Chapter 3: Politics

Nanoha choked. "Abducted?" she gasped.

Fate stared. "Ruffians?"

Harry shrugged. "That's Aunt Petunia, all right." Nanoha gawked at Harry. "What?" he asked, feeling a bit defensive. "That's actually almost polite, for her."

Lindy coughed lightly. "If we can get past the bruised egos for a moment?" she asked.

"Sorry, Mom," Fate sulked. "This is going to cause problems, isn't it?"

"Probably," Lindy said grimly.

"You could send me back," Harry offered.

Lindy fixed Harry with a glare. "Harry Potter, whatever problems this causes for us will be handled by us, not you. Everyone on this ship took an oath to stand between civilians and danger whenever necessary. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah, but if it's going to get you all in trouble."

"Harry, even if you went back, it wouldn't fix anything. It would just make everyone more miserable," Lindy said more gently. "But you really want to help, don't you?"

Harry nodded vigorously. "Yes ma'am. I can't just sit back and do nothing."

Lindy studied Harry's face. The last time she heard such selflessness had been the Presea Testarossa Incident. Her eyes drifted to Nanoha, who was scowling at the Prophet. It would have been cute if Lindy didn't know it promised a great deal of...friendship...towards this 'Rita Skeeter.' She glanced back at Harry. "I will contact Ambassador Lacrosse."

Lacrosse rubbed his forehead and glared at the children on the other side of his desk. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you two are in? Not you, Harry."

Fate and Nanoha grinned sheepishly. "We couldn't let Harry stay there," Nanoha objected.

"No, but you should have gone with Enforcer Harlaown's plan. Not Part-Timer Harlaown's."

Fate blinked but showed no expression. "Chrono's plan didn't punish the Dursleys enough."

"So you turned a civilian rescue into a military extraction out of spite?" Lacrosse hissed.

Fate's mask began to crack. "Yes sir," she said evenly.

Lacrosse kept up his glare. He had kids of his own. Fate's lip was beginning to twitch again. Just a few more seconds.

Fate hung her head. "I screwed up my priorities, didn't I?"

"Damn right you did," Lacrosse agreed coldly. "I've sent word to the main office requesting a formal reprimand. You can expect your pay to be docked, too."

Fate winced. There went that new smart phone

Lacrosse sighed heavily. "What we have here is a classic media frenzy. By this afternoon two or three other papers will have picked up the story and it'll be on the mainland. By tomorrow it will be global. We can ride it out or get out in front of it."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well riding it out means we go dark. We talk with Dumbledore and maybe Minister Fudge to make sure the word goes through the Ministry that you're safe and not being held against your will. The story will go away on its own probably by the time you head back to Hogwarts, at which point it will spark up again. By then we'll be able to control it, though."

"And getting in front of it?" Harry asked.

"We hold a press conference today. We answer questions today. We get our side of the story out today. This Skeeter woman gets drowned out by actual facts."

"That sounds like the better option."

"The problem is that you'd need to be a part of that, Harry. It means talking to the press, it means talking a bit about the Dursleys. No one should ask that of you."

Harry looked at Nanoha and Fate for a moment. "Would it mean less trouble for Nanoha and Fate?"

Lacrosse blinked. "Yes, possibly. But,"

"Then let's do it," Harry said firmly. And he would not be dissuaded.

In the end, a press conference in the Wizarding World proved to be a very different thing than it was in the muggle. First, only three reporters were brought in, each from a newspaper, and only one photographer. Second, the reporters attended the actual meeting rather than reporting on it after the fact. They were also required to only ask questions at the end.

Lacrosse shared his conference room with four people. Albus Dumbledore, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, ICW Representative of Magical Japan Tsukimura Mai, and Lindy Harlaown.

Fudge was all bluster. "Harry Potter must be returned to his family at once," he demanded.

"Minister, I can assure you that Harry will never be returned to the Dursleys," Lindy said coldly.

Fudge's face went red and he opened his mouth to bellow, but Lacrosse was faster. "Please! Admiral, Minister, it is obvious you both want what is best for the boy. Let's examine the facts as they happened."

"Very well," Dumbledore said. He glanced at Fudge, who looked torn between bellowing anyway and waiting to see if they might say anything important. "I believe that means I get to go first. I placed Harry Potter with his maternal aunt, Petunia Dursley nee Evans, when he was a little over a year old. No one with a legal claim to guardianship ever came forward since. Given the boy's prominence in the fall of Voldemort," here he took a breath while Fudge, Tsukimura, and the reporters recovered, "I also added a layer of wards and later arranged for loose surveillance."

"Surveillance?" Fudge asked. "There are no wizards living in that part of Surrey."

"I recruited a squib. She was more adept at blending in than most witches."

Fudge blinked and processed that. Lindy leaned closer to redirect attention. "Did you hear anything about how Harry was treated over the past ten years?"

"Poorly," Dumbledore said simply. "The Dursleys were neglectful and harsh in the best of times."

"And in the worst of times?" Tsukimura asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "In the worst of times Harry would suffer mistreatment."

Lacrosse produced several folders and distributed them. "These document what was found in the Dursley home in regards to Harry Potter," he said calmly. "These details are not to be shared with the general public. Dumbledore, can you attest to their accuracy?"

A few moments passed while Dumbledore and the other assembled reviewed the material. The photographer got a few choice pictures of Fudge turning pale and Tsukimura just looking sick. "This is accurate," Dumbledore said at length.

"By the laws of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, this constitutes evidence of abuse sufficient to separate a child from his legal guardians," Lacrosse said.

"That does not give you the right to unilateral action," Fudge snapped. "Besides, those laws..."

"Harry Potter is a British citizen," Lacrosse pointed out. "He further made a direct call for help to an agent of the TSAB. You will find that request on the last page of the folder."

Fudge ripped his folder open again and scrabbled for the last page. "They were going to deny him his magical heritage?" he gaped.

Lindy closed her eyes. "From what he has told me," she said softly, "they had tried to 'stamp it out of him.'"

"That is also what Vernon Dursley said when Rubeus Hagrid delivered Harry's Hogwarts letter last year," Dumbledore added.

Fudge closed the folder, looking rattled.

"I think we can lay to rest the unsuitability of the Dursleys as parents," Lacrosse suggested. No one disagreed.

"What about their own child?" Fudge asked a moment later. "There was another boy at the scene."

Lindy smiled sadly. "They spoil him rotten," she said, "often at Harry's expense. He's also attending a boarding school which should hopefully break him of bad habits."

Lacrosse looked to Fudge. "Would the Ministry of Magic object to the muggle government taking legal action against the Dursleys for their crimes against Harry Potter?"

Fudge shook his head. "I will make arrangements to speak with the muggle Minister," he said heavily. "Then we can be well shut of this terrible affair."

"If I may," Tsukimura said, "there is the additional issue of unilateral action taken within the borders of a sovereign state. The TSAB overstepped its bounds."

Lacrosse nodded. "While Admiral Harlaown and her crew did act in the best interest of the child, the TSAB recognizes that this incident could have been better handled by informing the Ministry of Magic and offering assistance only. In hopes of continued friendship we offer reparations in the form of five hundred galleons and a formal apology, which I will personally deliver in a public venue of your choice."

Fudge blinked. "Yes, well, um, that's quite acceptable." He smiled, suddenly all friendly. "You have an excellent grasp of politics, Lacrosse. It will be a pleasure to work with you."

Lacrosse eyed Fudge briefly. The man was either used to being bribed or relieved that he could spin this as a triumph for his government over silly-but-polite foreigners.

"Excellent," Dumbledore clapped. "Then all we have to deal with is the placement of Mr. Potter."

"Which does not need to be observed by the press," Lindy said.

"Mm. True," Dumbledore agreed. "Lady and gentlemen," he addressed the reporters, "do you have any questions?" They burst into questions, screaming over each other. It was a wonder they had time to breathe.

Lacrosse sighed. For only three voices, they certainly sounded like a crowd of twenty. He pasted a grin on his face and picked a question at random.

Harry hugged his knees close to his chest. A few hours ago he was taken from the Dursleys. He was on a space ship. He'd been offered a home on another planet. He'd agreed to talk to the woman that wrote those horrible things about Nanoha and Fate.

And for all that, he'd only just finished lunch!

Now he was waiting. Waiting waiting waiting waiting. Waiting for Dumbledore and that reporter woman. This was going to be huge.

The door chimed and he looked up expectantly. The door didn't open and after a few seconds it chimed again. "Uh, come in?" Harry tried.

Lindy opened the door and peeked her head in. "Ready?"

Harry hopped off the bed. "Yeah," he said.

This meeting was on the Arthra in the captain's cabin, surrounded by her little trees and thing that goes doink. Lindy had redecorated slightly with a table and chairs and a very British tea service. The table was long and slightly rounded, with Dumbledore and a woman that had to be Skeeter (who else would have parchment and quill floating next to her like that?) already seated.

Dumbledore smiled as Harry entered. He didn't have reason not to trust Lacrosse or Nanoha or the Harlaowns, but it was always a comfort to see something for himself. There Harry was, nervous but not scared, healthy and unbruised, wearing rags from someone far larger than him. Exactly as the TSAB reports implied. Skeeter's quill flew over her parchment, no doubt recording a particularly spectacular description of the boy's pathetic attire.

When Harry sat down, Dumbledore found himself silently complimenting their host. Harry was seated between Lindy and Fate Harlaown, with Lacrosse seated between Lindy and himself. The distances between them were more subtle, but it was no coincidence that Harry was as far from Skeeter as possible. Harry's benefactors had made a simple delineation between those Harry trusted, namely themselves, and those he did not, which was Skeeter and himself.

Well, his own inclusion in the latter group would hopefully change shortly. "Harry," he said warmly. "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded without hesitation. "I'm fine," he said by complete reflex. "I mean, this has all been really weird, but Admiral Lindy told me I'd never have to go back to the Dursleys."

Dumbledore suppressed a wince that the boy's biggest comfort factor was such a promise. "Could you tell me what happened yesterday and today?" he asked.

Harry glanced at Lindy and went over everything, starting with the Dursleys' dinner with the Masons and the weird house elf. He'd been told not to give Dobby's name when Skeeter was in the room, but all the reporter asked was what family the elf belonged to, which Harry didn't know anyway. When he got to the cat flap which food was passed through, Skeeter actually squealed. Harry stumbled over the rest of the story, all the while realizing that his most shameful secrets were about to become public. Yeah, he'd volunteered for it, but he hated the attention.

Dumbledore gave Harry a critical look as the story finished and turned to Skeeter. "I don't think we need to trouble Mr. Potter's time any more," he said firmly. No child should need to life through such things, much less to recount them so soon. And to do so in front of a reporter that made no secret of her glee in sensationalizing the tragedy...Dumbledore silently marveled at the boy's resolve.

Skeeter obviously didn't share his feelings. "Come now, Dumbledore," she purred, "we haven't even heard a thing about young Harry's plan for his future, or his relatives, or whoever his guardian may end up being."

"I'm just looking forward to another year at Hogwarts," Harry said.

"Oh?" Skeeter pounced. She immediately ignored the boy in favor of Lindy. "You will be allowing Harry to return to Hogwarts after all?"

"Of course," Lindy said stiffly. "Harry has every right to decide that much for himself."

"Only that much?"

Lindy frowned. "Harry's opinions and choices will be respected as much as possible, but he is a child. It would be unconscionable to ask him to make decisions most adults would find daunting. We look forward to working with the Ministry and Hogwarts to determine the best course of action."

"Which will be a closed proceeding," Dumbledore added firmly. "And one that we had best begin as quickly as possible."

Skeeter refused to take the hint. Instead she zeroed in on Fate. "And you, young miss? Will you be starting at Hogwarts soon?"

"I am in Harry's year," Fate said calmly. "Ravenclaw."

"Really? And the other young girl, Takamashi?"

"Takamachi," Fate corrected. "Also our year, also Ravenclaw."

"Inter-house unity between the eagles and lions," Skeeter gushed. "Touching."

It took a few more pointless questions better suited to Witch Weekly than the Daily Prophet before Skeeter was escorted from the conference room and teleported to the surface. Lindy shook her head after the reporter left. "That was quite an unpleasant woman," she said.

"I assume that whatever article she writes will gloss over her first article and talk about the unusual ties between second year Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students," Dumbledore said tiredly.

"Is it really that odd to have friends in other Houses?" Harry asked.

"Not at all," Dumbledore said. "But it serves her purpose to pretend that it is."

Harry seemed to accept that simple answer. "So, um, what happens now?" he asked meekly.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and visibly relaxed. "Now, we take things as slowly as you need them to go, Harry."

Harry sat quietly for a long moment, his face scrunched in concentration. There had been a lot of words he'd had to guess the meaning of in the past few minutes. He had to struggle to piece together what he was sure of, what he knew he didn't know, and what was really just a guess. "Who all is part of...this thing now?" he asked at length.

"The Ministry of Magic commissioned Hogwarts to handle situations like this," Dumbledore said. The wizarding community was short on child specialists and politicians had no respect for the amount of work that went into teaching. "I prefer to handle them personally, with the help of the student's Head of House. If you'd rather another arrangement..."

"No," Harry said quickly. "That will work just fine." Professor McGonagall was strict, but she was kind in a way he'd rarely seen. She wouldn't go all pitying on him like he was afraid everyone else would.

Dumbledore nodded. "Then just the two of us, as well as your...temporary guardians?" He directed the question at Lindy.

Lindy nodded. "Harry won't be the first child I've fostered out of an abusive home."

"That was me," Fate said softly.

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. The simple fact of Fate's inferred past was surprising enough, but that the quiet girl was comfortable enough to admit it so readily was very surprising. It suggested a peace of mind few abuse victims reached. Or a complete sociopath incapable of assigning emotion to the fact of her own history, but Fate clearly did not suffer such a debility. It occurred to him that he should probably say something wise-sounding. "You raised a wonderful daughter," he said. "You must be proud."

"I am," Lindy agreed.

The uncomfortable moment passed and Harry had time to find another question. "Then...you would have been the one to leave me with the Dursleys in the first place, sir?"

"Were we in term, I would award points for making that connection so quickly," Dumbledore said with an unhappy laugh. "Yes, my boy, that unhappy duty was mine."

"Why them, sir?" Harry was too respectful to sound resentful or angry or really much of anything.

"Two reasons, Harry. First, they had the legal right. Unless they refused you or we had cause to suspect abuse, you belonged with them."

"But they would have gladly given me up," Harry protested. A weak protest, lacking passion. He was probably too overwhelmed to feel anger.

Dumbledore wasn't sure if answers would help him make sense of his life or just add to the confusion, but when asked direct questions, he found it best to answer. "Quite possibly, but the second reason...a few months ago, Harry, when you faced Voldemort, you channeled a powerful magic. Do you remember?"

Harry nodded. "I really didn't know what I was doing."

"No, such old magic is nearly forgotten. It is powerful, driven by intent and blood and love, but limited in its own way by all three."

"I don't understand, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "I had not wanted to tell you until you were older, Harry," he hedged. "Your mother created the strongest wards I have ever seen. They keep you safe from Voldemort and any who act in his name or towards his agenda. Over your life I have seen them deflect or block outright many of his followers. But for them to remain strong, you must be cared for by a guardian that carries your mother's blood. Your Aunt Petunia."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Aunt Petunia was keeping me safe?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "She knew of the wards, which is why the Dursleys never threw you from their home. Horrible as they were, they could not face the responsibility for your death."

Harry couldn't put that together with the ugly, monstrous Dursleys that lived in his memories. The child's mind remembered threats and near misses by thrown objects as moments of pure terror, far worse than the largely conceptual dangers of trolls and traps and dark wizards. It didn't make sense that they were keeping him safe from something worse...yet at the same time, he'd never really considered running away. So...there was worse stuff out there?

The introspection was too much for him and he shook his head to clear it. "But, if I'm not going back to the Dursleys," he hedged.

"The wards will last another year," Dumbledore said. "Then, when you are no longer a ward of your mother's family by any magical standard, they will fail."

Harry gulped. "So anyone I live with will be in danger of Voldemort," he whispered.

Dumbledore smiled grimly. "That is not a concern you should worry about," he said firmly. "You don't have the age, skill, or knowledge to defend yourself. Professor McGonagall, myself, and Admiral Harlaown are more than capable of providing for your defense, no matter where you end up."

"Much more than capable," Lindy agreed. "But home defense is the easy part."

Dumbledore nodded. "The blood wards were effective to some degree even if Harry wasn't in the house," he agreed. "Subtle and elegant. Very Lily."

Harry perked up at this. "My mum was elegant?" he asked.

"James certainly thought so," Dumbledore said, although in truth he was far cruder with his choice of appreciations. Harry was only twelve and didn't need to hear about his parents' teenaged lust. "But I was referring specifically to her charm work. Your mother scored high marks on her NEWTs with silent magic that barely left a trace. Your father, on the other hand, gained equally high marks with the loudest and flashiest spells I have ever seen from a student." Again, not the whole truth. No one who saw Lily row against James would have claimed the redhead didn't have some frankly terrifying hexes in her repertoire, and no one who had been on the receiving end of a prank would have denied James's ability to be quiet when it suited him. But Harry hardly needed all the details of his parents' life dropped on his head all at once.

Besides, there were other issues at hand. "In any case," Dumbledore said, "we have again drifted. Harry, you are not to worry about Voldemort when choosing a guardian, am I clear?"

"Yes sir," Harry said automatically.

"Good," Dumbledore approved. He turned to Lindy. "I believe we are done for the day, then."

"I have one concern," Lindy said. "Dobby's warning."

Dumbledore nodded, face slowly turning grin. "Ah, yes. Hopefully his warning is nothing more than the delusion of an addled mind." From Harry's description, it was clear that Dobby was a very unwell elf. "If not, I am confident that my staff can handle the danger."

"That confidence didn't help identify Quirrell last year," Lindy said, not unkindly. "Are you sure the new professor is not a danger?"

"I have not yet chosen a professor," Dumbledore admitted, "although I was planning to today. It will be a remarkably easy decision, as only one man applied to the post."

Lindy frowned at the man's tone. "Doesn't sound promising. Is he any good?"

"He has impeccable credentials but his proposed curriculum is...weak."

Lindy hummed speculatively at that. "Fate, why don't you take Harry and meet up with Nanoha?" she suggested.

Fate heard the veiled order and nodded to Harry. "Okay mom," she said brightly. "Come on Harry." The children left the adults alone.

"What was that about?" Harry asked once they were out of the room.

"Mom's scheming," Fate said. "Come on, there's a great place we never showed you on the tour." She grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him down a corridor.

Harry hurried to keep up. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"The sparring room," Fate answered happily.