Chapter 4: The Interviews
I got a review that said this reads like a crack fic. So, I decided to run with that. I wasn't sure where it was going anyway, so crack is okay.
I have a poll on my profile on which of my unfinished stories you want me to complete first, if my muse returns. Go vote, please.
Hphphp
Hermione wrote out the flyers and put them all over Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. They said to contact Harry Potter via owl, and he'd set up appointments for them. They also advertised in the Daily Prophet. The ad said the same thing, only that there would be an open appointment on the weekend.
They decided to do it on a Hogsmeade's weekend at the Three Broomsticks. They were going to have them 5 minutes long, so they didn't clog up the restaurant. It would be held the entire day. Madam Rosmerta would keep the crowd to a minimum of ten at a time. She would be very strict on that according to the letter they exchanged. The rest would line down the block.
Little did they know that everybody wanted to rally around Harry Potter for some reason or another. Hermione and Harry set up a booth and waited. They had tea and biscuits, and pen and paper. They decided to forgo quill and parchment as too cumbersome.
When the first applicant showed up, he slid into the booth and said, "Hi. My name is Peter Strom, and I want to join your cause." He was a gangly man of about 25. He had dark hair and eyes but was normal looking in everything else. The man all but bounced in his seat.
"OK, Peter, why do you want to join our cause?" said Harry, chuckling at his enthusiasm.
"Because I think you're great," said Peter with starstruck eyes.
"Why do you think I'm great?" asked Harry with a shit-eating grin.
"Because you showed up out of nowhere and you're going to kill the Dark Lord," said Peter, like that was some accomplishment. "That and all the books that are written about you," the man added as an afterthought.
"Do you know which Dark Lord I'm going to kill?" asked Harry, sharing a look with Hermione. He ignored the book comment. He knew he was going to get that a lot.
"There's going to be more than one?" inquired the older man with a scrunched brow. It was not news that had reached the general public yet. Only the kids at the school knew this, and most of them had forgotten.
Harry just put his hand to his face, shook his head, and said, "Yes."
"Oh," said the young man. "I thought there was only one and that you were going to take care of him." He seemed a bit more scared now. The thought that there were going to be two Dark Lords running around was terrifying.
"No, I've decided to join forces with the current one against the one that's coming," said Harry easily, as if it were the right thing to do and anyone would do the same.
"You can't do that," protested Peter in a loud voice.
"Whyever not?" asked Harry with a tilt of his head. Though he knew the man's answer. He didn't agree with it, but he knew it. It was the same as Longbottom's.
"Because you're the boy hero," said Strom predictably. It would be the same as everyone else's.
"I've already said I'm not the boy hero," said Harry a bit forcefully. "I am just somebody who's here to kill a Dark Lord. And to kill the older Dark Lord, I have to join up with the younger Dark Lord. And together we're going to vanquish Voldemort the senior," he added, making the other man flinch at the mention of Voldy's name.
"But I thought the younger one was You-Know-Who?" was the confused question.
"You thought wrong. That one's Riddle," Harry answered, confusing him more.
"I'm confused," said Peter, rubbing his forehead with his hand.
"Look," said the would-be hero, "if you're willing to get behind me to vanquish the older one, then join the club. If not, then hit the road." He made a gesture with his thumb to indicate the door behind him.
"As long as you'll be there to protect me, I've got your back," Peter stated, grinning like a fool. It would be prestigious to be part of an organization that had Harry Potter as a leader.
"How can you have my back if you expect me to protect you?" Harry asked, honestly confused.
"Isn't that how it works?" the older man asked, looking at him queerly.
"No, you daft bugger, We have to have each others back," Harry explained, ready to hit the man upside the head. Where did he get off saying that?
"You mean I would have to fight?" Peter said, aghast at the very thought. He was a storekeeper not a fighter.
"Yes, you bloody moron," the teenager said, making Hermione put a hand on his arm. She had kept quiet throughout the entire meeting. But she did jot down that Peter Strom was not a candidate.
"Oh, well, I didn't come to fight," the other man stated, looking terrified at the very thought.
"Get the hell outta here," Harry growled, leaning forward and snarling at the man.
And with that, Peter left, and the next person sat down. This time it was a young blond girl who sat and giggled at Harry when he flexed his muscles, so he did it again.
"Harry," she said in a tittering voice, "you're so handsome." She giggled some more.
Hermione just whipped out her wand, and zipped the girl's lips shut and said, "Next." She made shooing motions to the girl, who giggled again and left the booth.
"You didn't even listen to her," said Harry with a chuckle. He was having so much fun.
"She's not here to join your cause. She's here to goggle at you," the bushy-haired girl stated, miffed over the fact that they were getting fangirls.
"There's nothing wrong with that," said Harry, flexing his muscles again, hearing some giggling from the restaurant.
"We're not here to initiate a fan club, we're here to rally support," Hermione protested. She was not a happy camper.
"Well, there is that," said Harry with a sigh. He knew it was going to be a long day.
And that's pretty much how most of the interviews went. They did get a good support group of 45 people. But that was out of an application of 250. So, the odds were not for them. It was a long and exhausting day for the two teenagers. Hermione kept it all organized and took precise notes. Everybody got badges and coins so that they could keep in touch with one another. And meetings were scheduled.
Hphphp
On the other side of the city, Voldemort junior, Tom Riddle was having his own meeting with his own minions.
"All right, you lot, I've decided that we're going to change our platform," he stated to the groveling men and women at his feet.
There was some grumbling as they were unsure as to what he was talking about because they didn't even know they had a platform. They just thought they were there to do what he told them to do.
"We'll do whatever you say, my Lord," said Crabbe, looking to Goyle who nodded in agreement. They were loyal lackeys who did what they were told.
"Of course you will," said Tom, sneering at the two men. He looked at the others, who were not quite as loyal. "But I'm telling you that we're going to do something different. Get up off the floor, all of you." With that, the Death Eaters got off the floor and stood staring at their shoes. Until Tom said, "Look at me. We are respected members of the community and I expect us to start acting like it. We're going to start fighting for our right to celebrate our culture. We will no longer deny ourselves our beliefs. We will take back our rights to celebrate what we believe in. No longer will we allow that old man to crush our fundamental values. This is no longer about the half-bloods and the muggleborns. This was about the rights of the purebloods. So, from now on, we are no longer going to make laws to oppress and suppress. We are going to make rights of equality."
"But, Master…" said quite a few of his minions.
"Silence," said Tom in a firm voice, not shouting, but being heard anyway. "This is not a democracy, this is a dictatorship, and this is what I say is going to happen. If you don't like it, too bad." He paced in front of his followers, and they all looked at him with various degrees of confusion.
"But, Master…" said quite a few of his minions this time a bit more timidly.
"Silence," said Tom loudly, this time pulling out his wand and shooting off spells. He was still a Dark Lord. They were going to do as he said, or they were going to pay the price.
"I won't stand for it," said Yaxley, pulling out his wand attempting to take over. Who did this upstart teenager think he was? He came out of nowhere and started handing out orders. He had had enough. Now the brat was going to change things. Not while Corban Yaxley was standing.
Voldemort. That's who he was. Tom Riddle might be young, but he was a Dark Lord for a reason, and he took down Yaxley with a few spells from his wand. Making the man a mindless dribbling mess.
"Who else wants to challenge me?" Riddle asked, kicking the man while he was down. He glared at the crowd of toadies.
The rest of the minions quickly looked at their shoes. Mumbling… "Not me, my Lord." "Whatever you say, my Lord." "You are the Lord." And other such nonsense.
"Now, we will be doing as I say," Riddle stated, walking among his followers, making them sweat. "Research what I have talked about and find me ways to make this go as quickly and easily as possible. Come to me with viable plans. You have two days. Leave me now," he finished in a curt tone.
With that, the Death Eaters scattered to go do their Lord's bidding. They knew they were going to research the hell out of the subject. They left their fellow Death Eater a mindless lump on the floor as they ran out the door. They didn't pity him his fate.
Tom started pacing around the meeting room. With everybody gone except Yaxley, who was still dribbling on the floor, he pondered his actions. He was wondering if he was doing the right thing even though he knew it probably was because he had thought about it since he had talked with Harry Potter. He realized that his other platform was rather stupid. Because, like Potter had said, it was hypocritical. And if it was ever found out that he was half-blood, people would turn against him. Especially his Death Eaters. That and, he thought the world would be a better place if he fought for equality. It was how he fought for it that will make him continue to be a Dark Lord. Well, equality for all, except him. He'd still be ruler.
He got an evil grin on his face at the thought of that.
Hphphp
About a week later, Tom and Harry met up again in the same café to go over what they had so far accomplished. After getting their tea and cakes, they went to a table in the back and set up their wards.
"So, Tom, I've gathered up my subordinates and set my platform to off the Dark Lord and fight oppression. What have you been doing?" said Harry, taking up a cup of tea and sipping. He had already split the cakes and was happily munching on a strawberry one.
"I've changed my campaign to what you told me to," said Tom keeping it succinct. He still was sure that they should work together, but he didn't like being equals. That and Potter just exuded charm and he hated that.
"Well, good on you," said Harry, giving him a winning smile. "I'm surprised you went that route. I honestly expected you to put up more of a fight." He finished off the strawberry cake and picked up a caramel one.
"No, I thought about what you said, and you were correct. I and my older self can't have the same belief system, it would make people…confused. Besides, I don't believe in what I preach. You are right on that. I've already lost a few of my Death Eaters. I've had to kill one or two of them," Riddle said with a sadly sadistic grin.
"Oh, really? Which ones?" Harry asked with morbid curiosity. He was pragmatic enough not to be phased by the death of a few men.
"Corban Yaxley, first of all. He was a blood thirsty fool who would have never stayed with me," said the junior Dark Lord, with a bitter taste in his mouth. He liked Yaxley as a follower. The man had money and cunning. But he was always lacking in the submissive department. "And a few others whose name you probably would not know. For the same reason. It was better to kill them off than have them divert over." He knew that was true.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that you lost them, but I'm also glad to hear that they're dead," Harry said with a cheerful grin. He too didn't want them in the enemy camp.
"Tell me of your followers," Tom said, taking a sip of his Earl Grey.
"Well, they're an unruly lot… undisciplined, I should say," the boy hero stated with a heavy sigh. They had had one training day so far and it was an unmitigated disaster.
"How so?" the other teen asked, trying not to smile.
"They're not really fighters. They're just a bunch of idiots," Harry said with another sigh. If he didn't need the money or the backing…
"Then why are you allowing them to follow you?" Riddle asked with a knowing look.
"Because like you said, I need backers, and they have money," was the answer. Though Harry did have his own money, he was loath to spend it all on a war.
"But you're going to need fighters as well," Tom pointed out, not sure why the boy didn't just whip them in to shape. Literally.
"They can be trained, and we are training them," Harry said, becoming cheerful once again.
"But can they be trained in time for when senior comes on the scene?" was the question. There was an underlying tone of doubt there.
"Of that I'm not sure. But we're gonna give it our best shot. Hermione thinks they can be," Harry said, thinking of ways to extend time to get it done.
"Who the hell is Hermione?" Riddle asked, not liking there was a player on the field that he didn't know.
"She's a muggleborn girl who's wickedly smart and extremely organized," Harry said, with a shit-eating grin. He knew Tom wasn't going to like that. He didn't care, Hermione was invaluable.
"You have a Muggleborn working for you?" The junior Dark Lord asked, floored that the would-be hero would do something like that.
"Like I said, she's wickedly smart and extremely organized. Besides, she volunteered," Harry said with a shrug. He didn't see the issue. Oh, he understood Tom's issue, but he didn't see why Tom thought he'd have a problem.
"I'm not sure how I feel about that," Tom said, furrowing his brow. "You know what my stance was on muggleborns." He wasn't sure he still felt the same, now that he was changing his political views. But…
"You and I don't have to see eye to eye on everything," Harry pointed out.
"No, I suppose we do not," agreed the junior Dark Lord. "Do your followers know that you are working with me?" he asked, changing the subject. He wanted to know just how much was being let known.
"Yep, full disclosure," Harry said, with a megawatt smile.
"Why would you even do that?" the floored man asked. He thought the boy would keep it a secret.
"I've had people hide things from me my entire life. I'm not going to do that with people who are following me," Harry stated, firming his face. He didn't like it when people hid things from him.
"I don't tell my minions anything," Voldy Junior stated, not seeing why the meat shields needed to know anything.
"And that's going to get them killed," Harry stated, tapping his finger on the table.
"That's what they're there for," insisted Tom. He didn't see the value in letting them know what could be tortured out of them.
"Then you and I will not see eye to eye on that. You see them as meat shields. I see them as followers. And if they're going to put their life on the line for me, they're going to have full disclosure," Harry stated, putting it all out there on the table.
"I let them know the important things. Like where to go and what to do," Tom protested, holding up his hands.
"You're a fool. If you want to keep your minions, then you need to let them know what to do to stick around longer," Harry persisted. He knew the man was going to lose half his followers in the coming year and he'd have a hard time getting more. He needed to learn to keep the ones he had.
"I'll think about it," the older teen stated.
"You do that. Until then, I'm out of here. I have things that I have to get done. Hermione's got me on a tight schedule. I have an appointment in about 10 minutes. Thank Merlin for the Knight Bus," Harry said, shoving a cake in his mouth and heading towards the door.
"Yes, there is that. Very well, Harry Potter. Until next time," Riddle stated, standing and leaving in a more dignified manner.
Hphphp
Harry told a little fib. He wasn't after an appointment Hermione had set for him. He was after guns. From the time he spent on the street, he had some connections, and he was going to go see them now. The Knight Bus took him to the general area. He slipped down the street to the familiar area where he had lived. It was a good thing he wore his old clothes because he still fit right in.
"Hey, Pugsy," he said to the other muscle-bound man that he saw on the street, "have you seen Skip?"
"The hell you need Skip for?" Pugsy asked, looking at him with a great deal of confusion. No one asked for Skip. That man was bad news.
"What do you think I need Skip for?" Harry asked, giving him a knowing look.
"There's only one reason you'd be asking for Skip, so I'm gonna say it isn't any of my business. Last time I saw him, he was down by the docks," the ripped man said, holding up his hands in a 'it's not my business' manner.
"Thanks, Pugsy, I owe you," Harry said, turning in the general direction of the docks and heading down there.
Skip was a shady man who stood about 6 foot 4 and was thin as a rail. And there was only one reason you asked for him, and that was to get guns. And he sold them in one place, and one place only, and that was out of the boot of his car. And if you wanted them, you had to have cold, hard cash. And that was something Harry had in abundance. Well, he had gold. Which was better than cash. He asked around a little bit and it took him about half an hour, and he finally found Skip.
"Hey, Skip, remember me?" he asked, coming up to the man. They had met once or twice at places he crashed.
"Yeah, I remember you, you skinny little runt. What the hell do you want?" the skinny man said, flicking the ash of his fag away.
"What do you think I want? What would anyone ask for you for?" Harry said, looking at him with an inquiring look.
"I'm not selling to the likes of you, you little brat. Get the hell away from here," Skip said, flicking his cigarette at him, making Harry bat it away. The cinders burned his hand a bit, but it was minor. He didn't care, he wanted those guns.
"Why not? I've got the cash," Harry protested. He thought the guy didn't have morals. Most men like him didn't.
"Are you crazy? You're a kid. Get the hell away from here," the man said again.
Then Harry pulled the gold out of his pocket and showed it to him. It was a few galleons that shone brightly in the dying sun. They glinted in the man's eyes and made him do a doubletake.
Skips eyes grew wide as he saw the gold said. "Okay, kid, you got yourself a gun."
"Make it five," said Harry, tucking the gold away. He didn't know how Skip was going to spend it, but it was gold. He didn't care what the man did with it as long as he got his weapons.
"I'll sell you three, and that's it. If you don't like it, you can just leave," said Skip, taking a menacing step forward.
"Alright, three," said Harry, not the least bit intimidated, but knowing he wasn't going to get a better deal.
With that, the two of them walked down the docks to Skip's car and looked in it to see what he had. Skip didn't have much in the way of guns since there was not that big of a market in the UK. But he had four rifles and six handguns. None of them were automatic but all of them were in good condition.
Harry didn't really care. He just wanted something that the other magicals didn't have. So, he chose 2 handguns and a rifle. The rifle was a sniper rifle. The handguns were Rugers. He tucked them all away in a magic bag. That made Skip's eyes blow wide again.
"You're gonna pretend you didn't see that?" said Harry, with a bit of manic in his tone, "and I'm gonna pretend you don't sell guns." He was tempted to mind-whammy the bloke, but he didn't want to use magic on a normal if he didn't have to.
"I didn't see a fucking thing, man," Skip said, holding up his hands in a compliant gesture.
"I'm glad we understand each other," said Harry, and with that he walked away.