Call of the Circle

by RoBoC

During the summer after his fifth year, Draco Malfoy has an encounter that will forever alter his world.

50. Ceremonial Aggravations

Heavy black clouds covered all of southern England. The sky had been threatening rain all day, and as the hour rolled on toward ten in the morning it carried out that threat. To stay dry as he flew further and further south, Etean had been forced to climb higher and higher. The altitude didn't bother him in the slightest; he was perfectly happy to soar into the heavens until the world below was nothing but a blur, even to his eagle eyes. Altair, however, was not so free. The hippogriff was doing an excellent job of keeping up, but he was hurt and the higher they flew, the harder it became for him. Etean screeched again and slowed his pace, well aware of the stubborn pride of his pet. He banked and circled him once, calling to him to gauge his response. Altair's answering call was clear and harsh: he was not happy about being questioned by a tiny little wretch like Etean.

Now, where was he?

A bearing from the sun showed him how far south he had come, but the cloud held no landmarks to aid navigation. To make matters worse, the eagle mind that Etean had in this form was small and simple…instinct and feeling guided his decisions. The wind swirled from the east – a momentary concern, should he correct for it or not? A cloud rose before him – should he dodge or fly through?

'Focus, bird brain!' he berated himself.

Etean rolled and dove into the dark, wet clouds. There was little risk in his being seen. An eagle soaring over southern England may be a rare sight, but it wasn't about to make any muggle headlines. The mire closed in around him and all sight was lost. Etean tucked his wings and let out a piercing screech as he plunged into the unknown. Fear found no grip on his mind. Was he at a thousand feet high in the air, a hundred, or only ten? Was the ground a distant grey blur or was it about to become a serious inconvenience? The truth was that he didn't care. If eagles could smile, Etean was sure he would be grinning from ear to ear.

'Holy hell this is fun!'

The cloud around him thinned and he spread his wings, flattening out his reckless plummet just as he dropped into clear air…well clear apart from the rain that is. Sheets of water cascaded down from the ceiling of black, angry clouds and poured down onto…London. 'Well done birdy!' Etean congratulated himself, and then hauled his mind into shape to get his bearings. 'Ok, there's Big Ben…Tower Bridge…that stupid Dome thing…and…so Diagon Alley is…' he turned in flight and set out toward a familiar stretch of city, 'there!'

Cloud swallowed him again as he beat his wings hard to gain altitude. Several moments of disorientation later and he was in sunlight once more, leaving a trail of spray behind him. He banked in the air to bring Altair into view. The hippogriff had spotted him and was turning to follow. Etean watched him for a moment. His flight was far from graceful; it was clear that his wound was really starting to trouble him. Etean called to him again, encouragement, it was only a little further now.

Etean barrel rolled through a wisp of cloud as he felt the slight tingle on his wings that told him that he had just crossed through the magical barrier surrounding Diagon Alley. Almost instantly, dark shapes appeared and rose rapidly through the clouds beneath him. In seconds, four wizards on broomsticks had emerged at equal distance ahead, behind and to either side of him. Three of the Aurors dropped back and took formation surrounding Altair. Etean called once to Altair to stay any reaction from the beast, and then dipped his wings and slowed into formation with their new escort, drawing alongside the nearest Auror. The man took aim at Etean with his wand and with his other hand made a deliberate gesture downward. Catching his meaning, Etean let out a low whistle and tucked his wings. The Auror backed away slightly, but remained on guard as the formation dropped into the cloud and began a slow spiral toward the ground.

Diagon Alley came into view below. Etean saw that the twisting, cobbled street was deserted. Two more Auror guards rose up on an intercept heading to meet him before he reached spell casting range of the ground, while his escort dropped back to fly behind him. The three men held their distance and formation as they directed him with careful certainty toward the widest section of the street; a large open area that had been cleared to make room for landings.

The rain water flowed in rivulets from the gutters of the buildings to pound the cobbles. Etean straightened his flight and dropped to land. The trio of guards held their altitude and slowed to a hover overhead, still keeping him in their sights. Etean dropped down onto the cobbles, pushing himself out and stretching to his normal form as he touched down. His cloak materialised around him, already sheeting with water in the second it took to add a heavy splat to his otherwise graceful landing. His hood flew up to cover his head as his knees bent under his weight.

No sooner had he landed than his rapidly expanding mind registered an imminent threat. Etean sensed aggressive, agitated minds focusing on him. In his minds eye he pictured them, two…three…five…seven…he was surrounded.

With his mind already tensing against whatever may happen, Etean straightened up and scanned the area. His senses told him that he was indeed surrounded on all sides. A tingle of power ran on instinct down to his fingertips as his fists balled. 'Wait, moron, this is London…friendly territory. The people around you are Aurors, and they have every reason to be cautious of you. You did just drop out of the sky…and you are dressed all in black…ring a bell?' Etean forced himself to relax and breathe out his tension.

One of the men covering him stepped out, keeping his wand aimed at Etean's heart. The man's lip quivered, but he didn't speak. Rain water had plastered his dark fringe to his forehead, it ran freely down over his face, making him blink rapidly to maintain clear vision. Around him, Etean sensed the other men move out to cover him, but they held their distance. With deliberate and visible caution, Etean raised his arms wide to spread his cloak and reveal his Hogwarts robes underneath. He shook his left hand free to tug his hood down.

The Auror in front of him tensed. "Don't move!"

Etean heard a definite tremble in his voice. There was a glimmer of uncertainty in the man's eye. His was a large chunk of the agitation Etean had been sensing. Etean watched his movements, picturing a dozen ways to disarm and overpower the man before he would know what hit him…just in case. This man was green, definitely a raw recruit. Green meant nervous, nervous meant trouble, trouble meant…

'Oh stop it Etean!' the thought was a bark inside his skull. That train of thought was only going to make matters worse. The man stepped forward gingerly. Obediently, Etean didn't move. He watched as the Auror struggled to keep his footing on the slippery cobbles while maintaining eye contact with his prisoner…there was no other word for Etean's current situation. He had never before been to the Ministry headquarters in London, and it didn't look like he'd missed out on any hospitality. 'What would they have done if they hadn't invited me here?'

The end of the Auror's wand flickered red for a moment. "Wand," he demanded shakily.

Etean lowered his hand to retrieve his wand, but the Auror stiffened at his movement and flexed the fingers of his wand hand. From deep inside his hood, Etean raised an eyebrow. "I'll have to move if you want me to give you my wand," he explained.

The man swallowed. His eyes narrowed with the strain he was clearly feeling. Then, to Etean's utter amazement, he turned his head and looked away. That was too much. Recruit or not, green trainee or not, Etean refused to believe that it was possible for anyone to be this dumb. Here the man had moved to within easy striking distance of his target, had him at wandpoint, and now he was just offering him a chance to overpower him? Etean turned his head slightly as he felt a surge of annoyance from another Auror behind him. He too was apparently bewildered, and seriously un-amused by his colleague's actions. The guard turned back to Etean and straightened up. "Wand!" he repeated. "Slowly."

Etean moved to obey. His hand had gotten halfway to his hip when there was a mighty commotion behind him. The Aurors that had been circling on broomsticks shot skyward and out of his sight. A series of muffled shouts and startled yelps rent the air, followed by a fierce, guttural screech and then the crunch of breaking masonry. Etean smiled, he knew without looking that Altair had just made a less than perfect landing. He sensed no panic from the Aurors as they shifted their attention to the new threat, all except for the guard that was watching Etean. His panic slammed into Etean's mind like a cold fire. His wand levelled at Etean's head and he drew a breath to cast a spell.

Etean's mind tensed, he knew not what spell was coming, but he didn't intend to wait. Dropping his wrist and shaking his wand lose with a vicious flick, he stepped forward and raised his free hand to block the Auror's wand and raise it high. The man managed to croak out, "Stupefy!" but his curse shot harmlessly into the air. Etean brought his wand up and pressed the tip into the man's throat. The Auror tensed, again belying his lack of training. Far from attempting to free himself, he seemed to be bracing himself for death.

"Hold it right there!" a gravely voice boomed behind Etean. It appeared to be coming from the same man who had become annoyed with this Aurors behaviour.

Etean stared at the Auror for a moment and then released him and stepped back. He turned his wand upside down in his fingers and held it out to the side. A rough, calloused hand took it and its owner moved into sight. He kept his back to Etean and addressed the still trembling Auror. "What in Merlin's name did you think you were doin, O'Neill?" he growled.

He turned to present his profile to Etean, and what a profile. The man had to be the ugliest wizard Etean had ever seen. His face was cratered and burned, every inch of exposed skin covered with countless scars. His right eye had been replaced by an enchanted artificial one that moved and swivelled in its socket in a dizzying manner. Etean had read enough Ministry reports to know this man, it could only be Alastor Moody, and he was pissed.

The Auror recruit before him cowered. "I…I was attempting to subdue the prisoner, sir, but…he got the better of me."

"Prisoner? What prisoner? This," Moody jabbed a gnarled finger at Etean, "is a schoolboy."

"Sir…I did not know…"

"Was the uniform not a big enough clue for you?"

"…I…"

"Or did you maybe consider asking him to identify himself?" The man remained silent, though his mouth did open and close a few times. Moody scoffed and turned away from his recruit to face Etean. "You had better be Lord Etean," he growled.

"I am." Etean inclined his head slightly.

Moody's magical eye roved, his real one narrowed. "And you can…prove it?" Etean raised his hand slowly and thumbed his ring in plain sight. Moody paused, and then nodded. "Good enough." He straightened up and bellowed, "Stand down!" Around him, Etean heard and sensed the Aurors relaxing. "You'll forgive the welcome, my lord," Moody grumbled. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Tis the only way they'll learn." Etean nodded. Moody turned back and started lecturing the unfortunate recruit once more on the finer points of suspect apprehension. It seemed to be a lecture he was tired of delivering. Etean turned round slowly and surveyed the street behind him. About a dozen people were milling about, all wearing the plain, grey robes of Aurors on duty. Their duty now was to calm a very unhappy, injured hippogriff.

The scene on the street was one of barely controlled chaos. Altair had collided with and demolished a fair sized chimney on his way in and was now standing in the middle of the street, atop a pile of fresh rubble, with the Aurors forming a rough circle round him, attempting to subdue him. Etean was fairly certain that this particular exercise was not amongst those in the Auror training manuals, and, from the looks of things, perhaps it would make sense for them to add it in.

Altair was terribly spooked. His arrival had caused a shower of rubble to rain down on the sodden street, showering those below with stone and dust. Nobody appeared to be hurt, however, and Altair didn't seem to have injured himself any worse than before. He was standing defiant and proud, rearing and pulling hard at the simple rope harness that a trio of Aurors had managed to loop around his neck. They were hauling on it with all their might in a vain attempt to control the hippogriff. Most of the rest seemed intent on keeping clear while their colleagues did all the work. A couple of braver souls were trying to sneak round to Altair's blind side to loop on another harness. They hadn't even gotten close to their goal before Altair saw them and lashed out with his good foreleg, sending the two men flying back to avoid being mauled. From their safe distance, three more apparently decided that there was no other option. They each raised their wands and took aim at Altair.

Before they could fire, Etean whispered a vocal enhancing charm and then took a breath, "Altair…Settle!"

The sound of his voice echoed off the walls. It was followed by a stifling silence as Altair settled down. His head and his stance remained high and defiant, but his training overrode his instincts for the moment. Etean breathed out the charm and turned to the nearest Auror. "You should be able to handle him now, but be careful…he's hurt!" The Auror nodded and stepped forward cautiously under the cover of his fellows.

Moody appeared at Etean's side. "Impressive creature."

"That he is," Etean agreed with him.

Moody clucked his tongue. "Quite a temper he's got though."

"He's trained to obey me," Etean replied. "He won't be any more trouble to you, but he needs assistance."

"We were told," Moody nodded, "He'll be seen to, but," he pointed to an open door, now flanked by Aurors, "you should be gettin inside, they are waitin for ye."

Etean nodded. "My wand?" he held out his hand.

Moody shook his head. "Sorry lad, Lord or no Lord, no wands permitted in the Ministry Headquarters today."

Etean raised an eyebrow. "New security measures?"

"Somethin like that," he stepped away and pointed at the door again, "Your wand'll be waitin for ye when you get out."

Etean frowned. The new security measure was a reasonable, and altogether a sensible precaution. 'Fair enough,' he shrugged. Moody strode forward and took personal charge of the Aurors tending to Altair, bellowing at the top of his lungs to summon a husband to come and treat his injuries. Satisfied that the hippogriff would be alright, Etean headed toward the door as indicated. The building before him didn't look like much, but that wasn't a real surprise. Etean knew that the Ministry Headquarters was underground, out of sight, and that access was only possible via a few, carefully positioned entrances.

The Aurors on guard watched his approach, but did nothing to impede him as he crossed the threshold. Inside he doffed his hood and paused to shake off the excess water from his cloak. The room he entered was not what he had expected, however. Instead of a grim security station, he found himself confronted with the dilapidated remains of what looked like a pet shop. Rows on rows of empty animal cages lined one wall, while a long counter, layered in dust, lined the other. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but, 'A pet shop?' He shook off the thought, sensing that he wasn't alone. Other than the two guards outside, he could sense at least three other people in the building, one of whom was moving toward him. After a moment, a door set into the wall and totally hidden by the cages swung open.

Arthur Weasley entered and turned toward him. "Lord Etean, I presume," he stopped before him and extended his hand in greeting, "Arthur Weasley, at your service."

He smiled, but Etean could see through it. His duties and his apparent desire to look at ease not withstanding, the bags beneath his eyes and the barely perceptible slump to his shoulders betrayed the stress he was under. This day was a reminder of the cost of war, and how it hit closest on those who had lost. Mr Weasley had lost, so had his whole family. In the time it took him to blink, Etean pushed those thoughts aside and shook Mr Weasley's offered hand. "Robert Etean, at yours…you can drop the Lord part if you'd like."

Mr Weasley's ears glowed briefly. "Why thank you…erm, my lord," he said as he released Etean's hand. Etean caught the merest whiff of cinnamon on his breath and couldn't stop his eyebrow from twitching,

'Stim-broth anyone?' he thought. He wondered just how many stimulants and other pick-me-up potions had become part of daily life for those on the front line of the war.

Mr Weasley cleared his throat. "It is good to see that you made it here in one piece," he paused and seemed to falter, "Severus…that is Professor Snape was most distressed that you may have fallen into…erm, difficulties," he paused, "I trust there were no…complications on your way here?"

"No, Mr Weasley," the image of three hooded figures watching him coldly from the top of a hill in Coventry flashed momentarily before Etean's eyes, "none at all."

"Excellent, excellent," Mr Weasley beamed, "well then, we'd best be getting you inside." Etean had expected him to turn and lead him into the building, but Mr Weasley didn't move. Instead he drew his wand and looked mildly sheepish.

"Is there a problem, Mr Weasley?" Etean asked.

"Problem?" Mr Weasley stammered. "Why…no, no problem. It is just that…well, what with our new security protocols and…I'm sure you'll understand…"

"Understand what?"

"Well," Mr Weasley fingered his wand nervously, "well, that I have to…search you…before I can admit you to the Ministry building."

"Search me?" Etean suppressed a smile. It really was starting to appear that the Ministry was finally getting the hang of the whole war thing. No wands, searching guests on arrival. Etean wondered just what kind of things they had chosen to prohibit. Doubtless he was carrying some of them, but he wasn't worried, his cloak would protect him from the search, but Lord Etean would object. "I hardly think that's necessary. Mr Moody already has my wand…"

"Has he?" Arthur looked out over Etean's shoulder, "Well…that saves me the trouble of that at least…but I am afraid I still have…"

Etean raised a hand. "I understand," he sighed, "you have your job to do," he spread his arms wide, "Orders are orders, Mr Weasley. By all means, proceed."

Arthur seemed a little nervous; clearly he wasn't used to having to invade peoples' privacy in this manner. He raised his wand and muttered a spell under his breath causing it to glow with a faint white light. Then he slowly passed it along Etean's robes, moving first from his wrists to his shoulders, then running it across his torso and down both legs. He stood again and walked round him to repeat the search from behind. Just as he had expected, Etean felt nothing of this. Mr Weasley finished his search and pocketed his wand with a smile. "All clear," he said brightly. "Now," he sighed in relief, "if you would follow me, my lord."

'I said you can drop the lord bit,' Etean thought as he followed behind Mr Weasley, 'I am dating your daughter after all.' He wondered if Ginny had actually told her father about him as they left the shop through the same door that had admitted Mr Weasley and entered what appeared to be a small dining room. It was deserted and bare save for an ornate fireplace set into one wall. Etean stared at it. "I was under the impression that the Floo Network had been shut down."

"It has," Mr Weasley told him as he walked over and took out a small glass orb from his robes, "but we have made special arrangements for today." He held it up to his mouth, "Lord Robert Etean, en route," he said clearly.

Almost instantly, the fireplace sprang to life with vivid green flames. 'Activated at the other end," Etean thought, 'Inventive.'

Mr Weasley stood to one side and gestured for Etean to enter. "It will take you to your destination…just step inside."

Etean looked at him and nodded. "Thank you, Mr Weasley," he said and stepped forward into the fireplace. The flames billowed around him and he felt a sudden rushing sensation. The journey was short, sooner than he had expected to, Etean found himself on solid ground once more. He stepped forward, batting his robes to shake off the soot, only to find himself at the wrong end of yet another Auror wand.

'Not again,' he said to himself, 'these guys are really paranoid.'

Ministerial security had been increased to annoying levels it seemed. Etean settled his mind and took a clean view of his surroundings. He pushed his senses outward and determined that he was now below ground level, though he had no idea how far. The Auror, and more precisely, his wand, took most of his attention; this was no raw recruit. The owner of this wand knew precisely what he was doing. "Identify yourself," he said. It was an order, and it carried all the menace of a sheathed dagger.

"Robert Etean," Etean answered, raising his hand to show his ring.

Etean watched the man's eyes travel to his ring and back to his face again in less than a heartbeat. "I have to search you," he said.

Etean simply nodded. 'Anyone would think they didn't want me to get in,' he let the thought bounce around his head, mildly curious as to what this man would do if he were to see any of the little toys secreted away inside his cloak. Etean schooled his features as he was searched again, with more professionalism than before, though no less thoroughly.

The man finished his work and stepped back. Aiming his wand at a blank section of wall, he said, "Occloportal." An elevator door appeared out of nowhere. Etean didn't wait to be told before he stepped up to it. There were no controls visible, no way to summon the lift. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see a casual smirk on the Auror's face. "Not so fast," he said calmly before revealing a glass orb, similar to the one Mr Weasley had used, and raising it to his lips, "Password: Camouflage," he said. There was a ping of a bell and the elevator doors opened. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, Lord Etean," the man said to Etean's retreating back as he stepped into the elevator.

Once the doors had shut behind him, Etean allowed himself a little sigh. There were again, no controls inside the elevator. He guessed that he simply had to wait for someone to activate the lift. At a guess, he imagined that he was under surveillance, and maybe being covertly searched yet again. He performed a little mental exercise as he waited for the lift to move, reciting a meditation he had learned as a child. He had gotten halfway through when, with a barely discernable shudder, the lift started to move, ascending rather than descending as Etean had expected it to. There was a second ping as it came to a halt, and the doors slid open. Etean immediately heard the hustle and bustle of a gathered crowd. Settling his mind, he straightened his robes and stepped forward.

He found himself in a long, broad corridor with a high ceiling. He wasn't familiar in the least with this section of the Ministry complex, it hadn't ever been included in the reports he had read. The décor screamed order, calm clear direction in all things. It was possible, he imagined, that it had been purpose built for today's gathering.

It certainly looked new. The walls and floor were of polished marble, inlayed with a strangely geometric pattern, a far cry from the flowing natural lines of the raw stone. Slender columns of solid black marble were set at regular intervals along both walls, solidifying the boundaries of the space without dominating. High windows set into the opposite wall showed an impressive view of the London skyline. Midday sunlight streamed in and, added to the warm candlelight that poured down from a dozen floating chandeliers overhead, it reflected off every surface and made the whole space seem warm and welcoming. The air carried the faint hint of a floral bouquet which Etean couldn't quite identify. The atmosphere in the corridor was relaxed, a welcome change to the fear and razor sharp tension of the street above. He looked around, getting his bearings.

Nobody was there to greet him, which came as a mild surprise. A couple of dozen people were scattered throughout the corridor, talking and smiling to one another as though they hadn't a care in the world. Some of them looked over at Etean and he saw recognition flash across more than one face, but no one made any attempt to engage him in conversation. Etean scanned the crowd again and then caught sight of a familiar red head moving toward him from his right. 'At last, a friendly face,' he thought to himself with a smile. Ginny stepped round a cluster of witches and stopped in front of Etean. He had opened his mouth to speak when he saw her move. Only the fact that it was Ginny stalled his reaction as the back of her clenched fist collided with his cheekbone. There was a bright flash before his eyes and he lurched sideways under the force of the blow.

"You bastard," was all Ginny spat at him before she turned into a vanishing red spot in the crowd. Etean stood up and turned to watch her storm away, nearly colliding with a slightly plump, red headed witch that just had to be her mother. Mrs Weasley was staring at Etean in disbelief, clearly bewildered at her daughter's actions. The other wizards around him stared too. There was a moment of collective stunned silence before everyone pointedly turning back to their conversations. Nobody made any comment; no one offered to assist him or asked if he was alright. Political etiquette demanded that they simply not see someone of Lord Etean's stature so publicly affronted.

Etean adjusted his robes and rolled his jaw. 'This day just gets better and better,' he grumbled to himself. His initial inclination was to charge off after Ginny, but he thought better of it. Whatever the reason, she had to be really mad for her to punch him like that and Etean wasn't in a major rush to give her an opportunity to do it again. Mrs. Weasley rocked on the balls of her feet before giving him an embarrassed smile and turning to follow her daughter.

Etean shook his head and turned to see Professor Snape walking toward him with purpose from the opposite direction. Snape stopped before him and nodded; the gesture looked vaguely like a bow. "My Lord Etean," he said in a very sincere tone.

Etean thought that his tone was a little formal, even given the setting. "Professor," he answered, slightly curious.

"It is my honour to officially welcome you to the Headquarters of the Ministry of Magic. Minister Fudge sends his apologies for not welcoming you personally as he is regrettably mired by the matters of state."

Etean nodded – now he got it. Snape was doing his job. This was a show for the eyes, or rather the ears around them. "I see, Professor, and thank you for the explanation," he paused momentarily, really not wanting to say the next part, "Does the Minister's schedule leave him any free time? I had hoped for a chance to speak with him before the ceremony…to thank him for inviting me."

Snape's face remained blank. "No thanks are needed, my lord," Snape paused as though in thought for a moment, "The Minister is in his office at the moment, engaged, as I said, in official business, but I am sure that he wouldn't refuse to see you," the Professor turned and gestured down the corridor.

Etean nodded and headed off. Snape fell into stride beside him in silence. Etean made eye contact with some of the people they passed, sharing a tiny smile with each of them in turn. He had to force his face to remain blank. Something about their faces' struck him as odd, but, like the scent in the air, Etean couldn't place it. Along the way, he noticed several Aurors at attention, standing guard in the corridor. This was nothing to do with any memorial, the Ministry was putting on a show of strength today.

Two thirds of the way along the corridor, Snape stopped and opened an unmarked door. At his gesture, Etean stepped through into another, darker corridor. This one was deserted. Snape shut the door behind them and sighed. Etean turned around. Snape caught his eye and gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. He brushed past Etean and marched off down the corridor. "I was expecting you over an hour ago," he snarled over his shoulder, all trace of etiquette gone now from his voice, "What delayed you?"

Etean shrugged. "Altair…I had to take my time so he could keep up."

"How is it?" Snape asked, though Etean doubted if he cared.

"Fine, I left him with the man at the surface…Moody?"

"Yes…I informed him that your animal would need assistance, I am sure it will be well taken care of."

Snape stopped abruptly and held up his arm to block Etean's path. Without a word, he moved over to a blank section of the wall. He reached up and tapped a curious rhythm on the bricks with his knuckle. Etean heard a faint scraping sound and felt the energy in the corridor shift slightly. He turned to Snape. "Checkpoint?"

Snape nodded. "Disorientation charms," he pointed to the floor ahead of them, "They make the corridor impassable. We wouldn't have gotten ten paces before we were both suddenly and irretrievably lost. A dozen alarms would have gone off and we'd have been stuck, searching for a way out of this tiny corridor until the guards found us."

"I see." Etean was genuinely impressed, and somewhat annoyed that he hadn't seen the charm on the floor. He made a mental note not to let it happen again. "The Ministry has certainly been upgrading security around here."

"Not before time," Snape drawled, "Professor Dumbledore has been pushing these measures for months. It seems that the Minister is finally listening to sense."

"Professor Dumbledore came up with this?" Etean pointed to the floor. The scraping sound died down and Snape moved forward again.

"No," he said quietly, "I created the actual charm, which is quite impressive even if I do say it myself….the idea for it was Professor Dumbledore's originally, however."

"I see," Etean repeated, trying to gauge the tone of Snape's voice. Was it anger, or frustration? "Are there any other little pitfalls that I should be aware of?"

"There is no need to be concerned with the security measures," Snape paused and turned to him with a tiny smile, "Though I would watch our step if I were you."

"I'll be sure to," Etean said flatly. He worked his jaw, feeling a twinge of pain from where a bruise was already starting to appear. What the hell had gotten into that girl? He shook his head. He'd deal with her later, for now he had other things to worry about.

There were no guards in this corridor, or anyone at all for that matter. Their footsteps seemed to echo forever off the walls. Snape led him down the corridor, through three more, well hidden security traps before they reached their destination. Snape didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. One look at the unmarked door, and at the men at either side of it, was more than enough for Etean to identify the Minister's Office.

On one side stood an Auror, and not a junior one by his appearance. This man appeared to be more rested than the others that Etean had seen today, but he didn't look comfortable in the least. He was holding his stance at attention with almost visible pain. His back and arms were tensed rigid and Etean could see his pulse thump in his neck even from a distance. Etean suppressed a smile, he knew the reason for the man's stature, that reason was standing on the other side of the door…an Etyar guard. The guard snapped to full attention the second he saw Etean, his arms snapped to his chest in salute. His open left palm pressed into the bare metal of the talon claw on his right fist and drove it toward his heart. The heavy clink of metal on metal pinged around the corridor. Snape hitched his step slightly at the sound; the Auror guard tensed even further; Etean smiled.

Etean had always loved the sheer effortless effect of the Etyar. Their appearance alone spoke volumes. Standing at precisely six feet tall and clad from head to toe in silver plated body armour that totally masked their appearance, the sight of them alone was enough to send the unconscious mind into a tailspin.

'Who is he? Did I see him yesterday? If I saw him tomorrow, would I recognise him? Was he the man that bumped into me on the street this morning?'

The Etyar were a living embodiment of the true art that it was to manipulate human nature. Every one of them looked the same – you could see a hundred and still be left without a single clue to identify the men beneath the armour. The human mind works on details, they are the signposts for happy thoughts. Without details to latch onto, there is nothing to stop paranoia taking root. Looking at an Etyar, people started to fixate on just how much they didn't notice.

'Does he have a wand? What else is he armed with? Is he even a wizard? Behind the mask, is he watching me? How many of them are there? Where are they?'

Etean smiled openly as waited for Snape to clear them with the Auror guard. He faced the Etyar and returned his salute. Were they armed? Ridiculous, of course they were. Were they wizards? Yes, mostly at any rate, but why did that matter? How many of them were there? Also irrelevant, whether there was one, or one thousand, they were effective. Their flawless service record was testimony to that. Even though they had stood guard at the gates of the Adjutaire for over two hundred years now, people were still uneasy around them. On more than one occasion, Etean had witnessed people actually crossing the street to avoid walking past them. The mystery that surrounded them was better than any weapon they could carry.

People fear the unknown, all people, everywhere. Even here, even now, Professor Snape and an Auror, both men fully trained in dealing with the dangerous and unknown were uncomfortable simply standing next to an Etyar. Etean wondered what they would do if they found out that there were in fact two Etyar in the corridor, one they could see and the other standing, invisible, in the corner. They would never know he was there, at least they had better hope that they never knew he was there. His presence, his very existence would remain concealed unless a need arose for him to act, which would mean trouble. Until then, he would simply stand there, just like his partner.

Etean was reminded of an old saying: 'When you see one Etyar, there are two, when you see two, there are five, when you see five…worry!'

Snape's method of dealing with it was to ignore the problem. He deliberately avoided even looking at the Etyar as he stepped forward to open the door. As Etean followed Snape through the doorway, the Etyar finally dropped his salute. Etean suddenly felt his smile fade. There could only be one explanation for the Etyar being on station here. They had to be the personal escort of Renée Valjean, which meant that the Counsellor was inside with the Minister, and that Etean was about to be tossed into the middle of Fudge's little political battle of wills. He suppressed a scowl. 'We'll see about that!'

The outer office was empty. Snape stepped aside and pointed toward the closed door of the inner office. He made no move to open it. Clearly he didn't intend to join the meeting, Etean didn't blame him. Still, he allowed himself no moment of hesitation before he crossed the room and opened the door.

Etean had barely the chance to scan the room on the other side before Minister Fudge was on his feet and bustling toward him. "My Lord Etean," he puffed, "How very good it is to see you."

"And you Minister," Etean replied automatically, "It has been too long." 'Not nearly long enough!' he added to himself to keep his mind occupied.

"Indeed," Fudge beamed, "It has been…oh let me see now…sixteen months?"

"I believe it has, Minister, the fund raiser for the Salem institute if I recall."

Fudge smiled and barked out a laugh. Behind his smile, Etean sensed a rage of anxiety. "I shall have to bow to your superior memory on that point, my lord," Fudge chuckled and laid a hand conspiratorially on Etean's shoulder, "I'm afraid that I must admit that I am forced to attend so many such functions that my mind has trouble sorting them out."

Etean smiled. "I know what you mean," he said brightly, allowing Fudge to believe that his humour was winning him over.

Fudge motioned Etean into the office and stepped around him to close the door. The room fell into darkness save for the sparse candles which were scattered around, far less than Etean would have expected in a working office. Dark wood lined every surface within the office and the curtains covering the large windows were drawn tight, adding to the claustrophobic atmosphere. Fudge led Etean toward a large fireplace, the only other source of light in the room apart from the candles. Several high backed leather chairs had been drawn forward around the fire, and they were occupied. Etean sighed, now he got it – this was the perfect setting for a quiet, intimate little chat. He had to stop his eyes from rolling. 'Come on!' Professor Dumbledore was seated in a chair facing him. He looked up and smiled at Etean from behind his glasses. Etean returned his smile, wondering just what little tricks Dumbledore had up his sleeve.

True to his surmise, Etean turned his head to see Renée Valjean standing up from another chair. His face was the same as always, pale and lean. His thinning black hair was parted neatly in the middle and slicked down to his scalp. Etean reached out to take the hand that was automatically offered. "Counsellor," he said in a simple, plain tone.

"Mon Seigneur," Valjean answered, his voice never quite hiding his once thick Normandy accent, "but please, how ofsen must I ask you to call me Renée?"

Etean smiled at him. "As always, Counsellor, at least once per conversation. Though," he allowed himself a tiny chuckle, "if past experience is anything to go on, I don't think I shall ever listen."

Valjean smiled and shook his head slightly. "As you wish, mon seigneur, as you wish."

Fudge released Etean's shoulder and moved to draw another seat out. Without waiting to be invited, Etean sat down. Fudge beamed. "Can I offer you anything to drink, my lord? Some tea perhaps, or maybe," he added with the merest of glances toward Dumbledore, "something stronger?"

Etean shook his head. "Nothing, thank you, Minister."

"Of course, my lord. Though, if you change your mind, please do not hesitate to ask." Fudge bustled around to his seat and sat down.

Valjean took up a delicate cup from the table before him and took a sip. "I hear that your journey here sis morning was not wizout incident, mon seigneur," Etean saw his eyes dart for a moment to Dumbledore, "I trust sat all is well?"

Etean left a deliberate pause. "Entirely," he replied, "Nothing more than some trouble with one of my carriages. An inconvenience to be sure," he sat back and smiled, "but not a problem."

Valjean nodded. "Tres Bien! I was most distressed when I heard of your difficultiez."

Etean remained passive. 'I bet you were!'

Fudge coughed slightly to regain the floor of the conversation. "I think, that while we are all extremely grateful that you weren't…inconvenienced in any way, my lord, we should perhaps return our conversation to the matter at hand," he said, "that is our current supply crisis and how France may be in a position to help alleviate our problems."

Etean looked momentarily at Dumbledore. Supply crisis? Surely that wasn't their angle?

Valjean set his cup down and cleared his throat. "Please Cornelius," he said, "As I was saying," he shook his head, "I am not in a position to negotiate with you in any regard. To do so would be highly illegal, and entirely fruitless, for either of us."

"No one is negotiating, Renée," Dumbledore shook his head, "This is a conversation, nothing more."

"Yes," Fudge chimed in, "Just an informal chat between friends."

Valjean shook his head and sighed. "I had thought you were too intelligent to be so transparent. But," he smiled, "let us proceed as you say for the moment. I believe you were voicing concerns over se shortage of sufficient medicinal potions, and well fashioned dragon hide armour?" he waved the answer off, "Irrelevant…entirely irrelevant. Friendly chat or not, your posturing, while understandable, is far short of addressing se truth of your situation,"

Dumbledore sat forward. "We have made no attempt to deceive you Renée," he said, his voice carried a hint of fatigue.

"Really?" said Valjean.

"Indeed, Renée," Fudge cut across the conversation, "I am sure that Albus has conveyed our situation and our need for aid to you as truthfully as can be expected under the circumstances."

"Come now Cornelius," said Valjean straightening his deep scarlet robes and standing up, "Don't treat me like a fool. I know full well that while you talk about supply shortages in terms of materiel, your real problem is wizardpower, or lack thereof. Many of your best men and women now lie dead," the temperature seemed to drop a degree or two at that. Valjean raised his arms wide, "Ve are here to honour them are we not?" he didn't wait for an answer, "I am told also that you have an equal number of injured personnel, some of them so severely so that their survival is in real jeopardy. The majority those whom you now call Aurors are in fact merely former civil servants or hastily trained recruits," there was a long pause. Etean could see Valjean steel himself for the next sentence, "The plain truth is that you are losing this war, and you are losing it fast."

Etean forced himself not to react. That was about as clean cut and, frankly, vicious a description of the situation as Etean would have thought possible, certainly it was beyond what he had expected to hear today.

Fudge took a moment to compose himself before responding. "It is true that our casualties in this war are…mounting and it is also true that training for the Auror programme has been…restructured of late, but to say that we are losing this war…"

At this, Valjean laughed and turned to Etean. "You see Mon Seigneur, how well sey play se game?"

Etean remained passive as he suddenly became the centre of attention. "Game?" he asked, "What game would that be, Counsellor?"

"They pester me with repeated requests for opening a dialogue to discuss bringing France into the war, something that they know that I will never do. So they phrase their requests in such a way as to make it appear that they are not asking the very thing that they want. They even get you involved, hoping that the involvement of Lord Etean will be enough to lure me here, which of course," he bowed slightly, "it is," Etean nodded slightly to acknowledge the bow as Valjean continued, "They invite me here today to vitness this memorial ceremony, and to view the impressive security measures they have put in place here, in the hope that my opinion of England's prospects will change."

"And just what is your opinion of England's prospects Renée?" asked Dumbledore in a calm voice.

"I would think, Albus, that I have made that more than clear at this point," said Valjean in a cool voice. "England…is in trouble. You know it, and we know it. You have a very difficult time ahead, a time of trial and struggle the outcome of which remains unclear."

Dumbledore nodded calmly. "And France is content to sit idly by during this struggle, and do nothing to assist us?"

Valjean shrugged. "It isn't our fight."

There it was; the line that everyone had been waiting for. Valjean had just opened the door and Fudge leaped through. "Not yet," he said, starting to sound uneasy, "But surely you don't think that V…that our enemy will simply leave you alone once he has defeated us?"

"Do not insult my intelligence by saying such a thing," said Valjean indignantly, "I have been in charge of French foreign security for nearly thirty years now and I have a full and complete picture of every threat that we face, including your Dark Lord."

"He is not our Dark Lord, Counsellor, he is…" Fudge was floundering.

"Renée," said Dumbledore, a little too hastily, "You accuse us of insulting your intelligence, and yet you seek to insult ours at the same time," he leaned forward, "You must conclude that, by not aiding us now, you are in fact merely delaying the inevitable."

"That," Valjean started, then paused, "remains to be seen, Albus, but," his harsh expression softened slightly and he nodded, "you are not alone in your opinion. I have heard similar views expressed by several of my colleagues and I shall answer you now as I answered them then. The simple truth of the matter is, aside from how," Valjean's gaze flicked to Etean for a moment, "any of us may feel, that France is not ready for war. Currently our resources, which are far from limitless let me tell you, are not being used to their fullest. Rectifying the situation is a daunting task and, harsh as it may sound, we must prioritise. As we speak, my government is deep in preparations for the time when their best efforts will be needed to defend France."

Valjean took a moment to take a drink of tea. "Even so, there are those amongst us who would advocate granting aid to England…to pre-empt the threat as it were, but they are far from being in the majority. For now, the voices calling for patience and consideration before any committing to this conflict remain the loudest, but," Valjean paused again as he prepared to play his trump card, "in recent times, there has been a small, but growing number of voices whispering their support for…other options."

"Other options?" asked Dumbledore, a frown of concern creasing his brow, "What precisely do you mean?"

Another pause. "There are some," Valjean said, no trace of waver or emotion in his voice, "that believe that the Dark Lord cannot be defeated, and that to oppose him is to invite death," he lowered his head and sighed, "They seek…a compromise."

"You mean surrender!" Dumbledore's eyes hardened ever so slightly. "They would choose to be slaves to evil rather than do what's right?"

"In war," Valjean said sternly, "right and wrong are never so clear cut."

"In war, cowards often speak in those terms, Renée."

Etean's mind stalled. Dumbledore had just touched a nerve. Valjean's face went blank and the colour started to drain from his cheeks.

"Albus!" exclaimed Fudge, "This isn't the time for such…"

"Insults?" Dumbledore finished for him, "I meant none," he nodded to Valjean, "And my apologies to you, Renée, if that is how it sounded. I know you to be a good man."

The placation seemed to have little effect on Valjean. In fact Etean doubted if he had even heard it. "Cowardice has nothing to do with this, Albus," he straightened to his full height, "We have known each other for decades," he spat the last word, "and you know full well that I would never…" he trailed off, appearing too angry to speak, "I would never…betray my country by advocating surrender, or any other such accommodation with the Dark Lord."

"Renée, I…" stammered Fudge in an attempt to dispel the tension that now filled the air, "…I am sure that Albus did not mean…"

"I know full vell what he meant Cornelius, thank you," Valjean cut him off.

"But," Fudge foundered, searching for the words, "surely you can understand his," he shot Dumbledore a sideways glance as the Professor looked at him, "that is, our concerns," he sighed and shook his head, "If France were to publicly side with the Dark Lord in any way…even the implication would…"

"France will never take his side, Cornelius, nor will any Frenchman while I am in a position to prevent it. Nevertheless," Valjean breathed and seemed to rein in his temper a touch, "we live in a democracy. There are those in the Adjutaire that do not share my view of the situation. The plain truth," he emphasised the words, "is that, the more hopeless your situation becomes, the louder their voices will grow," he smiled and spread his arms wide in an exasperated gesture, "So, you see what I am up against. Between those who wish to fight, those who wish to abstain and those who would argue for…other options," his eyes darted to Dumbledore for a moment, "the French government is in no position to aid you."

Fudge nodded, seeming to accept defeat in this argument. The traces of tension that Etean had noticed earlier seemed to become more pronounced. As the Minister reached for his teacup, there was even a hint of a tremble in his fingers. Then he raised his head and his eyes widened when he saw Etean. It was as if he had only just remembered that he was there at all.

"Lord Etean," he said, snapping the silence in half, "Might I ask what your opinion is concerning French involvement in the war?"

Into the lion's den!

Three sets of eyes turned to Etean, each waiting for his answer. Etean looked at each of them in turn. Fudge was grasping now, desperate to undo whatever damage he thought Dumbledore had just done. Dumbledore himself was harder to read, his insult of Valjean had been directed and precise. His intent was unclear, but now he seemed unsure of what to expect. Valjean had the look of a predator. He was eyeing Etean with cautious hostility, knowing that Etean knew a hell of a lot more than he was supposed to know and wondering if he would say something he wasn't supposed to say.

Etean cleared his throat and settled his mind, planning out what his response. "My opinion," he began, "such as it is, is based on second or third hand information concerning the state of affairs, both in England and in France," Fudge seemed to sag slightly, "However, from what I do know," he paused and nodded to Valjean, "Counsellor Valjean is right, France is not ready for war," Valjean smiled in victory – 'Not for long you don't Renée!', "But," Valjean's smile wavered, "if truth be told, I don't think that Counsellor Valjean would ever say that France is ready for war. I don't think any nation can ever truly be ready for war. I do believe however that France is considerably better off than the Counsellor would have you believe."

Valjean stuttered slightly. "Mon Seigneur I…" he said,

"You know as well as I do, Counsellor," Etean cut him off, "That the dissention amongst the Committee members concerning the war is in no way interfering with the defence preparations."

"How…" Valjean started.

Etean stared at him. "I signed the budget oversight if you recall," he waved a dismissive hand, as Valjean's jaw tensed, "None of the Committee members want to surrender, nor are they stupid enough to take Voldemort's side, but, they are politicians, and so they're posturing, playing for position. France is in no immediate danger, so they are content to rattle their political sabres, bandying hollow threats and empty arguments. When the real threat presents itself though, you and I both know that they will unite to face it," Etean folded his arms across his chest, "So, let us suppose that it happens, suppose Voldemort wins this war in England and suppose that France becomes his next target," Etean didn't give Valjean a chance to comment, "Now, suppose he sent his Death Eaters to attack the Adjutaire building…with the Committee inside…"

"The Etyar would stop them," said Valjean confidently, pointing a finger at the door.

Etean smiled and nodded. "True, the Etyar would hold firm against such an attack to the last man, and of course, the Auror corps would be mobilised to assist them."

"Of course."

"Yes, only," Etean frowned, "what if they couldn't?"

"What do you mean?" said Valjean confused, "What could stop them?"

"Well let's see…" Etean pursed his lips in contemplation, "How about a five hundred strong army of Dememtors? Suppose they just happened to choose that moment to cross the English Channel and mount an assault in Calais? Or," he enjoyed letting his mind ramble, "what if two dozen angry giants were delivered via portkey into the heart of Paris and started tearing up the Champs Elesee? Or perhaps a hunting pack of vampires apparating into Marseille and having a rare old time slaughtering all around them? Would the Aurors be able to cope with any of those AND assist the Etyar in defending the Adjutaire?"

Valjean nodded hastily, not entirely on certain footing now. "Our Aurors are the best in the world. I believe that they would be able to defend against any of those scenarios, yes."

Etean saw Dumbledore smile as the Professor recognised where he was going with this. "What about all of them?"

Valjean was taken aback. His eyes shone with amazement. "All of them? At the same time?" he stammered and shook his head, "Such a thing could never happen."

"Why not, Renée?" asked Dumbledore, "We have seen from his assault on Coventry that he can co-ordinate just such an attack," he turned to Etean and nodded, "To presume that he couldn't perform the same feat twice would be short sighted. Dementors, trolls, giants, and vampires have all rallied to his banner, and perhaps that is not all. There is no telling the full extent of his forces until he chooses to reveal them."

"Yes but," Valjean stuttered, "such an attack…"

"Would require no more than careful planning and preparation," said Etean, "Two things that Voldemort is more than skilled at."

Valjean shook his head. "But, Albus, be realistic. Assaulting a city is one thing, but for him to muster and control such a force as would be needed for full scale invasion of our nation is inconceivable."

"That is a word that I have heard often, Renée," Dumbledore's calm voice had become the rock on which the conversation now stood, "though as yet, never accurately. If Voldemort is victorious in England, he will have secured a base of operations, a safe haven from where he can launch a wider war. Far from his needing to control them, the beings that serve him, dementors, vampires, trolls, giants, hags, goblins would gladly serve him willingly as they relished in their new found freedom from persecution. Once he has gathered his strength and forged his army he will strike, and he will strike hard Counsellor, very hard." Dumbledore paused to allow his words time to sink in.

"Can France ever be ready for a war like that Renée?" Fudge asked quietly.

Valjean didn't answer right away, he merely shook his head and stared at Etean. "No," he said finally with a heavy sigh, "I don't believe that it can."

"Then help us now," Dumbledore stood and stepped forward, "Now, when he is vulnerable, now, when he must still exercise caution and restraint for fear of overextending himself, now, when we have this one chance to beat him. Let us both stand together and stop him once and for all, before he gets the kind of power that would make this war un-winnable for either of us."

"Please, Albus," Valjean lifted his head and looked at Dumbledore, "Let us speak no more of this. As I said, I am not authorised to speak for France here today. But, rest assured that I have heard all that you have said today, and that I will not dismiss your plight out of hand. Your words will be made known to my government, for what good they will do," he sighed, and then looked to Etean, "Perhaps, knowing that Seigneur d'Etean himself supports an alliance may be enough to sway some of the doubters." Etean saw the warning flash in Valjean's eyes and stayed any further comment.

Dumbledore clasped Valjean's shoulder. "Thank you, Renée," Dumbledore beamed, "that is a start."

"Indeed," Fudge got to his feet, blustering slightly, "and a good start it is, but," he made a point of looking at the ornate clock over the fireplace, "it will have to be all for today," he stared for a moment at Dumbledore, "We should really be getting down to the hall, the ceremony is about to begin."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. Fudge turned and opened his mouth to speak to Valjean, who was staring pointedly at the fire, but Valjean spoke before him. "Minister," he said suddenly, as though waking from a dream, "I wonder if I might have a moment alone with Seigneur d'Etean."

Fudge frowned. His eyes darted back and forth for a moment. "Why," he said, "certainly, Counsellor, by all…"

"Alone if you don't mind," Valjean intoned in a sombre voice.

Fudge looked at Etean, who returned his gaze without reaction. After a moment, he nodded his assent. This was odd. He had expected Valjean to draw him aside at some point, but not in such a brazen manner. Etean's father had always taught him that politics was a game of subtlety, a delicate art of persuasion and bluff. Renée Valjean was a master of that game, but today, for reasons that Etean couldn't fathom, he was playing by a different set of rules. The only question was: What game was he playing?

With only a modest level of hesitation, Fudge and Dumbledore withdrew, silently closing the door behind them. Etean and Valjean remained in silence for several moments, long enough to hear them open and close the outer door and move out of earshot. Valjean spent this time staring at the fireplace. All trace of defeat left him. His shoulders straightened and his breathing settled. He made no attempt to secure the room further. Did he really believe that there were no eavesdropping charms in here? Etean watched him carefully for a moment more, he really didn't care. He spent these quiet moments staring at Valjean, watching the shifting pattern of his thoughts. His annoyance was bubbling beneath the surface, practically begging to be pushed. Etean ran his finger over his cheek, the bruise should be visible by now.

"You do know that Dumbledore was trying to get a rise from you?" Etean said quietly when he felt that the silence had endured long enough, "He wanted to see how well you played the game," he added with a smirk.

Valjean was silent for a moment, and then he swore loudly. "Bah, Englishmen," he said in a quieter voice, "the arrogance of them. They truly believe that theirs is the only valid position in this war."

"They believe that they are the only ones currently fighting this war," Etean corrected him, "and they believe that, should they lose, they will be the first, but not the last to die. Are they wrong, Renée?"

Valjean turned. "Don't you presume to preach that nonsense to me, my lord," he said harshly, "I am far more aware of the reality of thiz war than you are."

Etean raised an eyebrow. "Is that a fact?"

"It iz," Valjean spat, "as is evidenced by your presence here today," he shook his head, "Tell me, just vhat did you think you were doing getting yourself involved in this?"

'Time to play dumb,' Etean mewed to himself. "I didn't get involved with anything, Renée, I was merely doing Albus Dumbledore a favour…he is my headmaster and all that," he finished with a grin.

Valjean glared at him. "How can you have been raised in the very cradle of French politics and yet be so naive?" Valjean sighed, "I am glad that Lord Robert is not here to see this. He would spin in hiz grave to see his son so easily manipulated."

'Manipulated?' Etean took a breath, and then smiled. "Thank you, Renée," he said sarcastically, "You're enduring respect for my father is heart-warming. Family is the cornerstone of civilisation after all, is it not?" he finished.

Valjean glared at him for a long moment. "Family…and loyalty to ones country, my lord."

'Loyalty to the state' was an argument that Etean had heard many times, and he was in no mood to hear it again. "Of course," Etean nodded, "of course. Now," he brightened, "There was some mention of business that you wished us to complete. I presume that you have something for me to sign?"

Valjean nodded. "Indeed I do, my lord." He reached inside his robes and drew out a silver document tube. Etean followed Valjean to the Minister's desk and waited as Valjean unrolled several scrolls and laid them out on the table. Etean stepped forward and scanned the pages, four identical copies of the same document – Poliakov's treaty. He took in the multi-lingual title on the central one:

'Traité de la défense commune'

'Vertrag der allgemeinen Verteidigung'

'Tratado de la defensa común'

'Treaty of Common Defence'

He sighed, not bothering to read the text. This had been coming for a long time, and he knew it was necessary in 'the grand scheme of things,' but now that he was here, looking at it, it felt wrong. "Have all of the amendments that I requested been made?"

"They have," Valjean said, pointing to a couple of paragraphs in turn, "The amendments were made to paragraphs two and seven. Would you care to examine them?"

That was what he should do, that was what Valjean expected him to do, but that was not what Etean was about to do. "No…I am confident that this document would not be here for me to sign if it had not satisfied my representatives in Geneva," he gestured vaguely to the document, "Tell me where," he said.

Valjean pointed to the bottom of the documents. "Here…and here."

Etean hesitated for a moment. "I wonder what Minister Fudge would say if he knew what was being signed on his desk?" he said with a smile.

"No doubt he would not be amused," Valjean said dryly.

Etean still paused. "This," he pointed to the parchment, "condemns them, you do know that?"

Valjean took a breath and rolled his jaw in annoyance. "This treaty safeguards France, my lord," he said emphatically, "I know that!"

"Yes," Etean answered, pressing his ring down and signing the treaty, "I am certain that you do. When does it become public?"

"As soon as I can get these to Paris," Valjean answered, "Probably no later than tomorrow afternoon."

Etean shook his head and repeated his signature three further times, signing all four copies of the treaty and then stepped back, fighting down a sudden urge to smash something. Valjean took up three of the copies and rolled them together into his tube, the fourth, he wrapped separately and secured with a knob of wax before handing it to Etean. Etean accepted it without a word and stowed it away inside his robes.

Valjean inspected the clock. "I believe that the ceremony is due to start soon, my lord," he said casually, "We had best be getting along."

Etean didn't comment. Instead he turned and headed to the door. His robes felt heavy. He knew it made no sense, the weight of the parchment was barely noticeable, and yet it felt like a lead ball hanging from his heart. Damn the Old Man and his ideas, damn the council and their plans, damn it all. They weren't here. They weren't the ones that had to carry the weight of peoples' lives in their pockets. They weren't the ones who had to stand and smile, and shake the hands of people, while at the same time shattering all their hope in the name of patriotism. Etean had to force himself not to laugh at the thought.

The outer office was still deserted. Etean passed through it without hesitation. Outside in the corridor he found Minister Fudge waiting for him. He turned from his pacing when he saw Etean emerge.

"Lord Etean," he said brightly, "Everything is OK?"

Etean nodded. "It is."

"Your business is concluded?" he asked inquisitively.

"It is," Etean responded.

Fudge nodded and then checked his pocket-watch. "I decided to remain here," he said, turning to face Valjean as he emerged behind Etean, "So that I could escort you to the hall at your convenience."

"Splendid, Cornelius," Valjean piped.

Etean suddenly had no desire to remain near the man for another moment. He looked at Fudge, remembering the parchment in his pocket. They should know, they deserved to know.

"Actually Minister," Etean said, "I wonder if there is anywhere that I might freshen up before the ceremony."

Fudge inclined his head in thought. "Why…certainly," he said. He raised his hand and beckoned to the Auror sentry from his post, "Roger here will show you the way."

"Thank you." Etean smiled. He caught the eye of the visible Etyar and signalled him to remain on station while at the same time, gesturing almost casually to his partner to follow him. The invisible Etyar stepped silently into position behind him.

"This way, my lord," the Auror, Roger, said. If he minded being reduced to a guide, he didn't show it.

Etean followed him along the corridor taking a different route than he had earlier. The destination was the same though. They reached the main corridor and turned to head deeper into the building. Roger led him in silence through the growing crowd to a side corridor. Its entrance was hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain. Roger nodded to the guard on station and then smartly drew it back. "Any of the conveniences are at your disposal, my lord."

"Thank you," Etean said and stepped inside. He moved a ways down the passage, past several empty bathrooms before he chose one and entered. Inside, he felt the Etyar draw level with him and he turned round.

'Etyar!' he sent.

'My lord,' the response came almost instantly. 'What is your command?'

Etean held his robes open, revealing the document within. 'Take this,' he ordered. The document vanished as the guard slipped it into his possession. 'At the next discreet opportunity,' he sent to the guard as he straightened his robes, 'I want you to personally see to it that Albus Dumbledore gets this. No one is to know that he has it, but he is to know that it came from me, do you understand?'

'I understand,' was the reply.

'Good, now go!'

The Etyar stepped past Etean and left the bathroom. The door of the bathroom clicked shut with barely a sound. The entire conversation with the guard had taken less than three seconds, quick enough not to be noticed by anyone. Etean passed his hand over the lock briefly, securing it against any interested listeners. His fingers tingled as the spells formed and leapt out into the wood. Now that he was alone and in private, Etean swore at the top of his lungs. He marched to the solid gold sink and filled it with icy cold water from one of the half dozen taps. The water stung his face as he doused it with handful after handful for a full thirty seconds before lifting his head and staring at his own reflection. A deep ache had settled into his jaw. Ginny's blow had been staggeringly hard, surprising considering her stature. She really knew how to throw a punch. Now that he had the chance to think, he wondered precisely what it was he had done to deserve that. He shook his head, whatever it was it was bound to make little sense. Scowling, he narrowed his mind to focus his body's healing abilities and watched the rudiments of a bruise fade to nothing.

Etean's eyes closed and he pressed his head into the mirror. 'What a day! First I get insane teachers, dragons, and wounded hippogriffs, then I'm faced with wand happy Aurors and now I have to deal with scheming politicians and an irate Gryffindor? Is there any way that this can get worse?' He instantly regretted asking that question. Something told him that this wouldn't be the low point. His mind conjured up a picture of the state of things now, and it wasn't a pretty sight. Now that the treaty was signed, things were about to go from bad to worse. Forging some form of bargain with Renée Valjean had offered Fudge hope, it offered Dumbledore hope, hell it offered the whole fucking country hope. Etean sighed, that hope was now about to be dashed. How had it come to this?

He doused his face again and leaned on the sink, watching his face wobble on the surface of the water. Too fast…things were moving too fast. Even the most drastic pre-war projections he'd seen had the Ministry holding itself together for a lot longer than this. How had things gone this far this fast? Were the Aurors that incompetent or were the Death Eaters that good?

His train of thought was interrupted suddenly when his ring tingled. Etean's expression darkened. He knew he shouldn't have asked the question. Here was another problem. Only one person could have sent that signal. He reached down to disturb the water. "Duncan," he said coolly.

The water danced and shimmered for a moment, and then settled with a familiar, if not currently welcome, face reflected back at him in place of his own. Duncan bowed his head, giving Etean a brief view of his greying, black hair. "My Lord," he said in a sombre tone, "how may I be of service?"

Etean bit back the answer he wanted to give, this wasn't the time for that. "That depends; where are you?"

"In London, my lord, as ordered. I came as soon as I received your message."

"Good," Etean had expected no less, "Your movements were not detected?"

"No, my lord, I am certain of that," he frowned, "I was careful, yet expedient. Your message conveyed a degree of urgency, sir, do you require my presence? I am not far from your current location and could be at your side in…"

"That won't be necessary," Etean shook his head, "We will talk later this evening. For now, you are to travel to the Leaky Cauldron and reserve the usual room in my name…"

"Your name, my lord? But…"

"My name, Duncan, as I said," Etean wasn't able to keep the anger from his voice completely, "Hire the room and wait for me there, is that understood?"

There was a momentary hesitation. "Yes, my lord, it shall be done."

"See that it is. And Duncan…" Etean called.

"My lord?"

"I want you to understand something, until we speak again, you are to maintain Condition Grey, is that clear?"

"Condition Grey, my lord?"

The image of the Death Eaters' silent observation of him flashed across Etean's mind again, along with several rather unpleasant explanations for it. "Yes, Condition Grey!"

"I will obey, my lord."

Duncan's image faded. 'Questions. Why did they always have to ask so many questions?' Etean turned his back and sat on the sink, stroking his cheek in contemplation. He reached into his robes and drew out the small green bottle that had caused him such a headache. Duncan had some explaining to do and, Etean's fist closed around the bottle, he had better do a damned good job of it for his sake.

There was a quiet rap on the door. Etean frowned and, stuffing the bottle into his cloak once more, he stood up and straightened his robes, setting them right with a snap of his fingers. He opened the door to find Ginny standing before him looking stern. Instinctively, he tensed. "Yes?" he asked.

Ginny scowled. "They sent me to get you," she said in a sullen voice, "Come on."

She turned on a heel and marched off. Etean paused to rub his cheek again and then followed her.

Most of the crowd had left the corridor when they passed once more through the curtain. Ginny walked off down the corridor without a word. At the far end, Etean saw a large doorway flanked by ushers. Ginny had a lead on him, but he outpaced her as he walked so that they reached the entrance together. One of the ushers greeted them and offered to take them to their seats. Ginny looked at him and then scoffed, raised her chin and moved off, leaving Etean to keep up the rear.

The hall that had been prepared to house the ceremony was a large, semi-circular theatre with a sloping floor and ceiling. As befit the solemnity of the occasion, the décor that had been chosen was clean and plain while at the same time, poetically elegant. Rows of heavy, satin covered silver chairs lined the floor of the hall, framing a central aisle. The walls were lined with silk banners, all of them deep blue with the tiniest silver trim. A single white Flower of Merlin was pinned to the centre of each banner. At last, Etean could identify the scent in the air. The Merlin Blossom was amongst the rarest and most expensive flowers in existence. It seemed to oddly fit the occasion, wasn't life itself just as precious? At the focal point of the room stood the memorial that they had all gathered here to dedicate. It consisted of rows and rose of pearl-white candles, blazing with magically enhanced light. He would have called it beautiful were it not a memorial of death.

As he followed the usher down the slightly sloping floor, Etean scanned the crowd. Once again, something struck him as odd. The makeup of the crowd was off, something about it was just wrong. Etean was halfway to the front when it hit him, the Ministry.

A large number of people in the room were Aurors. Etean recognised their bearing, slightly militaristic and aggressive. Their eyes moved around the room, searching for potential threats. Many of them appeared to be haggard and drawn; their shoulders slumped ever so slightly as they stood in place before their assigned seats. Etean casually put them aside for the moment and focussed on the others. Reading people at a glance was a skill he had practiced and honed over the years, and it stood to him now. He saw file clerks, secretaries, department officers and other civil servants. What he didn't see were shopkeepers, housewives, doctors, businessmen or, in fact, any civilians whatsoever. It seemed that the entire gathering was made up of Ministry staff. The ordinary wizarding population had suffered as much as, if not more than the government, so where were they? Surely they had been invited, surely they had as much reason to be here as anyone else. Etean looked around. Were they all afraid to travel? Was their faith in their government that flimsy?

With a slight scowl, Etean pulled his thoughts to more immediate matters. He looked around again, this time seeking familiar faces. He saw Minister Fudge and Valjean standing in the front row next to Professor McGonagall. Fudge was looking around furtively. The stress of this day, coupled with the less than successful meeting earlier seemed to have taken a toll on the Minister. Etean could see sweat beading on his forehead even at this distance.

Their guide halted and gestured toward a row of seats. Etean turned to see Ron, Harry and the entire Hogwarts delegation. Ginny stepped into the row. Etean moved to follow her but a cough from the usher stopped him.

"Yes?" he asked.

"My Lord, a seat has been prepared for you at the front," the boy gestured for Etean to move onward. Etean hesitated, the very thought of being near Valjean aggravated him. He looked briefly at Ginny, who was making a pointed attempt to ignore him.

He turned back to the usher. "I think that my place is here," he said and turned to stand in front of the aisle seat. The usher coughed nervously. Etean turned back to him. "Is there a problem?" he asked sternly.

The boy cleared his throat. "No, my lord, of course not," he nodded and disappeared.

Etean moved in, causing the others to shift along and accommodate him. He heard Ginny harrumph beside him but she made no real comment. Etean shook his head and focussed his attention the memorial display. Each of the foot tall candles burned with equal intensity. At the base of each one sat a small, velvet pillow on which there rested a delicate, golden medal – the Order of Merlin, First Class! Fittingly, the platform was bedecked in the white petals of the Flower of Merlin. Given the occasion, Etean should have expected no less but it still surprised him. He had never seen so many of those flowers in one place before. 'The Ministry is putting on a show,' he thought to himself. Beside him, Ginny made to sit down. Etean reached out and tugged on her arm slightly to stop her. He turned his head and gave it the merest shake.

Ginny looked up at him and frowned. "What?" she hissed between her teeth.

"We are supposed to stand," Etean answered, bringing his mouth down to almost brush her ear.

Ginny turned her head to look at him. "Then why are there chairs?"

"It's a mark of respect," he turned to the platform, to the candles, "for them."

"How the hell do you know?"

'Because I just bloody know!' Etean sighed. "Look around you, do you see anyone else sitting?"

Ginny looked around and saw that in fact, nobody was sitting down anywhere in the hall. "Oh," she grunted and folded her arms across her chest. Etean looked up to see Ron looking at him. The taller boy merely shrugged and shook his head at Etean's quizzical look, apparently he was none the wiser as to the reason for Ginny's anger.

There was a hush as a quiet bell tolled behind them. The doors at the rear of the room were drawn closed and all light other than the candle memorial faded away. In the eerie darkness, every sound, from the shuffling of feet to the inevitable quiet cough, was amplified and seemed to fill the room.

Marked by a slight chiming sound, a low spotlight flared into existence, illuminating a wizard in black robes. The man stood at attention at the centre of the candle display and unrolled the large scroll that he was holding in his hand.

Without introduction or preamble, he started speaking. "Today," he said in a schooled, professional voice, "The Minister of Magic has directed that the Order of Merlin, First Class be awarded to the following, in recognition of their service to the Ministry above and beyond their bonds of duty…Eric Anderson, in absentia…Carolin Ashdown, in absentia…"

Etean listened as the man spoke. The list went on, name after name was spoken and medal after medal was conferred, all of them 'in absentia'. It was a good thing that Etean already knew the names, because he found himself unable to pay them the attention they deserved. All he heard was the comment, in absentia – not present. None of them were here to receive the honour they had earned. In absentia! – Nothing more than the polite way of saying 'dead'.

The list continued, "…Derek Morgan, in absentia…Alex O' Reilly, in absentia…"

Etean felt, with mild surprise, Ginny slipping her hand into his. For the moment, he forgot that she was apparently furious with him for some reason. The list was progressing in alphabetical order, and soon they got to, "…Percy Weasley, in absentia…"

Ginny squeezed his fingers. Etean looked at her and squeezed back, showing her that he was there. He felt a shudder run through her and she lowered her head. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "No, focus on Percy's candle, he'll help you."

Ginny sniffed. "I don't know which one is his."

"It doesn't matter," Etean squeezed her hand again, "Just pick on and focus on it." Etean watched her eyes move along the platform. She chose one of the twinkling lights and stared at it. A single tear dropped from her eye and ran down her cheek. Etean leaned over and kissed her gently on the temple.

At last, with, "…Stephen Webster, in absentia…" the list of names ended and the Ministry official vanished. The light rose just a touch as Minister Fudge puffed up and stepped out to take the place that he had just vacated.

Fudge waited for a moment before he spoke. "We are at war," his voice resounded throughout the hall, the words settling on the crowd like lead, "A terrible thing…war. When I hear that word it conjures up many emotions, fear, sorrow and anxiety, to name a small few. I walk in the streets each day and see my own worry and fear echoed back to me wherever I go and I know that I am not alone in feeling these things, none of us are alone. Each day I smile and nod and tell people not to worry…that all they need do is to have trust in their government to take good care of them, and everything will be alright. Each day they hear my words and take comfort in them. Each day I leave them and go to work. I do my job to the best of my abilities to ensure that those words of comfort are not empty," he paused and turned to the burning candles behind him, "These people, these brave men and women did their duty too and for that we honour them: sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers who gave their lives doing their duty. They placed themselves in harms way and they paid the price," the minister turned back to face his audience, "And now the burden is ours because we must go on. That is why I get up each day and do my job. That is why I know that I can never give up, that none of us can give up." From the sound of his voice, Etean got the impression that he was trying to sound confident and to impress his confidence on those before him, but he didn't manage it. Etean could sense the emotions of those around him, and they weren't confident at all.

That was the end of the Minister's speech, and the end of the ceremony. At some coded gesture, the lights in the room were raised to their previous level and the doors behind the crowd were drawn open. The crowd started to break up and bustle about. Many began to make their way out of the hall while others moved forward toward the memorial. Ginny released Etean's hand. He turned to see her wiping at the tears on her cheeks.

"You OK?" he whispered to her.

Ginny sniffed. "Yes," she said without looking at him.

Behind her, Ron reached out and tapped her shoulder. When she turned round, he nodded toward the front of the room. "Are you coming?"

Etean followed Ron's nod along with Ginny. Standing at the front of the hall by the memorial stood a knot of red heads. Arthur Weasley had been released from his duties above and now stood with his arm around his sobbing wife who was gently stroking a random candle. Surrounding them, the other Weasleys were huddled in silence.

Etean turned back to Ginny. "Go on," he said, stepping back to allow them pass.

Ginny silently slid past him, followed by Ron. She glanced back in his direction once as her brother led her forward. Etean waited until she had joined her family and was being crushed by her mothers tear filled embrace before he turned to leave. His eyes locked with Valjean's for a moment. The Counsellor stared blankly at him before returning to his conversation with Fudge. Etean fought off a scowl and turned on his heel. The crowd behind him had thinned considerably and he had no difficulty making his way back up the aisle. He was passing through the doors when a slightly out of breath Neville Longbottom drew alongside him and called his name.

"Hrm?" Etean responded.

"I…just wanted to ask," Neville said between breaths, "how your hippogriff was."

"Oh," Etean said, "Well he made it here in one piece, and they told me that they were going to keep an eye on him," Etean paused, "I suppose I should check on him." He looked around for an official, someone who could show him the way to the surface. Navigating the Ministry headquarters with all the new security might prove to be an interesting exercise, he imagined, but it would perhaps be best left for another day. His eyes scanned the corridor, it was all but deserted. Wherever the crowd had gone off to, they had gone fast. Etean's eyes narrowed, a couple of Aurors were still at their posts, though there seemed to be less of them than before. This wasn't right. Etean felt his mind start to tingle.

Neville was still talking, "…so I just wanted to apologise."

Etean frowned at him. "What?"

"For getting sick in your carriage," Neville blushed, "Like I said, it was just the shock and all…I'll pay for the cleaning…"

"What? Oh," Etean's mind filled in the blank for him, "oh…don't worry about it," he smiled, "Just chalk it up to Snape's piloting skills, or lack thereof. He nearly made me vomit for Merlin's sake."

Neville sniggered. "Yeah, it was a rough ride."

"It was." Etean tuned Neville out. His eyes roamed the corridor again, and settled on one of the windows beside the doors to the hall. Like the rest, this offered a view of the London skyline. Outside, Etean could see a warm, clear autumn sky, complete with orange sunlight diffused through hazy clouds making the whole city appear to glow. He squinted at it, that was not the sky outside, he was sure of that. Then he remembered that he was underground. The windows had to be fake, enchanted to show a false image of an idyllic scene. Etean paused when he saw a momentary shimmer run through the window.

"Neville?" he said to interrupt the other boys rambling litany of Snape's various flaws.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of Murphy's Law?"

Neville frowned. "No…I don't think so, what is it?"

"It's a muggle expression I heard once, it states that whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and normally at the worst possible time."

Neville giggled. "That's a silly thing to say."

"Maybe," Etean took a step forward, "but you'd be surprised how often it rings true." 'Like now!'

Etean focussed his senses on the window. It's glow was an inferno compared to the others and was getting brighter.

Neville seemed to pick up on his tension. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure," Etean answered honestly, "But," he added as the Etyar emerged from the hall and stood to attention. Moments later, Minister Fudge led Renée Valjean out, the three men stood alone, less than five feet from the window, "answer me this, what is the worst thing that could possibly happen today?"

Neville's answer, if he gave one, was ignored. The window flared bright. Etean saw the Etyar move as he too felt the danger, but it was too late. There was a flash, followed by a moment of terrible silence, and then a deafening roar filled the corridor as the window exploded. Etean saw the blast in slow motion as his instincts took over and time slowed. The ball of fire slowly expanding from the focal point of the blast was almost beautiful to look at, but he didn't get the chance to admire it for long. With a stunning force, the ethereal shockwave preceding the blast hit him, rattling him to his very bones. His concentration shattered in an instant and his hold on time vanished. He didn't even get the chance to brace himself before the full brunt of the blast hit him in the chest and knocked the wind out of him. Chaos! The world didn't make sense anymore, the air burned like fire, up suddenly became down, and the floor wasn't the floor anymore. The roar had deafened him and the flash had blinded him, he couldn't see or hear anything around him. Etean staggered backward, fighting for air. A crushing weight slammed into him and he collapsed into darkness.