Notes: Takes place right after Chapter 2 (London).

September, 2003

Despite falling asleep at three in the morning, Harry was wide awake when the clock struck eight. He'd actually been up for an hour by then, having spent that time interrogating all four of his captives.

The mercenaries didn't actually know much – in fact, they didn't even know that their employer was Erasmus Nott – but that wasn't all too surprising given that they were Balkan hired wands that entered Britain a week ago. Nathaniel Nott knew a bit more, including the names of a few other accomplices, but couldn't actually divulge where he was meant to meet Erasmus.

Harry figured it'd been a sign of some form of magical protection, and just resorted to legilimency. He would never be as proficient as Dumbledore, or even Snape – he lacked the temperament for it – but Nathaniel Nott was far from being a truly formidable wizard, and one that lacked even basic Occlumency shields at that. Needless to say, Nott folded like a wet blanket. He'd likely be addled for the rest of the week, but Harry saw that as a side benefit. After all, an addled prisoner couldn't make a sophisticated escape attempt.

In any case, Harry had been right. Nathaniel was meant to meet Erasmus in a warded Nott family property in South Yorkshire. The place was unplottable and had a host of other privacy wards raised, but it wasn't protected by anything close to a Fidelius. It also wasn't a manor or castle, and Harry judged that it wouldn't have the formidable protections typical of those wizarding homes.

The sound of an incoming Floo knocked Harry out of his ruminations, and he lowered Grimmauld's protections.

"Welcome to Casa de Black," Harry greeted Daphne, who'd managed to exit the floo without stumbling. "You know, I don't think I've ever invited you here before."

"Under normal circumstances, you'd need to buy me dinner first," Daphne said with a haughty tone as she followed him into a study. "As it is, I'm here to make sure you don't run into trouble half-cocked."

"That's kinda sweet," Harry snickered, taking a seat behind the grand desk, and waving Daphne to the seat across from him. Its adornments and trinkets were all Black heirlooms of some sort, including an antique mantle clock that Harry had picked out from the family's vault in Gringotts. "Are you sure you want to get involved, though? I'm going to obliviate the entirety of last night from Nott and his flunkies, so your involvement so far won't be known to anyone but me."

"I've actually cleared this with my Mother," Daphne said. "And frankly, she's not too keen on having a third Blood War. I'm sure she considered other political factors too, like how there isn't a Dark Lord in play, but she hasn't shared any of that with me."

Harry nodded in acceptance, and placed his notepad on the desk. Daphne took that as permission to skim through it, and Harry leaned back into his seat.

"What I don't understand is why they tried attacking me – and only me, last night," Harry mused. "Most of the bachelor party attendees were a lot drunker than I was, so if they burst in and started casting I don't think many of us would've gotten away."

"No, Nott mentioned how they were just there to gather information, and that you were a target of opportunity," Daphne said absently as she ran through his notes. "Your group made appearances at the Autumn Invitational and Summerisles. A public sighting of that many politically important figures from the same faction, all in one spot? That kind of gathering is rare, usually reserved to send some kind of political message."

Harry stayed silent as Daphne flipped a page, and met his eyes.

"Wizarding leaders meet each other a lot, but usually it's a private affair behind layers of security and privacy. That many important figures meeting in public is usually reserved for announcing new alliances or a shared political vision – things like that," Daphne expounded when she saw Harry didn't quite understand. "It's likely what tipped Erasmus Nott to send his scouts. In fact, consider that three of the scouts were foreigners with no clue about Wizarding Britain's political scene. That implies the mission was organized in a rush, which explains why there were only four of them."

"You're saying Nott was trying to figure out why we were meeting and what we were celebrating…" Harry trailed off. An idea came to him. "Neville's engagement to Hannah is public knowledge, right?"

"It was announced a while back in the Prophet's society page. It's a good match," Daphne confirmed. "Hannah's not from the main Abbott line, but she's close friends with the Bones and Macmillan heirs. She's also a half-blood, and that in itself can be taken as a statement of political intent."

Daphne then added, in an almost pointed tone. "Considering he's the last of a Noble and Most Ancient House, tying the knot and expanding the family tree is a prudent idea."

"Why does that sound like it's directed at me?" Harry observed.

"I'm just saying, it's considered bad form to not ensure there's an heir when you're the last of a line," Daphne said. "Never mind two lines."

"We are not talking about my love life, Miss 'Spousal Candidates Must Willingly Jump Into A Warzone'," Harry put his foot down.

Daphne raised her hands in surrender, but couldn't help adding. "In my case, there's multiple Greengrass cousins waiting in the sidelines. I'm not being irresponsible. I just have high standards."

"High standards is one way to describe it," Harry muttered, earning a dirty look from Daphne, before returning to his original train of thought. He shot off a quick message via Iris to Justin, but given how early it was, he doubted a prompt response was coming. "I haven't seen all the wedding invites, but do you think any of the Notts got one?"

Daphne mulled over the question for a moment. "Doubtful. Longbottom did send invites to my family, so whoever's in charge of planning is at least reaching out to unaffiliated Noble Houses. But I know Pansy didn't get one, and that means the Parkinsons didn't either. The Notts are considerably more steeped in the pureblood supremacist cause than them."

Harry pulled up the list of targets from the previous night – his political allies.

"What are you thinking?" Daphne queried.

"The scouts were ordered to observe, but went against that to attempt an assassination. At the risk of sounding arrogant, my reputation precedes me. I'm the hardest target on here," Harry said, tapping his finger on the aforementioned list. He had a feeling he was onto something here. "That means death is the end goal for everyone on this. Not everyone was at the club last night."

"They're waiting for a time and place where they can get as many of their primary targets as possible," Daphne connected the dots.

"Neville's wedding," Harry realized with a gasp. "That's the target. Everyone on this list, and potential allies, will be at the wedding."

Daphne frowned, and concurred after a second. "It has to be. It's the only feasible target in the near future."

The two sat in silence while they considered the implications of such an attack.

"There's no way Erasmus Nott is the main instigator. At the minimum, Lord Nott has to be involved too," Daphne stated. "I'd even go as far to say that it has to involve more than House Nott – they've never been the wealthiest, and something like this will require a lot of galleons. More than even the higher-end estimates of the Nott fortunes could provide."

"Why wait until now, though?" Harry wondered. "It's been half a decade since the war ended. Plenty of time to have tried something like this."

"There could be a dozen explanations for that," Daphne shook her head. "This might be their desperate play, their hail mary. Or they needed time to get their resources in place. And that's just off the top of my head. Only the ringleaders would know."

"Luckily, I have an appointment with Erasmus Nott," Harry grinned as he saw the time displayed on the clock, and stood up. "Be back in a jiffy!"

"Have you considered that this could be a trap?" Daphne asked as he finished strapping on his battle gear. She'd caught up to him in the 'armory' – which was just a repurposed bedroom – and was now leaning in the doorway.

"I'm sure it's a possibility, but even if it was a trap, I'd still spring it," Harry said cheerfully as he ruffled through his emergency pack to make sure he still had all the requisite potions in stock. "Besides, it doesn't actually seem like a trap. Nott the Captive wasn't actually ordered to attack me, and from what his orders entailed, they didn't actually know I was going to be there until they'd been sent out."

"Still, should you really be going alone?" she pressed.

He paused, and smirked at her. "Is that concern I hear in your voice?"

"Potter, this is serious," she admonished with a smack of his (armored) shoulder.

Harry's smirk turned into a grin. "No, that'd be my godfather."

Daphne's annoyed groan only caused the grin to widen further.

"It's not like I'm planning to drop straight into Erasmus' place," he offered. "I'll apparate to a nearby town, and scout the perimeter first. If it looks fine I'll make my way in under a cloak."

"I don't like it. There's too many chances for something to go wrong," Daphne said, before coming to a decision of her own. "I'm coming with you."

"If they brought enough firepower to take me down, one additional witch isn't going to be of much help," Harry said, the words blunt but the tone gentle. "And while we both could fit under the cloak, it'll hinder our movements too much."

"I know," Daphne agreed. "I meant that I'm coming along to the perimeter ward."

He paused. "How would that be helpful?"

"If it is a trap and you don't get wiped out immediately, you're going to be too busy fighting to break down the wards. I can do that from the perimeter," Daphne explained. "Pass me your Iris. It's the easiest way of maintaining communication. I'll wait for twenty minutes, or a signal, and I'll break the wards down. That should let you escape if it goes sideways."

That's actually not a bad backup plan, Harry mused. Daphne's pretty good with wards from what I've heard.

He nodded in acceptance, and unlocked another cabinet. He waved at the spare armor set, and said, "Just in case. It's adjustable, so it's not the best armor. But you're probably not going to be in the line of fire, so it should be fine."

Breaking into the Nott property (which turned out to be Erasmus' home) had been disappointingly easy. Then again, when one had a legendary invisibility cloak, sneaking about was never going to be difficult.

Nathaniel Nott's memories indicated that the property was somewhere near Sheffield in South Yorkshire. Harry had simply apparated (with Daphne side-along) near the property, outside the radius of typical wards. He'd erred on the side of caution, and so they had to make a brief trek to reach the ward perimeter. The wards hadn't been anything exceptional, according to Daphne. Solid, and a major hindrance to average wizards, but not for a witch of her caliber. At his signal, she estimated that it would take at most a minute to tear it down.

He then snuck in under the Cloak. The property was a relatively small house – a single-storey cottage – so it hadn't taken long for Harry to find Erasmus Nott. The man was at his dining table with the day's copy of the Prophet open. He looked engrossed with whatever he'd been reading, even ignoring the plate of sausages in front of him. He wasn't aware enough to react to Harry's stunner, and that was that.

Harry followed up with a hominem revelio to make sure there was no one else at home.

Captured EN. Home empty. Meet you back at Grimmauld, Harry messaged Daphne once he'd ensured there were no nearby threats. The Prophet's headline caught Harry's eye right then. Dorkins' Debauchery – Cannons Manager Embroiled in Scandal Involving Prize-winning Sheep.

"I guess I can't blame you too much for not maintaining Constant Vigilance," Harry joked at the unconscious wizard, whose face was mashed into his sausages. "You're not gonna say anything?"

"Hmph. Rude."

He grabbed the stunned Erasmus Nott and apparated back to Grimmauld's dungeon.

Harry could see a hint of distaste in Daphne's eyes as she looked down at the bound and gagged wizard.

"Did you really have to use a ball gag?" Daphne pleaded. Harry had just spent the last five minutes enlightening her on the different types of muggle sex toys, and demonstrating their use on Erasmus Nott, who'd returned to the land of the living only to have a hot pink ball-gag stuffed in his mouth.

"Hush, don't listen to her, Erasmus," Harry cooed and patted the wizard's cheek mockingly. The reddish outline on the side of Nott's face – from sausage burn marks, of all things – was very distinctive. "Hot pink ball gags suit you very well. You're a strong, independent wizard who likes bondage."

The muffled threats coming from Erasmus Nott showed what the man thought of Harry's statement (and conjured ball-gag). If looks could kill, the death glare the man was directing at Harry would have done what so many other wizards had tried to do.

"Are you ready to answer questions now?" Harry asked the wizard, who remained glaring at Harry.

"I'm guessing veritaserum didn't work?" Daphne hazarded.

Harry froze. "Shit."

"You – I just spent the last ten minutes of my life watching you experiment with muggle sex toys because you got distracted?" Daphne shrieked.

"Hey, you were the one who started asking what the deal was with muggle bedroom toys!" Harry said defensively.

"I thought this was your demented way of softening him up!" Daphne protested.

"He better be soft down there," Harry said, eyeing Erasmus' groin suspiciously. "I'm more than happy to play a role in your sexual liberation, Notty-poo, but by Merlin do I not want to star in your wet dreams."

"Damn it Potter, just dose the man and get it over with!"

"And you! Blood traitor whore!" Erasmus snarled, finishing his rant. "You'll get yours eventually! You and the rest of your treacherous kin!"

The wizard – still bound up in ropes – clearly maintained control of his mental faculties even after a full dose of truth potion.

"Clearly, the Veritaserum isn't working," Harry observed drolly to Daphne. "Also, I feel like I should be offended that the closeted Death Eater is focused on you instead of the man who ended his master."

"Riddle was a filthy half-blood who subverted the Righteous Cause and branded upstanding purebloods," Erasmus sneered. "Had he been of proper stock, he would not have been defeated by the likes of you."

"Wow," Harry clapped. "10 out of 10 on the mental gymnastics there. With acrobatics like that, I'm actually optimistic about how well your mind will hold up against my legilimency. I might not have to reserve a spot in the Janus Thickey ward for you!"

"You can't make reservations in St. Mungo's," Daphne noted absently. "It's not a hotel."

A pause. "He clearly wasn't being serious," a nonplussed Erasmus Nott said.

"Blondes, amirite?" Harry snickered. The nonplussed look turned to him. "Ah, fuck, you wouldn't get it. Legilimens!"

"...did you give the man brain damage?" Daphne asked, a mix of disquiet and fascination coloring her tone.

"Maybe?" Harry said as he started filling out his notepad with what he'd learned through the legilimency probe. "I wasn't kidding about my shoddy legilimency skills. I've had it be likened to a wrecking ball or sledgehammer compared to the scalpel approach of more skilled practitioners."

He shot a stunner at the drooling and silent Erasmus Nott, and led Daphne back to the study.

"What were you thinking about, anyway?" Harry questioned as he shut the vault door leading to the basement. "Before I started probing him. You were distracted by something."

"Nott called me a blood traitor – that part I understand," Daphne said. "I was confused at the bit about 'treacherous kin'."

They made the rest of the short walk in silence, returning to their original seating arrangement when they reached the study. Harry called for Kreacher to bring them a pot of tea while he figured out how to phrase the information he'd uncovered while in Erasmus' head.

"You were right – Lord Nott is involved in this scheme, but the funds are coming from elsewhere," Harry said, choosing his words carefully once Kreacher had left.

Daphne looked at him strangely. "You're applying tact. You never apply tact. Which means something's wrong. Spit it out, Potter."

"It's Malfoy," Harry said reluctantly. "Lord Nott mentioned in passing to Erasmus that it was Malfoy gold bankrolling part of the scheme."

"Draco?" Daphne hissed.

"Lucius," Harry clarified. "Draco may or may not be involved, but Nott wouldn't know. And ultimately, Lucius controls the pursestrings."

"Shit," she cursed. "That might explain the 'treacherous' bit, actually. Mother consented to Astoria's engagement with Draco, and it's reasonable to assume that I'd be at your side on Mother's orders. From that perspective…"

Harry let Daphne run through her train of thought, all while pondering just how close to the mark Erasmus had been. After all, Daphne did confirm that she had her mother's blessing to get involved. Dynastic politics were a mess at the best of times, though – and Harry knew little of the Greengrass matriarch, so assuming motive and intent wasn't something he could reliably do. Daphne's confusion at Nott's accusations also led Harry to believe that at least she wasn't aware of any backstabbing plots.

"Did Erasmus confirm that the Longbottom wedding was the target?" Daphne asked, interrupting Harry's runaway thoughts.

Harry shook his head. "He suspected, but Lord Nott didn't confirm it. I get the impression that Erasmus was the House's hatchet man. The scouting run was a last minute effort he cobbled together – you were right on that, by the way."

"Of course I was," a ghost of a confident smirk appeared on Daphne's lips, although its usual effect was marred by the note of vulnerability in her voice. "Harry, I swear that to my knowledge, House Greengrass isn't involved in this. We were going to be at the Longbottom wedding, so if our theory is right, my family would be in the line of fire. If nothing else, trust that I – or my mother – won't risk my sister's life like that."

"Are you sure your mother isn't involved?" Harry pushed.

"Mother is an assertive person. She's prideful, ambitious, and likely holds some political stances you'll disagree vehemently with," Daphne allowed. "But a plan like this? To drive three Most Ancient lines extinct? No, she's not involved."

"And the ties with Malfoy?" Harry followed up.

"Astoria's engagement with Malfoy – Draco – isn't a political arrangement. She was the one to ask for Mother's blessing, not the other way around. I can't understand it, but she actually likes the ferret," Daphne said, disgruntlement clear. "She's always been the forgiving type. And I suppose that as a Hufflepuff, she didn't have to deal with his pontificating for seven years."

Expert legilimens could usually infer whether a person was being truthful. He wasn't an expert, but his gut had rarely been wrong about spotting lies. And right now, his gut was telling him that Daphne wasn't lying or trying to deceive him. It was the truth, or the truth as she saw it. Unless she'd become the best liar he'd seen since Snape…

Harry poured out another cup of tea for her – a sort of apology for his intrusive, but necessary questioning – which she accepted and nursed for the next few minutes.

"I still don't understand why Nott and Malfoy waited this long," Harry finally said, breaking the silence. "I mean, surely they could have tried whittling down these numbers, especially after the trials finished in '99."

"Not if they wanted to try a decapacitation strike. And if young, prominent leaders of the Light started dropping dead every year, it'll be quickly noticed," Daphne denied. "The optics also wouldn't be great. The families associated with blood purist leanings would be the obvious culprits. And who's to say they haven't tried assassinating you before?"

The last part actually caused Harry to pause. Part of the problem was that he was viewed as Dumbledore's last protege, and as the man who killed Voldemort. Add on his other exploits over the years, and it wasn't uncommon for a fledgling dark wizard to try their hand at offing him. Combine that with his normally-dangerous occupation, and separating assassination attempts from 'mere' hazards of the occupation actually became difficult.

"Time might also be the reason they've resorted to this," Daphne theorized. "Right now the Wizengamot doesn't hold a 'Light' or 'Dark' majority. The first Blood War gutted the Light-leaning Noble Houses, and the second gutted the Dark-leaning ones. But that balance only lasts until the gutted but extant Light-leaning houses reactivate their seats."

"Neville and Susan?" Harry guessed. Politics really wasn't his strong suit – that was part of the reason why he'd spent the last few years gallivanting around the world pounding budding dark lords into the dirt. Still, even he knew that Noble Lords and Ladies became eligible to take their Houses' Wizengamot seats at 25.

"Longbottom and Bones are taking up their Houses' Wizengamot seats in a few years, likely in the same session as you. It's especially noteworthy, since that'll mean a reactivation of three Noble and Most Ancient seats at the same time. I don't think that's happened before, or at least, not in living memory," Daphne confirmed, growing more confident in her theory. "Everyone else on the list is either in the line of succession for a Noble House, possesses a first or second class Order of Merlin, or is a prominent businessperson. All of them will be at Longbottom's wedding, along with many other potential allies. They're trying to strangle your future political bloc in the crib."

"But I'm not even planning on starting a political bloc," Harry protested vehemently.

"Boy-Who-Lived, Vanquisher of Voldemort, Dumbledore's Last Protege, Head of both the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and the Noble House of Potter… Under normal circumstances, just one of those titles would be game-changing," Daphne looked at Harry as if he was slow. "Potter, you're the natural rallying figure for the Light, especially for those who came through Hogwarts with you. Your name alone would swing a few of the unaffiliated houses, and a large chunk of the Order of Merlin holders."

"And even if you weren't taking charge? Longbottom, Bones, Granger and Weasley are all coming into play at the same time. Whichever of the four you lend your support to, will end up as the political leader for the Light," Daphne continued, plowing through before Harry could raise any counterpoints. "The specifics of their political stances may differ from yours, but not when it comes to blood purity – and that's undoubtedly what this lot are concerned about."

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fucking politics. It's always politics. I don't suppose fucking off back to Peru is going to be of any help?"

"If you want to contribute to the blood purist cause, then yes. Leaving would mean your political influence in Britain gets unused – a power vacuum, if you will. Nature abhors a vacuum, and the purists will fill some of the void you leave behind," Daphne said. "Also, running off to Peru just means you'll be getting involved with their politics instead. Because I somehow doubt you'll turn into an apolitical hermit when you see something you don't like."

"Why does wizarding Britain have to make its politics this convoluted?" Harry complained.

"Familiarity breeds contempt. All politics are complicated. If it were simple, it'd be solved already," Daphne pointed out. "And every system has its issues. Some are easier to spot than others, but if you don't think the North Americans or Indians have messy issues of their own, you're not looking properly."

Harry couldn't agree with that – not fully anyway. But he'd seen communities and governments that were even more dysfunctional than Britain's over the course of the last half-decade. For all that Wizarding Britain had issues, at least it still functioned. Maybe that was a low bar to clear.

"Look at it this way, Potter. When you're on your deathbed, a life lived on the run from problems at home will leave you with regrets and what-ifs. A life lived where you've at least tried to resolve those problems will also have its attendant regrets and what-ifs. If it was easy, it wouldn't be a choice at all," Daphne said, sounding as if she was quoting someone else. "Both are valid ways of living your life – yours is the only one whose opinion matters when it comes to how you want to live. Only you can decide."

"Now, that sounded far too wise to be you," Harry smiled. "Not enough snark, either."

"Oh, hush. You wouldn't know wisdom if it jumped into your lap," Daphne said, before catching the time displayed on the clock. "Shoot. I told Astoria I'd try to meet her for lunch."

Harry stood up and escorted her to the floo.

"You should let Longbottom and the rest of the List know," she said as she grabbed a handful of floo powder. "Message me if you have an idea of what you want to do – I'll do the same."

"And Harry? Please, be careful."

Notes: Extended Author's Notes can be found in the AO3 version (it clarifies some of the background setting & details).