Apologies Bobette13, Zecht, xxxLeanniexxx, Melikalilly : ff.n seems to have lost your comments. I appreciated them though and Zecht, that's probably a good idea.
Rereading the last chapter before writing this one… I really dislike it. It came out nothing like how I'd planned it in my head. Ah well.
Earth
The rest of the night was a blur.
People moving, shouting. Rough hands pulling his bodyguard off of him, yanking his body armour away and stabbing him with things as a barely-controlled lumos spell writhed in the air above them all.
"Sir? Sir, I'm sorry sir, but we need you to calm down. Sir?"
Blurry faces in the gloom, wide eyes looking at him, past him, at the magic oozing from his skin so thickly it was visible even to Muggles - at the wall behind him, twisted inside out through this dimension and the next, graffiti unwriting itself as blood from decades past sprayed fresh and new.
He dropped the chip of alien energy fueling it all, the sudden absence of power like a slap to his soul. His body stopped glowing, the wall behind him grudgingly settled - never again quite what it was - and the light above them all faltered and faded away.
"I can't…" He choked, helpless and useless and half in shock. "I don't know how to… I can't heal him."
He had all the power in the world - almost literally - but not even a fraction as much knowledge or skill necessary to direct it properly. You couldn't brute-force healing - the bleed-off of excess, uncontrolled energy caught in living things and invariably did something unpleasant. Even professionals with decades of training could only do so much when it came to changing or repairing the human body - Alastor Moody was proof of that.
He was a bludger of force, where the delicacy of a snitch was required.
He was useless.
Michael was lifted up and carried away, other hands carefully pulling Harry in the opposite direction. Bodies crowded around him, armed and armoured, keeping back the uncaring night and nosy strangers. Helicopters roared overhead, strange beasts with sweeping lights and pinpoint turning. The rain fell ever harder as he was herded into a transport with dark windows, grim-faced strangers surrounding him, readiness vibrating through the air like a rusty guitar string.
It felt like he just blinked and then he was in his apartment, the same men checking everything and not leaving, awkward hands pressing him down onto the sofa and proffering him a hot drink, unfamiliar voices calling out to his hub, switching the tv on and accessing hidden security channels, calling reports in and out, buzzing constantly at the edge of his awareness.
His drink cooled, untouched. It was replaced. A blanket appeared over his shoulders. At some point he realised his gaze had fixated on the coffee table, upon which a tiny chip of metal had been carefully placed.
Was this his fault? Should he have been more proactive? Should he have attacked the very second he'd seen their weapons? Had he 'played it safe' out of an arrogant sort of self confidence or misplaced conviction of personal safety? He couldn't stop thinking about it, that moment in the halls when it had just been him and them and if he'd just tried something - even if he'd stuffed up his intended spell - nobody would have been hurt except either him or his kidnappers.
Not Michael.
He put his cup down, pulled the blanket around him and leaned forward until he could hide his face in his knees, wishing he could shut out the sound of gunfire, the feeling of Michael laying limply over him - dead weight.
He fell asleep without noticing, his mind still racing in pointless circles.
Earth
He felt better when he woke. Less muddle-headed, anyway.
If Hermione were here, he knew she'd be saying something like 'feeling guilty won't achieve anything, Harry' in that well-meaning but bossy way she had. Luckily, he didn't need her to be here to annoy him out of his shock and self-blame.
Maybe he'd made the wrong call. Maybe he hadn't. Merlin, if his kidnappers hadn't threatened to kill Mike in the first place, they might all have gotten away before the RDA's security forces arrived to arrest them because alone, Mike sure couldn't have stopped them. And, maybe he should have tried something in the hallway when it was just him and his kidnappers but what if they had been (might still be, a corner of his mind worried) sent by the planet to help him save her?
There were a lot of maybes and might-have-beens and nowhere near enough magic left in the world for him to divine which choice might have led to a better future. Sometimes shit happened and sometimes it was his fault - but not always or even completely. Before, trapped in Privet drive by friends and enemies alike, he'd marinated in his own guilt for things that happened at school, his family's hatred reinforcing the lessons of his childhood where anything bad that ever happened was because of him.
Stuck there, year after year… it was like growing up in a straitjacket.
It was only now, after a year of living in his own place with Michael's unwavering deference and David's hands-off support, that he felt like he was really Harry for the first time in his life. Not his drunken parents' unwanted brat, not the weird kid with broken glasses and no friends and definitely not the ignorant teen who'd been blindsided by unwanted celebrity and fickle friends. He was alone, and that was horrible, but it had turned out to be a bit empowering too. He was famous again, but he controlled it now. He controlled his education, his money and the last bit of magic in the world. He controlled his own life and it was like… it was like flying, in a way. The world was spread out beneath him and he could go anywhere. He had room to grow, and that growth made the difference between the guilt-ridden wreck he'd been after Cedric's murder and this grim, but accepting person he was today.
Not that he didn't still feel sick at the thought of Mike being dead, though.
He got up off the couch and was sort of politely ignored by his pack of guards, none of whom looked like they'd caught a wink of sleep. Dawn was making a valiant effort to overcome the night's heavy smog and by the time he left the bathroom, the air outside seemed to be glowing gold and pink.
And David was waiting for him in the kitchen.
"How's Michael?" Harry asked instantly.
"He's… okay." Dave evaded, passing him a waiting bowl of breakfast. "Still alive, not critical. He, uh, caught a couple of bullets in some nasty places, though. One hit his spine, just under his arm - but don't worry" he added quickly at Harry's frank alarm "spinal repair is expensive, but covered by his contract."
"But." Harry wasn't an idiot. David drummed his fingers on the table.
"But," He acknowledged "Another bullet shattered his skull. Scraped his brain. We don't know how much lasting damage he'll have - the brain is one of the few things modern medicine still can't fix too well."
"Is… how bad is it? Is there anything…?"
David lifted his hands in mute apology.
"I'm sorry, Harry. Nobody knows just yet. I'll keep you posted, though, ok? I promise."
Harry nodded, forcing himself to accept this too. At least Michael wasn't dead - not yet, anyway. And, maybe…
"Maybe I can help…" He started, even as he shook his head. "I mean, I don't know hardly any healing at all. But. I have books, and, with this stone-"
"Ah yes, the unobtanium." David's eyes were sharp and focused, weariness gone like it had never been.
"I was watching the show and early reports… I take it there's something special about it?"
Harry shifted, glancing over at the chip on his coffee table uncomfortably. He didn't want to talk to David about it, not really. Dave was RDA and after so long working with the GLF, no matter his issues with some members, it felt almost disloyal to discuss it with anyone else first. But that was stupid. The RDA was covering all his living costs and… Dave was a good guy.
"It's like a… tiny, really intense battery." He explained with a half-shrug. "We - the GLF and I - have looked at whether magic can be stored before, y'remember? So they could study it without needing me there every time. We had some success with crystalline structures but nothing we tried could hold much of a charge for long. But this 'unobtanium'? It's like a closed circuit somehow. Unless I touch it? The energy inside it, stays there. It doesn't leak, at all - and like I said, it's like it's been pre-filled with energy that converts almost 100% into magic. I should head into the lab, actually - bring it in for them to study." He rubbed his forehead, promising himself that he'd look up brain-related healing magic later before suddenly remembering that since the RDA was the only company mining Pandora, they were the ultimate terrestrial source of unobtanium.
"Dave, this stuff? It could change everything. Everything. D'you think the RDA would donate any?"
David dragged his hands over his face. Belatedly, Harry realised the man looked like he'd been up all night on a caffeine drip. As Harry's liason slash PR person, he must have been doing a lot of damage control while Harry slept.
"You know, we do have researchers of our own who'd love to study this." Dave suggested, somewhat irritably. "And they - you - would have free access to any unobtanium needed. I can't... I mean, I hate to say it, but. Unobtanium's expensive Harry. I don't think the RDA would just hand it out for free to some other research group - especially not the GLF. Maybe you should… Well. It might be worth thinking about bringing some of this in-house, y'know?"
Harry glanced down as his food, sorely tempted. Just the thought of getting his hands on more unobtanium… the power that he could have. Not in a creepy Voldemort sort of way but in a world-changing bring-back-the-magic kind of way! Just the thought of it was… alluring.
But.
"I think I should show the GLF first." He said apologetically, half-cursing himself for his own sense of right and wrong. "After all the work they've done so far… It wouldn't feel right not to, y'know? But hey, other institutes have managed to get their researchers in, right? There was that legal case, about monopoly and the public good not too long ago. I remember Heineken complaining about it. The RDA must be able to get someone in on it."
"Yeah." Glum, his semi-guardian slash social worker put it aside for now.
"Okay. Uh, listen, on a related topic: I need you to stay close to home for the next few days, okay? You've probably already heard about the bomb that went off in Walkerville on the news - we don't know yet if there's more, but for the next little while, people will be a bit… excitable. It shouldn't last for too long, but… all it takes is one crazy with a gun, you know?"
Harry couldn't stop his gaze from flicking to the soldiers still occupying his home. Seeing it, David grimaced.
"Yeah, they won't be staying. Salary and insurance for bodyguards is steep. We could justify just the one for you at the start when your celebrity was reasonably low and we didn't expect to need him for long, but… well, let's just say head office is now considering other options. I'm arguing for one in particular that I think you'll like and it would really help me if you stayed home so we can keep these guys' pay under budget. Okay? Just until a decision is made."
"Fine." Harry sighed, sitting back. "But if it takes longer than a week, I'm giving the GLF your tag to complain to."
"Ugh. Duly noted."
They spoke for a while longer, about the immediate reaction to the show and Harry's scholastic progress. He was midway through high school now, learning almost entirely new things and finding himself genuinely interested in history (at least the 'history' that had been his 'present and near future') and some sciences. He was struggling with, but enjoying, his language studies and hating his English. His tech-related studies were probably the most difficult, with a lot of hardware and software knowledge expected of everyday people in this day and age - and which he had almost zero grounding in. Still, all in all, he wasn't doing too badly for only just over a year of work. It helped that besides his work with the GLF, he really didn't go out much - although now that he was restricted to home, he of course instantly wanted to.
Eventually, though, Dave left with a promise to keep him updated and Harry took himself to his study. He had plenty of work to wade through and started with reassuring an alarmed Mary Jane that he was fine - followed by Buddy, his publishers, friendly historian contacts and various GLF workers he'd met and formed a loose friendship with over the year.
Setting his window to stream multiple news stations at a low level and notify him if and when they picked up certain topics - like himself or his kidnappers - he got to work on a basic report regarding his reaction to the Unobtanium - for both the GLF and the inevitable press release.
Earth
"Several different theories attempt to account for the events recorded during and after the interview of Harry Potter-"
"-every member of the audience has given sworn statements to police verifying that what was seen was in no way digital trickery and we have with us today Kahlua Yengalychev who was seated in the front row-"
"-radiation levels jumped and several buildings reported electrical failure-"
"-I just want to know who's going to pay for the damage-"
"-my husband is dead because of-
"-another bomb was found today in the south-east stretch of Marylebone Station, which has been closed for further security sweeps. Calls are mounting for a city-wide search, funded by either multi-millionaire Mister Potter himself or the RDA which has legal guardianship of him for the next four years-"
"-confirmed as The Children of Gaia, an extremist eco-religious group which has now been reclassified as an eco-terrorist group. All known cells have been raided and arrests have risen into the hundreds-"
"-questions have arisen as to Harry Potter's connection with the eco-terrorist group as reports come in of some members renouncing their ties in favour of Mister Potter himself-"
Almost a week later, after a backlash of attacks and wonder in almost equal measure, this last bit caught his ear. Recognising his sudden attention, his hub automatically expanded the news short to fill his window.
A woman was standing in front of a large, luxuriously bright painting that stood out all the more for the dour, grim room around it. He recognised the painting instantly, the woman a few seconds later. It was one of his would-be kidnappers - and she'd painted the illusion he'd shown them, grassy fields that went on forever under a warm and loving sky.
"I lost my job, and my home, because of my involvement with the Children of Gaia." The woman explained to the camera, her contented expression very much at odds with her words. "I'm legally restricted to to penal housing for the next five years and I had to give up a lot just to get the paints for this." She brushed her fingertips over her painting, reverence plain to see.
"But it was worth it. This place… The EarthChild brought me to this place, this perfect, holy sanctuary. He spoke to me there, to us, he sat with us in sweet-smelling grass and gave us such-such comfort and hope. I painted it as a tribute and a reminder. If there were a temple to him, I'd donate it in a heartbeat. It's not worthy of him, but I put my all into it and I know he'd love it just for that."
The woman tore her worshipful gaze from the painting and looked directly into the camera.
"The EarthChild is real, and powerful, and good. I don't know if he's really Gaia's son sent to save her - but I do know that he carries paradise inside him, and the chance for us all to know it before we die. I'd serve him any way I could if only he asked it of me."
The image changed back to the news reporter who opened a conversation with a psychiatrist and a legal expert about the woman's mental stability, the courts' decision to release her into penal housing and Harry's liability for anything she might do in his name.
"Mute." He called, standing up to stretch and trying not to think of the last time he'd seen such blind fanatical worship. "Hub, play a movie from Buddy's list, a comedy please."
The hub chimed acknowledgment as it queued up a snap. It had learned Harry's speech patterns quite quickly and was now very good at comprehending almost everything he told it. Harry found himself feeling a little fond of it, sometimes to the point of talking to it like a person.
A 'doorbell' chirp rang through hidden speakers and a smaller sub-feed opened up within the movie. It was the external camera for the front door, where David and a tall - gorgeous - brunette were standing. Seconds later, one of the lingering soldiers opened it and both disappeared inside.
Harry waited.
Less than a minute later, the door to his study opened and David poked his head in.
"Got a second?"
Harry waved him in and canceled the movie from his desk. The window changed to the default view of the city outside, rain making it grey and dense.
"Hey Dave." He greeted, before nodding at the woman who followed him in. Statuesque with alert honey-gold eyes and smooth dark skin over well-defined muscles, she was either a Brazilian super model or soldier in civvies. "Miss."
"Sorry for the wait, Harry." Dave bounced in. "Good news, though! I got my way with the brass." The man grinned, plainly very pleased with himself.
"This, is your new personal Amazon. We just gotta imprint real quick, hang on a sec."
He turned to the woman.
"Amazon, this is your charge - Harry James Potter. Identify and encode."
"Identifying charge: Harry James Potter." The woman said aloud, voice low and velvety as she held out a hand.
"Nice to meet you, Amazon." Harry took her hand in a shake she didn't return. Instead, her hand shifted to grip first his fingertips and then his wrist.
"Biometric identifiers sections one through seventeen, encoded." She announced, before stepping closer and leaning down to nose at his neck - breathing in deeply as if scenting him. Then she licked him.
He jerked back, eyes wide, but her grip on his wrist allowed her to easily haul him closer again where she made creepily intense eye contact.
"Biometric identifiers sections twenty one through forty three, fifty seven, sixty four, encoded."
Her hand returned to a proper grip as she stepped back to a less-invasive distance.
"All primary biometric identifiers, encoded. Charge identified: Harry James Potter. Self identified: Amazon. Applying preset security protocols. Applied. Assimilating allowable conflict resolution parameters… assimilated." She blinked. Her hand tightened slightly and lifted his, then lowered - one precise handshake - before releasing him.
Harry looked at David, who was grinning.
"It's a companion." He explained. "Artificial beings, I think you've heard of them?"
"You mean like…" He blanched and blushed at the same time, memories of the factory Mary Jane had taken him through (and more than a few modern 'adult movies' - c'mon, he was human!) flashing through his mind.
"Sort of, except not." Dave assured him with a chuckle. "This one's an Amazon-class - built for high-end protection, not seduction. All the emotion emulators, the resource-heavy personality software - it's all been stripped out in favour of highly specialised battle computation power. It's basically a walking turret that can pass as human - and can sniff out explosive or bio-hazardous materials. Its reflexes are superior to any human and it's always alert, always scanning for danger. It's sophisticated enough to recognise and respond appropriately to any kind of problem, from pushy fans to assassins and can calculate ideal solutions faster and more accurately than any human alive. Its weapons are built-in so it's never unarmed and it only needs an hour of high-intensity charging a day - an appropriate dock is being installed upstairs right now - and it will maintain normal readiness even as it charges, so you'll never be out from under its protection."
"Huh." Harry scratched his head, eying his new... guard. Although still technically attractive, it seemed much less so now that he knew it was a machine underneath.
Its unwavering, emotionless stare wasn't helping anything.
"So... Why now?" He asked. He knew from communication during the week that Michael was still in a coma, so it wasn't the now-now he was questioning. It was just that if he'd had one of these since the start, Michael wouldn't be in the hospital right now facing death or brain damage.
David nodded sideways. "A lot of reasons. They're highly regulated, for one. They're expensive for another - but what with the threat level against you suddenly jumping, I made the argument that retaining a full contingent of bodyguards would end up even more so over the long term. Luckily, your value to the company has raised too, or I wouldn't have scored anywhere near an Amazon-class machine."
"My value?" Harry asked sharply.
David shrugged, understanding his ire but unapologetic. Harry sighed and shook his head, his own temper short-lived. He should be grateful, really. There was no better protection than being considered valuable to a company as big as the RDA. He didn't know about Amazon-class bots, but the factory Mary-Jane had dragged him through had been one of the high-end ones whose products could cost an easy million, without frills. One built to fight - to protect - had to be even more costly and millionaire though he was, having the RDA pick up the tab was no small thing.
"Also, because it's not human," Dave continued "use of them has to be signed off on by the government. These things can - and will - kill people, so for liability alone there are a lot of legal hoops to jump through. It also has to have the most sophisticated, rigorously-tested software possible before being licensed for use. For most people? It's just quicker and easier to assign a human guard, especially when the need is expected to be short term. But, that's not the case for you anymore. Anyway, this one is yours until either you die or it gets decommissioned. For security reasons, they're never just re-assigned. Congratulations! I know CEOs who'd kill for one of these!"
Harry watched the downpour for several long seconds.
"…Michael's not going to get better, is he?" He asked finally. "This," He gestured at the machine built to look human "isn't a temporary stopgap measure. This is forever."
David didn't answer. He didn't have to. Harry nodded, glanced away and sighed shortly through his nose.
"Alright. Thanks for, for getting me one of these Dave. I, appreciate it. Really." He tried a smile. "Listen, help yourself to the fridge or whatever but… I've got a lot of work to do, y'know?"
"Oh sure Harry, yeah." A flurry of polite words later and the man was gone, taking Harry's last lot of human guards with him. Left alone, the only living thing in his apartment (besides plants), Harry eyed his new protector. He'd seen things just like it under construction when touring with Mary Jane and via a couple of different documentaries. He knew that 'her' delicate bone structure was actually carefully-placed prosthetics, mimicking the human ideal of beauty. Her skin would be soft and smooth and real - until it needed yearly maintenance and/or repair. Every inch of her body could shred itself open and apart to make way for built-in weaponry. Not an ounce of her was capable of empathy, morality or regret.
She looked human.
She was the furtherest thing from it.
Lacking the intensive human-mimicry software most normal companion bots had, it showed in a dozen ways he wasn't even consciously aware of. All he knew was that she made the hairs on his neck stand up and not in a good way.
"Stand outside." He ordered, not even offering the reflexive 'please' and 'thank you' he gave his home's computer hub. She obeyed, visibly stopping the instant she cleared the door's sensor range and it slid shut behind her.
Harry crossed to his desk, sat down and pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Then he sat up, refocused and got back to work.
Earth
Although he'd meant to get straight onto the GLF regarding the power of this 'Unobtanium' ore, Harry found himself sidetracked by a good two dozen other 'urgent' topics, all automatically filtered and sorted by his computer so that they came to his attention first. The exposure on Mary Jane's show had absolutely exploded his public visibility and literally thousands of other entertainment companies - from news to documentaries to soap operas - wanted a piece of his time or presence or endorsement. The missives from British companies were particularly numerous, no doubt banking on his nationality to give them an edge. He set his computer to send a polite generic refusal for everyone who simply asked (or demanded) but kept those which offered more than just sentiment or money to review later.
Several companies had ties with various QGEs around the world and were offering citizenship in places that looked much less polluted and dreary than his current home. Several more outright offered him property, jewels, rare artwork, collectibles from around his time and - he'd had to read it twice to believe it - positions within their businesses. Him, Harry, who hadn't even finished high school yet. One of the offers was for vice president, with a starting salary of three billion per annum.
Bloody hell.
Beyond them, however, were several real governments (and a handful of exceptionally rare royalties) politely offering him diplomatic access 'to encourage relations' and scientific access for any and all research he might be interested in. Japan in particular had sent him several enthusiastic missives, some lauding their beautiful country and economic strengths, others highlighting their scientific prowess and advancements - even tying it into what Harry and the GLF had been doing.
He had to admit, he kind of admired how well they'd pulled off what was really a pretty pushy invitation. What really caught his eye though, was their planned space colonial measures. Unlike the United States, which was content to mine Pandora, Japan wanted to properly colonise it and enjoy its natural beauty - even if from behind glass. Harry was definitely interested in that idea and sent back a carefully thought-out reply expressing his willingness to open relations.
That done, he considered the plethora of requests from various universities and museums around the world. He'd already donated collections of galleons, sickles and knuts to many and - although grateful - it hadn't sated their appetite by much. Some were asking for advanced copies (or extracts) of his books to better construct their displays and brief their staff, some were requesting permission for the transfer of his donations to other, smaller collections, still more were offering space for anything else he might like to donate and all of them hinted how much they'd treasure a visit from him personally, offering all manner of incentives including honorary degrees for Merlin's sake!
The UAE - the floating chain of man-made islands - was offering its top-of-the-range artificial oceanic greenhouses for use at highly competitive prices, Russia was suggesting they were best placed to host any wildlife he might revive, the remnants of Thailand, Egypt and Barbados were begging his aid to raise or restore their countries from under the ocean, China was stiffly enquiring whether he might be able to assist in their investigations as to a possible Chinese magical populace and zoos around the world were wondering if he might be able to help their breeding programs to delay extinction of several species - to say nothing of the tidal wave of private and public laboratories asking for input on all manner of subjects, from curing disease to creating cold fusion.
These were only the most notable of a veritable tidal wave of mail, more pouring in as fast (or faster) than he could reply - and all the while, his hub pinged him with priority updates regarding spikes in book sales, death threats, official RDA communication and mentions of him in the media. His window went back to running multiple channels at once, tracking mentions of him, and he looked up and paid attention when opinion pieces gave way to enthusiastic predictions of just what problems he and his magic could solve for the future. World hunger, social disorder, homelessness, endemic disease, food shortages - all the way down to improvement of severe climates and elimination of depression. People were paying much closer attention to his books and bringing in 'experts' to discuss the ramifications of widespread magic use in the future, such as the ethics of cheering charms in the workplace. Was an artificial imposition of cheer acceptable on an 'opt in' basis? What was the risk for addiction or misuse? How did the law apply to use of magic (it didn't, yet) and how could such a massive new element be folded into society's existing structures?
Slowly, as days became weeks and then months, this type of more positive, forward-thinking response seemed to increase. There was still plenty of backlash but as time passed, there also seemed to be a competing thread of… hope. People seemed to be getting excited, more so than they had before. The leaked studies with the GLF were brought up again, confirmed by officials of the GLF as genuine and added to with new studies about unobtanium and the new search for Earth's potential sister mineral. Fundraisers, both public and private, sprang up with a mind to purchase both the 'magical' alien rock and his time and effort to use it for various projects. (Harry had seen more than a few which he'd happily donate himself to for free.)
One of Heiniken's researcher minions, a messy-haired woman prone to shuffling her feet and sniffing, had a brainwave about testing the assumed-inert materials found in and around Stonehenge. The bluestone, or more specifically dolerite mined from not-so-nearby Wales, had been something of a mystery even in Harry's time. Used to create Stonehenge in a location more than 380 kilometers away from their source, over 5000 years ago, it had been a massive undertaking the reason for which nobody really knew. And which even in Harry's time had people wondering whether it had been left incomplete or had simply been broken down over the centuries.
The researcher with the sniffles had stumbled over the single mention of it in all of the data he'd passed along, a reference to its broken state making it the best place to 'store' him. There was nothing else, like the reason for that was so obvious it didn't even bear mentioning. It wasn't the first time the condensed collection of Wizardly knowledge had fallen short, but it was one of the most frustrating. Still, it had been enough to make them question whether the boring metamorphic igneous rock might actually be magically worth something. The only problem was whether the exact composition of minerals and materials mattered or not, since it varied a lot by location. The GLF looked into ordering some samples. Harry thought about going straight to the source.
He thought about going home.
Of course, the GLF (and all legally-mandated representative researchers from other organisations, the RDA included) was a big place and at any one time there were often dozens of separate projects running simultaneously.
Madeline Roux, who Harry had fallen out with months ago, was heading up one of the most controversial of them. She found him one night when he'd crashed in his GLF-issued office with the extra-long, extra-comfy couch, barely knocking before inviting herself inside. Amazon, lounging by his head, pinned the woman in place with a look that only a custom-created killing machine could manage. Harry couldn't help a small smirk as the bullish woman froze beneath it. As a woman of this age and an ex-soldier to boot, she knew better than him just how lethal a bodyguard bot could be.
He let her hang for a second before sitting up with a lazy stretch and inviting her in.
"Mister Potter." Madeline's eyes flickered from Amazon to him and back again. Harry abruptly wondered whether she'd even known that Mike - an old friend of sorts - had fallen during the attack at Mary Jane's. Months later, his condition was stable but unchanged - and Harry had been too swamped to do more than cast an eye over the reams of healing magic that was more complex than anything he'd ever studied at Hogwarts, which might explain why healing wasn't taught there.
"Ms Roux." He replied, much more politely than he would have done had he not just been unwittingly reminded of Mike. Standing, he crossed to his desk and sat, waving Madeline to the guest chair.
"Coffee please, Amazon." He requested automatically. Although not programmed as a companion bot, she'd still perform such basic fetch requests so long as they didn't require her to leave a certain sphere of influence around her charge - and the coffee machine built into the wall was well within it. "White, two sugars." He called after her, since she never - ever - wasted a scrap of her memory on actually remembering how he bloody liked it, not even when he specifically asked her to.
Madeline waited until his guard returned with the requested drink - only for Harry, of course, Amazon simply lacking the software that would link refreshment for their charge to refreshment for anyone else - and for him to take a fortifying sip before she placed a digital glass file on the desk before him.
"The Rebirth project." She explained, as he flicked his fingers to shift its contents into his desk's processor, multiple holographic files leaping up in response. "We've done all the theoretical work we can. All that's left is practical experimentation." She tapped a file which changed to a list of scrolling names. "Volunteers." She explained, rapidly like she wanted to get it out before he stopped her. A jab made several of them show in red or orange. "Terminal, crippled or ill. All of them were made very aware that this would be the first and therefore most dangerous trial. Of the hundreds of volunteers, these are the top fifty ranked both by willingness and other ethical criteria such as a lack of dependents or other family."
Harry blinked hard at the fuzzy letters, squeezing and rubbing the bridge of his nose and the corners of his eyes.
"You what?" He asked inelegantly. It had been a long bloody day of scientific research aka feeding magic into hundreds of slightly different materials, waiting, then extracting. Over and over.
He did not have it in him to be a scientist.
"…Remember the rat?" She asked steadily. For a long moment, he didn't.
Then it clicked.
Volunteers.
"These are…?!" He glanced over it all again, suddenly wide awake and taking in the lists of seeds and seedlings, the map of location, the diagram of micro-climate design and cross-referenced research as to energy requirements, potential leakage and profitability potential. A series of digital illustrations offered multiple potential sites, from as small as the courtyard where Harry had once made a garden grow to as large as the paved 'park' between four skyscrapers. It was a self-contained eco-cycle, designed to regulate itself with solar input, ambient temperature management and moisture-redistribution the only things handled by an automated system, ideally powered by built-in biomass generators. It was tiny, compared to the massive enclosure that was the GLF's dream project, and if the ground could be turned to fertile soil, seedlings into full-grown trees, it could be cheap too.
All at the cost of lives, volunteers or not.
"Why the hell would you bring this to me?" He barked, slapping the files closed.
"Because I thought maybe you might have grown up a bit by now!" The woman shot furiously back. "Enough to at least respect that even though someone doesn't think the same way you do, they aren't inherently wrong."
"It's not like that!" Harry snapped, insulted and angry. "I just don-"
"It is exactly like that!" Madeline shouted, leaping to her feet only abruptly still and sit herself back down as Amazon rested a hand on Harry's shoulder - and raised her other in Madeline's direction, ready to shoot her dead with concealed weaponry should the woman make a single hostile move. Her temper didn't settle in the slightest, though. "You didn't like what I had to say and treated me like a fucking leper afterward. Never mind that everything would be legal, consensual and ethical, never mind that there are thousands of people who would leap at the chance to leave such a legacy behind them. Never mind that thousands more suffer every day because they've got lung rot and life is just a painful wait to die! No, you didn't think it was moral and that's all that mattered. You, with your outdated, arrogant, selfish morality-"
"But it's okay to make me a murderer?!" Harry hit the desk with his fist, so angry that he didn't notice the planet's core magic was leaking through him until the desk shattered like glass. A furious swipe of his hand saw it spiral back into shape, repaired with magic the world couldn't spare right now and he pinched closed the conduit inside him with more than a little self-directed temper too.
Madeline stilled.
"…I didn't think of it like that." She admitted stiffly. "Though, it wouldn't be murder," she rallied "just the shifting of energy from one place to another."
"Taking it," Harry said flatly "from a person, until they die. That's murder."
"They're volunteers-"
"Euthanasia then?" He scoffed. "You're still asking me - no, expecting me - to be okay with killing people. Even if it's legal, even if they're above and beyond willing… you're still asking me to kill."
She slumped a bit, not quite agreeing but understanding at least enough to look tired instead of angry. Looking at her now, he wondered if she was too much of an old soldier to ever understand. If there had been a time when killing was too much to ask for her, it was long past.
"…Maybe you're right." She conceded eventually. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm… not giving that aspect enough weight. Enough… respect." She met his eyes then, dark and resolute. "But Harry. I'm sorry, but this is the world we live in. Our cities are choking, our people can't live without getting sick, without their insides and outsides corroding - unless they're rich enough, of course. I know you care, seriously, but you live in an RDA tower - and you're a millionaire. You never have to walk to work in acid rain. You never have to go without an oxygen mask or filter because your kids need one too and you can't afford another packet right now. You've never had to live on the streets, eating out of dumpsters and begging, selling your body because it's all you've got, even as it quickly rots into undesirability. You've never gone your whole life without seeing a tree, a flower, without lying in the grass and breathing fresh clean air.
This? It's not about politics, or fanaticism, or experimenting for the sake of scientific curiosity. If it works? People could have parks again. Somewhere safe to be and breathe. And if there were enough? They could be used to slowly combat urban pollution, until eventually everyone has safer air to breathe, less sickness to suffer and a better quality of life. There are already people who leave their worldly goods to funds intended to build just such places - there are people who choose to have their ashes packaged with seeds so that they can help something grow. Maybe it is a lot to ask you. But, Harry. Please. I am asking. If there were anyone else, any thing else, I wouldn't involve you."
She flicked the files into his desk again, the images stuttering before steadying, then opened one in particular.
"We've tried to manipulate this energy - this 'magic' - ourselves. Nothing we try works. We can detect it but that's it. Anything that should be able to manipulate or at least channel it… just doesn't. It just breaks. We need you."
Harry dropped his eyes from hers and considered his coffee. It was as cold and unappealing as the choice Madeline was laying before him.
Refuse because he didn't want to feel people's lives vanish under his hand, and deny the city some health and hope. Agree, and become a killer - albeit one by request of the victims.
"What if it doesn't work?" He asked slowly. "What if I do this… if I kill these people… and it doesn't work?"
"Then at least we'll know." Madeline answered simply. "We'll have tried, and failed, instead of leaving these people to die eventually of their injuries or illness, always wondering if they might have contributed to something better. The GLF will take full responsibility, and…" she hesitated. "And, if it would help… I could make sure you could speak with everyone involved first. So you know, so you can see for yourself, that it's their choice and you're really just a-a facilitator. An assistant, helping them achieve their goal."
He leaned back in his chair and just breathed, eyes on the multitude of files. Madeline really had gone all out to bring him as much data as possible. She'd known she'd be fighting an uphill battle and had come prepared. Because she believed it was a battle worth fighting.
"Let me think about it." He answered eventually. "I just… I need to think."
Relief and surprise were obvious as the woman leapt to her feet with a nod.
"You got it." She agreed hastily, beating an exit before he could change his mind.
Harry eyed the files for few seconds more before swiping it closed once more and heading back for the couch. He'd spend the night here, what little was left of it, then head home to give this whole… insane scheme… some more thought. One of the files in amongst the rest had been a cost analysis, highlighting an alternative where unobtanium was used to power the growth instead of human lives.
It was prohibitively expensive, especially if magical plants were to be included.
People, on the other hand, were cheap.
As his heartrate slowed, the office adjusted its temperature and lights to be comfortable for sleeping. He dropped off to the silhouette of Amazon sitting cross-legged on his desk and dreamed of four skyscrapers cradling paradise between them.
Earth
Bit of a longer chapter than usual. Mike's fate was changed due to reader feedback, so good on you! Power to the people.
Please do let me know what you think! The feedback last time led to this chapter jumping the update queue.