken or are inhospitable to wizards."
"So what makes this place different than any other Magical place that I have lived?"
"Like most later sites, it uses a combination of the known natural weaknesses of magic combined with a strong (though compared to Hogwarts, a lesser) connection to the leylines of the Earth. Unless you accept our offer, even with the documentation you signed, I'm afraid that's all I can say about the protections on this place."
"And what if I chose that? What if I chose to leave and go elsewhere?"
"Then no one here will stop you," Harry replied with conviction. "But, do you really have anywhere close to a better option? Honestly, tell me, do you have any idea of where to go that could offer you safety, purpose and the free will to choose your own path in peace?"
"What's your offer?" Moody growled out the question as they both knew, if he did, then he likely wouldn't have been there in the first place as he would have already left for that place, whatever it was.
"The official one? That you train a select group, along with myself and Hermione Granger, in wanded combat. Our current Goblin instructors are quite good but they are forbidden from teaching us magic by I.C.W. treaty. Besides, there is no guarantee, what with the divide between how each species approaches using magic, that it would work anyway."
"If that's the only reason that you are going to give me," Moody barked, "then I'll call bullshit and take my chances elsewhere."
"I did say that it was the official reason. If that is all we needed you for then we could train with any number of capable wizards. Lord Black was an Auror as well as a Hit-wizard and that will only be a part-time position and likely not last all that long. The unofficial reason has to do with the Department of Mysteries and what the Unspeakables do."
"They are researchers," Moody said dismissively.
"Bullshit," Harry grinned. "I am aware that you trained at least some of them, so you know better. I do not doubt that research is some of what they do but, it is not nearly all of what they do."
"You want me to head your version of the D.O.M.?" Moody guessed.
"Yes and no. I'm not currently in charge, only a Council Member, so it more accurate to say that the Head of the Council Lady Abbot and the Council as a whole wish it. I was one of those chosen to talk with you but, even then, your main point of contact with the Council will be Lady Lovegood… at least for the next five years."
"An… interesting idea and it explains how you knew about me," Moody said even as he tried to take it all in. "Is there anything else that I should know?"
"Yes. where the D.O.M. lumps all of their employees together, it is the Council's wish that they are separated along muggle lines."
"How so?"
"The British have the Security Service and the Secret Intelligence Service, the U.S. has the C.I.A. and the N.S.A. Our people, who must operate in the shadows as it were, should be separated similarly though in a different way and under Deputies that you chose and that you trust," Harry informed him.
"Humor an old man and tell me why?"
"Simply put, the fewer people who know the full picture of what goes on the less damage a possible traitor can do and the less information that can leak out. It is also easier to separate, broadly speaking, those that focus on combat and those that don't."
Moody grunted his approval at that as least.
"That is a good name for them."
"What is?"
"Shadows...you should call them Shadows. They should all be trained to Hit-wizard level, at least, and if you truly want to split them make the rest of their duties complementary but distinct. Grey Shadows for research, experimentation and support while the Black Shadows should be for…. well in my day it was called ungentlemanly warfare and they should not officially exist merely call them spies, department heads or simply a higher rank if pressed. Speaking of that, it is the only other training both should share...with limited numbers, it would be foolish to limit those especially with the revelations that will come from you and Nysa."
Unbeknownst to both men at the time, both Harry Harry and Hermione would join and be trained to serve in that organization (which was simply known as The Department) as Shadows though, in different roles.
"I also think," Moody continued, "that the uniform should be mottled on the original Unspeakable cloaks. Lady Abbot should still have hers and it will be easy enough to copy the basic enchantments that disguise your voice, face, scent and plethora of other things. Merlin, if you make it out of this...firesilk, you might even improve on them."
Moody paused then as if deciding whether to ask his next question, before simply doing so in his blunt way as he always did. "Why the rush? You are protected by the French Ministry and I know my history, Protectorates take their time to develop or they fall. Granted they all fell anyway but, you seem to be hurrying to that end rather than trying to avoid it. Why?"
"Thanks to our sources, the French Unspeakables and the Goblin Nation, we know about a prophecy involving myself and a Dark Lord."
"Voldemort?"
"Is a contender for the title, yes."
"Tell me more…"
With that, Alastor Moody became the first Director of The Department and worked well, not only with his charges and the Council of Ten but also their trainers that were drawn from old contacts of his and people that the Nation could contact as well as Sirius Black and his Hawks.
The Council had their Meeting Room, the Hawks had the Fortress of Hawkhold (or as they called it, the Nest), the legitimate Hit-wizards had a barracks but The Department had nowhere centralised.
They only had scattered safehouses and aliases, dead drops and ever-moving facilities. They were the Shadows and that was where they lived. That was where they thrived.
-HPCOD-
Voldemort seethed silently as he paced in the main room of what the Yaxley family laughingly called a manor even as he privately thought of it as little more than a gilded hovel.
His original plan was to disappear like smoke after removing the near-constant threat that was Harry Potter but, as ever, that irritating child had no only refused to go along with his inevitable death but had also exposed him far too early for his original plan to be viable.
Added to that, his most financially well off allies that hadn't been imprisoned or detained (namely Malfoy and Nott) were dead. The Malfoy line was completely extinct, or the British line was anyway and the bigotry between the French and the English was holding any claimants up for the moment.
The Nott line didn't suffer that problem as, despite the fact that their relatives were also distant, they were not French but there were many claimants in the latter case and all of the assets were being torn apart. That was not including the eventual inheritance taxes from either case that would gut the majority of the money as it was transferred to a secondary line (primary or direct ones were exempt from such things).
Worse, for both his situation and all-powerful image he did not know who had actually killed them and yet, somehow, he was being blamed for their deaths.
All of which had led him, like a common thief, to raid the estates of his now-deceased followers. He had to be quick about it as, soon enough, the Aurors would physically take those assets and put them into protected storage awaiting valuation and liquidation. They would also seal the manors for the same reason.
He had given the widows a chance, that was all the mercy that he had for them. Narcissa had burned hers before he had even turned up, thanks to her husband's mistakes. If it was just the fact that he had died and lost his Heir that would have been one thing but, she had also stood there, complicit, as he had misplaced or lost his old school diary.
Her death had not been pleasant but, in the end, her final moments had offered far more peace than he believed that she deserved. She was a risk that he could not afford, a loose end and chaotic variable in his plans that he could ill afford when he had been dealing with so many others lately.
Not so with the former Mrs Nott. she had been reading the lies that had been printed in the Daily Prophet. He hadn't even been able to fully open the door and explain the greater need of the cause before she had attacked him.
Admittedly, he had lost his temper at that. When he was done, there was nothing less than a bloody smear of her on the walls and ceilings of her once beautiful home. After he was through the home was not beautiful for both the fact that it was smeared in human blood and the truth that he had taken everything that wasn't nailed down and more than a few that were.
Still, with what he had gained he had reluctantly managed to finance Parkinson's rise to power, and with it his own, and he knew that what he had lost would easily be regained in short order.
The Yaxley's were a key part of that plan. Though they were poor, mentally deficient and rather all-around incapable people they could kill and they bred like rabbits. They also had just enough brainpower not to put themselves at risk directly.
That meant calling in the third and fourth cousins to do their dirty work while the British branch (Corben and his wife Irene) as well as the Carrow family stayed well away from anything that could cause them trouble down the road. They also, as a form of double-layered protection, steered clear of the future Minister as well.
They were even unconcerned when those same cousins were killed as it both meant that they had to pay them less and they also viewed it as a long-overdue pruning of the family tree.
The bonus of the Yaxley cousins was that, of course, their relations were going to be suspected of criminality but, so long as the Auror's were fruitlessly looking at them, he was free from their searching gaze.
As irritating as it was to him (hence the pacing) to metaphorically backtrack and work from the sidelines while everyone hunted him and his followers, it had worked out well in the end.
All of Parkinson's (and therefore his) most dangerous political opponents aside from Dumbledore were either dead or had fled. Once he had the time he fully intended to hunt down Bones and wring any useful information out of her.
Before that though, his best and most loyal followers would be freed. With control of the Ministry, it would be simple enough to give a few discreet pardons and the rest transfigured corpses to fake their deaths, appearances needed to be maintained for the moment.
Later, it wouldn't matter but, for now, he hated the waiting. It made it more difficult to not think about his failures.
Potter still lived and though that in itself was a victory of sorts, it was also a failure. He had wanted Potter's blood for his resurrection and the fact that he hadn't managed to do that was the issue.
Granted, Krum's blood was pure and he definitely qualified as an enemy. He was both a strong soul and gifted in magic but his blood didn't help break the protection that Potter had.
Now he would have to resort to other methods, more dangerous rituals, to break it and yet somehow keep his connection to the Riddle bloodline as through that he still had a tenuous connection to his previous body and the far more illustrious Slytherin line.
Potter had given him years of work by forcing him to design a totally new ritual and, on top of that, he had also threatened his beloved familiar Nagini.
'I will find Potter, no matter how long it takes, and finally, remove him once and for all. For his attack against Nagini and for daring to be a rallying point of resistance to my enviable triumph, I will make his death last months.'
His plan for Harry would hit a major snag though. It would be over five years before Harry was knowingly within his reach once again.
-HPCOD-
'How can everything go so wrong in just six months?' Dumbledore thought to himself. 'Bones was obstinate in the extreme and never a fan of mine but, Parkinson is… unrepentant.'
That was the strongest thought, the harshest condemnation, that he would allow himself in regards to the man. Others would refer to him as an unrepentant, sadistic and evil bastard but Dumbledore would never think of anyone like that.
Hence unrepentant. Not beyond redemption, never that, merely a poor and misguided soul that chose not to seek it. If he ever did it would have to be under Dumbledore's guidance of course as, to his mind, no one else was qualified to guide those troubled people.
There had been blow after blow of suspicious events that had made his gentle and guiding hands uncertain.
The latest of which had been the suspicious 'deaths' of many of the most fanatical of Voldemort's supporters over the last two. Couple that with the calculated pardoning of others in the preceding four months and something else was going on.
Even Dumbledore's greatest detractors which, unbeknownst to him, also included Harry Emrys formerly Potter would accuse him of being stupid. This manoeuvre was ham-fisted, rather blunt and uncaring really with only the veneer of deniability to it.
Sadly, it seemed that was all both Parkinson and Voldemort needed.
When he looked closer at their 'deaths' that veneer failed completely. No one could tell him how they died. He couldn't find out where their graves were but neither could he find proof that they were alive either as anyone, anyone, who dealt with them were bound under secrecy oaths.
The fact that someone would do that, even to those that had the most passing of associations with the deceased was telling in and of itself.
He was stuck, however, as he could push harder without making his interest official. If he did that then people would know within minutes and he had no doubt that steps would be taken.
He thought he knew the most likely way that they had pulled it off though. Even in the Wizarding World, a certain percentage of people were arguably homeless and certainly drifters with no families. Add the fact that Polyjuice, when someone dies they remained in that form for months depending on dosage and metabolism without magical intervention.
'Still, that's not the only problem I have involving Parkinson. On the surface, he is doing everything he can to fight Voldemort and the public love him for it. He had doubled the number of Hit-wizards, tripled Auror recruitment and had managed to 'win' several early skirmishes against the Dark Lord. I have access to confidential reports though and I know that no Death Eaters have been confirmed killed or imprisoned. Worse, all those lost on our side were holdovers of the old regime.'
The situation was far direr than most realised. Using the catalyst of the Dark Lord's return and in the name of a safer, more secure, world there had been a compulsory oath demanded. With the exception of the Department of Mysteries, all workers had been made to take an oath of loyalty to the Minister of Magic. Not the office, or the Ministry itself of course, but to the man who occupied the office itself.
Those that did not either were forced out or had resigned in protest. People like Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt, both good men, had lost their jobs in the purge of personnel.
It was eminently clear, even this early in his term, where Edmund Parkinson's loyalty lay. Sadly, by this point, there was not a lot he could do about it.
In the last war, there were others that could have helped bear the load of combating the Dark Lord in the political arena. Though they didn't see eye to eye on many things there were the elder Potters, the Longbottoms, the Mckinnons and the Dearborns.
The first and final two were dead, their families (bar Harry) obliterated from existence as if they never were. The Longbottoms had Augusta but, she was more occupied with her son and daughter in law's condition.
That left a blind spot that they could exploit and exploit it they did. He was too busy trying to save his international reputation, his position as Headmaster and find Harry to stop it when he could. Now it was too late.
The Wizengamot had no power to stop them directly so long as Parkinson stayed within the bounds of the law or, as in this case, you couldn't reasonably prove otherwise.
Fawkes's crooning song as a soft backdrop forced him to admit his most pressing problem and it wasn't Parkinson but, it did hurt him the most.
It was the headlines that were scattered across the Headmaster's desk that seemed to mock and belittle him.
Harry Potter Abandons Britain: Dumbledore and the Ministry Blamed, Potter Family Holdings Officially Now Run By Goblins, Molly Weasley Arrested: Potter Scandal Continues, Dumbledore Maintains Most Positions: Public And I.C.W. Outraged and finally Vernon Dursley Thrown To The Dementors: The Abuse Of House Potter.
Then the newest headline had arrived.
He had naively thought that, after those headlines, his enemies had expelled all of their current ammunition against him. The hits so far had managed (mostly through Goblin representatives) to destabilise most of the aspects of power for those in Magical Britain, especially him. The damage to the system was not just affecting him however.
The system before these articles (whether Dumbledore would admit it or not) was both a corrupt one and on a slow decline towards the darker elements of their society. Now, with the damage to the lighter elements (namely him), it had become a chaotic avalanche that was barely settling as many of the Ancient Houses licked their wounds or scrambled for power.
Two Ancient and Noble Houses were extinct in Britain, never to return. A further five had become bankrupt due to the fallout and the calling in of loans. Many others were damaged and fighting to recover, from all across the political spectrum and he couldn't help but think that this new article was timed so that, when things were beginning to return for what passed for normal, it could do as much damage as possible.
The only solace that he had, as his brain tried to absorb the earth-shattering words that he was reading, was the fact that he had still got the political capital somehow to make sure that Molly Weasley got a very light sentence. She would be out in a year and he had taken every precaution so that she couldn't speak of his involvement in her schemes.
That was cold comfort to him now as the headline (as well as the political power and possible wealth that it represented) mocked him even as it would turn a fragile Wizarding Britain on its head once again.
Harry Emrys, Formerly Potter, Always Merlin's Heir.
'Just how can I even begin to spin this? How much more will this cost me and how, by all that is sacred, can I adapt my plans to this?'
It would be a long day for Dumbledore, followed by an even longer and sleepless night with many more to come.
-HPCOD-
"Are you sure about this?" Amelia Bones asked. She had a worried look on his face, having taken a few days out of looking over new job opportunities now that her situation had changed. "The I.C.W. may allow this but, it is harder than the British version by a fair amount."
"Only because the British version has been watered down to appease Pure-bloods and their inbred progeny. It's hardly my fault that their magic is slowly withering away and I shouldn't be punished for it."
Harry's reply was nearly scornful at the disadvantages that were in place in Britain, not only to keep the Pure-bloods raised high but the others in the dirt.
"So you are sure?" Amelia Bones asked again with a faint warning in her voice, "The both of you? It's more than just the international version, if you do this complex version you'll only get one shot at this."
"Of course we are," Harry said even as Hermione nodded while standing next to him and they both nervously held an inactive portkey. "The Enhanced International N.E.W.T's stopped being offered in Britain ninety years ago, the International N.E.W.T's just over seventy. I'm… we are taking the Enhanced because they count for your O.W.L.'s as well."
"The grades may count as both but, so do the failures."
"It's a very small risk," responded Hermione, "given Rowena, our other tutors and the time that we have devoted to learning. We will be fine and then we will be able to devote our time more fully to the things that we need to do."
"And this will clear formal education from your proverbial plates?" Amelia questioned.
"In theory yes, but when do we ever stop learning?" Hermione's answer was ambiguous. "Even if that was the case we still have everything we need to learn to help run Nysa and our combat lessons from the Nation. Even if we stop it, we will likely come back to it soon enough, it's just that we have other priorities that need dealing with first."
Harry could see that the admission pained her, as she truly loved learning, and so he looped his arm around her shoulders in support even as he noticed Amelia's partially concealed wince.
"You still don't approve of us taking lessons in combat from the Nation?" Harry guessed.
"It's not that," Amelia replied, even as the portkey warmed in warning in Harry's hand, "it's just so savage. Hermione at least practices with a rapier, you and Neville however…"
Harry laughed softly even while thinking 'Of course the idea of Neville using that wicked mace of his would disturb her.'
"Swords aren't my thing, or his. I can barely tell the pointy end from the hilt with a sword. Besides, I happen to think that my butterfly axe is awesome, even if I'm yet to have one made that is really mine."
He enjoyed her shocked and scandalised look even as the portkey whisked them away as if, because he was noble, he shouldn't use such a hideous and inelegant weapon.
The next voice that they both heard was first in English and then it was repeated in multiple languages.
"Welcome to the Enhanced N.E.W.T.'s. Each individual examination will take a week. The first begins in five minutes, please refer to the board for your exam and your testing area. Your assigned seat will light up briefly when you enter the room. Good luck everyone."