6. Deal and no deal

„Holiday in Britain? In October?", asked his co-worker incredulously, when he declared his wish to go on a one week vacation. "I would have understood Hawaii or even Mexico but this… Man, this is just plainly stupid. The rain there is continuous, and is charm-resistant, I think it has a little bit of magic of it's own. And when it is not raining, it's blowing. You will be running back here in no time, believe me."

"I will survive", Martin laughed and took a swig of his whisky. "I need some fresh Knarl quills and they are easiest to find at that time of year. And while I am there, I wish to see how are people doing after the war. Remember our old project of reinforcing the international cooperation of our respectable Auror departments? I believe that now is a good time to bring it up again, seeing as we actually worked together during their war."

"You guess they will want to talk with us? They believe themselves self-sufficient."

"Not so much now, don't you think so? They've got cut down to size lately. However you look at it, they would have lost without us. So yes, I believe we have some ground to start now. And better do it sooner than later, either they might forget the favor we did to them. President Goodwich agrees."

"You've got her blessing to begin negotiations?"

"Yes, in fact I do."

"So you are going on a business trip, not on vacation! Will you get reimbursement for that?"

"No, it's mainly vacation. We can't afford anything official, not now when we are yet to taste the waters with them. I will be only speaking to some old acquaintances of mine, nothing more."

"Well, have luck with that. I've heard they could be quite the prickly bastards especially if stroked the wrong way."

Martin laughed. "I will bear that in mind."

He thought about one especially prickly bastard, the one who was the main reason for his out-of-season journey to Britain. The task that was given him might sound difficult but in fact it depended on the existence of people who could give you an answer. And Martin, luckily, knew exactly such person. He was positive he will get his answers in a week. And then nothing will stop him from satisfying his curiosity.

In fact it was drizzling when he came out the Ministry of Magic building, being transported there by the International Floo Network. Flooing through the Atlantic Sea was unpleasant at the least, but it was surely better that using the Portkey. While the first had you seriously disoriented and covered in soot, the second left you vomiting what was left from your breakfast, suffering from terrible potion-resistant migraine and in case of some susceptible persons needing medical attention due to seizures. Of course you could try Apparating if you were daring enough, but the statistics said that two thirds of those Apparitions ended in the middle of the ocean due to untimely magical exhaustion. So as far as it went Flooing was the safest option, even if costs of using the long-distance connection rivaled the prices of Muggle flights.

Not minding the water that was seemingly pouring at him from all the directions and soaking through his Muggle-style coat, he opted for a leisurely walk through the center of the town to its less inhabited areas where he knew the entrance to the Diagon Alley was.

People here did not look like there was a terrifying wizarding war that ended no more than six months ago. Probably mostly because of MoM Secrecy staff they lived their everyday lives, oblivious to tragedy that struck their country. It made him feel at ease, so he spent some time walking through the streets, making a mental list of historical monuments he had to visit. He was here before but never had that much time to himself so now he had it he planned to use it up. He had no real official mission, the proposition to talk with Ministry Aurors came from him. Three appointments he made will take up little of his time.

Two hours later he entered the dim interior of the Leaky Cauldron. It was typically British, up to inhabitants taking long swigs of ale or stout and talking animatedly round the wooden tables. Some of them were sitting at the bar, chatting up the barmen. The guests were men only, other British feature. He wasted no time in staying there, going straight to the backyard where he tapped correct password with his wand on a brick wall. He entered the Diagon Alley.

He never liked it that much. It was too cramped for his taste, filled with all kinds of irritating noises, all kinds of overlapping smells, people rushing up and down and by some miracle not stomping on each other robes. He had no idea how was it possible to actually live here but he supposed that some serious space-enlarging magic was used. Luckily for US wizards, the territory of their country was so huge that it allowed existence of not one but many magical villages so they had no need to squeeze themselves in between Muggles. Well, there was of course the NY wizarding community, but those people were strange anyway.

He took down his coat and gave it a shake. Immediately it transformed into a cape which he put on without hesitation because a drizzle seemed to penetrate even here. He moved his steps up the winding street and into one of little backstreets. The shops here were older and customers scarce. He liked that, he wished no accidental audience.

He walked the cobblestone pavement up to the shop in farthest corner. The sole wand in the exhibition window was the only indication as to what was sold inside. But that wizard, the true Master of the wandlore, needed no advertisement. He entered without hesitation and immediately was transported back to the early seventies, when he came here for his first adult wand. The smell of wood, mystery and dust, all mixed together was making feel him like a teenager again and the sight of wand boxes piled up as high as the ceiling were making his finger itch. A pale serious-looking boy stared at him when he entered.

"Good afternoon. Do you wish to buy a wand, sir?", asked the boy pointedly.

Martin frowned worried that the Master himself might be absent, but immediately he has heard the soft but undoubtedly irritated voice coming from the back. He would have recognized it anywhere and he sighed in relief.

"What did I tell you about greeting our customers, boy? It is impolite to ask such direct questions, you have to let them speak first!" The wizened wizard came out and joined the young man behind the counter, all the time shaking his head. "That is a price I pay for having an apprentice. Lack of peace, I say. Nicolas, please go continue with the inventory. I have some business to set with that gentleman here.

The pale cheeks of the boy took on crimson hue, when he scurried off to the back of the shop. The Master appraised the Auror for a long moment.

"Martin Scoresee! Beech, twelve inches, unyielding, dragon heart core. Ah, what brings you here after so many years, Mr. Scoresee? Has your wand caused you any problems?"

"None at all, Master. It serves me well. I am here on behalf of somebody who couldn't come by himself. Do you remember Severus Snape?"

Ollivander frowned. "I never forget any of my clients, Mr. Scoresee. He was a quiet, troubled young man when he came to me for his wand. A blackthorn wand have chosen him and then I knew he was entering a dark path. I've heard he was sentenced not long ago. What do you wish to know?"

"There is a mystery surrounding the last hours before he was caught and it is connected to the Voldemort's wand", Martin explained. At Ollivander's curious look, the Auror retold the story as he has heard it from Snape. After he finished talking, a long silence have fallen in the shop. The Master stared ahead, seemingly deep in thoughts. When at long least he spoke, his voice was dreamy.

"You know, Mr. Scoresee, this is the second time that particular wand failed to kill somebody. First time was when its master tried to murder Harry Potter, but then a powerful magic, love magic, caused the spell to rebound and strike the caster. I would say it might have broken the wand too, but in fact we know that Voldemort's wand functioned well afterwards as he killed many people with it. I myself examined it after his death but found nothing wrong with it."

Martin frowned. He was sure that the problem was with the wand. "But do you have any clue at all, Master?"

"Oh yes, I might have. It is a small probability but still exists." Ollivander smiled. "Love, tricky thing it is, don't you agree, Mr. Scoresee? Wands, submitted to the influence of different sorts of strong magic become after time shaped by it. Voldemort's wand was no exception. I've said it wasn't malfunctioning but it didn't mean it couldn't be preconditioned by what happened the night the Killing Spell on Harry Potter was cast. It might be that it became impossible to kill with it somebody who was under similar kind of protection. Alas, you have to ask Mr. Snape himself. If by any chance you get an answer out of him, do not hesitate to contact me, I'm most curious about this anomaly."

"Fascinating", agreed Martin. Here, at last, he had something. "So you think this is the only possibility?"

"I am quite sure of that, Mr. Scoresee."

For the meeting with his old acquaintance, Ambrose Dacombe, Martin chose a Muggle bar in the center of London. It was adequately crowded with noisy tourists as to not be overheard or even spotted by magical folk who avoided such establishments. Wearing short-sleeved shirts and trousers they looked like three businessman lunching.

Martin welcomed Ambrose warmly marveling at how different and mature he looked. They met many years ago when the British Auror came to US for a half-year training. They immediately liked each other and after discovering that they shared the inclination for the same gender they jumped on a chance of having an affair. It was a short-timed thing, of course, no obligations, and they parted with no regrets. Martin was young at the time, young and full of hope that the years that will come will bring him many more marvels and that the love of his life was just waiting to appear one day at his doorstep. But the years flew by one by one and nothing changed in his life; he was still alone and moving from affair to affair with men that seemed to be getting more and more ill-assorted. Now, looking at wrinkles around Ambrose's blue eyes he wondered for a moment if they could have had something more. But it was a thing of the past, anyway.

"Martin, I would like to present you an Apprentice who is currently training under me", said Ambrose, gesturing at a young serious-looking young man. "Harry Potter".

Martin rose an eyebrow. That was quite a surprise, meet the British Hero face to face. The boy stared at him hard from behind round glasses, like he was demanding not to be judged by his name only. Scoresee grinned and shook his hand.

"I thought you will have enough of chasing the Dark Wizards for a lifetime, Mr. Potter", he said.

"I believe that now that I've got pretty good at it, would be a waste of energy beginning other career from the scratch", replied Potter cheekily.

"A wise decision", admitted Martin. "But let me warn you, our job is more about sticking to the rules than avoiding them and learning that is actually the hardest part of it."

Potter frowned. "And what if one does not agree with some of the rules?"

"You are an Apprentice for… how long? Three months? And you already found something to disagree with?" Martin laughed. "You are a tough nut to crack, aren't you?"

"As the matter of the fact we both did", admitted Ambroise. "That is precisely why I brought Mr. Potter here. I hope you don't mind him being present here, I assure you he can keep the secret."

"I'm far from denying him participation in shaping the new world", answered Martin. "If there is a person who earned that right, it's you, Mr. Potter."

The young wizard actually looked pleasantly surprised. Martin wondered for a moment how many times he was denied just that but decided not to pry further. It wasn't really his business anyway. So he went with an explanation of what they were preparing to do. He tried to keep it as short as possible, Ambroise warned him that the time they had was scarce, as he and Mr. Potter were meant to be patrolling the Muggle streets right now.

"The international cooperation does not really cover the magical law enforcement sector. Wizarding consuls, diplomats and all the assorted boot-lickers love preparing business parties, playing galant hosts to each other, traveling around the world and generally having fun but when more serious matters needs resolving, they are at lost. Granted, in the last century many important commercial treaties were concluded and we agreed on common policies in regard to foreign workers. But Aurors, they were never encouraged to work together. We have no international strike forces that could deal with worldwide criminal organisations, no treaty that would ensure that once one country is in trouble, like yours was, others will help and we have no international court which could be the last resort to those who feel they were treated unjustly by their country. Those are things that Muggles have for many years now, Haga, NATO, for them it is obvious such things should exist. We are in Dark Ages comparing to them. With regard to crime and punishment every country acts as separate entity and no one can force it to act differently, but also no one is obliged to come to it's aid when it botch the things. This need resolving and we, Amercians, plan on doing it soon. The amiable way will be preferable, but I am afraid that if my bosses will find it impossible, they will be prepared to force it down each Ministry's throat. Beginning with yours, as you have the most anachronic crime law seen in all the Western Europe."

"Is that the warning issued to us, Martin?", asked Ambroise, frowning.

"Not from me, no.", Martin shook his head. "But my superiors went really mad at the mess you got us into. They are adamant that the situation does not happen again. But me, as well as a group of people that are not completely blinded by rage, sees that your lot is not going to follow our orders blindly. Forcing you to do anything, especially now, will be asking for war. So, I came to ask you how many of you are willing to face your Ministry to try to create an independent international organization?"

"And who will support us?"

"We will. American Aurors."

Ambroise frowned. There was indecision in his blue eyes and deep frown creased his brow. His expression was in stark contrast with that of Mr. Potter. He looked enthusiastic, his green eyes shining brightly, but he was a young person so it was normal he didn't understand the audacity of Martin's proposition. But the answer forthcoming from his old associate was far from encouraging.

"The way things stand, few will decide to go against their own Ministry, Martin. I know my colleagues well enough to know they don't want to change anything. They are too comfortable in their little world, the sheer suggestion of bending to the demands of others will make them angry. They believe themselves independent, they want no control."

"Aren't they controlled by their own Ministry?"

"Yes, but they are familiar with it. Additionally our forces have much more leeway than yours. Not so much regulations. They won't be giving up easily that freedom."

"You misunderstand us." Martin shook his head. "I believe we use a wider range of offensive spells than you do. Killing Curse was never forbidden. The difference is only we have to know when we can use each spell."

"This is what we call regulations.", Ambroise smiled, but it was a weak smile and quickly died. "No deal, Martin. I hoped you will come with some substantial idea how to pull off that revolution and revolution it will be, one way or other. Our folk will not follow yours only because you think it will make them much good in the large picture. I suggest you experiment first with other country, our is just too stubborn. It will end up in war, just as you said."

"You disagree with me?", asked Martin incredulously. He did not expect such a negative response.

"No, Martin. I am all thumbs up for the idea, just I cannot see how it is going to work. But if you come back with some brilliant plot, something worthy of a true Slytherin, I will help you, I swear."

Martin blinked in confusion. "Slytherin?"

"He means sneaky, sir", replied Potter, smiling.

Sneaky wasn't what Diana aimed to be. She decided on a direct approach, sure that she could make the Board see the reason if she just set herself for the task. So Thursday, six at the evening found her sitting on a hard bench outside the Board's meeting room. She wished she could barge inside but knew that by doing so she won't create much of an impression. So she waited to be called in and each passing minute she grew more and more annoyed.

Eventually after what seemed like hours she was asked inside. She entered and found herself be subjected to a whole set of mildly curious stares. It looked like they wondered whether she was allowed to play with the older children.

So she started with a long and passionated speech about what Ashla was feeling light right now and how making her participate in the Binding will not be accomplishing anything, only putting the poor dragon to ridicule. How she was fragile right now and if they truly wanted to help her keep the will to go on, they had to tread extremely carefully. How she needed time, much more time to be ready to face the world again.

The answer she was given made her face blanch and her lips say some choice words right to the faces of the Board. Words that left them angry. But she was angrier still.

They told her she knew nothing about the nature of a dragon. They told her off. A bunch of morons.

It left her staggering blindly through the stables. Right now she wanted no human company because human were seriously overscored, their minds flawed in a way they were not able to perceive uncomfortable truth. She wished none of their false compassion, not when it was coupled with the expression in their eyes that said clearly that she will never be their equal. All the Aurors behaved like that, even Dennis. They will never agree to a suggestion of a barkeeper, even if her reasoning was sound. They simply had to know better.

And now Ashla will suffer the consequences.

She was quite sure the stables were empty at that hour, she surely did not expect a gangly figure blocking her way. She nearly collided with him and stopped herself only by outstretching her hand which was promptly caught in a larger, calloused one. She backed immediately, freeing from his grasp, staring angrily into the set of black eyes, which were now widely opened in surprise. The surprise did not last long, giving way to an impressive scowl.

"What are you doing here, Death Eater?", she snapped.

"Working, obviously", he answered not amiably at all. "Any more inane question you plan on asking me, madame?"

"No, just piss off", she snapped and when he turned away to do just that she felt that she, in fact, had more questions. She pondered over them for the last few days. But the one which spilled forth was that of nasty kind, born from her anger and hatred for the world in total. "Wait! Yes, I do. Tell me, Death Eater, have you killed any of ours?"

He turned again and this time his face took on a kind of dangerous look that made her think of Dark Wizards. "What difference will it make if I did?", he asked.

"The difference some of them being my friends, my family", she said slowly. The cold was starting to get unbearable, it was seeping right into her heart. Or maybe it was pouring out of her? She wasn't sure anymore.

"People die in the war, Miss Gershaw", he said matter-of-factly.

She wasn't sure what had happened, but the next moment she was massaging her knuckles while he was backed up the wall, holding his right cheek. Her blow obviously didn't cause him much harm because quickly his hand dropped and he hissed through clenched teeth. "May I go now, Madam, or do you still need me as your punching bag?"

The anger did not abate. And there was also a strong wish, one to make at least one bloody person understand something. So she quickly came to a decision. "Come", she ordered him and when he did not move, she grabbed the front of his robe and pulled hard. That, at last, got him moving. "I want to show you something."

"You like being bossy, do you?", he asked snidely, tearing the material from her grasp.

"I do it for a living", she answered. She lead them through two sets of warded door into the secluded part of the stables.

"Look in here, Death Eater, and tell me what do you see."

The man moved with a purpose, like he could not be cowered or frightened by what he was about to experience. He put his hand on the rough wooden surface of the box and leaned in so his face was on the level with narrow slit through which the interior of the box was visible. He stood like this for a long, long moment and there was such stillness to him, that he could be taken for a part of the décor. Diana couldn't even hear him breathing.

Then, very slowly, he turned around. And, immediately, she felt uneasiness growing. This was not any of the reactions she expected. If she was true to herself, she had no bloody idea what was he thinking right now. His black as coal eyes glittered strangely in the face, that could have been called impassive if not for said eyes. And there was that impression like something was leaking out of him, and this something caused the very air around them to become heavy as lead.

"I see a dragon forfeit of its will to live", he said, his voice muffled, barely carrying in the suffocating atmosphere. "Why is that so?"

"Because she had lost her companion, Death Eater", Diana answered, stressing the 'she'. "Because she is a feeling creature who mourns death of Daniel Gershaw as much as his sister. " Diana rose her eyebrow in challenge. "That makes the difference, Death Eater."

Those cutting words were supposed to bring her some satisfaction and to make her gain an upper hand in this conversation. But she obtained neither. She felt more like she was climbing a very slippery slope where every step up brought her two steps down. He moved so he was in her personal space. He did not look remorseful but he wasn't laughing at her either.

"You are angry and this is understandable. You want to lash at someone. I am responsible for many atrocities. But I am not responsible for your tragedy, nor hers. Of course, this might not stop you from making me pay if you are a vindictive little bitch you are posing to be." He sneered lightly. "If so is the case, then I believe I am doomed. Just don't think you will be the first righteous to throw your stone at me, the line has got so long it's disappearing beyond the horizon."

He stayed still, apparently waiting for her verdict. Because he didn't seem inclined to do so, Diana stepped back from him. Her heart, for some reason, was hammering in the chest. "That is not what I want", she said, not sure if she wasn't lying.

"So tell me, what do you want from me, Miss Gershaw?", he asked. "Because I, for once, am at lost."

Diana swallowed. What was the right answer? She decided play neutral. "I wanted to make a point."

"What point? Miss Gershaw, you could not change my view of things by showing me some poor creature walling in her misery. What happened to us is called war for some reason."

"Of course!", she snapped. "That is what people such as you say, yes? To shake it off and continue with life? Well, you know where you could shove your opinions? Because it bloody hurts, and bloody scars…"

"And you are being bloody obvious", he snapped, losing the pretense of not caring. "Take your grief somewhere else, Miss Gershaw, it won't earn you my sympathy. And let me say this: The life shall continue, no matter your state of mind. Get over it or be left behind."

"Which group do you belong to?"

"That, Miss Gershaw, is a very personal question. And I, unlike you, am not inclined to share." He stared at her for a long time, frowning. "I cannot help you. Search for those who can."

She felt an ugly sneer appearing on her face, reflecting what was stirring inside her. "Well, let me tell you, I am surrounded by those who can't or won't because, despite being in the center of happenings, they have no understanding what is going on with Ashla. I rather thought that, being a caged animal yourself, you will recognize the abuse when faced with it."

"Faced with what? Don't talk riddles with me, Miss Gershaw. At least give me a proper explanation before jumping to conclusions about what I should or shouldn't be doing."

And that was why ten minutes later found them sitting on empty wooden crates, deep in conversation. Well, to tell the truth it was Diana who did most of the talking. She had to admit that she never had seen someone who was listening as intently as the man before her. He was like a greyhound trained on his prey and it was obvious that he was used to gathering information. And Diana… well, Diana soon understood that maybe that was exactly what she needed, talking to somebody from outside. This… well it felt refreshing, even if she kept in mind that this was a Death Eater she was talking to.

So she explained the emotional ties between a dragon and its rider, of course never once straying to the classified information about the very nature of the Bond. Then she talked about Ashla, about her and Daniel achievements and about dragon herself, albeit briefly, because she couldn't say much without hinting on the Bond. She described how Ashla behaved after Daniel's death and explained her status now and what she was expected to face in the near future. Diana's talk was rather dispassionate, but the man, Snape was his name, have already shown his lack of appreciation for drama. She ended with the story of her dealings with the Board.

"Their behavior is so typically Auror that I can't understand why you thought your little speech will earn their favor", he commented smirking lightly.

"Thank you so much for your opinion", she rolled her eyes. "So, are you feeling enlightened enough to answer my question from before?"

"Do I think your compatriots are abusing that she-dragon? Yes, I do. From what little portion of truth you told me and from what you omitted I understood that this creature is sentient and not exactly in a way ordinary dragons are. But Aurors treat her as she was nothing but a tool. And this angers you because them, as they have their own dragons, should know better. Am I right?"

She nodded, amazed at how easily he discerned that she was hiding things from him. Again she thought about what were his daily activities back in the days when he was working for Voldemort. This was a truly dangerous man in more than one way. She smiled internally because that type always fascinated her. Outwardly, she pinned him with the stare. She just had an idea and that idea may prove to be brilliant.

"Now tell me, smartass, is there any way out of this situation?"

He smirked. "How would I know, I am no one but a prisoner, a caged animal as you were so kind to call me. I hold no power in this place."

"It is not about power, because those who have it have also refused to help. It is about deceitfulness and I have a feeling that a criminal like you have more than a fair share of it."

He blinked. "A criminal like me does not do things without reward, as you should know."

"Not even out of compassion?"

"I am devoid of it, as I have already said."

"Well", she grinned, "You are hardly in a position to demand anything, are you? What could I say. Help her and you shall be helped too, Mister Severus Snape."

There was a long, calculating look in his dark eyes, like he was weighing up his options.

"Deal", he said.

A/N: Comments appreciated. Really. I'm just a poor author. I even can't make any money from that so all I can count on is support of my readers.