Harry went sprawling onto the cold, hard ground, rolling a short ways before slamming into a wall. He grunted at the sudden impact as the wind was knocked right out of him. His brain was screaming at him to get up, that there was clearly danger nearby, but his body wasn't following its orders. Instead he squinted up at the bright blue sky.
'Wait… blue sky?'
"Perfect weather for it in the end, isn't it Potter? Petrificus totalus!" Harry gasped as his body went rigid and his blood ran cold. He knew that voice, but he hadn't heard it in several months. Rough hands grabbed him and pulled him to his feet, leaning his board-like body against the wall and placing him in the perfect position to look up into the eyes of his captor. She glared down at him in triumph, Harry's invisibility cloak slung casually over her shoulder.
"Oh, I do love to see that surprise in your eyes," Minister Prestwick laughed snidely. "But then from what I know of you it isn't difficult to catch you off guard, especially without your snotty friends pointing everything out for you." She only laughed harder at the anger that flashed in Harry's eyes.
"You're too easy, Potter," she continued, finally stepping back and giving Harry a chance to see his surroundings. He had landed in what looked like some back alley in the middle of London; at least, he assumed he was in London. He couldn't see anyone else around, but he was restricted to only seeing what was directly in front of him since he couldn't move his neck. Harry let his attention be drawn back to Prestwick. "And now here you are, dragged away once more against your will and completely at my mercy. Which of us shall make the first move, hmm?"
Harry could only watch on helplessly as footsteps approached from his left. 'Please let it be the Order,' he thought desperately. Unable to turn his head, he was forced to wait until the newcomers came to be in line with Prestwick, and his stomach plummeted as they did.
"If we're forming a queue, I'll go first," Yaxley said in his cool voice, glaring at Harry with hate and triumph. All four of the Death Eaters who had fired upon Harry in the Great Hall were here, each with the same manic look in their eyes, wanting to inflict as much pain as possible on the one who killed their master. Harry stared back with as much defiance as he could muster, but inside he was terrified. He wasn't ready for this encounter, not yet. He only hoped his captors weren't as aware of his weakened state.
"Hold on a minute, it looks as though our guest wishes to speak." Prestwick waved her wand and Harry felt the muscles around his jaw loosen.
"These four were given to the Dementors!" he cried, hoping that speaking loudly could hide his terror but also attract the attention of anybody around. "Kingsley told me himself."
"You are correct that they were all to be kissed, however with me as the Head of Law Enforcement… well, let's just say there were a few things that slipped by Shacklebolt's notice." She laughed innocently. "Never trust a politician, Potter." Her eyes suddenly hardened.
"Now," she continued, "back to the business at hand –"
"Don't bother," Harry interrupted. "I've met maniacs like you before, I know how this goes. You're just another mad blood purist who wants to take over the Wizarding World!" Prestwick bristled at the interruption, but recovered quickly. She pulled out her wand slowly.
"You understand nothing, Potter."
Quicker than Harry had ever anticipated, Prestwick whirled on the spot and slashed her wand through the air. With no time for a cry of surprise, let alone a counter-curse, the four Death Eaters found themselves wandless and gagged, with four stunners in quick succession assuring they would not be interrupting anything anytime soon. Harry stared open mouthed as Prestwick turned back to him as though nothing had happened.
"Alright," he said slowly. "Perhaps I don't understand."
"Like just about everyone in my life, these idiots had no further purpose than getting me what I wanted. I won't bore you with my life story, Potter," Prestwick sighed, "but admittedly there are some important parts that will help your small mind piece things together.
"I am Muggle-born, abandoned by my parents during my first year at Hogwarts who claimed they could not possibly bring up a witch in their normal household. I was left with nothing except the clothes on my back and my school things. I grew bitter with the world. I no longer desired friendship, nor academics, failing to see my place in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't until my sister reached out to me that things made sense once more.
"She was a Muggle. My twin sister had no magic, so they took her from me as well. I learned years later from her that she and our parents had left the country my very first night at Hogwarts, moving to America to put as much distance between themselves and my abnormalities as possible. She never forgave them for it either, and so together we schemed and ruined their lives forever."
Harry listened on silently. He knew what it felt like to be seen as a freak by your own family. He knew the bitterness she was talking about; could he have ended up on a similar path had he never accepted friendship at school?
"As I began working at the Ministry, my sister trained to be a nurse in America. She moved from small town to small town, never quite happy with anywhere. We spoke of her moving back to England, but she never had the funds, and my minimal wage could hardly support her either. So there she stayed.
"I slowly moved up in the Ministry. Eventually I was important enough to sit in the Wizengamot just at the time You-Know-Who returned. I remember listening to the tales of destruction, knowing that it didn't make sense. It was Him who made me realise what needed to be done." She turned her full attention back to Harry.
"I know you think that everyone is out to get you, Potter, but believe me you are in my plans merely due to your convenience. The Wizarding World is tied to you so greatly that it made things far too easy for us to use you as our pawn.
"Something I am sure you are unaware of, is that the Unspeakables were working on a way for you to defeat You-Know-Who. They were developing a way to temporarily boost one's magical strength fifty-fold to be used on you before you finally faced him, but it was never stabilised. Anyone they trialled it on burnt out their magical core from having no way to release the sudden build-up of energy quickly enough. In the end it wasn't needed, but their research remained and I got hold of it. It was easy enough to set it on you that day of the final battle. Whilst my four foolish helpers here fired on you, I was there myself delivering the real blow. All it needed was some particular runes on my wand and the right inflection. A little extra nudging and influence and you landed exactly where I needed you: Forks, Washington – the current home of my dear sister, Suzanne."
Harry was stunned. He wondered if Dumbledore had known about these tests the Department of Mysteries had been running. How many people had been killed during its creation?
"Why didn't it kill me?" Harry asked.
"A couple of reasons. Firstly the runes had always been tailored to your magic, making it more compatible to you. But also you had an outlet; apparating such a distance was able to use most of the energy without leaving enough behind to kill you. Though I would be lying if I said there wasn't some risk it would kill you. A risk worth taking in my opinion.
"You would always have enough power for two trips. We never meant for you to go back to Forks after evading me at St Mungos, however it worked in our favour and was far sweeter to leave you stranded in America where my sister could keep a close eye on you.
"Suzanne has kept our plans on track. You almost ruined everything that night by leaving your hospital room in such a state. My sister very nearly came under suspicion for trying to clean the room before the police arrived, but we couldn't have anyone witnessing your magic so early in your stay; she would have deleted the footage of your disappearance even if you hadn't done it yourself." Prestiwck grinned madly at him.
"She's been watching you every step of the way, letting me know what you've been doing and who you associate with. She made certain you were admitted under her care. She's watched you at school and at home, following you everywhere you go. Looking at you now she was certainly right about one thing: you look like absolute hell. To think she actually managed to fool you into using that portkey I sent her. Tricked by my Muggle sister, dear me," she tittered, "that can't look good on the Chosen One's record."
Harry wanted to curse in frustration. Everything that had happened to him these past months was all because of this woman in front of him and her sister. If only he had pulled himself out of his depressive stupor earlier he might have noticed Suzanne following him around everywhere. He wondered why Edward hadn't said anything. Harry particularly cursed himself for his latest blunder, not reacting quicker upon realising who the nurse was and allowing himself to be sent back to London. If Suzanne Prestwick had been watching him that closely, were Bella and the Cullens safe? Did she know what they were?
"I still don't get what you want," he told her. "You say I'm just convenient, so then why I am here?"
"Now where's the fun in just telling you my plan?" She asked him kindly as she fingered her wand in her hands. Harry's attention went to the wand and he gasped.
"You have the Elder Wand," he whispered. "So that's what your plan is: to kill me so the wand works for you."
Prestwick just laughed. "Potter, if I had wanted you dead you would not still be here having this conversation. I don't need to kill you for this wand, because I am already its master." She smiled again at the confusion on his face. "Do you not remember Shacklebolt disarming you in his office? The action of disarming in such a scenario has little impact on ordinary wands, their ownership only changing with true intent to steal one's wand. The Elder Wand is far more delicate in its allegiance. Unknowingly, Shacklebolt became the true master of the Wand that morning, it only still working for you due to your lingering boosted magical energy. I was then able to sufficiently transfer that ownership from our dearly departed Minister to myself. It was all too easy," she finished with a broad smile.
"So you admit it, then," Harry demanded, his voice trembling slightly for the first time. "You murdered Kingsley."
"Dear me," Prestwick tittered, "have you learned nothing of me yet, Potter? Kingsley Shacklebolt was in my way. Due to no one's fault but his own, he needed to die, and so die he did. Believe me when I tell you I regret the waste of such power."
Harry would have been shaking with fury if he could. How dare she trivialise his murder.
"I assume your sister stole the wand from my house," he said bitterly.
"You assume correctly. It's a very foolish way to live with no security wards around your house, Potter. Suzanne tells me you've since changed that – better late than never, as they say." She smiled at him.
Harry groaned. It had been stupid to assume he was safe in America. When was there ever a time in his life that Harry didn't have someone wanting to hunt him down? It wouldn't have stopped her from becoming the wand's master, but at least it might have kept it out of her possession.
Suddenly a loud echoing voice came from somewhere nearby. Harry flicked his eyes around as best he could, not seeing anything suspicious. Prestwick, however, seemed to have been waiting for this voice, as she suddenly began to laugh. She came forwards and took Harry's wand out of his pocket, putting it into her own. She then used the Elder wand to guide him along the alleyway, Harry forced to follow closely behind her as she made her way to its opening. Prestwick then waved her wand, removing the body-bind curse and placed her hand firmly on his shoulder. The message was clear: go anywhere and you'll regret it.
Harry peered around the corner and frowned at what he saw. A large stage with a podium was set up in the middle of an open square, surrounded by hundreds of people. There were television cameras everywhere, and a large screen behind the podium showed the same scene Harry was currently gazing upon. There was a large man standing at the podium talking to the crowd, his voice magnified by the dozens of speakers around the stage.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, "before too long I'll be joined here on stage by the Prime Minister to make his scheduled international announcement." The gathered crowd broke out in polite applause.
Harry watched on in confusion. "What, are you going to kill the Prime Minister in front of all those people?"
"Where would be the elegance in that?" Prestwick murmured into his ear. "No, no, the Prime Minister will still be well and truly alive at the end of this. He only has to make a simple announcement, one that admittedly he wouldn't normally give without a little nudge, but that was easily arranged."
"He's imperiused," Harry guessed.
"Very good, Potter, perhaps you aren't as slow as you appear." They watched the crowd get more excited, the clapping growing louder as the Prime Minister made his way onto the stage. Harry was too far away to see properly, but he knew the man would have the clouded, glassy gaze of someone whose mind was not their own. Prestwick kept talking.
"You see, the Prime Minister was conveniently given a video last night from an anonymous benefactor in America. This video would have the ability to change the world, and what fortune it arrived the evening before his scheduled announcement being broadcast across the globe! This video shows a secret that every Prime Minister is instructed must never be told. Today, he will share that secret to the world by ways of a silly boy showing off his freaky powers all caught on tape. The revealing of our people who have been hidden for centuries is today: magic unveiled to Muggles, in all its glory."
Harry turned himself around and wrenched his shoulder out of Prestwick's grip, stumbling backwards away from her.
"You can't! The Statute of Secrecy –"
"Is unimportant!" She sneered. "The world is changing today, Potter, and there is no way for you to put a stop to it!"
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the Prime Minister began, his voice booming around them. Harry watched on helplessly, Prestwick's firm grip back on his arm. "Today is a new day, the dawn of a new beginning for our country, and for our world." He looked around the crowd who had grown quiet at his pronouncement. "There is a secret," he said, "that has been kept hidden for centuries. There is a subculture of people, living among us, who are not like us. And today we have the proof." He gestured behind himself to the giant screen which presently showed his own face. The screen changed as a video began to load.
"You can't do this," Harry begged. "There's a reason the Muggles don't know about magic!"
"Be quiet! You know nothing of politics, Potter, this is necessary for our world."
Just as the first frame of the video appeared on the screen, it all went black. Seconds later, there was a small explosion off to the side of the stage and black smoke could be seen rising up off of what Harry suspected had once been a video player. Several people in the crowd cried out in shock, the Prime Minister staring around blankly at the commotion. Harry suddenly became aware of a low growl from over his shoulder.
"What did you do?!" She screamed into his ear before throwing him roughly to the ground. Harry was too startled to respond. Prestwick was furious, her wand still pointed at the very confused looking Prime Minister: she had broken the Imperius.
Security guards suddenly stormed the stage and escorted the Prime Minister away to safety while police were directing the crowd to leave. From where he still lay on the ground, Harry looked around trying to work out what had happened. Had it all been pure luck, or had someone stepped in to save the day?
"Harry!" A voice cried out from a long way away. Harry couldn't tell who it was or where it was coming from, but before he could look around, Prestwick had once again cast a body-bind curse and grabbed him, wrenching him to his feet. She began dragging him back towards the alleyway he had first appeared in.
"Harry!" The cry came again, this time closer. Harry couldn't even move his mouth to cry back, the body-bind curse having been applied fully once more. Prestwick continued to pull him further down the alley, his feet dragging as he was tugged along behind her.
"We're not done yet, Potter, so don't even think your little friend is going to save you." Suddenly someone appeared in the alley and began sprinting towards them.
"Let him go!" It was Bill Weasley. Harry tried to make a sound to yell back but nothing would come out. Bill raised his wand but Prestwick was faster.
"Portus!" She cried. Harry could just make out a blue glow emanating from behind him.
"No! HARRY!" Before Bill could do anything, the portkey activated, the jerk behind Harry's navel pulling him away into the darkness once more.
They landed in a small clearing, Harry aware of the soft grass underneath him and the coolness of the air. It was night time, telling him they were likely somewhere back near Forks, though he couldn't be certain. He felt the body-bind curse lift but didn't have long to take advantage of his freedom.
"Incarcerous!" Thick ropes erupted from the Elder wand and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry. He tried to move his arms but he was too securely bound; he wasn't getting out of this. He watched warily as Prestwick strode around the clearing, her anger pouring off her in waves.
"You and your silly Order can't help but ruin everyone's plans, can you Potter? Do you not understand the importance of this? The necessity?" She conjured a small chair and sat down in it directly in front of Harry. "You and I are very alike, Potter," she said simply.
"I'm nothing like you," Harry spat, though his voice betrayed his inner emotions. He and Prestwick did have similarities; he just didn't like to think about what that meant.
"Both of us were brought up by Muggles who hated the world of magic. Your Muggles never gave you the chance, but I had been happy once; magic took away my family and my life, something I've had to live with since I was eleven. My own sister was taken from me – they thought they were protecting themselves. It was fear that made them run.
"Don't you see what prejudices have done?" She asked, leaning forwards. "How much better our lives would have been if Muggles knew of magic – understood it – and we lived together in peace? Think of what we lost, Potter, of what could have been. Both of us could have had that happiness, but we didn't. Can't you see? That's the peace I can bring."
Harry stared at her in disbelief.
"You're insane if you think there would be peace if the Muggles knew of magic. They would be terrified! Think how much worse Voldemort would have been if Muggles knew who he was! Muggles would turn their armies against us – try to control us out of fear."
"Ridiculous," she scoffed. "We could help them – advance them like they couldn't begin to dream. You've ridden the fringe like me, Potter, you don't belong in either world and you know it. Can't you understand that with the worlds combined, you would belong! You would fit in better than anyone!"
"You're delusional," Harry cried.
"Oh? You're worthless to the wizarding world. All they ever wanted from you was a solution to their problems. Just look at them – you save their miserable lives before you have to flee in order to save your own and they accuse you of being the next Dark Lord. They think you murdered Kingsley. You owe them nothing, Potter, and if you think that they ever cared about you as a person then it's you who is the delusional one," Prestwick finished, now leaning so close to him that Harry could feel the spittle on his face.
Harry didn't want to believe her, but it was true. The wizarding world only ever needed him to get rid of Voldemort for them, and once he'd done that they'd turned their backs on him. Even when promised privacy by those he thought cared the most, he was told to return and help them once more. His duty. It seemed he would never be rid of it. He had told himself none of it was his fault, that the deaths of his friends were because of Voldemort, but he couldn't deny this truth; the wizarding world didn't care for him. They never had and likely, Harry knew, they never would.
"Don't you see what I'm offering you?" Prestwick continued gently, recognising the defeat and acceptance on Harry's face. "This could free you from that – free you from the terrible things of your past. You can help me bring wizards and Muggles together so that no child has to grow up like you and me. Muggle born students would be prepared for their futures. No family would need split due to fear and uncertainty like mine. No more hiding in the darkness – we belong in the light, and you can help us get there."
Could she be right? It was true enough that Muggle-born students were disadvantaged from the beginning, coming into a terrifying world at the age of eleven that they never knew existed. If Muggles knew about magic, then they could recognise the signs if their child were a witch or wizard and they could grow up preparing for their future. He thought of Hermione – would she have wanted to know earlier? How terrified she must have been to not understand what was happening to her as a small child with accidental magic. More terrified than he had been, he was sure.
Harry looked at Prestwick who was watching him expectantly. He didn't remember what it was like having the love of his parents, but he could understand her bitterness at the abandonment of her own. As a small child, Harry would have done anything to make the Dursleys accept him as their own son, never having understood why they didn't care for him. Would life have been easier, or would it have been even harder without magic?
One thing was certain: the Dursleys had known about magic thanks to Aunt Petunia. Being brought up in a Muggle house that knew about the wizarding world hadn't made Harry's life any easier; in fact, it had made it harder. Maybe that might have helped Prestwick's childhood, Harry couldn't be sure, but he knew for a fact it had made his life worse. And that's why he could never do what she asked of him.
"No," he said simply. "We belong exactly where we are: in the shadows, keeping to ourselves. Muggles knowing about magic is what made my childhood so rubbish in the first place. I'm not going to risk bringing that same fate to others." He stared at her defiantly.
Prestwick glared at him. "I see," she said. She leant back in her chair, never taking her unblinking eyes off him. Harry held her gaze putting as much strength as he could into his eyes. He could not appear weak in this moment.
"I didn't want it to come to this, Potter, but you leave me no choice." She stood up from her seat and pulled out the Elder wand from her pocket. Giving him a crooked smile, she turned on the spot and disapparated with a loud crack, leaving Harry alone.
"What –"
CRACK
As quickly as she had disappeared, Prestwick returned, this time with a guest. The hostage was bound and gagged, her face screwed up in pain or distress Harry could not tell – probably both, he thought helplessly. His heart sank as he looked into the fearful eyes of Prestwick's prisoner and his friend.
"Either you help my sister and me reveal magic to the Muggles, or Isabella Swan dies."
