Harry's Workshop, East Wing, Potter Manor

Harry wiped his hands on a haggard cloth.

The broom's black shaft shone with reflected light, sleek silver inlay running evenly to the riding splint and stirrups. The smooth, black bristles laid with meticulous precision rustled gently in the draft.

"It's done, then?" Daphne asked, leaning against the table.

"Yeah." Harry noted.

"It's beautiful. We should take it for a test run when you get back."

Harry paused, taking the quiet moment to charm his hands clean and summon his dress jacket.

"When I get back…" He wondered. "Yeah."

"Have you thought any more on Mcgonagall's offer?"

"You think I should?"

"I think you'd be a great teacher."

"I don't feel very clever at the moment."

"You've got everything you need. Both poisons, Argent's information, Snape's testament…"

"I just… It feels like there's a piece missing. Like I'm looking right at the solution to a puzzle, but my eyes keep slipping off."

"You don't need to go right now." She said, reassuringly. "We can take more time. Gather more evidence."

"It's been a month… the longer we wait, the longer he has to prepare."

"Okay. Come on then."

"Daphne?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything."

"Any time…" She smiled. "Harry."

The polished marble floor shone in the grey light of the rainy morning. From the glass domed roof, pale sunlight seeped through gathering clouds. The first misty drops of rain faded, just before touching the gilded glass.

"Are you sure you want to do this alone?" Hermione frowned. "I still don't like it."

"I'm the most likely to make it past his security." Harry insisted, tucking his mirror locket into his shirt. "If we go in a crowd, he might get suspicious. Last thing we want is a second manhunt."

"I have been reporting leads on Voldemort's spirit."

"And I'm on his team of Unspeakables studying Phylacteries." Daphne added. "I have a plausible reason to be there too."

"We can't risk him suspecting either of you. In case- especially if something happens to me."

"I still think you should wear your other suit." Sirius insisted. "If not for any 'achy-breaky-bones', then at least to protect you from being cursed in the back."

"Anything could happen to me in there." Harry sighed. "He's clever. The best defence would be to be seen meeting with him, give him no chance to do me in quietly, and I'm the most recognisable out of any of us."

"Have you got your Emergency Portkey?" Daphne demanded.

"Yes."

"Bezoar."

"Check."

"Stocked on potions?"

"Daphne… I have to see this through." Harry said quietly, taking her shaking hands. "To the end."

Sirius, Hermione, Daphne and Nipsy all stood, facing the fireplace. Nipsy loudly blew her nose into a frilly, pink handkerchief.

"I'll be okay." Harry reassured with a broad smile. "I'm the boy-who-lives. It's what I do."

"Are you trying to make us want you dead?"

"Is it working?"

The polished marble tiles flashed green as Harry Flooed away.

Raindrops thundered against the window.

The Minister's office hadn't been used in over a decade, and as such had been converted into some or other department head's office. Instead of forcing them to evacuate the space, Tom had magically expanded a room above the surface, nestled in Her Majesty's Treasury. Heavy, grey clouds dominated the sky above St James Park.

Tom smiled at his desk.

"Enter!"

"Minister." Harry Potter smiled, closing the door.

"Potter!" Tom shook his hand warmly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I found something rather interesting…" Harry ran through his cover story in his head. "After your speech, I was inspired to look into phylacteries myself. Given the extensive knowledge contained between the Potter and Black libraries, I thought I might come up with something useful."

"Find anything about Horcruxes?"

"Horcruxes?"

"I'll take that as a no." Tom laughed. "Foul things. Invented by Herpo the Foul. Splits the soul in two, and stores one half in an object. It's a maddening process. Each time a wizard does so, they reduce their magical power, and slowly go insane."

"You seem to know a lot on the subject."

"Recent days and discussions with the Unspeakables have made me something of an expert."

"You believe Voldemort made these… Horcruxes? That's how he stayed alive?"

"We are certain of it." Tom removed a golden chalice from a drawer, placing it carefully on the desk.

"Can I offer you a drink?"

Harry paused.

"No thank you."

"Afraid you'll be poisoned by proxy?"

"You're a dangerous man to be around."

"I can assure you," Tom shook his head with a rueful grin, placing another glass on the table, along with a tall bottle of whiskey. "I have taken every precaution."

"Is that muggle whiskey?"

"I didn't take you for a blood purist, Potter." Tom chided, pouring two fingers in the glass and taking a sip. "It's a Macallan. 1981 vintage… truly wonderful…"

"Very well." Harry eased the bezoar in his pocket between his fingers.

Tom poured a shot into the chalice, sliding it across the table.

Harry took a sip gingerly, then enjoyed the taste. He regarded the chalice in his hand curiously. It had two handles sculpted on the sides, with an intricately carved badger on each face.

"You really broke out the fine china just for me?"

"Oh, well, I've not had the time to get a proper set sent up." Tom regarded him curiously. "Do you feel anything, Potter?"

"Sirius would never forgive you if you poisoned me." Harry joked, belying his tension. The locket around his neck felt cool against his skin.

"Curious." Tom leaned back, enjoying his own drink. "I've not known Albus to be wrong… not often…"

"Hm?"

"Oh just idle talk. My apologies." Tom swirled the ice in his glass. "Are you going to ask me why I committed the Argent Lakes attack?"

Harry tensed, placing his unfinished drink back on the desk. Tom grinned like a shark.

"You are good at hiding your emotions, Potter, but I've had decades of experience reading people."

"The question of why is rather simple."

"Oh?"

"You needed an election to happen. With the Minister declaring a Ministry of War in effect, that could only happen with his death."

"A rather banal motive, isn't it?" Tom laughed sharply, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Tell me, Potter, how did you find out?"

"I didn't." Harry admitted. "I merely had my suspicions. You just confirmed them for me."

"Oh… I did far more than that…" Tom chuckled. "Let me demonstrate. Darcy!"

The newly appointed Undersecretary popped her head in through the door.

"Yes, Minister?" She asked. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, Mr Potter just wanted to tell you something. Go ahead, Potter. Don't be shy."

"The Minister-" Harry frowned as he felt his throat tighten. "Mr Riddle- Tom-"

"Is everything alright, Mr Potter?"

"Oh, never mind." Tom smiled. "You can go now, Darcy. It must not be that urgent."

Wearing a look of confusion, she left.

"What have you done?" Harry asked, a hand to his throat.

"You know that already."

"You can't get rid of me. I was seen coming here, I made sure people know. If you kill me, everyone in the country will know you are to blame."

"Why would I kill you?" Tom laughed, genuinely. "I've been bursting with the effort of keeping this to myself."

"You're mad." Harry grimaced. "A psychopath…"

"I prefer the term visionary." Tom grinned. "Now, I want to know… what led you here?"

"All my evidence is well documented." Harry asserted. "Notes. Memories. Three others who know everything I do."

"Oh… I can guarantee that's not true…" Tom chuckled. "My secrets are very well kept… But, I shall humour you… What is this evidence exactly? How did you come by it?"

"I looked into the poisoning, and discovered that Scrimgeour's potions had been poisoned. At first I suspected that poisoning the champagne could have been a redundancy, or a parallel but unconnected event. That led me to investigate Hector Silvertree."

"And what did you find?"

"A Goblin Steel potion knife, corrupted with Basilisk Venom."

"I'm impressed…" Tom admitted. "Basilisk Venom leaves no physical residue. What gave it away?"

"How can you be so calm?" Harry frowned. "You cannot possibly believe I will let you get away with this?"

"But you want me to, Harry Potter…" Tom purred. "I am the very best ending to this story… I am the only wizard who can bring Magical Britain back into stability…"

"You're a murderer." Harry shook his head, voice harsh. "You killed dozens of innocent people, just to cover up your real target."

"We all have our vices."

"I could expose you."

"Well, I know that's not true!" Tom laughed, bright and cutting. "The Minister of Magic, defeater of Voldemort and teacher to generations of children? Albus Dumbledore's apprentice and prodigy? The country really cannot take a blow like that right now… what with the upheaval in every aspect of our society…"

"We can rebuild." Harry insisted. "Sirius and I are trusted figures. We would be regarded even more so after exposing you. We could take your place."

"Neither of you could manage… Sirius is much too impulsive and distractible, besides his reputation. And you… You lack the ambition…"

"I make up for it with no lack of evidence." Harry growled. "Evidence I can reveal at any moment!"

"Oh, I dare say you have very little choice in the matter…" Tom smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Throughout your investigation, you've constantly felt something missing. A gap in your theories you couldn't explain away, no matter how hard you looked. As if your eyes slipped over crucial clues, while your ears ignored the most pivotal information."

Harry did not answer. He merely narrowed his eyes. Tom leaned forward, smirking, with his chin on his palm.

"Tell me, Potter… are you familiar with the Fidelius Charm?"