AN: This is an AU story... please be aware... i write as a blue frog writes while riding the bike of tomorrow...
Voldemort strode up the cliff with purpose, his eyes glaring red energy at the death eaters lining two rows. Voldemort walked like a king. Malfoy strode beside him, a bit further back, along with Bellatrix Lestrange. Peter Pettigrew followed the three, leading the back, his silver hand gleaming in the harsh sunlight of the cliff-scene.
"Is the plan ready?" Voldemort said, his voice a steady, rising hiss of angriness.
"My Lord, the plan is indeed completing to perfection," Malfoy said, "However the fulcrum has moved. It seems Harry Potter still hasn't regained his memory."
"I would think not," barked Bellatrix, "He's a resilient boy. Torture will break him, a bout of 'crucio curses' will destroy anybody's resistance."
"This matter must be handled delicately," Voldemort said, "Send him visions, Bellatrix. Use the artifact's power."
They neared a cave. Voldemort strode through the darkness. Torchlights lit up with fierce, radiant energy. A passageway into a dark cove of secrets awaited them. Peter's hand shone silvery light accompanying the dim torchlights.
Voldemort seemed to absorb all the energy and light in the cavern as he swept down the passageway. Entering an archway with an old inscription written in a foreign, ancient language, Voldemort removed his wand from the folds of his robe and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light, as rich in green as the canopy of the rainforest, as natural as life itself, death sped on the heels of the green light, hitting an animal that scurried across the magnificently expansious cavern.
The squirrel flung against a small pillar raised to reveal a dias with a solid thuck that echoed throughout the cavern. "We are here," Voldemort announced, "Bellatrix, prepare the vision in your mind. This place of power will allow telepathy to be done very easily here. I will meditate on disabling Dumbledore. Malfoy, you lead the death eaters into the Ministry. Slaughter anyone who resists. Take control!"
Voldemort cackled in the cavern, a hissing laughter that held endless madness.
***
The ministry rose against a lake. It was newly renovated. Harry Potter strode through these halls, his school cloak brushing against the floor as he walked toward the Minister's office. He had a wand he bought in Knockturn Alley in his pocket that he hadn't shown to the guards. He wanted to defend himself if necessary at all times.
"We're here, sir," said a Ministry employee named Alice. She had bright blonde hair and a curvy figure. Harry smiled brightly at her. "We hope to see you again."
"Oh I'm sure I shall visit," Harry murmurred to her. He stopped, took out a bright golden necklace from within his pocket. "I believe this belongs to you," he said. "You must have dropped it."
Alice's eyes widened as she caught the necklace in her eyesight, marvelling at the jewlerry. Harry took the two ends of the necklace within both hands, slowly moved behind her and tied it upon her neck. He whispered in her ear, "I want to see you tonight at the Leaky Cauldron, at eight o' clock."
She nodded hastily, turned, left. Harry admired her retreat.
Harry had been feeling strange lately. Dreams of imaginative schemes plagued him, escapades into unkown lands. He saw a man he thought of as a guardian, a father figure, and in his dream he called the man, Mr. White.
He wondered, as he walked down the passageay to the oak door marked: Minister Of Magic: Cornelius Fudge, who this mysterious figure in his dreams was, the enigmatic Mr. White.
He had little to no knowledge of his own past, his own history, and in the deceptions contrived by figures hidden in the shadows, he knew something was very wrong with his life, but he could not quite put the finger on it.
He blamed it on nerves. "Voldemort's alive," he said out loud, as if testing those words of power. "Voldemort's alive," he repeated again, and then nodding strongly he opened the door and walked into the office of Minister Fudge.
Minister Fudge's office had two portraits on the wall and a window overlooking a very shiny and blue lake. The two portraits were both of very old men, whom Harry didn't particularly know, nor care, but those pictures moved, and spoke, and could thus advise. Harry noted the names underneath the portraits as his eyes swept the room. He took in the decor: the expensive white rug, the fresh cups of tea in china dishes worth its weight in gold, and the bear head that rested on top of the window pane. It formed an impression of Minister Fudge that crystallized into something more acute upon the examination of the man himself.
Minister Fudge had a bald head. A hat covered his baldness, but Harry's keen eyes noted the discomfort and the shame Minister Fudge felt about his baldness. He carried those emotions in the way he moved as he got out of his seat to shake Harry's hand. "It's good to see you here, Mr. Potter, I appreciate you coming on such short notice."
Minister Fudge pointed to a comfy looking chair that, although prestigious in appearance, was slightly lower than the Minister's own chair. The message was not lost on Harry Potter. He sat down politely, gaurding his feelings so as to not let an iota of emotion show on his pleasantly bland face.
He was here to listen, to absorb, to make informed decisions. If the Minister wanted to play a power game, Harry would pretend to play along... he had nothing better to do anyways. The summer's excruciatingly boring, Harry thought, at least with the Minister I have a chance to make a difference and do something useful.
"Now, I'm a bit worried, Harry," the Minister said when he settled down. He took a delicate sip of tea before continuing, "You refused auror protection. You are a highly valuable-erm, I mean, you gather a lot of attention, Harry."
Harry smiled, and nodded his head, "I guess so, Minister. I'm not a fool, I know every public appearance I make puts me in harms way."
"Then, why may I ask, did you-"
"The principle of the thing," Harry said, his eyes hardening slightly. Power games, Harry thought, are well and fine, but I play to win. Always. "The Boy Who Lived is a status symbol, and must not be associated with the Ministry."
Fudge's eyebrows rose in surprise, and a bit of indignation. "The Ministry is perfectly capable of protecting you."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. Dumbledore tells me there are spies in the Ministry, spies who report directly to Voldemort."
Fudge flinched at the name. Harry inwardly docked a point off his score, recognizing the mistake he had made. He didn't want to alienate the Minister. He wanted to use the Minister, befriend him. "But I don't know whether to fully believe him," Harry said, "He hides things, he manipulates information to suit his own agenda. But you know that better than anyone, I'm sure."
Minister Fudge quickly regained his calm and said, "I do know, Harry, I know that in this world the only person you can truly trust is yourself, is that right?"
Harry nodded, tensing inside. This was going somewhere. In the verbal exchange, Minister Fudge was not a simpleton. He didn't get to his position of prestige and power without a bit of skill.
"But I say, you can trust me, Harry. You can trust me, because I give you my word, and if you ask it, I shall give you assurance in the form of an unbreakable vow."
Harry was startled. He didn't know what to make of this. To pause for time, he pretended to absorb himself in pouring a pot of hot black tea into an empty china cup. He kept his eyes on the desk, on the parchments that were neatly organized, the ink pot and the quill, and most amusingly, a muggle paper stopper.
"Why? Why are you doing this?" Harry asked, recognizing the nature of the power game had changed. Is this Fudge's last resort, to gain my alliance? Harry thought. Is Fudge that desperate?
"Because I must," Fudge said, "If the Wizarding World is to continue to prosper I must know the truth. Who better to trust than you, the Boy Who Lived, who defeated the Dark Lord once before."
"You think I'll win again?" Harry asked, "So you believe the story?"
Fudge shrugged, seemingly casual, but retaining a sense of weighty importance to Harry. The man's doubtful. He doesn't know anything for sure besides the decline of his polls. He wants to use me for his own agenda. Just like Dumbledore. Harry took a sip of the tea, without milk. It tasted good, flavorful without being too bitter. The tea awakened his senses. He felt more alert.
"It doesn't matter what I think," Fudge said, "I've had my say. I want to offer you every possible aid I can think of because you'll need it, if the tale you and Dumbledore have spun is truthful."
"And how may I help you in return?" Harry asked. "I'll need many things from the Ministry. My aspirations reach high, higher than you might expect. What do you want?"
"You barter as if I am a shopkeeper and you're a valued customer," Fudge said with a laugh, "But I barter with my life on the line. I want the same as I give, an unbreakable vow from you."
Harry thought quietly for a long moment, staring out the window at the rippling lake. He nodded, finally, and said, "Alright, then."
To his knowledge Harry had never formed an unbreakable vow with anyone before. They talked about the wording in great length, before finally deciding on what the vow would consist of for each person. Then, Fudge tapped his wand on his desk and called out, "Alice, get in here, please, I'll need a favor from you."
The blonde from before who had given Harry the tour walked in, glanced at him in a barely concealed look of utmost interest and hunger and then turned to the Minister. "You wanted a favor, sir? This is highly unusual. May I ask what-"
"Sit down, sit down," Fudge gestured to the chair beside Harry. "Mr. Potter-Harry, I mean, is going to give me an unbreakable vow, and I will reciprocate. Do you understand what this means?"
"You'll need a witness," Alice said, "Someone to seal the deal, so to speak."
"That's correct," Fudge said, "Take out your wand Alice."
Fudge lifted his own wand, and Harry did the same. The tips didn't quite touch but came close. Alice did the same with her wand. A shower of sparks erupted from each of the three's wands. As if the magic around them sensed their intent, the sparks swirled into a tiny ball of icy blue flame.
"Is this normal?" Harry whispered.
Fudge shook his head, "I don't know. I've never done this before. The theory I've read says it takes a different form for different people. No two vows can be done in the same way. The magic is an everchanging, dynamic element... I just don't know."
"Say it then," Harry said, "Say your vow."
Fudge cleared his throat. He looked at Alice, and then gazed down to the icy ball of flame contained between their wands.
"I swear, on threat of my life, that I shall endevour to help Harry Potter in any way I can for the next year to defeat Lord V-Voldemort, and aid him in anything he asks for."
Harry spoke, his heart unsure, "I swear, on threat of my life, that I shall endevour to raise the Ministry's public image, and that of Minister Fudge in return for his help."
Alice spoke, "I witness the vow. So it be said, so it shall be done."
The icy blue flame died down to a very angry looking red spark. Then that too dissapeared in a plume of smoke that washed over the room and fled out the window into the empty sky.
Alice peered at Harry, "I never knew magic could be this-this exhilerating."
Her cheeks were red, her eyes bright as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Harry gave her a loopy half smile of his own. "I'm tired," he said, "And hungry."
"I'll order lunch," Minister Fudge said promptly. Then, he sat back in surprise. "That was unexpectated of myself," he said, "I felt as if an electric jolt ran up my spine... forced me to-"
"To help me," Harry said, nodding, "After lunch, I'll tell you my needs, and you can in turn tell me how to help the Ministry."
They had curry from a muggle restaurant, along with a shrimp dish and pasta. Harry took a slow, thoughtful sip of his wine, and said, "Minister, I will need my restrictions to use magic to be lifted."
Fudge nodded between mouthfuls of pasta. He took a long gulp of his drink - an alcoholic beverage of some kind - and said, "I think I can swing that by the Wizengamot. Special provincencies. However there are some people who will resist that motion, people who want to oust me and who have ties with death eaters."
"You know that for sure?" Harry said, an eyebrow tic indicating his surprise. "I see..."
"No, not for sure," Fudge said bitterly. He took an angry bite of shrimp. "I will find proof somewhere, however. I cannot legally use veretieserum as it infringes on the rights of wizards and witches, but I have a cunning plan."
"How Slytherin of you," Harry commented, "I checked the records. Imagine to my surprise to find Cornelius Fudge a member of the house of snakes so I dug deeper... Your slytherin background prompted me to meet you, nothing else."
"You're a-"
"Ravenclaw... I think, no wait, Gryffindor..." Harry chuckled, "Houses don't mean anything to me. I, as the boy who lived, represent the entirety of the wizarding population's focus against Lord Voldemort, along with Albus Dumbledore. They hale for a savior and look to me to do the miracle, the magic deed. I floundered, confused and angry for some time. I was frustrated at my inability to accomplish the simplest tasks, and the death of my godfather precipated actions to take measure of myself, and my aspirations..."
Harry said, "But all this is just inner thought processes... I cannot say for sure if I am correct, it is simply how my mind works right now."
"It did not work that way before?"
"No, it didn't..." Harry got up, shook Fudge's hand and eventually returned to the Alley, to the Leaky Cauldron, for dinner with Fudge's secretary, Alice, who looked very pretty indeed in a skimpy black dress.