31 July 1993

"I think we should get married."

Emmeline laughed until she raised her head to look into his eyes. "Oh, you're serious."

Bartemius sat up as she raised a long, slender leg to straddle his lap.

"Now why would you be serious about such a thing?" she asked.

"Because I love you."

The words came out as smooth and easy as they had done a decade ago when he'd confessed the same to another woman, which almost surprised him. He didn't make those kinds of confessions. He was a man of action rather than one of pretty words, but he was also deliberate. He didn't say things he didn't mean.

She closed her eyes in a long blink. When she opened them, she said, "Well, shit, Barty. I was gearing up for an argument."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You've never said that to me before," she said, "and out of the blue you start mentioning marriage." She shook her head. "I didn't think that was a possibility."

He wasn't bothered by the statement. In truth, six months ago marriage hadn't been a possibility. Still, he asked, "Why are you here?"

She smiled. "Company and multiple orgasms." She bit her lip then said, "To be honest, you being emotionally unavailable and a horrible parent was part of the appeal. I'm attached to Albus Dumbledore and I've resigned myself to never having a family."

He rubbed his stubble. Indeed that had crossed his mind. Someone in her position wouldn't want children, but now, years later, his opinions, and behavior, were almost fundamentally different.

"You're opposed to having kids?"

"With you?!"

He laughed. Rebecca's son was locked up on her property and he was laughing. "Has my behavior with Harry not affected your opinion?"

"I can't give birth to another Harry Potter."

"I hope not. Two is certainly more than one ought to bear."

She got off him. "You know what I mean. Harry is an equal to them. Any child you have will have to live up to him."

"I can't prove I've changed unless given that chance," he said. "I will say…I can admit that I was a horrible parent to Bartemius. And, no, he couldn't live up to my expectations, which weren't too unreasonable."

She crossed her arms. "Why? From I heard he was intelligent and friendly – "

"And weak. A follower. We all bend our backs. I am not unaccustomed to the practice, but I still lead men and women everyday. I command. He couldn't bring himself to step out from behind the skirts of men and women who knew how to take charge."

"Barty…"

He rubbed his face then moved to fortify the room. "Harry…we met in Paris. Even at five years old he could take the bull by the horns. He is the reason we found Delphinium House, Malfoy Manor, and other such houses." He stared out the window. "Someone kept leaving delphiniums on the steps and the front door of the townhouse Stephanie and Taurus were murdered in. So we watched it and I cornered him…"

When he trailed off, she asked, "What does this have to do with anything?"

"When I told him my name, he had a visceral reaction." He laughed with derision. "Why would this child, who called Voldemort and Bellatrix 'Tom' and 'Aunt Bella' know my name?"

She inhaled as understanding dawned. "Did you kill him?"

He scoffed. "No. He is at her house. Stuck there until the day I die."

"Why didn't you kill him?" she asked.

"Because I love his mother and I couldn't bring myself to kill her son," he said. "And giving him to Dumbledore would have been a nightmare. I was in the room when Abraxas lost his head. And Harry…"

She narrowed her eyes. "Now I get it."

He looked at her.

"He knows your secret, so you give him what he wants."

"You're determined to think the absolute worst of me," he mused. "I give him what he wants because I want to; because it makes him happy. I certainly wouldn't boss him around if I was concerned about my secret."

Her face softened. "You care."

"I didn't know what it meant to truly – "

A lion patronus appeared in front of him, bringing him up short.

"Open the door," Rufus Scrimgeour said. "This is urgent, Barty, and we have no time to waste."

He put on his clothes and rushed downstairs. When he opened the door Rufus brushed past him.

"Williamson is dead. Murdered in Surrey." Rufus turned around to face him. "Edgar says your boy was dueling another and Williamson was killed in the crossfire."

Bartemius paused before saying, "Was he burned to death?"

"No, it was the Killing Curse."

Bartemius inclined his head. "Harry didn't do it. Where is he now?"

Rufus shrugged. "If he isn't dead, he will be soon. Edgar said he was hit with a Flesh Eating Curse."

Bartemius took an involuntary step back. "What is being done to recover his person?"

"Right now, Amelia has us searching for Williamson's killer, but I've given Shacklebolt and Moody the task of finding him."

He remained calmed, despite the gnawing panic in his chest. "How did he get away from Bones?"

Rufus rubbed his face. "He knocked him out. Edgar is spitting mad, too."

"He let a slip of a boy knock him out and get away after his partner was murdered?"

"The boy was good."

Bartemius brought himself to his full height as he inhaled. "Is! Because unlike Edgar Bones, he is neither pathetic nor incompetent. Now go find dear Edgar. Make sure that the inept imbecile is in my office when I get there!"

Rufus inclined his head. "Yes, sir."

When Rufus was gone, Emmeline flew downstairs. She was dressed and had his cloak and shoes hovering in front of her.

"I'm going to tell Dumbledore. You should go find James or one of his grandfathers." When he didn't respond, she said, "Barty!"

"What if he's dead?" he heard himself ask. "He's only twe – thirteen. It's his birthday."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should be the one to tell his family."

He put on his clothes and they headed outside beyond the gate. After a squeeze of his forearm, she disapparated and he followed.

In the next moment, he was walking to the front door of Fleamont Potter's house. Bartemius' heart dropped at the sight of the silent and dark house.

He banged on the door for almost a full minute until he felt a presence. He moved, but a wand was jabbed into his neck and he was spun around.

Holding him was Fleamont.

"Minister?" he drawled before stepping back. "What brings you to my doorstep at this time of night in such a manner?"

"I take it you haven't seen your grandson?"

Fleamont raised his eyebrows. "You mean Harry? No, he went to a party. What is so urgent?"

Bartemius shifted to place a hand on the man's shoulder, which elicited a look. After a deep breath, he said, "Some time ago, two aurors received a call…Harry was involved in a duel not too long ago and it was reported that he was hit with a Flesh Eating Curse. Unfortunately, he was allowed to get away and nothing of him has been recovered."

It took Fleamont but a moment to digest the words and when he did he moved.

He opened the door and ushered Bartemius inside. They found Euphemia in the shadows holding her wand, which she lowered at the sight of him. Fleamont tilted his head to the living room, but didn't say a word until they got there.

"Quintinus," he called, "is Harry at the house?"

A long, broad man with dark blue robes said, "No."

"Check, please."

"I just came from there," Quintinus said. "I was sent here because the cheeky, insufferable, swaggering…"

Fleamont sighed loudly, which seemed to offend the wizard in the portrait. "Go tell my father, Charlus, and James to come over here. It's imperative you tell them, Quintinus. Life and death imperative."

Quintinus got up and walked out the frame mumbling to himself.

"Monty…" Euphemia said, but he shook his head.

Less than a minute later, Henry, James, and Sirius appeared in rapid succession.

"Charlus is in Greece," James said. He looked at Bartemius. "And I need to go find Harry."

Fleamont turned to him and, after a deep breath, he said, "I can assure you Harry left the party as he was seen some distance away from it. I apologize for my overall ignorance of the situation, but I thought it important to come…" He touched his forehead. "He was allowed to get away and chances are high he was fatally injured while doing so."

"What?!" James demanded.

Quintinus, who had returned, got to his feet. "Excuse me," he said to Henry before walking out the frame once more.

"I was told there was a duel – "

"Harry dueled your aurors?" Henry asked.

Bartemius just stopped himself from gnashing his teeth. Still, he hesitated. In the end, though, he said, "No, his attacker killed one of them and Harry was allowed to escape the other."

"How does that happen?" Sirius asked. "I mean he's good, but I can't think of one person…Bones?" His eyes widened. "He's too bloody big – "

Bartemius inhaled. "Forgive me, but I must get to Surrey. I just thought it best you hear this from me."

The fireplace flashed and Charlus stepped out as a large, phoenix patronus materialized next to Bartemius.

"I require you to attend me immediately," Dumbledore said, "and I ask that you bring a Potter along."

"It is almost three o'clock," Charlus announced. "What is so important I needed to be disturbed?"

Sirius looked at Charlus then turned James. Only then did he think better of what he was going to say. In a surprising move, Sirius pulled James into the seat beside him and placed an arm around his shoulder.

Bartemius walked over to and subsequently grabbed Charlus. "Excuse us." He sat up the fireplace. "I will do my best to keep you abreast of the situation." He and Charlus stepped into the fireplace. "Headmaster's office, Hogwarts."

With that, he and Charlus spun away.

Less than a minute later, the two entered Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. Dumbledore was up and standing by the window dressed in sweeping, midnight blue robes.

"What the fuck, Barty?" Charlus hissed.

Bartemius sat Charlus down and squeezed his shoulder. "Morning, your Majesty."

"Bartemius, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said. "A shame we must meet under such circumstances."

Charlus looked at him.

Bartemius leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Harry is missing and was injured in an altercation."

Charlus paled and he kept his hand on his shoulder.

Dumbledore sighed. "If a loss was suffered, I take full responsibility for it. Well, most of it. How a man the size of Edgar Bones allowed himself to be overpowered by a twelve – excuse me – thirteen year old is beyond me."

Bartemius allowed himself to gnash his teeth this time.

Charlus moved his eyes from Bartemius to Dumbledore. "What do you mean?"

"Last August, Harry paid me a visit. He'd received word that Lucius had returned to the manor and forced his house-elf to allow him entry," Albus answered.

Bartemius stiffened. Oh? There had been more secrets? Not just that he'd found the Chamber? He needed to find his boy immediately and shake the secrets out of him.

"In November I called Harry here to kill the monster in the Chamber of Secrets and this summer he has searched the school for every hidden passageway."

"He's a parselmouth?" Charlus said.

Bartemius felt a spark of amusement. This boy hadn't even told his family about his talent. He wondered what other secrets Harry was keeping. Did he find something…

"He found Susan Bones?" Bartemius asked.

Dumbledore inclined his head and he shared in Charlus' outage.

"I will not tell you how, but it was Tom Riddle who attacked Harry some time ago," he said.

Bartemius brought himself up to his full height. Did Harry know how?

"He also attempted to kill Harry two weeks ago."

Charlus got to his feet. "And why would either of you keep that to yourself? This does not give him a meaningful death."

Dumbledore turned around to meet Charlus' eye. Dumbledore's stare was hard, but Charlus didn't back down. And not out of bravery either. No, it seemed the Potters just weren't afraid to die.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald were fools to have kept them alive.

But why did they?

Dumbledore moved to sit in his chair. "Because Harry is an arrogant teenager who wishes to live his life. I'm an arrogant, old man who wished to test a theory."

And what theory was this? Did Harry know that, too?

Dumbledore exhaled. "At present, there are two forms of Tom Riddle walking this earth. Regardless of whether we like it or not, Harry will be essential to removing both of them." To Bartemius, he said, "You, of all people, understand this."

Yes, he did because Tom Riddle was clearly no fool. The question was, if there were two forms, who was informing the new one? Susan Bones would have been unequal to telling Tom Riddle about Harry Potter, especially a secret so well kept as parseltongue.

Charlus looked at Bartemius. "What the fuck does that mean?" he hissed.

"That Harry has a world of secrets against his chest and the only way we'll learn them is if we put our heads together."

Charlus turned to Dumbledore.

Albus held up his hands. "I don't know all of his secrets. You would be better off staring down – "

The door opened and Gellert Grindelwald entered. He closed the door then paused as he took in the two men standing in the shadows.

"What has the boy done now that has a Potter of all people in here before dawn?"

"Died," Charlus spat.

Grindelwald stiffened. "Harry Potter the younger has died? Is this what you're saying to me?"

"Yes," Charlus drawled.

He looked at Dumbledore, who inclined his head. "It is a strong possibility."

Bartemius raised his eyebrows. Grindelwald looked almost mournful at the thought, but only for a moment.

"That is…unfortunate," Gellert said as he stepped further into the office. "The world at his fingertips and dead within hours of his thirteenth year. What are the odds?" He sat down on a sofa and pulled out a beer from someplace. "Have you checked Dawn Park?" he asked Charlus.

Bartemius turned to Charlus, too. Well that explained why Fleamont had needed to call his father and why Charlus hadn't been with the other Potters.

"We live in it," Charlus said.

"What the hell?" Bartemius said.

Grindelwald waved a hand. "A reward for his actions eight years ago. It was high time we repaid the debt."

Dumbledore looked amused. "When did you give it to him?"

"Two years ago this December."

"What the hell?" Bartemius said once more.

Dumbledore nodded. "He failed to mention that in our many discussions on the history of Gloucestershire and its inhabitants."

"A young Albus Dumbledore," Grindelwald said as he stared Dumbledore down. "Secrets and lies…he's a natural as Aberforth would say."

The air had grown frosty. Grindelwald knew his old friend had had something to do with this and it seemed he was more affected by it than he was letting on.

Dumbledore inclined his head then turned to them. "If you'll excuse us gentlemen. Do keep in touch, Bartemius."

Bartemius bowed then moved with Charlus to the fireplace with him. He inclined his head once more and they disappeared through the fireplace.

"I will kill him!" Charlus said when they returned to Fleamont's house.

Henry and Fleamont looked at them. They were the only ones still in the living room and they had snifters full of amber liquid in their hands.

"Your grandson is a parselmouth," Charlus announced. "He killed a basilisk with Dumbledore and found the Bones girl!" To Bartemius, he said, "And what the hell did he mean?"

Bartemius exhaled. "Just that one day Voldemort will work out that-that Harry is the whistleblower."

Fleamont leaned forward. "Excuse me?"

"You never wondered how me met? Or why Delacour, Taylor, and myself choose to be so well acquainted with him?" he asked. "The pinnacle of our careers is the coordinated defeat of Voldemort and finding those children and Harry gave us the information."

Charlus, who had stepped back, asked, "Why would he do that?"

"Taurus and Stephanie," Henry answered and Charlus closed his eyes. "Death Eaters killed them and Voldemort did nothing about it, so Harry ruined him." To Bartemius he said, "You let him go back to the house?"

Bartemius inhaled. "Yes," he said as he exhaled. "He wanted to repay his debt to Regulus."

"Grindelwald could have killed him."

Bartemius inclined his head.

Charlus sat down. "Harry was a means to an end for Bartemius Crouch Sr. in nineteen eighty-five."

"I deserve that, but I did care if he lived or died. If only for my own material gain."

Charlus looked at him.

"What? He was five years old and already knew how to sense magic," Bartemius said. "I was disillusioned and he knew I was behind him. Then he tried to fight me. I had to fight a five year old like a grown man because he could throw fireballs and other objects."

Charlus smirked.

"Stop grinning, Charlus. He burned my cloak and cut me," he hissed. He rolled his shoulders. "Now I have to go find the little shit. Excuse me."

Twenty minutes later, he was walking the streets of Surrey with Rufus. They had their wands out and light shining from them.

"He got far from the house," Bartemiusht observed.

"Yes," Rufus said. "Why? What lured him here? Why would he walk so far from the house at two in the morning with a broom in his backpack and a wand in hand?"

Bartemius exhaled. "Because someone wanted him dead."

They stopped in the alleyway where fight had occurred to face each other.

"Harry Potter is an excellent duelist. We saw him battle seventh years and the best of his peers. He produced advanced magic only four short weeks ago," Bartemius said. "Yet he didn't have this person at his feet."

Rufus nodded. "The attacker is very good and so are the children he left at the house. Delacour and Taylor wouldn't hesitate to help Potter, correct? So he was somehow forced from the house. Imperius Curse. No, the Confundus Charm. He was, no doubt, too far from safety by the time he realized what had happened."

"And it was too late to pull out the broom." Bartemius moved to a glowing X hovering above a piece road. "He was here so when he ran. He…didn't go back towards the house. He ran forward?"

Rufus frowned. "The attacker didn't linger after Bones and Williamson showed up. And how many people are going to run backwards with the way forward clear?" Rufus nodded. "Yes, he ran forward."

They walked a little ways until they found blood on the street. They looked at each other and continued until they came across a small pool of a blood on the steps of a muggle street in Ascot.

"This is a hell of a way to run."

"He's fast and use to pain. The question is: who the hell lives here?"

Rufus left him to go check and Bartemius hid in the shadows while he waited. An interesting sequence of events followed.

The first was Gideon Prewett opening a door to a townhouse across the street. Bartemius knew for a fact Gideon did not live here. So who was he fucking that did?

The second was a soft pop and the appearance of Amelia Bones. She walked over to Prewett, who stepped aside and allowed her to enter the house.

The third was a large, stag patronus. James Potter said, "I have him and he's stable."

Just a few seconds later, James and Sirius appeared on the street.

Almost without thinking, he froze them where they stood and made them all but invisible. He sent his own fox to Rufus, demanding his return. Swiftly, he crossed the street and pulled them to the side of the house.

"Quiet," he said before removing his charms. "Who lives here?"

"Lily Evans," James said. "When did you find this place?"

Rufus appeared and looked around until he spotted them. As he made his way across the street, Bartemius said, "We followed the trail of blood. Did he know she lived here?"

James shook his head. "I doubt it."

"The Evans girl lives here," Rufus told him. "Really?"

"They found me." He pointed to the house. "Gideon Prewett is in the house," he told James and Sirius. "Behave." To Rufus he said, "Gideon and Amelia are in the house. Behave."

Sirius gaped at him. "After everything you mean to tell me she's in their with a wealthy pureblood?"

"Be. Have." With that and a clenched jaw, he stepped to the side and walked to the townhouse. He unlocked the door and stepped inside to a narrow entrance with a stone, white floor and olive green walls.

"I asked you not to call her!"

From behind him he heard Sirius say, "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

"And I told you not to call Potter."

"That's his father and you don't tell me what to do in my house!"

Someone whistled. "Well I'll be damned, some things are different," Sirius said.

He spun around and pointed at Sirius, who stepped back then he looked at Rufus. "Go deal with Prewett." To James he said, "Let's go." As they walked upstairs, he hissed over his shoulder, "Keep your hands and wand to yourself, Black."

"He's not that bad," James said as they tip toed upstairs.

"He is when a situation requires diplomacy," Bartemius said. "But I know the benefits of keeping a rabid, attack dog with me at all times."

James smirked and Bartemius was left to wonder what the hell was so funny.

They heard no voices, so they searched the rooms until they came across Amelia standing and going through Harry's backpack. In the bed lay a deathly pale Harry Potter. A cuff around a wrist attached him to a bed post.

"I can't find anything in this, Prewett," she announced. "It is skillfully put together."

"Yes," Bartemius drawled as James went over to Harry. "Between myself, Henry, and Cassiopeia it is impenetrable."

She had stiffened and stood facing the wall.

"Will you not turn around and face me, Amy?"

She looked at him.

"Rufus is downstairs," he said. "Unhand his possessions and go join them." He held up a finger. "No…your brother should be in my office. Go join him. Now."

She hesitated, but left the room when he curled his lip.

"So that's where Harry learned that," James said. "We just yell."

Bartemius was amused as he walked over to the other side of the bed to pull back the comforter. Harry's entire abdomen was covered in bandages.

"I only just stopped it in time," he heard Lily Evans say.

He looked at her, but James didn't. He chose to grip the bed post instead.

"He had passed out on the neighbors steps as I was coming home," she said as she walked further into the room. "I tried to move him and his stomach almost came out. He'll have some scars, but he'll be fine and most of them should fade in time."

Bartemius brought the covers back up then removed the cuff from Harry and the bed. "If you'll excuse me," he said, "I have employees to discipline."

He marched back downstairs to find Sirius and Rufus smirking at Gideon, who got to his feet.

"Amelia told us, Scrimgeour included, that if we ever had an opportunity to grab Potter for questioning to take it."

Rufus sighed. "I had Shacklebolt and Robards question the boy's friends and I alerted the Minister to the goings on while you were harboring his protégé. I am on a yacht. You're on a prison ship."

Sirius snorted.

Bartemius looked at Gideon. "Go to your office and think about what you've done."

Gideon's loosed breath held a note of disbelief.

"My office is full at the moment," he said. "Go. I'll deal with you later." When he was gone, Bartemius turned to the very amused Rufus. He tilted his head. "Let's take a walk."

About ten minutes later, he stepped into his office as Edgar told his sister, "I didn't let him do anything! He knocked me out!"

Prior to the election, Bartemius had ingratiated himself with the Bones family. They were skilled and talented and far closer to 'common' than almost everyone else of his acquaintance. He'd been so 'close' to Edgar and Nathaniel, everyone thought the former would be Secretary of Defense and the latter Lord Chancellor.

He had gone in a different direction with the latter and had chosen to appease Nathaniel by appointing his daughter to the former. He didn't, at present, regret giving Amelia the position. Rufus was an excellent 'spy' underneath her and he, Bartemius, always knew when it was time to undercut her.

But maybe it was time to reward Scrimgeour. Shacklebolt could effectively take over the Auror Office.

He would shake things up next May.

Bartemius closed the door with a snap. "Tell me, Auror, how tall are you?"

"I'm six foot, five inches."

Bartemius nodded as he walked to his desk. "How much do you weigh?"

"Two hundred ninety pounds."

Bartemius sat down and crossed his legs. "I imagine you have a high muscle mass?" He didn't let Edgar answer, for he said, "Harry Potter is just under five feet and around one hundred and ten pounds. He has a high muscle mass as he spent the last thirteen years following athletic pursuits. Still…" Bartemius laughed. "That should not have caused your big arse to let him go." He got to his feet and bared his teeth in Edgar's face. "How the fuck could you have done that?"

Edgar blustered and Bartemius curled his lip.

"Answer me!"

"We saw it was two children and we didn't think they'd be a problem," Edgar rushed to say. "I grabbed Potter, but he can fight – "

Bartemius felt his eyes widen. "You had a slip of a boy literally in your fat hands and he escaped you? Why when you saw it was Harry Potter, did you not subdue him? Have you and your family not spent near a decade keeping your own away from some such children? Is it not logical to assume any child Harry Potter doesn't have at his feet is a formidable one? How could you be so stupid?"

Amelia stepped forward. "If I may, Bartemius…" Bartemius snapped his face towards her. Their eyes met and she hesitated for a moment. "We have reason to believe Potter had something to do with our niece's dis – death. Edgar acted with emotion in a high pressure situation – "

Bartemius held up hand. "It wasn't high pressure until Williamson was dead for, according to your brother, 'they saw two children' and considered them to be a non issue." He took a step back. "They showed up, Edgar immediately recognized Harry Potter, and decided to grab him by his collar – I'm told this is a habit – and Williamson attempted to go to the other boy. Do I have the right of it, Auror?"

Edgar didn't move his mouth.

"Answer me!" he snarled.

"Yes, sir."

Bartemius turned to Amelia. "What is the protocol for a call to a duel?"

Amelia took a deep breath. "You are to subdue each participant and relieve them of their wands so that the situation can be properly assessed."

"Is there an exception made for children?"

"No."

Bartemius tilted his head. "Whyever not?"

"Because Robert Ogden got rid of the exception after a parent was killed by the accidental magic of her child."

Bartemius inclined his head. "Now what reason do you believe Harry Potter had something to do with your niece?"

"Dumbledore – "

Bartemius raised his hand again. "Did Dumbledore tell you that outright?"

"No," Amelia answered.

"Did he allude to it?"

Amelia closed her eyes. "No."

"So I'm to understand you built a case against a twelve year old simply because Dumbledore called him to his office for an oh, so secret meeting you weren't allowed to partake in?"

Edgar blanched.

Fool.

"Dumbledore played you and the foolish boy allowed himself to be used," Bartemius spat. To Amelia he said, "There's a reason he knew he was being followed." He gnashed his teeth. "Furthermore, it was the boy who not only put an end to the Chamber fiasco, but he is also the person who found your niece." To Amelia, he said, "You are to leave him alone from this moment forward." To Edgar he said, "You're suspended and someone within the department will investigate it."

Edgar gripped the desk.

"Rufus is filling out the forms and obviously your sister, and boss, is aware of the details of your gross misconduct and overall incompetency," Bartemius drawled. He summoned Edgar's badge. "You will receive your official forms by the end of the next business day. However, I demand that you go home now."

Edgar stared at him for just moment. His jaw moved, but, in the end, he got to his feet and walked out.

Bartemius turned to the sister. "When did you intend to tell me where Harry was?"

"When I finished with my investigation," she said. "I didn't expect Evans to call his father. I have it on good authority she despises him."

"Yes," Bartemius drawled, "the man who is fucking her would believe she would comply with his desires, but obviously he does not know Lily Evans as well as he thinks he does."

Part of him hoped Evans would keep the secret of her son close to her chest. It was beneficial.

"What was your goal, Amy? What were you going to do in this war with a twelve year old?"

Her face reddened, but she pushed forward. "I don't trust him – or children like him – and I cannot fathom why you do. How can you allow him such room? Such-such grace knowing he was raised by those people."

"Which people? The Blacks, who would not hesitate for him? Though that side of my family is dwindling, Regulus, Sirius, and Narcissa are still ruthless forces to reckon with. My grandmother and her daughter adore him. Mayhap you meant the Rosiers? They cannot do much direct harm to you, but they could ruin you internationally and it would affect you here," Bartemius said. "Or do you mean the Potters, who are still very much a stumbling block in your family's bid for power? How did you intend to take that on? Especially with the boy's own ever-growing political reach?"

Amelia hummed.

She had not considered that and it showed in her face. It seemed England was still determined not to see Harry Potter for what he was. Not just in terms of magical skill, but the boy had partied with the children of the political class Nathanial Bones wanted his grandchildren to associate with. And she still couldn't see it.

She was teetering on the edge of a feud with three very old, very influential families and a young boy her nephews would have to battle in the future. He had a feeling her father would hang himself later, too.

Delicious.

"'Political reach,'" she said at last. She paused, but Bartemius didn't take the bait. "The Potters have been ostracized for fifty years, Barty, and this child could very well mean their end. He is violent."

Bartemius smirked at her then, quick as lightning, bared down over the table and, in her face, hissed, "So am I."

They both took a step back.

"So are Henry, James, and Charlus Potter and Laurent Rosier. And I remember the tales of Fleamont Potter routinely fucking up Macmillans and Malfoys." He shook his head. "Go forth and do what you want, Amy," he said. "But tell your father not to back me into a corner. He will not like the outcome."

But Nathaniel Bones was never one to listen.

He arrived home that afternoon to an empty house and a note from Emmeline promising to return by dinnertime.

He had just sat down with a glass of whiskey when the doorbell rang. Winky, his house-elf, opened it and, moments later, Nathaniel Bones strolled into his living room.

He was a tall, well-built man with dark eyes and thinning, white hair. "Good evening, Minister."

Good manners forced Bartemius to get to his feet and shake Bones' hand. "Would you like a drink?" he offered.

"Please." They sat down and Nathaniel crossed his legs and took a sip. "I must apologize for Amelia and Edgar. I knew not what they were about."

Bartemius inclined his head. "I'm well aware you had nothing to do with this."

Nathaniel smiled, but there was a certain coldness in it that had never been there before.

Oh?

Well, he would have to work on refining Harry sooner rather than later. A moment was upon them and missteps could be costly.

"I must say, Bartemius, that, until this afternoon, I also knew not how close you were to Harry James Potter," he said. "You take him camping, hunting, and on holiday. I understand now: you're being protective."

Bartemius did not care for the mockery in the last word, but he held his tongue. He needed Nathaniel to keep going.

"But I must ask: how does that help you?"

Bartemius felt a little amused.

"Wizengamot elections haven't happened in three years," he said. "They will happen again next spring, so how does currying favor with this child help you at all?"

The amusement dissipated as quickly as it came. Still, he only said, "Get to the point of this, Nathaniel."

"There's a reason you befriended me eight years ago, Bartemius."

Bartemius, again, inclined his head. "Yes, there was."

It pained him to admit he had needed the Boneses. But now – now – he could squash Nathaniel like the vile bug he was.

"And there's a reason, Nathaniel, you still wish to curry my favor even after I displayed I do not want to give it to you," he said softly. "Tell me: did you come straight here or did you pay your friend Fleamont a visit this afternoon?"

Color rose in Nathaniel's neck, but he didn't verbally respond.

"You paid Fleamont a visit and he showed you he was, indeed, a Potter," he said. "I hope you didn't threaten the might of the southwest."

"They are nothing."

Bartemius laughed. Oh, Henry had given these men a false sense of security. He understood, though, for he had dismissed the old man and the Potters as a whole for a long time.

But Tiberius Ogden asked Harry about Henry Potter, which suggested that he hadn't abandoned Henry. Henry had chosen to hide. Harfang Longbottom spoke of him in glowing terms. All these old men and their grandchildren and/or great-grandchildren thought highly of the Harrys. James and Charlus, too, had a reach. Taurus had snagged a Rosier and one favored by her great-grandparents.

Now, only the lower echelons of the bourgeoisie and new money thought little of the Potters. For they couldn't get in those rooms and, therefore, couldn't understand. Even then Harry the younger had ingratiated himself with Warrington, McLaggen, and Delacour. And there was no telling who he had at Durmstrang.

Moves were important to him now, but Harry had already won the future whether Bones knew it or not.

Bartemius trailed off his laughter a smirk. "I told your daughter it would be foolish of you to back me into a corner. Very well, Nathaniel, if it is a battle of wills you want, I shall give it to you."

"This is your final word?"

"No," Bartemius said. "No, I'm not finished, but you are."

Nathaniel left his house and slammed his door on the way out. Bartemius had two drinks before heading over to Fleamont's house.

The man was in high dungeon and Charlus was amused.

"He just left my house," Bartemius told them. "And I will follow your lead as I, too, don't appreciate being threatened."

Charlus grinned. "Oh, the Potters of Gloucestershire are back."

Bartemius sighed. "Where is your father?"

"He went out," Charlus answered. "I wish I could tell you, but Harry – pick one – is keeping the secret to himself."

He nodded. "Very well. Please tell him I came by."

With that, he apparated to his grandmother's house where he found Henry Potter. He was in the living room where the walls were dark teal and the armchairs and sofas were plush and magenta.

Bartemius stopped beside him. "Nathaniel Bones just threatened me."

Much to his surprise, Henry burst into laughter.

Offended, Bartemius said, "I don't think this is a laughing matter."

"Oh. Oh my," Henry said. "You and Fleamont are grown men!"

Lysandra walked into the room and kissed Bartemius' cheek before taking a seat next to Henry. Bartemius took the armchair to their right.

He motioned his hand. "What do you to intend to do about this?"

That wiped the smile off Henry's face. "About?"

"We are at the beginning of a feud," he said. "Aunt Callidora may very well wish to put her lot in with Harry, but I know Frank is closer to the Boneses and Prewetts. Alice is friends with…Harry is cordial with Neville, but he doesn't think much of the boy and I know the Bones children aren't kind to him." He leaned forward. "What I'm getting at here is: I need answers because elections are next May and I was just threatened."

"If Andrew Bones isn't kind to Neville, neither is Simeon."

Bartemius looked at him. "No offense, sir, but Harry is – "

Henry waved him off. "No, I mean Harry won't get to Hogwarts until next year fall and I doubt Simeon will suddenly start being nice to him. He'll probably get meaner when the Bones children turn on him. Essentially we should focus on Harfang, whose house I will dine at in a few weeks."

Lysandra chuckled beside Henry and they turned to her as she drank some wine. "Neither of you know your boy, do you?"

Henry leaned back to look at her.

"In some form or fashion, Harry introduced Neville to Rolf Scamander," he said. "And Harry sends Neville herbology and creature books every year for his birthday. Frank is wary of Harry – you must understand, his mother is incredibly self-righteous – but Alice is appreciative and Callidora adores him." She laughed a little then said, "What you ought to do, dear, is convince your grandson to hold a get together. One in the spirit of exclusivity."

Henry ran a hand through his hair as he contemplated the thought.

Lysandra looked at Bartemius. "I thank you for being concerned with my marital status, but that has already been dealt with." When his eyes widened and he looked at her finger, she said, "Go home, Bartemius."

That evening, Emmeline rolled off him and they lay tangled in the sheets catching their breath for a few minutes.

"Yes," she said at last.

"Em, if you're hearing voices please go to another room to answer them."

She sat up to glare at him. "What did you say to me this morning? Well…last night."

"Oh." His eyes widened. "Oh."