A/N: To help with the confusion sounding all of the WEA terms and other oddities in this universe, I put together a short "WEA 101" guide on my Tumblr page (canttouchthis87). It includes: summary of the WEA government, key terms, key events and Corps rankings. Hopefully, it's helpful if you're struggling to remember a few random lines said in passing in Chapter 4...
Cambridge
November 1, 2006
"What is with all these checkpoints?" Harry asked, after the pair managed to evade yet another unexpected Corps officer interviewing pedestrians. They had left Ginny's car at a bus station before grabbing a coach, Harry wearing an oversized hoodie to blend in.
"Two Corps fugitives went missing in Aberdeen a week ago. You didn't catch it on the news?" Ginny asked.
Harry shrugged. "Sounds familiar, but we're far from Aberdeen."
"Yeah, I'm not sure what these two did, but it must have been bad," Ginny mused.
"You're not AWOL are you?" Harry frowned, suddenly concerned.
"No." She chuckled. "I asked for some leave; it's not uncommon to take time off after an assignment where you're expected to be 'on' 24/7."
"So." He bumped his shoulder into hers. "You're not even protecting me for your job. You're just doing it because you like me." He gave her a sly smile.
"Don't be so full of yourself Potter," she smirked. "I'm doing this for fame." She fanned her face dramatically.
"Of course you are." He shook his head, amused, and nudged her lightly with his elbow, as they walked onto a side street with old brick townhouses up and down both sides. "You were stationed here once, weren't you?"
"Right before I met you," she confirmed, leading him to a door painted with the number 167. "You ready for this?" Harry nodded, and Ginny knocked, now on high alert as she listened to the footsteps come closer to the door.
"Yes?" A man — Sirius Black presumably — answered, appearing quite disheveled and slightly inebriated.
"We're here for the bed and breakfast," Ginny stated evenly. Harry frowned, but she ignored him.
"Well, come in then; watch the plants." He opened the door further, and Harry noticed there were no plants. Ginny's shoulders relaxed and Harry smiled, figuring the interaction was some sort of code. He felt strangely excited, like he was in some sort of spy movie.
The house was... eclectic. The living room, notably larger than the small space outside would have indicated, contained an array of mismatched furniture from different eras. Bookshelves of different shapes and sizes stood scattered against the walls, and outdated periodicals seemed to be stacked in piles on every available space. An old television sat in the corner, though it was covered in wizarding robes. Any free wall space was covered in faded wizarding portraits and paintings.
"Sorry, don't really get visitors," Sirius slurred and gestured around the room, stumbling a bit as he turned. "Take any room but mine."
Harry turned his focus from the room to its owner. He vaguely recognized Sirius from childhood memories, recalling the man being close with his father and something like an uncle to him. But Sirius seemed older than he would have expected; his hair was grey and scraggly, as though he couldn't be bothered to wash or cut it. He wore a beard and mustache that had a similar effect. His face bore every line of his age; though what really got to Harry was the man's eyes – he looked haunted. He had seen that same look in his father from time to time.
"Sirius?" Harry approached the man. He hadn't necessarily been expecting a warm welcome, but he had expected at least an acknowledgement of his existence. "I'm not sure if you remember me..." he trailed off, not quite sure what to say.
Sirius looked at him, recognition in his eyes quickly replaced by apathy. "Of course: James' boy. Congrats on being alive, kid." He gave Harry an awkward arm slap and grabbed a magazine, some long ago discontinued publication called The Quibbler.
"Come on." Ginny tugged at Harry's arm, urging him to follow her up the stairs.
A few paintings called out as they passed, apparently surprised to see Sirius had guests at his house. The second floor didn't appear to have any bedrooms – just a library (Harry wondered what one man could possibly need so many books for), an office with an antiquated '90s-era computer that was covered in clutter, and a multi-purpose room filled with boxes and antiques.
The third floor hallway seemed impossibly long. Harry counted six doors on each side, and he started cracking each open, pleasantly surprised to find the first room on the left was a guest room that was not in complete disarray. It consisted of a bed, night stand, and dresser. While there were no boxes or magazines laying about, the walls were covered in tapestries, and a solid layer of dust covered most of the surfaces.
Ginny shook her head at the state of the room. "I'll stay here. I want to be able to hear if anyone comes up the stairs. Hopefully the room next door is habitable."
The next room ended up being a bathroom, which was functional even though it looked like it hadn't been used in a while. Ginny scrunched her nose and whipped out her wand, completing a series of cleaning charms until the space was usable.
Eventually, they identified a room that Ginny deemed acceptable for security purposes. Harry realized that, other than a few pieces of oversized clothes Luna had lent him, he didn't exactly have anything to unpack. He felt somewhat useless; he needed Ginny to Scourgify a few of the surfaces for him because he couldn't risk using his own wand, since all registered wands in the WEA could be easily traced and monitored.
"So, what now?" Harry asked Ginny, standing at the threshold of her room, hands in his pockets.
"We wait."
Harry looked incredulous. "Really? That's it?"
She shrugged. "Yes – the whole point of a safe house is it's a place you'll be safe." She placed an unnecessary level of emphasis on the word, apparently unclear if he would understand. "What did you think we would be doing?"
"Oh, I dunno. Solving my murder?"
"Yes. Let's go interview subjects and take a look at the evidence. Good thinking, Harry," she deadpanned.
Harry rolled his eyes and looked at the tapestries adorning the walls. "This place is a bit – odd."
Ginny looked thoughtful. "Yes, I had a great aunt who was quite the hoarder. If I had to guess, it looks like he's tried to cram everything the Blacks have ever owned into this place."
"I was expecting him to be a bit more…"
"More?" Ginny suggested, with a knowing smile.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I know he and my dad had a big falling out, but I just remember him being so – fun! He was the one who took me flying and to ice cream shops in non-magical London, back when we had to hide from Voldemort."
"The Event changed us all in the end," Ginny reflected. She eyed Harry, who appeared to be lost in old memories.
Harry shook himself from his reverie. "We should see about dinner, yeah? I have a feeling we'll be on our own."
The pair was surprised to discover the kitchen was unlike any other room in the house. While the appliances and cabinetry seemed native to whatever decade the house itself had been built, each surface was impeccably clean. In fact, a bowl of freshly chopped fruit sat on the edge of one countertop, and it appeared some sort of meat was marinating on another. Ginny and Harry looked at one another, confused, before jumping at the sound of a high-pitched voice.
"Master has guests! Oh joy! Can Dobby get guests anything?" The small creature, his eyes big and expectant, looked at the gawking pair.
"You're a house elf!" Ginny remarked dumbly, a rather comical expression marking her face. "Mum always wanted a house elf when we were younger – dead expensive though."
"Hi Dobby." Harry smiled at the creature who seemed to beam at being addressed. "I'm Harry, and this is Ginny. We're staying here with Sirius for a while."
It was quite amazing to see a house elf; most of them vanished after the Event, presumably to various forests and hidden dimensions with the rest of Britain's magical creatures. Very few magical families had house elves any more, and there were substantial regulations ensuring their rights. Magical creatures remained a point of contention between the different political factions in the WEA, and Harry once again felt a pang of nostalgia as he wondered what was happening back in Parliament without him.
"Dobby is so pleased to meet you! You need anything, just call Dobby. Master doesn't like me in his rooms, except the kitchen." Dobby shivered, as though horrified by this fact. "But Dobby can clean your rooms! Yes – Dobby will do that." And before they could object, he vanished with a snap of his fingers.
"I've never seen a house elf!" Ginny turned to Harry.
Harry scratched at his head. "I've seen a few over the years. Some of the older families still have them; they still think it's a sign of superiority."
Ginny shrugged. "I'm going to call Robards; I'll catch up with you in a bit." She smiled as he left her alone in the kitchen.
Harry wandered back into the living room, noticing Sirius focused on something in a magazine, holding it just an inch from his face. Harry cleared his throat to make his presence known. "Er, thank you for letting us stay here."
Sirius pulled his face out of the magazine and blinked at Harry. "Gotta debt to repay," he grunted.
"Still, we appreciate it." Harry looked closely at the man, taking a nearby seat. "I remember you from when I was younger."
"Ah. yes," Sirius drawled, his face buried in the magazine again. "The good ol' days." He said this last part mockingly, as if he disagreed with the epithet.
Harry frowned. "Sure," he tentatively agreed. Unable to leave well enough alone, he continued, "I'm sorry you and my dad lost touch."
That finally elicited a response. Sirius paused his reading, closed the magazine, and turned to Harry, his haunted eyes staring directly into Harry's green ones. "You have your mother's eyes," Sirius remarked at first, almost by accident, before shaking himself and addressing Harry's comment. "Is that what James told you? That we 'lost touch'?" He appeared amused.
Harry considered this for a moment. "He never really told me anything; I just assumed you left the country or something."
Sirius laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, or something," he muttered under his breath before returning to his magazine.
"Sirius!"
Harry startled as Ginny entered the room.
"Can we use the telly?" she asked.
Sirius grunted and gestured towards the old television — agreement enough for the witch, who immediately jogged towards it, placing the old robes on a nearby chair and turning its various knobs in an attempt to find a channel.
"What's going on, Gin?" Harry asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.
She was now moving the antennas, gently toggling them back and forth in hopes of getting decent reception. "Robards indicated that he and Fox are investigating who paid the French Fundamentalist to try and kill you – but they have nothing concrete yet. That's not too surprising, given how notoriously opaque French banks are," Ginny explained. "But he also mentioned Parliament is in a bit of a state: wizards are blaming non-magicals for your death. The Isolationist and Separatist factions are capitalizing on it, and they're working together to appoint Elijah Parkinson to your seat."
"Seriously?" Harry looked appalled. He turned away from her to watch the television, which Ginny had finally gotten to work; a reasonably clear black and white image filled the screen.
The TV news anchor, Malcolm Flint, said something similar to Ginny's comments regarding Separatists trying to take over Harry's seat. He leaned forward and listened intently.
"There are many in the magical community who are scared. Harry Potter, a member of the progressive faction, was known for being an idealist, but many are wondering if it's not time for a more pragmatic leader. Elijah Parkinson, who recently reached out to the English Parliament Delegation to be considered for Potter's empty seat, has taken to the streets, assuring the general populace he will maintain the spirit of Harry Potter and avenge his death.
Flint paused and narrowed his eyes at something that seemed to have suddenly appeared on his parchment. "It seems Mr. Parkinson has a rival; I have just received word that Daphne Greengrass, who many know as the late Harry Potter's fiancée and the daughter of Magitech's Anton Greengrass, has indicated she plans to fight for her fiancée's seat. In a statement to the press – this is a direct quote – 'Harry had the singular ability to bring people together. He had hope that through cooperation, we could make the world a better place. I plan to honor that legacy, and speak out on behalf of all of the people'.
"Our sources indicate the English Parliament Delegation leaders will be meeting tomorrow, so we will not have to wait long for an answer. If Parkinson is selected, the Separatist and Isolationist factions will overtake the Progressive and Moderate factions within the wizarding section of Parliament.
"Some members of the Isolationist faction have begun questioning the WEA's current approach to addressing the birth rate issue. They have pointed out that, in the last few weeks, the birth rate has dipped to 0. They are seeking to establish separate wizarding and non-wizarding facilities and teams to address the matter, believing that working together has obscured the data. While not a scientist myself, I have to say, this does make a lot of sense."
"Turn it off," Harry directed, staring straight at the TV. "I have to go back."
Sirius laughed at this – a deep belly laugh. "You're joking?"
"They've completely used my death to push an agenda they know would horrify me! Parkinson is looking to avenge my death? What does that even mean?" Harry ranted, rubbing at his eyes and pacing the living room, avoiding piles of old newspapers and boxes. "What if the Separatists actually succeed in getting Parkinson appointed? If the Separatists and Isolationists obtain a majority, they could effectively legislate a division of the magical and non-magical. This could be the end of the WEA!"
"Harry." Ginny looked at him sympathetically. "Someone tried to kill you – twice. They nearly succeeded the second time. I know it's hard, but you have to stay here."
"No, Ginny." Harry shook his head. "My life is not worth – that." He pointed at the TV.
Ginny's tone grew serious. "Flint's a good ol' boy – I'm sure he's getting paid to push Parkinson's agenda. But you heard what he said: Daphne's planning to fight for your seat. And everyone knows she was the brains behind you, so I can't imagine the English Parliament Delegation will pick anyone but her. And you trust Daphne, right?"
Harry took a calming breath. "Of course."
"Very good." She rubbed his arm and gave him a soft smile. "The best thing we can do is let this play out; I know it's hard, but hopefully something is happening back home that will help Robards and Fox figure out who's got it out for you."
"I don't like feeling useless," Harry mumbled.
"You two are very intense," Sirius commented with a sort of whimsical smile, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. "I think I like you guys."
"Thank you?" Harry responded, a light laugh leaving his throat as he saw a glimpse of the man who haunted the back of his memories.
Dobby popped into the living room, announcing dinner and causing Ginny and Harry to jump at his sudden appearance. Sirius chuckled at them again, and this time Harry noticed his eyes seemed a bit less dark.
Dobby led them into a formal dining room Harry didn't recall from their earlier tour of the house; though, given the magic evident, perhaps it had merely been hidden. The room was well cared for and consisted of a cherry wood table with seating for ten and a crystal chandelier hanging above it. Against the walls were tasteful paintings, depicting various scenes from myth.
Harry looked down at his too baggy clothes and felt a moment of self-consciousness before remembering the dilapidated state of their host.
"Dobby's very happy to have guests," Sirius told them, sitting down and immediately filling his plate from the small feast laid out in front of him.
Harry sat across from him, making a point to thank Dobby, who looked ready to break down in tears of happiness at the compliment.
"So, Sirius," Ginny started, "can you tell us how you have a house elf?"
"Hmm," Sirius started, an amused glint in his eye, "he was actually a Malfoy elf. Showed up here after the Event; guess he was looking for them. Anyways, he never left. Dobby's a bit odd – even for an elf."
"And all the – stuff?" Harry asked.
"I'm the last Black." He shrugged but gave no further explanation.
The three ate dinner in more or less companionable silence until, surprisingly, Sirius broke it, giving Harry a very intense look. "You know, you're nothing like your father."
"Thank you?" Harry answered.
"You and James don't get along?" Sirius asked.
Harry shrugged. "We get along... fine. But he hasn't really been much more than a shrewd political advisor to me for a long time."
Sirius looked a bit perplexed but nodded, seeming to reevaluate Harry. "You just look so much like him."
A smile pulled at Harry's lips, and he felt as though he and Sirius had reached a sort of truce - or maybe just a new beginning.
Harry considered that perhaps being stuck in Cambridge wouldn't be so terrible.
A/N: Thanks as always to my amazing alpha/beta team - ElizColl, Art3misia and Astrangefan