Anthony Burke owned several properties, both business and otherwise in the British Isles. Those would usually require a lot of management, but he was a smart man who could delegate. So usually thing would run their course and he would admire his fortune grow each quarterly report from Gringotts. A fortune, both in magical artefacts and gold, that had been growing more steadily over the past few years.
Whatever black market item that was regulated or banned, he got a cut of it. The Auror Department had been making his life hell, which is why he employed only the most competent, even having to look overseas for talent nowadays. He was nervous as he came down into the salon and greeted his wife. He should've gotten a message from Crane this morning. The man together with his partners was sent to put a stop to Potter's insane ploy of blackmail, using the resources he had so painstakingly gathered for his own purposes.
The instructions were clear. Find their sources and eliminate them, and wipe their memory of everything they had collected. Of course things could have gotten complicated. They could have co-conspirators. Since he had no news of his sources in the Ministry, he could at least assume that Potter hadn't fought off the attack. If so he'd know from Robards' assistant, who he paid a great deal of money to keep him informed on any goings on.
But as he got his morning tea, exchanged gifts with his wife Julia, worry started to grow into fear. If something had gone wrong, he had to know.
It was 11AM when his floo acted up. Not many people had access, but he frowned seeing Gerund Rowle in the fire.
"Lord Rowle? To what do I owe the pleasure of this Christmas morning call?"
"Lord Burke. A—ah—pleasure, yes. Prewett and I were in on Christmas for a hearing that should have happened ages ago."
"The Shelby case, yes."
"As you say. Well, I happened to overhear something Kingsley and Robards were discussing. You do own property in Barnton, don't you?" Burke was surprised. But there were ways to find out, if you really wanted to, although nothing connecting him to the blackmail. "They will conduct a raid on a certain establishment in Barnton. It's why I call you today of all days. A favour for a favour? I was under the impression that it was empty, but… I assume you'll appreciate the due notice regardless. Aurors don't plan raids unless there is smoke somwhere. It's planned for noon, is why I call you so urgently."
"Noon." Burke was fraught with panic. If they were still there and a full Auror complement found them. He had no time to barter with Rowle, he would just have to pay the price later. "Very well, Lord Rowle. I owe you one. You have a nice Christmas."
"As do you, Lord Burke."
He took a few minutes to reassess. It was a good habit he had developed over the years. Harsh decisions came with harsh consequences. Better to think twice than spend an eternity in Azkaban.
It was possible the AD had put together a raid without him being notified. And if they did, it was probably because they knew of Harry Potter's disappearance. When they got there, they might find him, and find Crane and his accomplices. If so, he might have enough pull to get them out of trouble or out of the picture. However, Potter had become unpredictable. If he found out, it would be him he would be contending with.
As much as Burke considered himself someone not to be trifled with, he would rather not be in Harry Potter's sights. That was the whole reason for using Greengrass as a proxy to control the Wizengamot. Letting Crane and his friends get arrested was a bad idea. The chance of anything sticking to him would only increase the longer they remained in custody. Better to alert them.
Crane only knew of Burke as a contact, so sending someone else was out of the question. That was the disadvantage to compartmentalising so efficiently. He made up his mind and went to his study, where he drained off a beaker full of polyjuice potion and took a grey hair out of a small wooden box. He also packed some potion in a gourd and another hair, as well as polyjuice antidote. This would have to do. He could be a morning Christmas drunk. Nobody would question that, even if he ended up stumbling into the abandoned Frilly Escape.
"Julia, I need to head out," he said.
"Something urgent? My sister will visit at two, remember."
"Of course. I promise I'll return before then. Just a few things to take care of."
"All right, love," she smiled. "Please don't leave me with Anna, she can be such a blabbermouth."
He kissed his wife, went back upstairs and downed the polyjuice potion. Looking in the mirror, he looked just about what a hapless drunk was supposed to look like. Balding, overweight and red in the face. It was a good disguise, and he complemented it by changing into a prepared dishevelled outfit. He grasped his wand and spun on his heel, apparating in a secluded spot of Barnton.
#
There was no one here. The town had been more and more deserted since the Ministry patrolled it. Many clients of the brothels not wanting to show their face. Even reporters had made it a place to hunt for juicy gossip. So, the poor sods who wanted to visit without getting plastered on the third page of the Prophet or another rag stopped coming. At least those too poor for polyjuice.
The Pixie Lounge had increased its prices considerably since the Frilly had closed. No doubt the wealthy looked for release elsewhere. No matter, when everything was sorted he could resume the flesh trade in earnest. One word from him and the Wizengamot would put an end to the raids and interference. He could even fire Potter if he wanted, and now it might be worth it. 'To let him focus on his political career,' would be a good reason. A career that would plummet when all this was done.
He stumbled, putting his best impression of a drunk moving towards the stone building. He had purchased it just after the war. He had seen the potential of the dreary town, away from Knockturn and the Ministry. Now it was empty, or he hoped, not yet empty. He went to the back door, leaning against a wall mumbling to himself as he checked for anyone around. It was clear, and he took out his wand and opened the door.
It was dark inside, so he put up a light charm. They weren't upstairs. Not in the staff room, not in the kitchens, not in the waiting room. Were they still in the basement? All three of them? He sighed and silently went downstairs. Down the twisting staircase to the basement. He heard nothing still, but the room was heavily protected, as were the bedrooms upstairs. He let his eyes adjust before opening it.
Pointing his wand ahead, he opened the door and saw… nothing. This was worse. Crane and Potter were gone and he had no idea where to! Two chairs stood lonely inside, and an empty bucket.
"Petrificus."
His body stilled, and his panic rose to its limits. Slow steps went down the stairs behind him, and around him. His eyes immobile, he could do nothing but watch glistening green eyes look back at him, smiling. In his sessions at the Wizengamot, in his pictures on the front page of the Prophet and Witch Weekly—never he had seen him like that: predatory. All his instincts futilely told him to run, to scamper to safety before whatever what was before him tore him to shreds.
"Hello, Lord Burke," he said in a smooth voice. "Merry Christmas."
Potter stepped ahead, and sat down in the chair in the back, as if it were a throne. He had something like liquid silver in his hands, dangling. An invisibility cloak. "To think it was one person, pulling the strings—my strings now. Thank you for your contribution."
Burke couldn't speak, his vocal chords paralysed. Potter took out a clear vial from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. "Today you get the VIP treatment. I trust you know what this is?" Harry laughed. "Sorry, you can't speak." He swished his wand at Burke who could feel his face unfreeze.
"I dun know what ye mean sir," he said, trying to muster one last deception. "Lemme go! I'll call the police."
"Right," Harry said, standing up. He patted down Burke and took out the vial of antidote, sniffing at it. "That's the right one."
Harry froze him again, his mouth in an 'O' shape, and poured it down his gullet. His insides still functioning, he had no choice but to swallow. Slowly he turned back into Anthony Burke.
"Better? This is veritaserum, by the way," he said holding his own vial, "the VIP treatment. It's incredibly tricky to brew, but I happen to be dating a bit of a prodigy." He turned towards the stairs. "Come on down!"
Four people took place beside Harry Potter. Two of them were Aurors. Mathilda Greshaw, Harry's partner at the department since his victory over Voldemort, and Alfred Baxter, a younger Auror under his wing. There was Ginny Potter—or was it Weasley now? And finally, one named as his closest confidant and veteran of the War turned prosecutor, Hermione Granger. All of them looked like they deferred to Harry.
"I promised you an explanation," he continued, "and here it is. We used the same dirt Burke was using. The secrets he held onto so he could control the Wizengamot, and he sent thugs after us." Harry flicked his wand again and Burke could move his head. "Why don't you tell everyone here your little scheme."
Anthony looked around at them. There were looks of pride, anger, and in Baxter's case even sadness, he gathered. What were they expecting of him, and more importantly, what were they going to do to him? Maybe they wanted to hurt him, or torture him if they found out he sent Crane after them. Speaking of, where the hell was he?
"Why am I here?" he asked.
Granger smiled. "Because Rowle went as far as taking an unbreakable vow to promise not to tell anyone he helped us. He knew which way the wind was blowing as soon as we told him of your setup. All he wanted was a small piece of legislation added to our bill." She laughed. "Oh, yes, there is no raid. We celebrated Christmas Eve yesterday like everyone else once we dealt with your minions."
"My setup?" he asked, probing.
"The unspeakable acts you had those women perform," Baxter said, "all to gain power in the Wizengamot." He got a righteous look on his face. "We all saw it. Taking hair off Hogwarts students, using polyjuice to let those despicable individuals have their way with them?"
He'd seen the recent blackmail pictures. Yaxley had been bold enough to show them to him. "There's nothing illegal about what I did," he said firmly. "What are you going to charge me with?"
Harry chuckled. "Does this look like a courtroom to you, Burke? Was me showing off my truth serum not enough for you to understand? Illegal now, of course, but once our bill goes through, Aurors will have those powers. Just keep this between us then, will you?"
"What do you want from me?" he asked, cold sweat dripping down his back.
The redhead stepped forward. "I want you to suffer," she whispered.
He looked beyond her to the rest. They seemed completely unfazed by her hostile statement. Had he misjudged just how far they were willing to go?
"Potter, speak some sense into the woman!"
Potter only smirked.
"Are you bloody kidding me! Stop this right now! Do you want to end up in Azkaban for petty revenge?" He looked at the Aurors. Baxter looked solemn still, however there was no shock or hesitation in the face of Captain Greshaw. "You're officers of Magical Law! And you're just going to let this happen? What kind of Aurors are you? Did you wipe your arse with your oaths!"
Potter clicked his tongue and his smile turned downwards.
"They're more loyal than you can even fathom, Burke," Granger said. "Better to be loyal to someone who has their best interest at heart than some oath to serve the Ministry you controlled."
Burke felt anger rise up in his chest. He would not—could not die here. He had worked far too hard for that to happen. "So in light of your boy wonder, you've decided to throw all propriety out of the window."
"Funny, you being the one talking about propriety, Burke," Greshaw said. "I'm satisfied. Alfred, do you need to hear more?"
He shook his head. "Time for the truth."
Potter took Burke's wand and unfroze him. Immediately Baxter and Greshaw were on him, dragging him to the baleful throne Potter had sat in moments earlier. Screaming and flailing he was forced down and strapped into the metal bindings. "Stop this madness! You can still stop this, Potter! This will taint your name for decades to come, nobody will listen to you once this gets out!"
"My name is plenty tainted already," said Potter, handing the vial of truth serum to Granger. "Crane can attest to that, wherever he is now—a better place, I'm sure, but then…" He laughed. "Anything would be better than this place."
"Nobody has to know," Burke tried. "Crane was a thug, a nobody! See sense, Potter!"
"I see perfectly well, thank you," he said, tapping his unspectacled temple with his wand. He nodded to Granger, who froze him again. Three drops from the vial entered his mouth, and he knew he would spill every last dirty secret. He relaxed in this chair, tasting the freedom of confession. Baxter took place in front of him.
"When did you plan to use Barnton as a farm for blackmail," he asked.
"Around two years and three months after the War," he answered. "I had purchased this building in the post-war chaos at a good price and saw the crackdown that was happening in Knockturn. Prostitution always was profitable and I took advantage of the post-war confusion to set it up. I didn't plan to use it for blackmail at first. Two years after the War I opened the Frilly Escape.
"I just started collecting so I could buy favours, but before I used my first bit of blackmail, I decided I could just take over the Wizengamot if I got the others to indulge in shameful acts. I encouraged them, and promised utmost secrecy. I got my hands on better and smaller muggle cameras at that time. Six months later, I had ten lords ready to do anything I said. I got them to bring in others, including Greengrass, because I heard rumours of his lust for his daughter Daphne."
"Who ran the Frilly Escape?" Baxter continued.
"I did, as well as some of the women. I would use polyjuice and hair acquired from different muggles to create fake identities that I could use to do that. It was the business I was most involved with."
"How did you acquire so much polyjuice?"
"I run the black market for boomslang skin and I'm excellent at brewing it. I developed a rotating four cauldron method so I could have enough for all my needs."
Granger perked up at this. "Can you explain this method?" She took out a scroll and quick notes quill, taking down every word of his method. When she was finished, Weasley stepped in.
"Who was Crane?"
"Jim Ainsling, a pureblood from a less prestigious family. He was bitter about not being allowed into the Auror program under Voldemort's rule. He's very good with the Dark Arts, but it seems not good enough to deal with Harry Potter."
"Why did you send him after us?" she continued.
"I sent him to take Potter and find out how much he knew and told him to stop the source of blackmail and erase it by obliviating Potter."
"So I was collateral damage? That's it?"
"I assume so."
"How many other people know about your blackmail?" Greshaw asked.
"Only the girls and the clients. I didn't want to involve anyone but Crane. Unless the girls talked, but they didn't until you came along."
She shrugged and looked towards Potter. "What other shady dealings are you involved in?"
"Just the Frilly and the black market."
They made him spill every last one of his black market endeavours. When that was done Potter stepped forward again. "If you die today, will anyone know what happened? Will anyone beside the Ministry come after us?"
For a moment, he trembled, the effect of the veritaserum fighting with his fear of death. "N—hgnh! N—not that I know of, no."
"Finally," Potter said. "Where are you hiding your own blackmail, and what will happen to it once you're gone?"
"It's in my study. I arranged so it wouldn't be found, I didn't want Julia to ever find out. If I die, the blackmail will be gone."
"I think that's it, then," Potter said. The others seemed to agree. They waited for the truth serum to wear out, and when it did, he went back to deathly fear. A small hope in his mind whispered that they might have just done this to intimidate him, but then Potter put his hand on Granger's shoulder.
"You do it," he said softly. "I know how much you hate that he was responsible for ruining Christmas. And I think Ginny has had enough killing for this year at least."
Granger looked towards the Auror Captain, some conversation playing out between them with only a look. The rest of them stepped back.
"Any last words, Lord Burke?" she asked.
Resigned to his fate, he cried. Never would he see his Julia again, and she too would mourn, if they even found his body. "Damn you…" he wailed. "Damn you all to hell!"
Granger merely lifted her nose in disapproval and traced a cross with her wand. The next breath Burke tried to take did not bring any air into his lungs. No matter how he fought, tried, he felt it impossible to breathe. The more he thrashed, the more lightheaded he felt. An incredible amount of pain racked his body as it fought to make apparent the urgency of his impending doom. Black spots appeared in his vision and he tried to scream, but nothing came out, not even a wheeze. The last thing he saw was a glint of green from the eyes of the wizard who he had challenged and lost to.
#
Harry went to stand beside Hermione. He looked back at Alfred, being a little worried that it might have been too much. But he seemed stable. "You're all right, Al?"
He nodded. "I am. Fight fire with fire, right? He deserved it."
Ginny put a hand on his arm. "A lot of people deserve it."
"But… is that what we are then?" he asked. "What are we now, if we don't abide by the law?"
"The law allowed this," Hermione said. "There's trying to make sure the Ministry doesn't abuse its powers, for that we've already done things. Then there's us, and what we had to do today to fix this situation. Do you want to follow the law for the benefit of those in power?"
"No," he sighed. "No, of course not. It's a good thing, I get that. I just didn't think this is how my career as an Auror would go."
"But Alfred is right," Ginny said. "Right now we are nothing."
Harry looked back to Burke's lifeless body. "Dumbledore had the right idea with the Order, don't you think so? It's not legal, could even be called a terrorist organisation at times."
"You're going to bring back the Order of the Phoenix?" Ginny asked incredulously.
"No, that doesn't sound quite right, does it?" He grimaced and turned to Hermione. "But the idea works. When the system goes amiss, we can intervene outside the law."
"Then what?" Ginny asked. "The five musketeers?"
"There were four of them," Hermione corrected. "D'Artagnan was the youngest and the fourth musketeer." She smiled at Alfred. "They rallied around him for his youth and optimism."
"Definitely not that, then," he said.
"It's you two who started it," Mathilda said. "It should be about you."
"I'm flattered," Harry answered.
"The two slumbering dragons, that's what they called you," Alfred added.
"Has a nice ring to it," Ginny said, "the Order of the Two Dragons. Of course with how chummy you two are it's more like a two-headed troll."
"We are not starting the Order of the Two-Headed Troll," Harry said sternly.
"Two Headed Dragon," Mathilda said. "That sounds a lot better."
Hermione shrugged. "Sounds different enough that no one will make the connection with the Prophet's headline."
"I guess it's decided then," Harry said. "I feel like we should have a ceremony, but we already had a big moment. And it is Christmas. We were going to visit Andromeda later."
"What about Burke?" Alfred asked.
"We leave him," Harry said. "Nobody will connect us to it and it will send the appropriate message to the Wizengamot. They work for us now."
"Are you finally going to make the rumour true?" Mathilda asked. "Going to get a dragon tattoo on your chest?"
He chuckled, and took Hermione's hand. "You all have a nice Christmas. I'll let you know when we have our next secret meeting."
AN: This wraps up a fairly large part of the story and starts a new one. I might take a break to plan out more, which means a good time for feedback, which I really appreciate. Thank you for reading.
