Chapter 4: On the Eve of War
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was impossible to imagine that anything had once stood here.
The earth was barren and brittle. For miles on end, nothing taller than a pile of rubble stood.
Off in the distance, beyond the epicenter of the blast, there were moans of agony and pain, there were fires raging, sirens whining, the sounds of desperate struggles for survival.
But here, in what was once the center of Paris, there was nothing but a deathly silence.
The crunch of Harry's boots was rather loud as he walked through the debris. What little of it there was. The tallest buildings had been reduced to chest high piles of rock, ready to turn to dust at the barest touch.
The dust of wizard and muggle structures alike mingled together, with no possible way to discern which was which.
Which made Harry consider just quitting while he was ahead. This was a useless endeavor.
A translucent membrane covered his entire body. He'd experimented with radiation in his old timeline, not on himself but on others, and he'd finally come up with a spell that protected one from the harmful emissions.
But what he hadn't counted on was what the radiation would do to magic. His magic was severely weakened here, though thankfully his bubble was holding firm. He could only cast a few feet ahead of him, anything past that fizzled away into nothing.
He grimaced, that meant that he'd have to find his way out of the city the muggle way. That was a complication he had not anticipated. Hopefully, as he walked further and further from the epicenter, his magic would strengthen.
His brain told him that he should be making his way out of here as soon as possible. Before daybreak, when airplanes and helicopters would spot him easily.
But yet he continued on. Tracking and directional spells were useless, so he could only search blindly, hoping luck was on his side.
As the dim light of his Lumos spell fell on the crumpled remains of a sign, he smiled.
A cracked letter H, ready to disappear at the first gust of wind.
But he recognized the lettering, it was very distinct. Using his occlumency, he visited his memories to confirm it.
The Hotel de Flamberge had once stood here.
Quickly, Harry went to work. All he could do was cast levitation spells at the piles of rubble, which instantly turned to dust as they were lifted off the ground.
He made quick work of what might have been the lobby and found nothing.
This was stupid.
His plan had worked. He didn't need the wand. It had served it's purpose.
And yet something nagged at the back of his head. The Gaunt ring on his finger burned intensely despite the decay that hung in the air.
He turned over yet another pile of rocks when he saw it.
"You cheeky little bitch!"
As that pile turned to dust around it, Harry levitated the Elder Wand up from its previous tomb.
It was intact, the wood as smooth as if it had been whittled down that very same day.
"Fuck."
He'd always been in the camp that believed that the Hallows were simply very powerful artifacts created by the Peverells themselves all those centuries ago. They were extremely powerful magical items, but they were ultimately just that. Magical items like the Philosopher's Stone, creations of man.
But as Harry levitated the Deathstick closer to his outstretched hand, he was forced to rethink that idea.
Only something made by Death itself could survive all this destruction unscathed.
Harry wrapped his fingers around the wand, allowing it to pass through his bubble without letting anything else in.
His fingers wrapped around it and his heart stopped.
Something was different.
He felt a jolt of energy run through him as his left hand squeezed the Elder Wand tightly.
It was like nothing Harry had ever felt before. At first, it didn't feel like magic at all. The Elder Wand pulsed with a green light, a green much deeper than that of the killing curse
For a second, Harry thought he'd made a mistake. He felt the energy almost wanting to poison him, to tear his body apart into a million little pieces.
But then he clamped down on his occlumency shields, he grit his teeth and he focused. He focused on taming this wild… not magic that seemed to be flowing through the elder wand.
There was a final pulse of green light, this one arching outwardly in all directions. A stiff breeze picked up, kicking up a large cloud of dust.
When the dust settled, Harry stood, staring down at the wand in his left hand in wonder.
The Elder Wand had absorbed some of the explosion. It had taken that unholiest of energies as its own.
He could feel himself crackling with untold power. He vanished his protective bubble, knowing he no longer needed it. He let out a long, slow breath.
And then he threw his head back in a high, cold laughter.
…
The door to the dingy pub swung open and a smartly dressed wizard swept in, his unruly black hair speckled with flecks of gray.
Henri Potter inspected the inside of The Hog's Head. The pub was empty, occupied only by the tall, auburn haired barkeeper, who was absently wiping down the bar with a half-finished beer as his companion.
Henri let out a small snort at the sight. The place was filthy, filled with dust and cobwebs. The barkeeper was definitely not a stickler for cleanliness.
His eyes were drawn to the booth near the back, where the only other people in this establishment were sitting.
Henri raised an eyebrow. When he'd received the urgent letter from Lord Gaunt, he'd expected him to be alone. He didn't recognize this other man with him.
Lord Gaunt had made Henri uncomfortable since the first day he met him. Here was a man that valued all the old, outdated traditions that Henri abhorred. He was engaged to his own niece, for goodness sake! Lord Gaunt was fully entrenched with the dark faction, somehow rising up to dominate the likes of Black and Malfoy, men who did not like to be led.
And yet, whenever they interacted he found the man charming, likable even. He had a good humor about him, and many of his ideas, though coming from a place of bigotry and blood supremacy, were actually rather appealing to Henri. That Werewolf bill had had so many wonderful, humanitarian ideals cloaked in dehumanizing language.
Sometimes, Henri wondered if Gaunt wasn't playing the dark faction like a fiddle.
That grudging respect was the only reason Henri had agreed to meet with the man here, at this disreputable establishment, only a scant few days before the emergency ICW summit that would decide whether they would fall over the precipice and plunge the entire planet into war.
"Lord Potter," Gaunt acknowledged as he walked up to their booth. The man looked deathly serious, lacking the light humor he usually had.
They were in dark, dreary times.
"Lord Gaunt," Henri nodded, noting that Gaunt, who usually greeted him with a hug or atleast a handshake, did not move from his seat.
Henri sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting, feeling the eyes of the other man at the table boring into the side of his skull.
The man was tall, taller than Gaunt even, and thickly built, with a light gray stubble and a scar running down the side of his face.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've been introduced,"
"Marshall Brooks… head of MACUSA intelligence."
Henri's eyes widened, noting the slight hostility in the man's tone. "You're a long ways from home, Mr. Brooks." His light joke did not improve the mood one bit.
Brooks turned to Gaunt, who gave him a nod.
"Henri, I have a great deal of respect for you. It's why we're doing this here instead of in a Ministry holding cell."
Henri reared back, whatever good humor he'd had left vanished instantly. "What the devil is going on here?" He hissed.
"What is going on here, Mr. Potter-" Brooks snarled. "-Is that after the incident in Paris, one of my agents went digging into a secret project the United States government had been working on, the project that created that unholy weapon."
The air had stilled, the silence was palpable, the tension thick. Henri felt his blood turn icy cold, despite having no clue what any of this had to do with him.
"Our investigation found that that weapon was not supposed to be ready for at least another year. Also, the idea of the allies agreeing to drop it on Paris of all places…it's a ridiculous notion. We suspected foul play, of the magical kind."
Righteous rage welled up inside of Henri as he realized where this was going. "And you dare accuse me of such…such villainy?!"
Gaunt's head dropped as Brooks' hand disappeared into his petticoat. He pulled out a small golden locket.
"This was found in the quarters of one J. Robert Oppenheimer, a man closely involved in the development of the weapon. It has very strong compulsion charms placed on it. The magical signature of the caster has been scrambled, expertly so. We would have never been able to find you," he paused to appraise Henri's reaction. Henri was white with shock, not from guilt, but from the audacity of the accusation.
"I fail to see how this object has any ties to me." Henry spat.
"We traced back it's origin. You sent it the muggle way, but neglected to cover all your tracks on that side. Probably thought we were as incompetent as your own Ministry," here, Brooks shook his head. "This locket originated from one Lord Pembroke of Wiltshier. And what did we find, upon searching his mansion?"
Once again the hand went into the pocket, and what he pulled out this time truly left Henri aghast. Gaunt had turned his head away, unable to watch.
It was an envelope with a broken seal, a seal of a Gryffin, holding up a banner with the words Veritas written on it.
The Potter family seal.
"Our forensics team were able to defragment the magical signature on the locket using the letter, as well as validate the letter itself. That locket was enchanted by someone carrying Potter blood."
The silence was deafening.
"This…this is preposterous! I must have been framed! I'll take veritaserum, put me in the stand! I'll prove my innocence!"
Gaunt and Brooks shared a look. "Like I suggested, he may have obliviated himself," Brooks commented coldly.
"WHAT?! Gaunt…Harry, you have to see how ridiculous this all is. You know me. Why would I of all people want to instigate a war with the muggles?"
Harry sighed, "I agree it doesn't make sense Henri. But what other explanation is there? You know these things can't be faked. Not even someone under the Imperius curse can use a family seal, it must be done with a clear mind. The only thing that makes sense is that you masterminded some sort of insane, genocidal scheme and then erased the memories from your own mind, or…" Harry's eyes widened in realization. "Charlus," he gasped.
"NO!" Henri bellowed. "My son would do no such thing!"
"Are there any other Potters running around, Lord Potter?" Brooks asked.
Henri began to breathe heavily. Beginning to drown at the thought of either possibility being reality. There must be something they were missing. He had always prided himself in his fair dealings, his respect for all life. To think he could have done something like that was preposterous.
"Here's the thing, Henri," Harry's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "As deplorable as these things are, revealing them publicly would shatter our current unity. It would fragment us. Some magicals would defect to the muggles in outrage, it would lead to our defeat."
"Something I'm sure you accounted for," Brooks spat, glaring at Henri, who felt like his heart was about to give out.
"Outside of us, the truth is only know by three other people, people under Mr. Brooks' direct command, people who have sworn oaths to magic itself, oaths that prevent them from revealing this information." Harry looked at him seriously. "The cat's out of the bag, there's no way of closing the Pandora's box you've just opened. We can only deal with the fallout. It's not what any of us wanted, but the muggles must fall. Now . And for that, we need unity. Understood?"
Henri nodded numbly, standing up from his seat and leaving them behind without another word. He stumbled out of the pub with dazed, unseeing eyes.
"Whaddya think, did he do it, or was it the son?" Brooks popped a cigarette in his mouth and began fiddling with his lighter.
"No thank you," Harry politely declined as Brooks offered a smoke. "Neither option makes sense to me. I don't know Charlus as well as his father, but he doesn't seem like he would even be capable of doing something like this."
"I can't really picture a bastard conniving enough to pull something like this off. But just because Potter doesn't look the type doesn't make him innocent. We don't know the inner world of others." Brooks took a long drag of his cigarette.
"Indeed. But none of this matters. It could have been the Potter family crup that did it, we have to live with the fallout."
Brooks nodded, standing up himself, "This won't be easy. Rivers of blood, that's what's coming."
Harry gave him a sad smile. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you military men lack creativity sometimes."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Already have something percolating in that brain of yours, Gaunt?"
Harry shrugged. "Call me an idealist." He held his hand out and the men shared a firm handshake.
"See you in two days, General,"
…
Henri tumbled to the ground when he apparated to the foyer. Thankfully, Madeline was at their son's house, visiting the newlywed Charlus and Dorea.
In these dark times, everyone was looking for comfort in their loved ones. No one knew which day might be their last.
He walked the halls of Potter Manor, his feet leading him to his destination while his entire body thrummed with dread.
This just didn't make sense. There must have been a mistake somewhere. He needed to owl Gaunt, he needed to check the validity of that letter for himself. He could not allow himself to be swept away by the tides, not in trying times like this. He needed to be strong, as his ancestors had been before him.
With a renewed determination, Henri strode confidently to his study.
He slipped in through the door, ignoring the mahogany desk and the comfortable crimson and gold couch by the fireplace. He headed straight for the back of the room, where a heavy, shoulder height vault door made of goblin silver was embedded in the wall.
This safe was impenetrable. Even if a wizard as powerful as Grindelwald or Gaunt had tried to break in, the final safeguard guaranteed its integrity: only someone of Potter blood and of sound mind could open it.
There were a plethora of other protections that ensured that only Henri could open it, meaning there was no way for Charlus to have somehow meddled with it. And so it was with growing surety that Lord Potter cut a slit down his palm, pressing the lightly bleeding cut onto the cold metal.
The vault door spun rapidly and the safe opened.
The contents were just as he'd left them months ago. His family's cloak was with Charlus now, so the only things in here were his and Madeline's wills; their portraits, waiting to be imbued with magic to spring to life; and a few pieces of priceless jewelry that had been in the family for generations.
Henri let out a breath in relief. This didn't prove anything, but it went a long way to assure him that he was correct. Even if he had obliviated himself, he would have hidden some sort of evidence in this safe.
He was about to shut the door, but something caught his attention. There was something odd about the safe, now that he looked at it. Something that didn't line up with his memory of it.
Suddenly, it struck him.
The safe was smaller than before.
His heart sank to his stomach once more, his blood running cold as his hand shot forward, pressing up against the back wall, which felt as solid as ever.
With a deep shuddering breath, he readied his wand. It was all made of goblin silver, it should be impossible to vanish.
"Evanesco," he whispered.
The false back of the safe vanished, and in the newly revealed space, he saw a dossier. A thick, well worn dossier.
NO!
He froze, for a moment considering wether he should just burn the thing without even looking. But of course he grabbed it. He took the thick stack of papers out of the safe. He opened it, his eyes falling on the first page with rising dread.
Hours later, Madeline Potter would return home to see her husband on his seat, staring at the crackling fire, two-thirds of a bottle of firewhisky already vanished.
…
Harry had a quiet trek back up the path from Hogsmeade, and as he walked through the Great Hall and up the grand staircase, he smiled kindly at every student he saw.
Everyone was terrified. What they needed most right now was strength.
Many students had decided to stay at Hogwarts during winter break, feeling safer in his presence. Knowing that they also needed family in these trying times, Harry told Dippet that they should allow students' families to visit them at the school during these holidays. They were dire circumstances, after all. Many students and parents would beam at him when they thought Harry wasn't looking, thankful for his kindness.
More and more, Harry wondered when Dippet would realize he was a husk and just wither away.
He'd never bothered to find out when exactly Dumbledore had become Headmaster in his original timeline, but he seriously doubted it could have been too long after Grindlewald's defeat.
He made it to his chambers, exhausted after so many days spent mostly out of the castle. The room was silent as he walked in, which meant the girls were out and about.
Passing by his nightstand, he saw a note, written in Emily's spindly script.
Went down to play with Tessie. Took Lyra and the pets.
Harry smiled. He'd considered taking a well deserved rest, but maybe he needed a bit of active recovery instead.
He descended down into the vaunted Chamber of Secrets, Salazar's haven. He entered the main chamber, to see his daughter getting a piggyback ride from a giant basilisk.
Thessaloniki, or Tessie for short, was a fearsome, millenia old basilisk. She'd been ravenous when Harry and Emily had awoken her, stalking the Forbidden Forest for months on end. Now, after a few years of being constantly awake, she only needed to hunt once every few months. After spending a thousand years growing inside of a magical castle, Tessie had become as much a part of Hogwarts as the moving staircases and the wards themselves. The magic of the castle fed her and maintained her.
Once Harry and Emily got a hold of her, they performed a ritual to turn her into their familiar. Now, all of those sharing their blood were immune to her lethal gaze.
Which was why Lyra was currently riding along, her eyes open wide with mirth as the Basilisk took her on a dangerously fast trek through the chamber's many tunnels.
The four year old waved at her father as she sped by and Harry waved back. He continued on to the back of the chamber, where the mouth of Slytherin's statue was open, dim light peeking out from the room within.
Harry walked in to the study and smiled at the sight.
Emily looked so gorgeous. Tall and regal, with her perfectly pert breasts and her four month pregnant belly. She was naked outside of a pair of black stockings that reached up to her mid-thigh.
Minerva and Walburga were both here as well, blindfolded, of course, since they were not immune to Tessie's lethal gaze.
Minerva was lying down on a cold, metal table, ropes holding her legs and torso down. Emily had a look of concentration as she held a red candle over her, slowly dripping candle wax onto the tiny girl's body.
From Minerva's gasps and hisses, Harry knew she both loved and hated the experience.
"You're back, love." Emily smiled, and gods did that dark, evil smile drive him crazy. She was and always would be his queen, above all others.
"I am, had a very productive meeting,"
"Potter?" She asked as she dripped wax on Minerva's flat chest. The girl strained against her restraints, and Harry saw that the girl was sweating profusely.
He took a good look at the candle and realized why. It was a special candle, every drip of wax would make the girl more and more aroused, without allowing her to find release. Seeing the dozens of dried spots of wax all over her body, he knew Minerva must be in agony.
He turned his gaze back to his fiancee. "Indeed, had a nice little chat with him."
He closed the distance between them and claimed her ruby red lips, sharing a hungry, animalistic kiss. Harry felt her belly press against him, the belly that was carrying his child, and his cock twitched. He ran his hand down her back, reaching lower and lower until he grabbed onto a short head of black hair.
Walburga had been kneeling behind Emily the entire time, her head pressed between her mistress' butcheeks as her tongue was buried deep in her asshole.
Harry pressed her head deeper into Emily's ass as his tongue dueled with his nieces. His other hand groped around the table until it felt Minerva's toes, and he slowly began trailing it upward.
Emily broke the kiss, "Walburga, why don't you prep daddy for me?"
Harry pulled her head back forcefully as the fifteen year old gasped for air. "Yes, mistress!"
Harry pulled back from Emily and Minerva as Walburga crawled over to him, her blue eyes looking up at him with pure worship. They'd truly turned the girl into nothing more than a family pet.
Harry waved his hand and his clothes vanished, letting his half-mast cock spring free. Walburga reared up on her knees, capturing the tip with her mouth and slowly pushing forward, taking as much of his thick length as she could down her throat.
Emily had released Minerva from her bonds and blown out the candle. The young girl was trembling on the table, but she would find no relief from her torture. Emily turned her over onto her front.
"Raise your pretty little bum," she commanded seductively. Minerva shuddered but complied, sliding her knees forward until her ass and pussy were fully presented to them.
"Ooh, auntie! Can I do it!"
Lyra had walked into the room, her hair looking wild. Tessie had left, likely to explore the castle, since she couldn't hunt much in these winter months.
"Why, of course dear," Emily smiled as she held the candle out.
Lyra skipped over, sparing only a glance to her mother as Harry began to roughly face-fuck her, pounding her face with his massive cock.
The young girl grabbed the candle from her aunt's outstretched hand and giggled as she turned it around, the head full of dripping hot wax facing downward. In one motion she shoved the candle halfway down Minerva's tight little ass.
"Aaaahhh!" Minerva shrieked.
Lyra clapped, squealing with excitement. "Did I do good auntie? Daddy?"
"You did great honey!" Harry encouraged while her mother gurgled on his cock, slobber already coating her face as Harry held her down.
"You know Lyra, why don't you keep playing with Minnie? You can use her as a learning tool." Emily said.
She snapped her fingers, and a half dozen objects appeared on the table. Dildos, clamps, whips and vibrators among them.
Lyra's eyes widened. "Oooh, so many toys!"
Emily placed a hand on her shoulders. "Try them out on her, see how she reacts."
Emily left her niece to play with the first year as she walked over to her uncle.
Harry smiled proudly at her. Emily closed the distance between them, not caring as she pressed her wet cunt against the back of Walburga's head. they wrapped their arms around each other and kissed, Walburga's head being pushed harder against Harry's cock by Emily's pelvis.
At some point, Harry came down Walburga's throat, filling her with a large helping of semen as he was squeezing Emily's breasts and rubbing her pregnant belly.
Pulling out of Walburga, Harry picked Emily up bridal style, her arms wrapping around his neck as he carried her out into the wider chamber. Walking up to a nondescript pillar, Harry hissed in parseltongue. "Throne."
The Pillar began to morph, it's shape melting and molding itself, an indentation opening up on the marble. As the couple approached, it had settled into an ornately decorated marble throne, with carvings of serpents running up each hand rest.
Harry placed Emilly down on the throne gently. He knelt down in front of it while the pregnant teenager looked down at him, her dark eyes brimming with powerful emotions.
Harry pulled one of her dainty feet to his face and planted a loving kiss on it, never breaking eye contact with her. "You will always be by my side. No matter how many join our little flock, you will remain above all others. You will be my queen, Emily "
Tears, it was shocking to see tears brimming in her eyes, but for a split second they were there, before they disappeared as if they'd even been there.
Emily stroked his face as he stared up at her. In that moment, he was entranced by the image of her laying on that throne, her body tall and lithe, with the small prominent baby bump and her swollen breasts adding to her beauty.
She looked like a dark goddess, and in that moment Harry knew he'd need to have her painted like this when she was further along in her pregnancy. He would spare no expense, perhaps he would drape her in a white cloth so that the portrait could be displayed prominently. If he made it large enough, it could be placed somewhere over the Entrance Hall, or perhaps the atrium at the Ministry.
"Daddy,"
Harry blinked, refocusing on his fiancee, who was looking down at him with a slight smile.
"Sorry, my love. You just have a way of leaving me bewitched."
He kissed her foot once more. He slid up her body, his hands running up her sides, eliciting a shiver of excitement from her.
"I want to sit on your lap, daddy." Emily cooed.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as Harry pulled her up, just enough to sit down on the throne himself. Emily sat sideways on his lap, and after some slight shifting, he felt his cock plunge into her perfect little depths.
She let out a little gasp of pleasure. She rested her head on his chest, leaving light kisses on his flesh as they began to slowly make love. Harry tightened his grip around her waist, placing his chin over her head as he rolled his hips in soft, deep strokes. He needed to feel her close to him, feel her melt into him as they became one.
He could feel her pregnant belly pressed against him, he was careful not to place too much pressure on it as he bounced her lightly on his lap.
He felt her begin to shudder around him and he didn't try to hold back his own release. They came together, with Harry flooding his soon to be wife's tight pussy, holding her close as his cock pulsed within her snug little cunt.
They stayed seated like that for a good while, basking in each other. At some point, Emily fell asleep in his arms.
Harry smiled. He'd needed this after the stressful week he'd had, and definitely considering what was ahead of him.
….
"Order! Order!"
The sound of the gavel rang through the large chamber as all the delegations stopped their chattering, settling into their seats as the acting Supreme Mugwump, Kamal Patel from the Indian delegation, called their attention to the dais.
"We've deliberated long enough! It is time for a vote!"
The extensive translation charms made it so the dozens of small conversations throughout the room were completely intelligible, regardless of what language one spoke.
"You seem supremely confident," Cygnus hissed under his breath.
Their box included Brutus Malfoy, Henri Potter, Thomas Longbottom and Hardwin Bones. Equal representation for both sides of the aisle.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Harry questioned.
"Potter will never agree to war. We will be deadlocked, and the vote needs to be unanimous." Malfoy spoke from his other side, taking care to not be overheard by the other men.
Harry smiled. "Let us vote, I'm certain that things will work out."
Both men huffed at Harry's blasé attitude. He smirked as a piece of parchment and an envelope appeared before him. On the parchment were two simple options, options that would decide the course of history.
The decision needed to be unanimous. It took only one delegation voting Nay or deadlocking for the whole thing to crumble. A Nay vote would open up debate, which could lead to the Nay voters being swayed, but it could just as easily lead to others casting doubt on their previous choice, to think that maybe they shouldn't vote for a war of annihilation with the muggles.
All his maneuvering had led to this moment. It hinged on every other member country in the ICW voting for war. They were terrible odds, but Harry had played his cards right.
The smaller delegations were nominally independent, but in reality they would follow along with what their regional hegemon decided upon.
Under normal circumstances, the two biggest opponents for any war with the muggles would be the Americans and the French. They had progressive governments, with much more positive views on the muggles than most others.
By dropping an American bomb on Paris, Harry had eliminated both his biggest roadblocks. The French had transformed into raving war hawks, demanding retribution for the destruction of Paris. MACUSA, meanwhile, felt deep guilt and embarrassment over the fact that it had been their muggle government that had created and dropped the bomb.
Envelopes were stuffed and sealed. The letters disappeared in a huff of smoke. A tense silence reigned over the chamber as they waited for the votes to be tallied. Cygnus and Brutus were ashen white. Potter's group didn't look to be in much better shape.
A form appeared in front of Patel and everyone held their collective breaths. The man held the parchment, his eyes scanning every word meticulously, no reaction reflecting on his face as he finished reading the short note.
"By unanimous decision, this body has voted for complete annihilation of the muggles and their governing structures. We will immediately proceed to convene a council of war."
Everyone in the room had voted for it, and yet hearing the words spoken out loud made the reality set in. Many were excited, many were terrified.
They had stepped over the precipice, and there was no turning back.
…
"Gentlemen, we have crossed the Rubicon. No matter the bloodshed, and there will be plenty, we cannot turn back."
Brooks had a flair for the dramatic. He did have a receptive audience as well. To his left, Harry could see Cygnus and Henri looked as if they were about to throw up.
The War Council ended up being delegations representing each continent. The three English representatives were joined by a Frenchman, a German and three Russians. All the biggest power brokers in the continent.
"Now that, as you say, the die has been cast. I have many concerns on the logistical side." A man from Japan spoke up. "Muggles outnumber us by an exponential amount. Our own government ran a survey, and we determined that there are just shy of eight millions magicals in the entire planet. Meanwhile, even with tens of millions dying over the past few years, muggles are past two billion, and growing at an ever increasing rate."
"They breed like vermin." A Russian grumbled. Cygnus gave an emphatic nod at the man's words.
"We don't even know where they keep their weapons, or how many they have, or even how most of their damned contraptions work!" An elderly woman from Nigeria complained.
The enormity of the situation began to set in. Many around the room began to sweat.
"Thankfully, we have help." Kamar Patel waved a thick dossier above his head.
"What exactly is that?"
"This-" he gestured toward the document. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Henri stiffen. "Was anonymously left in the ICW headquarters this morning. Apparently, someone had been doing some extensive spying. Collected in this document are all the major targets for the countries involved in the war. Weapons depots, manufacturing hubs, bases… they're all here."
Everyone reacted with shock. "And this was just…dropped off… anonymously?" A Chinese delegate questioned with suspicion.
"Assuming it's accurate." Harry finally spoke up, his voice commanding attention, a tinge of authority in it that drew everyone else in. "Could you project these points onto a map?"
"Of course." Patel waved his wand over the dossier in a complex pattern. The pages began to glow, and suddenly a transparent image was projected onto the wall behind them.
It was a world map, riddled with dots. Not hundreds or thousands, but hundreds of thousands of dots.
Brooks whistled. "Fuck me!"
"And this is only what the armies fighting this war control! This is not even including the rest of the world!" A Brazilian delegate bit out.
"As I said,'' the Japanese man spoke again. "This is extremely daunting. Even if every able bodied witch or wizard were to lend their wand, the numbers are overwhelming."
"We have the element of surprise on our side! We can easily hide from them as well, use hit and run tactics."
"Hide? I refuse to hide from muggle swine!"
"Even with those tactics, even with the imperious curse, the numbers don't match up. At some point we would be discovered, and then it would be open warfare. And the muggles have more firepower than us."
"What a pathetic excuse for a war council! Barely convened for an hour and already acting as if we're defeated!"
BANG!
The loud sound startled everyone in the room, who turned to see Lord Gaunt, his wand raised high up in the air as he stood from his seat.
"Friends, I'm afraid you are beginning to panic, and those who panic tend to lose badly."
He began to walk around the table, looking every person in the eyes as he did. "Yes, the numbers game is daunting. But it is not insurmountable. We have magic, for Merlin's sake! Have you forgotten that?"
"What do you suggest we do, Gaunt?" The man from Japan asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
Harry smiled. "I have a plan. A plan that will end the muggle threat without a single one of us having to cast a curse."
Brooks snorted, and several people looked at him as if he was insane. Cygnus himself looked flabbergasted by Harry's words.
"I believe defeating Grindelwald has gotten to your head, Gaunt. What kind of ridiculous scheme could you have possibly come up with in just a week?"
Harry smiled. He'd taken a bit more than a week to come up with his plan, but they didn't need to know that.
"When is christmas eve again?" He asked the room.
"It's in four days." Henri was the one who answered, staring at Harry as if in a trance.
"In four days…we can solve this in four days. It requires precision, mass mobilization of resources at a scale not seen before in our society." Harry grinned, a rugged, mischievous smile. "But I think I can make it work."