A/N - Any spelling errors are my own fault, and I apologize in advance. I don't have a beta, so there are bound to be mistakes here and there.

Collisions & Compromises

Chapter 5

by ~chicadoodle

When Althea appeared at his door just before lunch, Harry was both surprised and confused. He hadn't seen the woman since she had appeared to oversee the drawing of his blood that first day, though he was aware she had come and gone from the house several times in the past several days.

The normally silent young woman smiled at him now, placing her phone on his desk as she picked up the still unopened portable computer that Mycroft had gifted him with earlier that morning. Even Harry, who had met the young woman only a single times, knew that this was quite unusual.

"Mycroft tells me that you don't know how to use a computer. I thought I would teach you a few things." There was a soft smile on Althea's lips as she spoke, and Harry found himself relaxing under the first sign of kindness he had been privy to since he had left his father's houss. John Watson's kindness had been tinged with the expectation of answers, however. Not like this.

Althea sat on the edge of Harry's bed, Harry pressed back against the headboard with his legs crossed beneath him and his hands pressed to the mattress as he leaned forward and watched her open the box and slip the slim laptop from it's confines.

...

During the time that Harry spent in the home of his uncle Mycroft, he believed that his uncle and father were working to make their familial relation a matter of public record - a legal matter, nothing more.

Mycroft did nothing to make Harry believe anything else. But there was much going on in the background that the teenager was not being made aware of.

It was more than that, of course - and all of this was tied up with the reason why Mycroft insisted that his nephew eat all his meals with Mycroft.

Many would have balked at Mycroft's use of several potions in order to keep a teenager calm and compliant. Calming draughts were all well and good, but Mycroft had added several ingredients to this particular recipe which ensured that it would keep his nephew both compliant and unquestioning. While keeping the subject calm, it also made them quite open to suggestion. It wasn't fool-safe, of course - suggestions which went against the nature of the subject could alert them to the presense of some kind of magic which was altering their perceptions. Such was rare, however, and Mycroft had always used this particular potion sparingly.

Mycroft could had written an entire essay on the changes in his nephews psyche while under the effects of said potion, though he doubted that it would be well received by either Harry or Sherlock.

The precious John Watson would certainly have something to say on the matter.

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Harry had learned a long time ago that people usually had ulterior motives. Ron had been drawn to become his friend because of the fame that followed him everywhere he went in the Wizarding World, and Hermione enjoyed the feeling of being intellectually superior to even her closest friends. Harry had known this as early as their first year together at Hogwarts, but their friendship had meant more to him that the knowledge that it came with a price tag, so to speak.

Harry harbored no illusions that his uncle or his father would accept him with no conditions attached. His Aunt Petunia had taught him from a very young age that everything came with a price, and he had taken that lesson to heart. Some prices, however, were worth paying.

Being forced to remain out of sight was nothing new to Harry Potter. He had spent most of his life being forced into the shadows, lest somebody realize that he was actually with the Dursleys - something they avoided at all costs.

Harry had used computers before, of course - it was how he had found Sherlock Holmes in the first place. That had been done on a public computer, however - nothing quite as fancy as the portable computer that Mycroft had gifted him with.

It never once crossed Harry's mind that he had never before been so willing to follow the orders of somebody that he barely knew - that it was not in his nature to remain compliant and unquestioning in the face of an adult figure who had treated him with nothing but derision and scorn. Nor was it in his nature to strive for acceptance in the eys of another - particularly not when who had made it clear that Harry's own intellect was far below what had been expected.

Had Harry known that this was due to the cocktail of potions he had been imbibing fo rthe past five days, he might very well have attepted to escape from the opulent house that had become his prison, even if he was unaware of it. Had he known, he might have lashed out against Mycroft or even Althea. The fact of the matter was, however, that he did not know. He was similarly unaware of the cameras recrding his every move through out the hose, every word that was spoken

Similarly, he was unaware of the true motives of the young woman who had introduced herself as Althea upon their first meeting. A combination fo the cocktail of drugs in his syste, in addition to his lack of prior experience dealing with political machinations ensured that it never once crossed his mind that she might have been ordered to form an emotional attachment with the teenager currently under the care of her employer.

The young woman known only as Althea had no connections outside of her work. Her small flat in London was rarely used, decorated sparsely and with nothing to tie her back to the family she had long ago given up in favor of the job that had become her life.

Althea was a witch, but not one of particular note. She had been average in everything she did at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and so it had come as no surprise to her fiew friends when she had shown an interest in returning to the Muggle world.

In truth, it was for this same reason that Mycroft had singled her out during her seventh year at Hogwarts. Mycroft Holmes had seen what very few noticed - that her image of an utterly boring and ordinary student had been carefully crafted from the moment she entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Althea had learned at a very young age that it was dangerous to stand out, to be the focus of attention. Both politically and socially, opinions and favor could change rapidly - and not always for the best. And though her grades may have remained carefully in the middle of the road - neither exceptional for their intelligence nor lack thereof - the young witch had continued her studies in private. Her aspirations to become a laison between the Magical World and the Muggle one had seen to it that her private education included both technological and magical studies.

When Mycroft had approached her and offered her a position in his offices, Althea had begun to understand that even her desire to be seen as utterly ordinary had left footprints which individuals such as Mycroft could discern. Her very "ordinaryness" had made her stand out to those in the intelligence services - and when one looked closer, the young woman now known only as "Althea" had stood out as an individual who could either be a threat, or a great asset.

Mycroft had opted to mould her into the latter.

Within the Wizarding World, much of the anonymity which Althea enjoyed was lost. The memory of your average witch or wizard was far superior to that of a Muggle - and the vast majority of the witches and wizards which Mycroft associated with were far from 'ordinary'.

Now, as she sat with Harry Potter pouring over the simplest of commands he could execute on his new computer, Althea smiled softly. To Harry, it appeared to be a friendly smile, but Althea smiled for other reasons. She smiled because she had applied several layers of security to the computer before it had ever been handed off to Harry, repackaged and wrapped. She smiled because every command Harry entered was being logged and sent to Mycroft in by-the-minute reports that he could bring up at any moment. She smiled because Mycroft could remotely log into the computer whenever he chose, to either add or remove any file he chose. What Harry might see as a toy, a distraction, or even increased freedom to interact with the world was truly another manner of control - nothing he did within thise house, with his computer, was truly private. The illusion of that privacy was what made it ever so much easier to control him, however.

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Mycroft Holmes was not a man who was easily fooled. The fact that Vernon Dursley, of all people, had managed to do so was more than cause for concern.

Mycroft was willing to admit, if only within the privacy of his own mind, that his advancing age would mean a lessening in the powers of his mind, and his body. He still had many years before this would become a problem, however - and even when it did, the descent down to the intellect of a "normal" person was quite a steep drop. Senility for a Holmes, after all, wasn't quite what it was for the rest of the world.

But he wasn't quite there yet - and Vernon Dursley should not have been able to fool him so easily.

So while Sherlock was investigating his son's childhood and an army of lawyers had been put to the task of transferring custody of one Harry Potter to Sherlock Holmes - and investigating the legalities associated with as clear a case of child abuse one could imagine - Mycroft had turned his own investigation toward another direction.

Vernon Dursley was not mentally capable of the sort of deception which Mycroft had found himself the victim of. There was another factor here which Mycroft was only now becoming aware of - and Mycroft Holmes did not forgive easily.

When Lily Evans Potter had died protecting her only son, ancient magics had been called into play. She had no way of knowing that her son had inherited more tha nhis dark hair and pale skin from his biological father, and the ancient magics she had called upon in her final moments were not to be taken lightly. The foolish girl hadn't the slightest idea what she had done - and if she had still been alive, Mycroft would have taken her to task as only he could.

As it stood, however, the ancient protections she had called upon had been transferred to her only sister upon her death. It had taken Mycroft nearly five days to investigate the layers of spells which connected Harry Potter with his aunt Petunia Evans Dursley.

Unlike similar scenarios which had been noted in several history books at Mycroft's disposal, the specifics of Lily's death spell had reverberated beyond the protection of her son from the self-titled 'Lord Voldemort'.

Death spells were tricky things - powerful and often times deadly, there not to be taken lightly. They were tied to the inherent magical power of the individual, unfettered and set free from all constraints. They could be cast when one was not close to death, but would invariably lead to the caster's death. Mycroft could admit that his nephew's mother had shown a surprisingly strong amount of magial ability in the casting of her spell.

The spell itself provided protection for her son in the form of his bond with the one which held the other end - in this case, Petunia Dursley. The stronger the bond, the stronger the protections. However, this also gave the wielder a considerable amount of control over how those protections could be utilized. Unfortunately for both Harry and Mycroft, however, Petunia Dursley had chosen - whether consciously or not - to turn those protections against her nephew.

Petunia Dursley prided herself on being utterly normal - unlike her sister. In her own mind, her social status was of the utmost importance. The magical protections passed to her from her sister had taken fact into account as it had molded itself to her. As such, it had crafted a illusion around Harry Potter which allowed those around him to perceive his living situation as equally normal.

Petunia Durlsey also took great pride in her status within her own family, however. She was the caretaker, the giver, the one who took care of her husband and her son - and grudgingly included her nephew within the sphere of her influence and control. Blood trumped all, and while she may have despised everything her nephew stood for in her mind - her sister, magic, and the dangers of the magical world being most prominent among these - the bond incorporated blood relations into itself.

But Petunia Dursley had always been careful of one thing, her entire life. Knowledge was power, and she understood that. But knowledge could also be a dangerous thing, and regulating not only her own knowledge but also that of her son and nephew had become somewhat of a personal obsession of hers. If she was kept ignorant, then she could not be expected to understand, or to show an empathy she did not truly feel.

So what Harry Potter ended up with in terms of protection was an ancient spell which worked to make Harry appear as a normal child to all those not related by blood to him, hiding itself away and outside the knowledge of even those it effected. It created an illusion around the child that made him appear as what was considered "normal" for the society in which he found himself, but which did not seek out information of the world around it. It was only when Harry himself had become aware of his blood relation to Sherlock and, by default, Mycroft Holmes that the magic had responded and allowed the truth of Harry's home life to come to light.

All very well and good, but it still left one burning question - how had John Watson been able to see through to the truth?

It was possible that when the magic had expanded itself to include Sherlock and Mycroft, coupled with the fact that John had been present when Harry first met his father and uncle, he had been given the rare chance to see things as they truly were. Further research would need to be conducted on the spell itself - something which Mycroft had plenty of opportunity to do, given the fact that there were still several weeks left to the Hogwarts summer vacation.

Leaning back in his seat, Mycroft propped one elbow on the armrest of his chair and pressed one palm against his mouth as he stared at his computer screen. He had long ago transferred several texts from parchment to an electronic database on his personal server, allowing for a much greater accumulation of knowledge than even some of th eoldest "Pureblood" family libraries could boast - and this database was constantly being added to by a team of hand-selected researchers and technicians. The database was, of course, available to the higher levels of government in the know about the magical world, but such a group was, by their very nature, quite small.

The computer he had gifted Harry with had been granted access to this same database, with no restrictions. The same programs which monitored everything else his nephew used his computer for, would also tell Mycroft which files Harry accessed - and when.

Would he take advantage of the opportunity to delve into the darker aspects of magic, as Mycroft had once done? He had been fascinated by magical theory at one point in his 7 years at Hogwarts, and had taken every opportunity to look into the theory behind several of the darker - and more illegal - spells he had heard only in whispers and conversations which had ended as soon as he had been noticed. These weren't the kinds of spells one taught school children, after all - but they were the kinds of spells being used by Dark Wizards and their cohorts.

Mycroft straightened in his chair, pressing a series of keys on his laptop to bring up the camera in his nephews bedroom. The boy was still watching Althea as she spoke in a far more animated manner than many had ever seen her. She was cold by nature, unless ordered to be otherwise. Her job demanded that she not form emotional attachments, but that she also not stand out from a crowd. Her attire, her personal hygeine, even the way she wore her hair had all been carefully calculated to make her appear as nothing more than the personal secretary of any number of wealthy businessmen. Even in political circles she was seen as nothing more than a secretary - though there were always rumors that she performed other services for Mycroft, as well. Services of a decidedly more personal nature.

Mycroft had always found such rumors insulting at best. What use did he have for personal entanglements, especially romantic ones? They were complications that he neither desired nor needed. Still, it kept the populace entertained, and so neither he nor Althea saw any reason to disabuse them of their assumptions. Better that they spread rumors of sexual deviancy than look any more deeply into what was really going on behind the curtain.

Though Althea's phone lay behind her on Harry's desk, a small earpiece would allow her to receive calls from Mycroft. He could even send her text messages, which would be instantly transcribed by an automated voice-over feature.

A quick message later and Mycroft was standing to his feet, reaching for his jacket. It was time to pay the Ministry of Magic a visit.

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In his bedroom, Harry carefully navigated through his new computer under Althea's watchful gaze. Althea had proved to be both patient and understanding of Harry's lack of knowledge when it came to technology, and not nearly as condascending as he had expected.

He had many of the basics down, of course - he knew how to use a computer for the most basic of tasks, but Althea seemed insistent that Harry master the use of it for even more in-depth tasks. She had set him up with a personal electronic mail - e-mail - service, as well as an account for something called "Facebook". A social media website where he could interact with other people, and share details of his life. Something called an "app" had been installed on his new phone to allow him to access Facebook from there, as well.

"You know, I won't be able to use any of this at school. Technology doesn't work there." Harry commented, but Althea simply smiled.

"Both this computer and your mobile have been modified to work at Hogwarts. Your uncle perfected such modifications while he was still a student there."

Harry turned his body sharply at that. He had been lying on his stomach with his computer laying in front of him before, but now he pushed himself up with his left hand and twisted his hips until he could meet Althea's gaze.

"Hermione told me that wasn't possible." Though his voice was still quiet, the shock was evident in his tone, and Althea let loose a small, soft laugh. "It isn't common knowledge, and your uncle has had a bit of a hard time getting the Board of Directors to agree to allow it's use within Hogwarts."

Harry turned back to the computer, propping his chin in his hands with his elbows resting ont he soft surface of his bed. "Well, that's just stupid." Harry's voice was slightly distorted by the weight of his hands, and Althea nudged him playfully. "Come on, Mycroft had some work to do in the city, and I thought we could go out to lunch today."

Harry glanced up in surprise, a smile lighting up his face as he pushed himself up and off the bed once Althea had cleared room from him. She had been sitting with one leg tucked underneath her at his side, and now she smiled as he stretched the kinks out of his back.

"There's a nice cafe that your uncle enjoys - we can make use of his standing reservation, if you'd like."

At Harry's nod, Althea gestured to his wardrobe. "Why don't you get changed - this place isn't really a jeans and t-shirt kind of establishment. You should have a couple pairs of slacks and a polo shirt or two in there."

Harry breathed a small sigh of relief that he wouldn't be forced to make use of one of the suits he had found nestled in with the other clothes - really, when did Mycroft think he would ever need one of those, especially considering any and all formal events Harry had ever taken part - or was likely to take part in, in the future - were in the Wizarding World?

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What Althea had called a "cafe" was in fact the fanciest establishment Harry had ever found himself in - whether in the muggle or magical worlds.

Which would have been fine, if not for one very important factor. This particular establishment catered to the magical world within the muggle one - though the front entrance remained open to the rest of London, the back entrance served as a sort of secondary front entrance, with several fireplaces established for restident to floo in.

This was not to say that there was a seperate restaurant for magical and non-magical customers - the establishment catered exclusively to the magical community, a fact that had caused more than one London resident confusion and dismay when they had discovered that it was impossible to make a reservation as the establishment.

They had been on their way to their seats, led by an older gentleman in an immaculate black suit, when the voice of Draco Malfoy caught Harry unaware, and he blinked in shock at the other teenager who had very nearly walked right into him.

"Malfoy?" Harry was pulled up short by the sight of the blonde in a pair of slacks with no robe present, though his hair was still slicked back in that deplorable style that made Harry and his friends snicker behind their hands every time it was brought up.

"My dear Althea." Narcissa Malfoy - a woman Harry knew only from a single glance in public and several images in the social section of the Daily Prophet - moved forward to grasp Althea's hands in her own, leaning in to place a soft kiss to the younger woman's smooth cheek.

"You must join us. I simply will not be dissuaded, so you really shouldn't bother." Narcissa said all of this with a smile and a wink, and though Harry expected Althea to be affronted at the idea that they could be forced into accompanying the obviously Dark family, Althea simply gave a small laugh and nodded. "Of course, Narcissa. It would be a delight."

As they were led to a quieter, more secluded part of the restaurant, Harry glanced at Althea out of the corner of his eye. The vast majority of Harry's fellow Gryffindor's barely even knew how to spell the "word" tact, let alone putting it to use. Harry, however, was not one of them.

Still, the Gryffindor couldn't understand how Althea could be so blase about the idea of spending time with the Malfoy family - particularly given Lucius Malfoy's recent arrest.

Draco and Harry found themselves sitting across from one another at a small, secluded table, the smell of jasmine and lilly surrounding them. The small alcove they had been led to held a veritable garden of flowers both potted and hanging from the wall, giving the impression that one had just walked into a garden. Harry found that he liked it immensely.

He had no way of knowing that they had been placed thus because of the stigma surrounding Lucius Malfoy's arrest, of course. Nor could he know that Althea's involvement with the Malfoy family was part of her job under Mycroft Holmes. Over the years, Althea had taken on a number of personalities for a number of different reasons, until her own personality was buried somewhere under the mix.

Nor could Harry know that Althea's decision to take him to lunch here was no random whim of fancy, but had instead been carefully planned by Mycroft. Harry would, no doubt, have balked at the idea that even a random outing to lunch had been planned and coordinated - but once again, the carefully calculated drugs in his system kept him compliant, if not unquestioning.

"Why don't you try the steak, Harry? Your uncle Mycroft quite enjoys it." Harry nodded, eyes on his menu. It took him almost three full seconds to glance up in alarm, only now realizing just how that must have sounded to the Malfoy's. True to his expectations, both Narcissa and Draco were staring at him and Althea in shock, though Narcissa was quick to recover.

"I was not aware that the Potters and Holmes families were so well acquainted." Narcissa comment, as her mind instantly started calculating how to put this information to the best use.

Machinations within machinations. Plans within plans. Althea thought within the safety of her own mind, though her outward appearance revealed none of the amusement she felt. "I don't believe they are." Althea commented with a carefully calculated smile, taking a sip from her wine. "Harry's uncle has certainly never shown an interest in Harry's stepfather."

Narcissa remained quiet at that, though she hadn't missed the most important aspect of that very telling sentence. Stepfather. Only one possibility remained as to how Harry Potter could possibly have a stepfather, though the very idea of Lily Potter having been unfaithful was enough to send even her mind reeling with the possibilities.

Lily Potter had been elevated to heights beyond the wildest imaginings of a muggle born witch, when she had died protecting her son on that fateful night that had ended with the vanquishing of the Dark Lord. She was considered, now, to be the epitome of what every witch should aspire toward - passionate, intelligent, and beautiful - and willing to lay down her life for those she loved.

Of course, there were those who remembered Lily and James Potter in a far less welcoming light - and a far more realistic one.

Even Narcissa had not been spared from James Potter's flirtatious overtures, perhaps n part because she was forced to spend so much of her time and energy at fundraisers for the Aurors department - where James and Sirius would invariably inbibe too much alcohol and chase after anything that caught their eye.

Lily Potter had been conspicuously absent during these events, and Narcissa had never forgotten it. As the years passed, the rest of the world had forgotten - or perhaps they had simply never cared to notice - just how broken that marriage had been.

It had given Narcissa a sort of vindictive glee before their deaths and subsequent rise to fame - that the woman who had been the star of their year at Hogwarts, the woman who had seemed to have no faults, no flaws, had found herself in a loveless marriage to a man who felt no need to remain faithful to the woman he had vowed to love and to honor.

There were other things, of course - other aspects to the life of Lily Evans Potter which Narcissa remembered. Though beautiful, the young woman had been far from forgiving - her break from Severus Snape had been proof of that. Though common knowledge at the time among their peers, the world seemed to have forgotten the close friendship of their heroine to a Slytherin known for his snarky attitude, love of potions, and involvement with the Dark Lord Voldemort. The fact that he had been absolved of all crimes in the end did little to ease public opinion - he hadn't had the money, forethought, or social connections to pay off the right people, at the right time, to avoid such a public trial as he had received.

There had been questions, of course - on both sides of the war - as to whether he had truly been spying for Albus Dumbledore. There were those who still questioned his loyalties, though Severus had been careful to keep close ties to the Death Eaters and their families. His employment as a teacher of their children certainly helped in that regard.

If Harry Potter had been the son of anybody outside of James, Narcissa would have expected it to be Severus Snape. She had been aware of Severus' feelings for the beautiful Lily - the entire school had. Another reason why their very public falling out had irked Severus - no Slytherin enjoyed having their dirty laundry aired in such a public fashion, and he had received a fair amount of ostracization because of it. The fact that he had allowed himself to be placed in such a comromising position had not set well with the rest of Slytherin House - and the witches and wizards of Britian tended to carry school yard grudges well into adulthood. The wrong moves at Hogwarts could very well put an end to what might otherwise have been a promising career later in life.

All of this whirled through Narcissa's head throughout lunch, though she remained calm and composed on the outside. A Malfoy was never caught unawares, and never revealed their hand - particularly not this early into the game. Whatever Narcissa may have thought of Lily Potter's obvious indiscretions, she was a discreet woman who knew the value of information - particularly when dealing with Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft Holmes had become an unexpected ally with the arrest of Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa was not foolish enough to believe that the man had stepped in out of the goodness of his heart - the Malfoy matriarch was quite aware that her husband had wielded quite a bit of power within certain circles of the government - circles which, as a woman with no formal education outside of Hogwarts to speak of, Narcissa would not be welcomed into. Mycroft Holmes, however, was another matter.

It had been a power struggle from the very beginning, but Narcissa could not turn down his offer of help - no matter how much she had believed that the arrangement was stacked against her. She could scheme and plot, could make subtle moves to retain as much power and influence as possible, but until her son reached the age of Majority there was aught else she could do if she wished the Malfoy name to retain any semblance of dignity.

Things could have been far worse without the support of Mycroft Holmes, of that Narcissa was certain.

And so lunch passed with small talk among the two woman, Harry doing his best to avoid the gaze of his schoolyard enemy.