AN: So this should be the end of the first arc. The chapter might be a bit slow, but I had to put out all the information so the incoming stuff make sense. Anyway, I hope you like it.

As the consequences set in, Ron and Harry simply stared at one another for what seemed to last forever. Harry wanted to say something, reassure his old friend that it will all turn alright, but there was a question underneath it, and he could see in Ron's eyes that he understood.

It was simple: are you with me? but there was nothing simple about it. Even thinking about it made Harry feel terrible. Harry was a bachelor, and ever since he was a baby he was ready to take the world on, but Ron had a family now, kids and wife, and plenty to lose besides.

Times where they could steal a flying car just for the fun of it were long gone, and in today's world there were real consequences.

A faint pop in the distance broke their stalemate, and Harry's back went rigid. It took Ron a second more but he also realized they were no longer alone. Harry pulled his cloak out of his pocket and threw it at Ron. "Hide. Quickly."

They must've tripped an alarm somewhere in those repellant charms, he realized, and chided himself for such an oversight. No sense in worrying about it now, though. The trouble was that the intruders weren't simply rushing in, wands blazing, because he knew how to deal with that.

"Aurors?" Ron asked, invisible somewhere behind Harry, and it was exactly Harry's thought. They weren't rushing in because they were setting a perimeter, getting orders in, organizing, assessing the threat, all nice and steady, and that meant professionals. "I think you talk this one out."

Breaking onto a scene for the Boy-Who-Lived would most likely result in no more than a fine, especially for the former Auror they wouldn't want to end up on the front pages. A flare of magic rushed in Harry's direction and he could sense them stripping the outer layer of it down, getting ready for their approach.

"I think you just leave," he said. "No reason we both get busted."

"No can do." Ron's voice came from ruther away and Harry cursed as he realized he went to see what they were dealing with. For the sport of it, Harry tried to apparate away, but there was sort of pressure on him that told him it wouldn't be wise to go through with it. He might leave more than his fingernails behind.

Harry heard Ron returning. His head popped into existence, and there was real fear on his face, the kind that sent shivers of both anticipation and excitement down Harry's spine. "It's the undersecretary of the Great Leader himself," he said in a rushed whisper, face pale, jaw clenched. "And he brought a full ICW hit wizard squad."

"Can they do that?"

"No," Ron said. "Toast this, I'm beeping in."

But before he could, Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder, stopping him. They might need to brief Kingsley later, but right now Harry thought it ill advised to turn it all into an ugly international incident. Even abroad, his influence of being Harry Potter carried some clout, and now he was ready to cash it in.

"Hide," he repeated, and hesitated.

Ron gave him a determined nod. "And if they think about the hardball, I flank them into paste."

It wasn't really what Harry had in mind, but it would do, and he felt sudden warmth spreading through his stomach. They've been through a lot, the two of them, and were still around to tell the tale. Harry hoped that it meant something, and a small part of him hoped it would come to the wands. The part he hated to acknowledge.

In front of the wizarding house that was now in ruins, he crouched, letting some dust from the ground fall through his opened fist, and squinted his eyes at the clouded night. Dramatic enough, he reckoned, and waited for the party to arrive.

They came forth from behind the veil of disillusion, creating a wide semicircle around Harry, stepping forward in unison, giving up the fact that they've done so enough time in the past. But charm could not fool Harry, and even at the distance he could make their faces, hard but young, none that he could recognize besides the man in the center of it that didn't even bother to draw his wand.

The force stopped as one, as their leader moved forward, slowly, giving a casual look to their surroundings. "Hello again," he said simply before stopping some five yards away from Harry. "Are you alone?"

"Quite," Harry said, dusted his hands, and stood up before taking a step forward. "Are you?"

The man from Narcissa's office gave a smile Harry thought was genuine at that. "Never. Did you manage to glance something from this disaster?"

"Only that ICW would send a response in numbers if someone tries," he said. "For a moment I expected my old colleagues."

As they talked, the hit wizards completed their circle, using the ruins as a chokepoint, but he could see in their stances they thought the business was done, their wands at sides, their eyes emptily floating around with only a few pairs narrowed, resting at Harry. Older witches and wizards, those, the ones Harry would have to look for, experienced.

"Minister Shacklebolt is busy with other affairs so we thought to lend a hand in these strange times, and he was happy to agree." Now that was a load of bull if Harry ever heard one. "Minister Belyakov takes this incident with great concern."

"Just as the Society, no?"

The man smiled, straightening a single crinkle that appeared on his old fashioned suit. "Two sides of the same coin. Both meant to spread chaos and uncertainty. Both best battled with order and law."

"Did you try telling people what's really going on? I've done it once or twice in the past, and you'd be amazed how selfless folk can be once they're being threatened, and once they gather together against the greater threat."

"Some threats are too great," the man said, running a hand through his bald pate. "Some folk, too opportunistic."

Which meant nothing, really, and annoyed Harry as equally as it illuminated him. "Did you curse the magic? Or whatever is going on."

The man nodded to himself, eyes warily examining the ruins. "So you did gleam something from it. I thought you would. Your employers did that. It has something to do with the man they're looking for that went missing, one for their—I should say yours—own.

"Free wand, you call yourself, while trying to do exactly the opposite; limit its number through decaying wood"

Before he could stop, his eyes widened, and the man caught it, his smile turning sad. "Ah, of course, you were not aware. You thought, as many others, that they were about helping people. More's the pity."

"Pity?" Harry asked, shifting himself at the side a bit, angling himself, ready to explode within a moment's notice. "About to arrest me, are you?"

The man laughed. "And rid myself of my greatest ace? Hardly. I know about you, Harry Potter, and about your statistics against those that wronged you and yours. Now that someone is against everyone in our world, I'd think you will only add to that statistic once you realize the truth of it."

Everything told him he should be wary of the man, and of the things he was saying, but Harry would be lying if he didn't think the same at least once. There was something truly shifty going on in the Free Wand Society, and even though Mrs Malfoy saved him once, people change and get ideas, and there was nothing more dangerous than a great number of wizards with the same idea.

The inconsistency popped into his mind. "What are you doing here, then?"

"Order," the man repeated, giving a lazy wave of his hand, and it made the circle of wizards and witches around him retreat into the shadows. "Law. We all love justice and freedom, but someone's got to keep realistic."

"And that someone is you?"

The man shook his head. "Just a little cog, me. No man is greater than the institutions, no wizard above the magic itself. All we can do individually is our part." He gave another look around himself, and when they were alone, he raised his wand, with a single flick put enchantments back in place, and broke whatever it was preventing his apparition earlier.

With a goodbye nod, he vanished into the cloudy night.

"Bloody bureaucrats," Ron spat after his sixth drink and then took a long gulp of goblin mead, strong and rich. "You know you need a shag when you start preaching about institutions. Bet that baldie didn't have any in years."

Harry snorted, his own mead running down his nose. "Law and order, my friend."

"Law and order," Ron repeated, a sober look to his eyes, and he tapped his glass against the table. "Dunno if it's just me, but I got strong Umbridge vibes from that dude."

"You don't say," Harry murmured and then burped. The trouble was, no matter Umbridge's shortcoming, she truly believed in her own power and in the minister's office, and in a short span of a school year, she almost managed to do more bad than Voldemort did.

"That suit of his reminded me of her as well," Ron said. "We should just vote for a law that lets us arrest people based on fashion choices."

"How far do you reckon the two of us would make?" Harry asked, peeking down on his long raincoat with a critical eye. He liked the thing as it passed well in both muggle and wizarding worlds.

Ron nodded at the cloaked youth on the other side of the bar, making it nonchalant. "Farther than that bloke who, by the way, hasn't stopped stealing glances at us."

"Yeah, I noticed. Means we're on the right track, right?"

Ron shook his head. "It means we're angering the wrong people, is all. I know you make a habit out of it, but it's making me all shifty."

They looked at their follower for a moment longer before Ron gave a sigh. "This is it, then. We need more bodies before we end up transfigured into something unnatural and buried in a shallow grave."

It was a bit of a bleak assessment, and it made Harry wince, but he wasn't wrong. "Kingsley?"

Ron gave a slow nod, eyes narrowed. "In a couple of days though. We'd want to gather as much as possible, write it all down, before we bother him. How do we do this? Run for it?"

"Eh, just go home," Harry said. "I'll stay around for another drink, see if he moves at all."

Ron gave another nod, pushing himself up, and then lost a footing, barely catching himself on time. "If he's any good, he'll have a buddy just outside."

It was what Harry was counting on. There was nothing more telly than the competence of your tails, after all, there were no more than a dozen competent trackers in the whole world. As he watched Ron leave, he thought it was high time he started narrowing the noose.

The next morning Harry found Diagon Alley unusually busy.

On the north side, there was a rowdy crowd in front of the apothecary, a small, sweaty man in front of the closed door of the shop yelling something that didn't seem to make things any better.

It wasn't the loud part of the crowd that made Harry uneasy, though. In the back, silent, there were a couple of tall, muscular men, frowning and exchanging dark looks, and one of them had a large silver scar stretching from his eye to his jaw that told Harry what the man was.

One went to make a determined long step forward, but the oldest of them, the one with a scar, and gray mane of hair put a heavy hand on his shoulder and nodded towards the entrance of the alley, where two Aurors pretended they weren't there because of the crowd.

They fooled no one. Harry knew Savage and Proudfoot were good at their job, had heads cooler than the most, but even at this distance he could tell they weren't happy about what was going on.

It wasn't just the apothecary. The Gringotts had six goblins guarding the entrance, where there were usually just two, and they all had gleaming armors and long spears, and Harry didn't want to know what sort of enchantments their tips held. One of the creatures barked something, and wizards in front of the building hurried to make an orderly line, but Harry could tell they weren't overly thrilled to do so, especially not at the order of Goblin.

In contrast, Ernie's building had no one close to it. Skipping steps to the last floor, Harry wondered if this was the beginning, but once he arrived in the lobby, there was something else that needed his attention.

The tiny, heavy-browed secretary glanced towards him as soon as he showed up, something between alarm and relief in her eyes. For some reason she gave him a little shake of her head. Guarding the door, a young man in long deep red robes stood. Arms crossed in front of him, he eyed Harry warily.

He could have sworn he was one of the ICW folk from the day earlier, and he cracked his neck approaching the secretary with a friendly smile. "Is he free? I'm kinda in a rush?"

Her smile was strained. "He is unavailable at the moment. I can owl you the next free spot if you want, Mr. Potter?"

Normally, he wouldn't mind, but the way she told him so rubbed him the wrong way, and the hopeful note in her voice made him rigid. "How about Ernie tells me that himself?"

Before she could answer him, he felt something at the back of his neck, and he took a step at the side instinctively, gaining the distance from the approaching man.

"She said he ain't available, didn't she?" the young man said with a sneer, trying for a tough face, but he didn't come close to the likes of Snape, and Harry could see nervousness in his unsteady hands. So the boy knew who Harry was, that was something at least. "So why don't you scatter before I call for a backup?"

Harry laughed at him, and it got the youth all red faced. "And since when does the ICW have any say in civilian's business?"

"Since he works for us," he replied and went for his wand, but too slow for him to actually use it in time, more of a threatening move, and with Harry, it never quite worked.

Harry crossed the distance between them in two swift steps, grabbed his wrist, twisted it fiercely, and buried his own wand into the soft part of his neck, pushing him back all until he hit the wall.

Eyes narrowed, the man glanced down towards his badge, shifted his wrist a little, gauging Harry's grip but it was as strong and Harry smiled at him without any humor behind it. He gave him another second to see if he would act, but the young man thought better of it, with reason. A small ball of sweat gathered over his right brow.

"Easy now, Potter," he said, voice not quite breaking but not far from it either. "I've orders and there's nothing good for you if you stop me from following 'em."

"No?" Harry tilted his head at the side, leaning in so close their noses almost touched. "I don't handle threats well, boy."

He tried to wiggle farther away, but there was no room for it and he grit his teeth instead. "They'll know it was you." He nodded at the secretary who was frozen behind her desk, mouth opening and closing. "No need to make this into something you won't be able to undo, is there?"

Harry had to give him some credit for bravery, and he wasn't completely wrong.

"What is this?" Ernie barked, wand up at both Harry and the ICW boy, hovering somewhere in between. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, unhandle him, will you?"

When Harry didn't do so immediately, Ernie gave an impatient sigh. "Don't be thick now, he's here because of the crowd outside."

Harry took a deep breath in, made himself calm again and let him go, taking a step back, and then stunned the boy. He hesitated for a moment, and obliviated him, just in case.

"You've gone mad," Ernie said, eyes wide, but he put his wand away and turned towards the secretary. "Close the building down, will you?"

The two of them retreated into his office, and Enie dropped hard into his chair, giving Harry an annoyed look. "That wasn't very wise. You're lucky he didn't call for a backup immediately."

Harry snorted. "I'm being followed by these pricks and they seem to pop up wherever I go. They're wearing my patience thin."

"What patience?" Ernie asked gently and leaned forward, his fingers intertwined in front of him. "I've examined the files you've sent me, and this isn't a game anymore, Harry. I won't be able to cover for you again."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said with a wave of his hand. "I've done some digging of my own, and it's always the same things showing up. A hunch tells me it's the same thing ICW has you researching."

Ernie's face turned blank, eyes turning speculative as he watched Harry. He stood up, walked to the window, and frowned through it, no doubt looking down at the crowd. "I respect you, Harry. You know that, right?"

"I do," he said, something about Ernie's voice setting him on edge. "Thanks."

"But I made a mistake roping you into this. There are things you handle with wands blazing in, and there are things you handle behind the closed doors. I hear you're a member of society now." It wasn't a question, but Ernie still made it one.

"Yeah. It's where my poking led me."

A moment of silence stretched, and Harry saw Ernie's hands behind his back becoming restless, as if he was working himself towards something, something Harry wouldn't like at all. "I wasn't completely honest with you, Harry."

Harry took a slow step back, muttered a charm to make sure there were no more men pouring into the building, and then trained his wand onto Ernie's back, who didn't turn, though Harry could tell he knew what happened by the sagging of his shoulders.

"Oh yeah?"

"I'm not merely working with the DoM for ICW," he said, finally turning around. "I am ICW."

Harry let his hand drop. If he called for the backup there was little to do anyway, and Ernie was an old friend, from the DA, and the one who fought with him. The least he deserved was for Harry to listen to him. "And?"

"And I've learned a lot in the last couple of days." He sat down behind his desk, face serious and guarded. "All about your excursion to Kent, and about your employers."

"What about the magic being all shifty?"

Ernie shifted his weight in the chair and it was a tell, but Harry couldn't tell what exactly he was to gleam out of it. "About that as well. It's serious business, Harry, and a great many wizards are being very serious about it."

"What are you trying to tell me, Ernie?" Harry asked. "You'll have to spell it out for me."

Ernie sighed. "You might be on the wrong side here without realizing it yourself. If you're looking into it, I can hook you up with my superiors, where you can do some real good. Try and put a stop to all of it."

It all sounded very reasonable, but Harry didn't just stop working for the government only to start all over again, and something sound off about it, besides. An itch, perhaps, but the one he didn't like at all. "You sure I'm the one on the wrong side?"

Ernie slammed the desk with an opened palm, suddenly furious. "You're not listening."

Harry tilted his head. "Strange. I just thought you're not explaining it very well."

"That society of yours is trying to wrestle the control away from the ministries through some bad, bad magic." He put his wand on the desk in front of himself and pointed at it. "We're all taking these for granted, but what happens when there's no more new wands? What happens when there's a thousand wands on fifty thousand wizards?"

Nothing good, Harry reckoned and took a deep breath, wrapping his head around what he had just heard. But there was another question in his head by now. The idea that the ministries would have the same control Ernie talked about sat badly in Harry's stomach and he made his mind.

"If you're right I might do more good by staying where I am," he said.

Ernie shook his head. "It's your choice, mate, but we won't wait for you to make up your mind forever."

And that was all the answer Harry needed. They should have known by now he didn't react well to such deals, much less so to threats. He gave Ernie an empty smile and turned on his heel. It seemed they have little to say to one another anymore.

No number of contracts he took later that day managed to help Harry's foul mood, but there was nothing else to do if he was to keep his mind away from the bars and drinks, and that was why he went into it in the first place, only it took a weird twist that he still wasn't sure about.

When he apparated in front of the headquarters, the first thing he noticed were the pair of red cloaks on the other side of the streets, hands in their pockets, and heads hunched under the hoods, eyes firm on everyone else on the street, no doubt reporting on every person that goes in or out.

By the time he returned to his office, his head throbbed with the headache, and he downed the vial from his drawer in a single go, sighing in relief once its effect started to spread.

The doors of his office sprung open so loud it made him wince, and when he saw Pansy standing in front of him, it didn't help his headache any. "Boss wants us up," she said, and turned around not waiting for his response. Resigned, he got up and followed. Perhaps it was time for some answers.

They entered Mrs Malfoy's office, and found her in front of the blackboard, walking back and forth in front of it, humming. Harry thought she didn't realize she was doing so. Pansy cleared her throat.

"You're here," she said. "Good." She held an arm out and Pansy planted some parchment into it. She always seemed to be carrying some parchment around.

"Good thing you called for me," Harry said, walking next to her and giving a blackboard a look of his own. Articles and smaller pieces pinned to it told a story he couldn't tell the start or end of.

Some about the ICW, about Russia, about the British ministry, about individuals Harry didn't know, very little connection between them all.

"Because I haven't been with the society for a week, and I'm already getting this feeling I'm not as free as I ought to be."

Pansy and Mrs Malfoy exchanged a look, and then Mrs Malfoy gave a soft sigh as if she was already annoyed by his presence. He could work with that. He had annoyed much more dangerous people in his time.

"You arrived at us at a precarious moment," she said. "None of us are as free as we would like, but great wizards adapt and leave whining to lesser men." Pansy snorted. "What did you find in Kent?"

Harry was not surprised at this point that practically everybody was aware of it, and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Probably a curse. Could be a test of some sort."

"I could have told you as much without leaving the headquarters," Pansy said, an unimpressed brow raised to her straight bangs. "All I need is more time."

Mrs Malfoy shook her head, tapping the wand against her chin. "Time is precisely what we don't have, and Potter is experienced in these sorts of things."

"What sorts of things?" he asked and got ignored by both women.

"He will just bring more attention to me," Pansy said. "Not the kind we want at that. And besides–"

Mrs Malfoy made a sharp move with her wand and it banged loudly. She turned to face Pansy, face twisted in sudden anger, and took a step forward. Harry had seen many dangerous people, but he had to admit that Mrs Malfoy's pale, intense face might have made him take a careful step back. There was an intensity to it that made him want to bolt.

"We're currently second in two-hippogriff race, and were I to give advice I might have told you what to look for." Her smile was all teeth. "But I don't give advice. I give orders."

Pansy blinked, bowed her head in defeat and murmured something too soft for Harry to hear, as Mrs Malfoy turned to face him, a deranged smile still in place. "And you, Potter? Anything to say?"

He weighed his options, to let it slide or to make a stand, but no matter his ego, this seemed to lead towards some answers, and that was what he was really after. He nodded with a smile of his own, one that might say I'll let it go this time, but maybe not next time, and judging by the way her brows knit together, she got the point.

On her way to her desk, she added, "I need answers and I need them quick, for the sake of all of us."

When Harry found himself alone in the elevator with Pansy who was nearly shaking in rage, he fidgeted for a moment before saying. "So you and me, eh?"

His humor was wasted on her if her cold stare and pitch black eyes were anything to go by. "For now."