Harry 11.2 Apotheosis
The Just Desserts Café was busy enough that nobody paid attention to the two of them sitting under a muffling ward by the window.
Grindelwald had been the one to insist they meet in a public place. Because he was a Dark Lord and a melodramatic twat, he'd sent the invitation to their meeting not by owl but via olive branch. As in, a literal potted olive tree had been delivered to the flat with a time and place carved into the bark.
Mycroft had been worried, but Sherry had appreciated Grindelwald's sense of humour and told Harry he should go. The tea was good, though Harry didn't really like the cake. Well, he thought it was fine, but he could hear Mycroft's comments as if the man had come with.
The base is too hard, see? They over-baked it. And the filling is fine, but it's been standing in the display shelf all day. Should have popped it right in the fridge instead. Honestly, and this place calls itself a pâtisserie?
"What do you think?" 'Call-me-Gellert' asked.
Harry blinked. "Er." The man had the typical Dark Lord affinity for going on and on about his brilliant plans, which was even worse knowing Eurus was the real mastermind. "I mean, isn't Bellatrix a bit young for you?"
"I am not certain if you wish to be offending me." Gellert's smile was much too pretty. Worse, he looked young enough to have spent the 40s in nappies rather than in bed with bloody Hitler.
"You're, what, twice her age? That's just facts, nothing offensive about those."
"I think that the esteemed Albus Dumbledore will be getting very offended indeed after the facts I release of him."
Harry looked right into those sparkling blue eyes, daring the man to try a bit of Legilimency. Gellert didn't bite. He was politer than Harry had been expecting for a Dark Lord. Then again, Harry's son the Dark Lord was polite too—when he wanted to be. "Whatever you and Dumbledore have to sort out between yourselves, I'd really like to stay out of it."
Grindelwald had escaped his Nurmengard cell, but Harry couldn't turn him in without exposing Eurus. And Albus Dumbledore had done enough to deserve a cell of his own, but Harry wasn't doing a thing to get him imprisoned either. He smiled to himself at the irony of playing Switzerland.
"I believe we are thinking similar things." Gellert's expression looked like he was trying, and failing, to hide his frustration. "Would you accept my offer of a truce, for the sake of our family? I will not move against the Holmes family, for you to do the same with myself and Bellatrix."
Harry smiled a little. "Thank you for finally saying it outright. I'd have told you to stop waffling around, but the waffles here look much better than the banoffee pie. Actually, I'm going to go order some. D'you want any?"
The man's mouth fell open. With a grin, Harry trotted over to the counter.
"So," he said once he was back, syrup dripping from the steaming waffle. "A truce because we're family, I guess I can get behind that. But you haven't answered my question. You and Bella? Really? She's mad as a hatter, you're a Dark Lord. And aren't you gay?"
The hand holding Gellert's saucer clenched and unclenched, but the man's smile didn't drop. "Surely you understand the benefits of a political friendship, and the expectation for an heir?"
Harry did not spit out his tea, but it was close. "You and Bella, having a baby, because of politics? Are you insane?"
"I have accepted some of your disrespect, but I will remind you to whom you are speaking, Harry Holmes."
"Right." Another baby being born from genes that never should have been passed on at all. "Right. Of course, you'll marry first. But if something happens to one of you then I'll have partial custody. Scratch that, if nothing happens to either of you I'll still have partial custody. Merlin, Bellatrix raising a baby, what could possibly go wrong."
"She is a strong, beautiful, fiery woman. Any children she gives me will be inheritors of our empire."
Gellert wore a little grin. The man was insane if he believed that he'd be coming out on top in a war against Dumbledore.
Harry didn't say that even if the two of them had another duel, Dumbledore's wand had stopped being a Hallow the second Harry had arrived in this world as the Deathstick's master. He dragged the last bit of waffle over his place, soaking up the sugary dregs. Then he nodded to Gellert and stuck out his hand. "We have an accord between our houses," he said. "Sic fiat."
"Sic fiat," Gellert echoed.
Harry didn't quite trust the man not to curse his back once they'd left, so he apparated home from the loo. Harry arrived to see Sherry pretending he wasn't anxiously waiting for him, and laughed.
.oOo.
"Arcturus will be pleased," Sherry said, nodding his little head solemnly. He'd taken to gelling back his hair since seeing the Malfoys on a trip to Fortescue's, and Harry was trying very hard to take the small Dark Lord at his kitchen table seriously. Sherry'd even steepled his fingers.
Harry grinned into his teacup. "We have a truce with Gellert Grindelwald and you're thinking about pleasing the grandfather who probably isn't going to wake up?"
"Well done for negotiating your truce," Sherry granted. "It will be helpful, though I worry how long it will hold with that prophecy hanging over my head. If we assume that I'm not meant to defeat myself, then I'll likely be vanquishing Grindelwald. Albeit, I cannot speak for future Dark Lords; for all we know, another will rise when I'm an adult."
"Look at you, finally thinking about the prophecy's wording! I'm so proud." Harry leaned over to ruffle Sherry's hair, then ducked back from a stinging hex.
"Your vow to Arcturus has become problematic," Sherry continued, propping his chin up. "I will attend Hogwarts beginning next term to obtain my OWLs. I am considering an ageing ritual, and perhaps a glamour."
Harry sighed. "Of course you decided on that." Sherry never would make Harry's life easy, that was for sure. "What happened to getting your A-Levels after you get your GSCEs?" He tried to remember the names on the list of children Anthea had made for them. The only ones he could remember were the Creeveys, and those weren't in need of rescuing. They were just poor, which had already been fixed with a bit of complicated bookkeeping.
"I had been working under the assumption that I'd be attending to my magical schooling when this body turned eleven. Obviously, there's no point to that now. There are finally interesting things happening, and I need the qualifications to wield a wand."
"That hasn't actually stopped you from casting spells up and down Knockturn." Harry wasn't sure why he'd said it, but the guilty look on Sherry's face was interesting.
"You saw that?" Sherry asked.
He hadn't meant to see. It was just that Sherry had come home late 'from the library' too often for Harry to believe him, and the Invisibility Cloak was always in his pocket begging to be used.
Knockturn Alley could be considered a library of sorts, and bullying his old followers could be considered 'research', so Sherry hadn't actually been lying about his afterschool activities. It was why Harry hadn't confronted him earlier. His son had been the Dark Lord, and Harry didn't think it was something they would cure him of.
Sherry telling his Death Eaters to leave the Potter-Holmeses alone had actually been sweet. And ordering those with Wizengamot seats told to vote along Harry's goals at the next meetings was useful, if weird.
"Your disguise is pretty good. If I hadn't noticed you stealing my ingredients for your ageing potions, I probably would have missed you."
"I'm sorry. I'll stop by the apothecary next time."
"No, it's fine." Harry sighed, rubbing where his scar used to be. "I wanted to ask you about politics, actually. Fudge isn't going to make it to the end of his term. Dumbledore thinks it's me siccing Skeeter after him—fuck knows how she made it past all the journalistic integrity vows—and he's going to make a move against me soon."
Sherry was stroking his chin. "Have you considered honesty? I'm aware of the irony, this being Dumbledore, but he might back off."
"Sherry, he's been moving against me from the moment I picked you off Aunt Petunia's doorstep. Gellert's made things worse, but the fact Albus won't vote for any of my Creature Rights bills is on him."
"You've gained Lord Black's seat on top of the Potter ones you proxy. With your connections and my people's support, we could have the old man removed as Chief Warlock." Sherry's grin looked wrong on his nine-year-old face.
"They're my people too." Harry tuned in to the voices babbling in the back of his mind for a moment, listening to their unhappy rush. "I want to say things will calm down once Fudge is out, but the whole Dumbledore thing is going to get a lot worse before it gets better." Harry tapped his mug to reheat his tea, then took a sip. It was only April and he was exhausted. "I wish I knew what Gellert wanted."
"Isn't it obvious?" Sherry winced at Harry's glare. "I mean, Dumbledore took everything from him, including his dignity, and had him locked up in his own prison. That's adding insult to injury. He's not going to stop until he's won a duel and stomped Dumbledore's pride into the mud.
"Great," Harry said. He could feel a headache coming on. "That's great."
"Yes, well." Sherry got up and fetched them some biscuits, then crammed a Jammy Dodger in his mouth. Harry broke a digestive in half and started turning it into crumbs. "As I said, I'm going to Hogwarts. If you require an heir, have you considered adopting one of your little friends? Lovegood is already down one parent, it'd be simple enough to, you know…orphan her."
The plate broke in half with a CRACK.
Harry put his hands on the table so they wouldn't draw his wand or something just as stupid. He looked down at his son. He didn't remember standing up.
"Sherry," he said, his voice as calm as he could keep it, "You will not ever threaten murder under this roof."
"I just meant—"
"Ever."
Sherry swallowed, looking like a nine year old boy again. "Sorry," he said to Harry's chin.
Trying to stop his hands from shaking, Harry stepped away from the table and nodded once. "Good," he said, and disapparated.
.oOo.
One had to pass four layers of security when going up the three flights of stairs it took to reach Mycroft's office. There were magical protections in place now, but none of that stopped Harry from apparating right in.
He had to obliviate the very surprised defence minister before Mycroft sent him on his way.
"Oh dear," Mycroft said, taking Harry's trembling hands and sitting them both on the couch tucked into the corner of his office. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Anthea came in with a steaming teapot. Harry didn't even realise he'd called her in. "I—" He pulled Death's ring from his pocket and spun it, once, twice. He tucked it away again. "I had a very good friend, Luna Lovegood, her mother worked for the Unspeakables, I told Algerius to make the workplace safer. Just now, Sherry, he said he could kill Xenophilius for me, and I—"
Mycroft's eyes were warm and understanding. He was cupping Harry's face, thumbs brushing away his tears.
"I forgot," Harry said, then hiccuped. "I forgot that she was going to die. I didn't even know until Sherry told me. Luna's mother, and I forgot."
"There, there," Mycroft said. He handed over his handkerchief and watched as Harry blew his nose. "Are you very sure she's dead, then?"
The ring was back between his fingers without Harry wanting it. He closed his hand so hard the metal cut into his palm. "There was a memo about an accident in the Department," he said. "I didn't really think about it. It's hard to think about them—there's a spell that stops you from remembering properly."
Mycroft took the ring from his unresisting fist. "Would you like me to check? Unspeakable Lovegood, was it?"
Harry blew his nose again, waiting for Mycroft to deduce what he didn't know himself. He knew it had worked when Mycroft almost dropped the ring.
He listened to half of the conversation. "Are you Mrs. Lovegood?" And "Your daughter is Luna Lovegood, yes?" And then, "Is there something you'd like me to pass along?"
The stone was cold enough to burn when Mycroft gave it back.
"I believe we should pay the remaining Lovegoods a visit," Mycroft said, patting Harry's knee. "I have been given a message to deliver. And we might as well ask if they're amenable to some kind of arrangement, if Sherry's set on attending Hogwarts this September."
Harry gulped down his tea. It was scalding.
.oOo.
He'd meant to make things better. For himself, for his friends, for his people.
Looking at the waif-like girl playing by herself in the river by the Rookery, Harry wasn't sure what he'd accomplished at all.
"Is your father in?" Mycroft asked. He'd hung his umbrella off one arm, not caring that it was sunny out.
"He's in bed," Luna said. "He hasn't left his bed for weeks and weeks. I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."
Harry's heart broke. He swallowed down his guilt for later. "We'd like to talk to both of you." He knelt in the damp grass by the river's edge. "Would you let him know we're here please? My name is Harry Charlus Black, and this is my husband Mycroft Holmes."
Luna scowled at him. "He's not going to get out of bed even if you're the Minister. I'm trying to catch us Plimpies for lunch."
From what he remembered, Plimpies were one of Xenophilius' creatures that didn't actually exist. Harry studied her—she looked very, very thin.
"If we bring you lunch, will you let us come and talk to you?" Mycroft said. "Is there anything special you'd like, just in case the Plimpies aren't biting today?"
Harry didn't need to be a Holmes to see the hunger and hope in her face.
.oOo.
Xenophilius wasn't coping with his grief well at all. The house had fallen into a mess so bad it took Harry four cleaning spells to get all of the grime and cobwebs gone. It had been two months already since Pandora's death, two months where Luna had been living in this sad mess.
The whole time while making their suggestion, Harry caught himself wishing the man would fight them harder. They were a random couple waltzing into his home offering a hot meal, some laundry magic, and to take care of his daughter for him. Only joint custody, of course, Harry didn't want Luna to lose her dad too. Still, it was hard to reconcile this man with the one who had done everything for his girl's safety.
All through dinner, he hadn't looked at her once, probably because of how much she resembled her mother. Their idea to blood-adopt her into the Black family probably came as a relief.
Harry hoped that the Lovegoods wouldn't hate him once the grief wasn't quite as fresh anymore. He vowed that, at the very least, their house would always be clean and the fridge always stocked. He tried not to think about how long Luna had waited in his old world for her dad to get better.
Mycroft helped arrange some muggle grief counselling, because the magical kind still didn't properly exist yet, and they all decided to put off the blood adoption until August.
If worst came to worst, Harry would still be able to find someone else to adopt, but watching Luna smiling with tomato sauce staining her lips, he knew it was her he wanted to help.
.oOo.
Sherry flew through the four weeks of GSCEs almost manically. He definitely took a dose or two of Wiggenwald's, which wasn't healthy at any age let alone his almost ten. The school was very proud, trying to parade him around as a product of their superior gifted program. Harry was both glad and nervous that July had arrived.
Eurus had finished settling into her flat and had begun the search for a flatmate to keep her entertained. Harry sent Luna and Xeno a portkey for their first visit and helped Luna paint the walls of her room a mess of pastel swirls by hand.
Sherry completely ignored his soon-to-be little sister, but Medusa loved her to bits.
It was a very strange first night that Luna spent in the flat. Harry was glad she wasn't just skin-and-bones anymore, at least. Xeno looked better too, judging by the fact he'd managed to cast a shaving charm and put on matching shoes.
Harry wanted the little girl to grow into the exceptional woman he remembered, and he also knew that she was never going to become that woman now. Not with the blood adoption, but mostly because Harry was going to do his best to make sure little Luna spent the rest of her childhood being as happy as she could be.
.oOo.
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Dowager Augusta Longbottom in the Lead in Polls for New Minister of Magic
"Go F**k Yourself!" Aberforth Dumbledore Still Refuses to Exhume his Sister's Remains
Harry balled up the day's paper and tossed it in the recycling. The delivery owl gave him a reproachful hoot.
"I paid you, it's my paper now. Piss off."
It pissed off. Harry put his head down on his desk and groaned.
"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, coming into the office with the same packed lunch and mug as always. Unlike the rest of his family, the man loved his corned beef sandwiches.
"It's just a mess is all." Harry sat up and cleaned his smudged glasses. "I can't wait for this election to be over already so I can get some sleep."
"Harry, we work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. I know the DMLE and Department of International Magical Cooperation are working overtime, but all you should be worrying about is your new daughter." He threw himself onto his chair, spun around in a circle, and grinned. "Molly's so glad you're taking the poor girl under your wing. She wanted to help, of course, but we've got seven of our own already." He shuddered. "Seven."
Harry shuddered too. One of the benefits of being gay was the lack of need for contraception. Or, well, it was also a benefit of being celibate, though Mycroft had been looking at him lately in a way that made Harry wonder.
"Luna and Xeno are pretty sure they want us to go through with it, but Mycroft and I are still waiting until August. Just in case. And if she decides she wants to try her hand at the Holmes genetic lottery that's her choice. I'm…hopeful, I guess."
"What's genetics?" The man had leaned forward, putting his elbow on his bagged sandwich by accident.
Usually, Harry indulged him, but he'd had a migraine for the entirety of June. "Another time, Arthur." Then he put his head back on his desk and waited for the pulse of his people that was crowing in the back of his head to shut up.
.oOo.
"I've got a compromise to offer you." Harry sat down next to Albus and nodded to Aberforth for a pint.
It was probably a bad idea to be meeting the headmaster so close to his power base, but Harry was tired of trying to fend him off across the Wizengamot chambers.
He also knew that Alastor was drinking over by the window, which was almost as good as having backup.
The pint sloshed as Aberforth put it down, but the glass was clean enough.
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," Albus said. "I recall your husband threatening me not too long ago."
"He wasn't threatening you." Harry drank deeply from his lager. "Also, we've decided to send a Black heir to Hogwarts before we decide what to do about Sherry's schooling. Young Taurus wants to sit his OWLs in the UK. I know you've taken transfers from Durmstrang before."
The flinch at Durmstrang was expected. Harry wished he'd managed to time it properly so the old man would have choked on his fruity cocktail. "Professor McGonagall will have to look at his transcripts. She handles such things, I'm afraid."
"I know." Harry swallowed another mouthful. "She's already approved it all. I would say I'm surprised that you didn't know, but actually I'm not surprised you've lost track of your school. Because you've been so busy fighting me in the Wizengamot. Is there something I actually did to deserve that, or do you just hate me on principle?"
Sherry had suggested honesty. Harry probably shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach.
"I don't hate you, my boy."
Dumbledore looked old and almost as tired as Harry felt.
"I worry about your influence, about the effects of your neoliberal policies, and about your vision for magical Britain. You cannot destroy centuries of traditions on a whim, dear boy." Dumbledore sighed, seeming forlorn. He'd probably also had one cocktail too many. Harry couldn't remember Albus being so straight with him, ever. Hell, he was bent as a nine-bob bit, right down to his stupid robes.
"You can't just keep things the way they've always been because it's tradition," Harry said. He finished his pint and ordered a butterbeer. "You know things are broken, and they're not going to get better out of nostalgia. That's how you get Dark Lords, you know. I know you know, 'cause you shagged one and created the other."
There was nothing twinkly at all about Dumbledore's eyes. "You came offering a compromise, Lord Potter-Black."
"I wanted you to stop being such an idiot about my legislature. You can disagree with my principles, so long as you don't disagree with me on principle."
Dumbledore nodded, so Harry carried on.
"I need you to promise to treat Taurus Black like you would any other student once he transfers over. I need you to stop bothering Sirius and Remus because both of them are tired of being your pawns. And I need you to understand that I'm not fucking with you. It's all your old friend Gellert Grindelwald. I'm literally trying to make things better and it'd be nice if you'd let me get on with it please."
"What are you offering me in return?" Albus sounded dull and grey.
"This wasn't actually meant to be a negotiation." Harry fiddled with his drink as he thought. "I could help you find a new defence professor? Or finally break the curse on the position like I offered you in '81."
Dumbledore's smug smile made Harry want to take out his own Elder Wand and poke the man's nose with it. "I have already arranged for a new defence professor for the coming term," he said.
That's great. Now, can you promise to stop being a wanker?"
Across the bar, Aberforth snorted, then started choking on his own spit. Harry let Albus cast the Anapnea, wondering at how this Elder Wand felt almost dead from this close to its magic.
"I will consider your information as is their due," Albus said after a bit more thinking. "I must ask you, however, of your intentions towards young Miss Lovegood?"
Harry had been expecting the question. "I'm going to help her become whoever she wants to become. So you'll be having her at Hogwarts in two years, if your school's still standing."
"Is that a threat?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"It's a fact. You need to start worrying about things closer to home. I'm going to do my best for the children in my care and it's high time you started doing the same for yours."
"Hogwarts' traditions are older than even myself, my boy."
"In that case, she won't survive. There's change coming. That's how it works: some things don't make it. I love that school to pieces. I really don't want you to break her beyond repair.
"I will keep your warnings in mind. Perhaps, if you promise to forward me advance bills before you open them to the Wizengamot, I might pull some strings so Taurus or young Harry can take more electives. Dumbledore smiled the same way he had in the pensieve when explaining that Harry needed to die. "You'll find I'm willing to sacrifice a great many things for the greater good."
"Yeah, no, fuck that." Harry got up and paid. "The greater good is as fake as the twinkle in your eyes. If you take care of the weakest members of your society then everyone else will be better off." Dumbledore was all hot air and old, over contemplated ideals. "You keep thinking about theory. I'm going to keep working out here to actually make things better."
Alastor let out a long low whistle as Harry walked past him. When the stuffy air slapped him back into reality, Harry realised he was trembling.
"'twas bloody good hearing my brother get his arse handed to him like that. Aberforth Dumbledore said, handing Harry the jacket he'd forgotten. "You're a good kid."
"Thanks," Harry said, taking another few deep breaths.
Determination, deliberation, destination. He disapparated from Hogsmeade with a crack.