Chapter 31

Harry paced around the hotel suite. He was bored. There was nothing interesting on television. He'd grown bored with the three old blokes talking about cars and decided pacing was a better option.

It wasn't helping. He'd been invited to lunch with Priya and her grandmother. But Harry figured it was for the best that he didn't show up at the hospital before his evening meeting. Fudge hadn't said anything about his status in England. And he expected he'd be nothing more than a curiosity to a few people while outright avoided by the rest. But it didn't seem worth it to take the risk.

So he'd stayed behind, figuring it wouldn't be that bad. He could order from the hotel restaurant, nap, watch some Muggle garbage on the television, and enjoy a day of no responsibilities. Which, honestly, wasn't much different than any of his other days.

He quickly grew antsy. And once he realized there wasn't much of an outlet for that energy, he grew bored. He thought about reading back through Emily's journal to kill some time only to find Priya had taken it with her.

They'd argued a little about her last entry. He wanted to pop over and see what was going on with her intruders. Priya hadn't thought that was necessary. Emily had, quite obviously, dealt with the problem. And there was little reason for him to disappear after he'd made the promise to meet with Fudge.

He could have gone and come back in plenty of time, he'd tried to argue. Priya told him he was being silly and then distracted him by cuddling up against him in bed. And that was a much better idea anyway.

He tossed himself back down onto the bed and flipped the television back to the old guys talking about cars. He didn't care at all about cars. Aside from the thought that he had a surplus of money and fast cars looked cool. But he couldn't have told you what a V whatever was or decipher any of their other jargon.

As he watched he found it ironic that the car parts were far and away the most boring part of the program. But the antics the trio got up to were enough to keep him amused for a while. Even if he let his mind wander.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts. It was more difficult than it should have been. But his goal was less to focus and more to contact Emily. It still didn't sit well with him that she'd been attacked and he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it.

If he could talk to her, he'd feel better. It was that simple. He tried to reach into her mind. But he'd more or less severed that connection when he brought her back. And whatever was left of it she'd blocked off on her own.

With enough effort he figured he could break into her mind. But that seemed to be a little excessive for the time being. And he figured that she would never forgive him if he tried. Although, of late, she seemed to be a bit more lenient than he would have expected from her.

He let his mind drift off and closed his eyes, letting the noise from the television fill his thoughts. He didn't listen to any of the words or attempt to make any sense of the conversation. He found the noise comforting for no real reason and let it exist around him.

The door to the suite opening woke him.

"You still here, Harry?" Priya called as she entered the sitting room.

"Bedroom," he answered, stifling a yawn. His eyes felt annoyingly heavy. He glanced toward the bedside clock but the time didn't matter as he wasn't sure when he'd started to zone out.

Still, his body felt far more like it would rather go back to sleep than stay awake. And not even Priya Potter standing in the doorway of the bedroom was having much of an affect there.

It didn't help that she only stood there for a moment before sliding onto the bed next to him. She took his right hand in her left and started to play with his fingers while staring at the television.

"What're you watching?" she asked.

"No idea," he shrugged. "Just whatever was on. How was your grandmother?"

"She's doing well," Priya said. "Still annoyed that I bailed on St. Mungo's so fast. Still thinks she can talk me into working there to take over for her."

"It's a good job," Harry said.

"Very," Priya agreed. "Good responsibility. A chance to make things better. A chance to help people who truly need it. Often in their worst moments. A chance to save families. A way to do good for society. Very prestigious. A way to earn respect with mere mention of a title. One could do far far worse."

"One could," Harry agreed. He didn't like the way his chest tightened as she talked about the path she gave up. He couldn't bring herself to look at her. He couldn't bring himself to ask, once again, if she was sure she'd made the right decision. She'd assured him, multiple times on multiple occasions that she had. But he still couldn't bring himself to ask once more.

"It's kind of funny, really," she said. She was staring at the television as a car appeared to be sinking into a lake. He thought she must have been referring to that, but it seemed unusual for her to be commenting on that.

"What?" he asked.

"The whole situation."

"Is funny?"

"Not in the laughing way. More in the strange way, I guess," Priya said. She'd let go of his hand but was now tracing her nails over his palm, sending small tingles up his entire arm as she did.

"You've lost me," Harry admitted.

"I put blue and bronze streaks in my hair at Hogwarts," she said. Which only served to have Harry feel even more confused as to what that had to do with anything. He vaguely remembered a fad of girls doing that in his fifth year. But he remembered more brighter pastel colors than House based choices.

"Okay," he said as she stopped talking.

"It was a fad at the time. But I didn't care about that," Priya said.

"So why'd you do it then?" he asked. Part of him wanted to move his hand and play with her hair as he tried to imagine the lighter colors in it. But instead he kept still while she pressed her lips together and focused on her next words.

"Because my mother and aunts told me constantly how beautiful and perfect my hair was. And how it would be a shame if anything happened to it to tarnish that beauty. And how it would be far and away my best feature when it came to finding a husband," Priya said.

"I don't get it," Harry said. He wondered if it was something that made little sense to him because he was male. Or because he didn't have much in the way of a family growing up. Hell, he was pretty sure it was Avery who'd offered him his first bit of male appearance advice when he'd fled England. And even that had been telling him he should shave.

And it wasn't like he'd been a bastion of the latest fashions. Now he tended to stray more toward clothing many would consider fancy. It was far less about the brand names than it was about how he liked how certain things fit and other things looked on him.

That had started with his little shopping trip in Chicago with Emily. He hadn't questioned the things she'd tossed into the fitting room for him to try on. Merely obeyed. When he'd told her what things he'd liked and didn't she'd found more and more things to go into the liked pile.

He wondered just how she'd managed it. In hindsight he saw the beginnings of his style. One that, granted, would evolve into a more adult style as the years drifted by. But those were the first times he could remember adults even discussing things like fashion with him.

Sure, there were the occasional hygiene lectures in primary school and even at Hogwarts. But none of those were even very in depth or detailed. So he certainly wasn't used to people preaching to him about his appearance. Hell, if anything, he suspected the Dursley's liked him more the shabbier he looked.

"As soon as they saw it they hated it. And it was nothing but comments on how terrible it looked, and how no man could ever like it-" Priya started.

"I would have liked it," Harry admitted.

"I'm sure. But that's not the point. The point is they harped on something positive about me. Something I liked. Until I didn't like it and wanted to change it. Teenage me didn't have the courage to chop it all off. So I made it blue instead," Priya said.

"I can understand that sentiment," Harry said. He certainly wasn't one to enjoy being told what to do. And it wasn't that different in the grand scheme of things.

"It's the same thing with the hospital," she said.

"I see," he said, while remaining blind.

"When everyone around me tells me that this is exactly what I should want. That this is the best opportunity I'll ever receive. That I would be stupid for not wanting it. That I'm an utter moron for not jumping on it. I've heard it all. For years in letters, in talks, in everything. It grew obnoxious," Priya said. Her grip on his hand tightened as she spoke. All he could think to do was give it a gentle squeeze.

"And that alone drove me nuts for years. Did you think I ran away to Japan purely to do some random research on sites that people had already deemed useless?" Priya asked.

"I assumed you were husband hunting," Harry said. It caused Priya to snort in an incredibly unladylike manner. He couldn't help but smile.

"Well there was that too. But no. Mostly it was just to get away. And it had an annoying effect on me. And one that I'm not sure they understand at all," Priya said.

"Your world view changed," Harry answered. He knew firsthand the effect travel could have.

"My world view changed," Priya affirmed.

"Funny how that works out, isn't it?" he asked.

"We've never talked about that, really," she said. "At least not in any form of depth."

"I guess we haven't. My whole world changed when I realized there was more to it than London and Hogwarts. It was an odd feeling. I'm not sure there was a eureka moment or anything but in hindsight I changed quite a bit from that little Harry that lived under a staircase," Harry said.

"Gods I want to kill them," Priya said.

"Not worth it," Harry said. "Or I already would have."

"Should have just had Emily do it," Priya scoffed.

"I don't know that they need to face that as of yet. I'm not sure I'd wish that on anyone," Harry laughed.

"Except Grindelwald," Priya countered.

"Except that," Harry agreed. "Anyway. I can see how that would change what you wanted. But you still stayed being a healer. And being high up at one of the premier Magical hospitals in the entire world is nothing to scoff at."

"Either is writing some of the most important magical research of this century," Priya said. "And I already did that. And I've learned something from living with you."

"I hate to think of what that could be," he chuckled.

"I learned more of what I liked. And no, not like that," she said.

"I think yes like that," Harry responded.

"Well fine. A little bit like that," Priya said. "But that was certainly not what I was talking about."

"So what great wisdom did I impart upon you?" he asked.

"It took me years to realize where I liked to live. I don't like cities all that much. They're tolerable with you. But I like being out in the boonies far more. And I like the notion of being the small town healer. It's nice. I like people coming to me with questions. I like the personal care I can offer. I like all of that far more than being in a hospital.

"It's funny in a way because I know I can help more people in the hospital. I know that, logically, that is the correct decision to make. But I just can't bring myself to make it. I don't want that life. I want our life. I want this all to be over so we can go back to having our little life in our little town," Priya said.

"In our not-so-little house," Harry said.

"Well we needed room for the crazy woman in the attic," Priya said.

"I don't get it," Harry replied, knowing who she was referring to but not knowing where the reference came from.

"Jane Eyre. Read more."

"Maybe if there's time."

"There's never time."

"Well, hopefully there is. I don't want this to go on any longer than it has."

"Fair enough. Anyway, that's what I think. I hated being told what to do. And the more they did it the less I wanted to comply. So where we are," Priya said.

"So that's why you married me," Harry teased.

"Well, it helped," she laughed. "Now that I'm done can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you ever talk to her?" she asked.

"To who?"

"Emily."

"I talk to her all the time."

"Not about your trauma, you don't."

"I don't have any trauma."

"Uh huh," she snorted again.

"What am I supposed to have talked to her about?"

"Everything? I mean it's no like you two have vastly different lives. Down to the whole running off to Japan to fix everything because of her," she said.

"You think I went to Japan because of Emily?"

"Did you not?"

"Well, to a degree I did. But that was more because I wanted to see it with my own eyes more than anything. I decided to help fix Japan because it kept me closer to you," Harry said.

"Really?" She blinked at him, her eyes suddenly looking rather wet.

"Of course. I've told you before it would have bored me after a few weeks. I kept coming back to the sites because I wanted to see you. And then when I saw how much it meant to you I wanted to do it even more," Harry admitted. Priya sniffed a bit at his side before rolling onto him and kissing him. They let their lips linger for a few moments before she rolled back to her side and peered over at him.

"You had to have known that, though," he said, shaking his head slightly.

"I mean I did, I guess. I don't know. It wasn't really what I wanted to ask about. But I figured it would have been a better opener. But then you had to go and be all Harry about it," she said.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a comment. What did you want to ask about?"

"Well, the infertility, I guess," she said.

"Ah," Harry said as another pang shot through his chest. They'd talked about it before they'd split. But only in the briefest of terms. And only in relation to why she wasn't pregnant. There hadn't been much more to it. Once they'd figured out he was the problem he'd broken.

It still sickened him to think about it.

"I just figured that she might be able to help with that. Given she went through the same thing for most of her life," Priya said in a small voice. She turned her gaze to the television and they both stared at it for a few moments. Neither of them knew what was happening on screen but they pretended to be interested as silence won out.

Harry had no idea what to say. He hadn't thought about it. Deep down he'd known. But it never occurred to him to even ask her about that part of her life. If he was being honest, he thought she'd scoff at him, call him an idiot, and drink all his whisky. And he wasn't interested in any of those three things happening.

But it may have helped him to talk. Especially after they were all back together. He could have used the outlet. Someone to vent his frustrations to. Even if he'd expect that she'd tell him he was an idiot and walk off. That might have been better than keeping it all in until it defeated him.

He hadn't thought as much about it since. Her words as she came back to him stayed fresh in his head. He used them as a sort of mantra whenever he felt a bit low. If she wanted to be with him. And damn it he could tell she wanted to be with him just by the way her eyes lit up when she saw him. Then he couldn't be as bad as he thought he was in his worst moments. And that kept him going.

He should have been more proactive though. He'd never been good at that. He didn't like to talk about what he was thinking, or feeling, or anything. He liked to present the cold, aloof demeanor in hopes it cowed people. It was a front, more or less, to cover the fact that he wasn't ever as sure as those around him thought. But he had enough power to back it up in a pinch and he wasn't shy about using it when the situation called for it.

Now, though, he'd let it stew for months. And he had someone uniquely close to him that he could talk to. But he didn't talk to her. He struggled to talk to her. Which he thought might have been a bit strange, given it hadn't been that hard to fuck her.

The problem, he knew, was that he hated Lord Voldemort. And he'd been suppressing that anger for far longer than anything else. Even when he thought she was something as basic as a car crash that had killed his parents, he hated the thought of it. Once he'd been able to put a name to that anger it only grew.

But then in a victory he wasn't even sure how to comprehend, she'd taken all of that from him. And she'd done it in the most annoying way possible. Merely by being kind. And honest. At least that's what she'd claimed.

He knew the honesty bit was suspect. But the older he got the more he realized that one person's truth could be wildly different than another's. Perspective, it seemed, had more bearing on the truth than it should have had.

He still hated Lord Voldemort. He disagreed with essentially every view she held. If given the opportunity he'd fight her to the death. And he was pretty sure he'd win. But every time he looked at her he ran into a problem. He didn't see Lord Voldemort.

When he looked at her he saw a confused and scared young woman. One who stayed on the outskirts of any situation until she was pulled into it, sometimes quite literally. One who was adept at blending into the background and disappearing. One who, more often than not, looked like she needed a hug.

In short, what he saw was Emily.

And despite his brain knowing that they were one in the same, despite understanding how one fed into the other, he couldn't reconcile the differences with what appeared before him.

He enjoyed drawing responses out of her. It didn't matter much if it was a glare, a laugh, a coo, or anything in between.

When he saw her smile at one of his dumb jokes, her one dimple flashing on her face, he couldn't help but smile back. When he made her laugh with some dumb comment it filled him with an odd sense of pride.

Which was the biggest problem. He loved Emily. It wasn't the same kind of love he had for his wife. He could bear the thought of having to survive without Emily. He could live apart from her and not think twice about it.

A part of him did want to execute Lord Voldemort. She'd killed his parents afterall. Even if she did express regret for that decision. And even if she had punished herself in ways he couldn't quite fathom enduring. Well, he didn't care much about that. In a way, he was glad she'd spent years as a wrath being tormented. She deserved it.

But Emily? Now that was a different story.

He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to have her own quiet nook in the world where she did whatever caught her fancy. From what he knew of her he thought that if left to her own devices she wouldn't do anything pure evil. She'd grown past that in her own way. Largely because she'd failed at it, twice.

A conflicting part of him thought she deserved peace. And he'd give it to her. It helped that, at this point, he was sure he could stop her if push came to shove.

He'd told Priya this one night. He didn't remember the exact specifics of the conversation. He was fairly sure she'd started it and that they were at least a bottle of wine in when the conversation got interesting.

She'd scoffed at him. Not because his beliefs were stupid, she'd told him that flat out. But that the Emily with them was incapable of finding that happiness. Harry pressed her and she'd shared one specific nugget of wisdom. She would never be happy until she learned to love herself.

He understood her point. Emily was too stuck in her past, in her own trauma, in her own mind, to fully be able to move out of it. And the only way they saw to help her with that was to give her back a sense of self.

He'd agreed to help. It was for the best. It was a good deed he could do. But through it all he'd kept her at a distance. He'd never let the friendship develop in the same way Priya had. He never tried to be the bigger person. He'd just let the opinion split in his mind.

"I don't know," he admitted as he realized he never quite responded to her.

"You're friends. Friends should talk," Priya said. "And I think it could help."

"Sometimes when I look at her I still see Lord Voldemort," Harry said. Priya pressed her lips together and nodded. She seemed to know that there was little reason for her to comment further. She'd made her point and Harry would think on it. Something may come from it, something may not. At this point it was out of her control.

Again, they said nothing for a few minutes, waiting until the end credits of the television program started. After, it was Harry who broke the silence.

"Lunch was good?" he asked, knowing they'd already discussed that topic.

"Yeah. New Vietnamese place."

"Nice."

"Was good," she agreed. She peered around him at the clock and added. "Fudge is at seven?"

"Seven thirty," Harry corrected.

"How shall we kill the afternoon? If I keep you cooped up inside much longer I suspect you'll go insane," Priya said.

"It's been a day," Harry laughed. "I'm sure I can manage a few more hours."

"Not willing to take that risk."

"I'm sure you could come up with many entertaining ways to keep me indoors."

"Not without access to Polyjuice potion."

"Well, tourists or shoppers?" Harry asked.

"We're both from here. How can we be tourists?" Priya laughed.

"I've never been to the National Gallery."

"Really? Not even on, like, a school trip in primary school?"

"Nope. We did Natural History, British Museum, and Parliament for various years," Harry said. He paused for a moment before adding. "But I honestly don't remember much from any of them. Two of them might have been on the same trip."

"Let's go to the National Gallery then," Priya said as she rolled off the bed. Harry slid off the other side and followed her out of the suite.

Their afternoon in London was quite similar to many of their afternoons in Japan. They walked to the museum, enjoying the brisk spring weather as they did. They talked of nothing of importance during their walk to the museum.

They spent a few minutes in Trafalgar Square, looking at the monument as they idled before they made their way to the museum. It was odd, Harry thought as they walked. Years ago he wouldn't have cared about any of the monuments.

But after years of travel and seeing sites and works from other cultures all over the planet, he found himself more interested in all of it. He wondered if it had something to do with growing older.

They sauntered through the museum at a rather slow pace. They stopped at some of the more famous works and the works that interested them. They commented on what looked familiar, what looked different, or whatever intrigued them. Occasionally a docent would join them with a comment or two.

He always marveled at how easy such excursions were with Priya. Neither of them would claim to be experts in Art. Harry himself would freely admit that a lot of it all kind of looked the same, depending on the eras. But he still liked to see it, and liked to talk about it.

Nothing he saw caught his attention quite as much as the Lunar Module in Washington had, though. And he doubted anything would. While it was fascinating to see a painting and then notice the plaque next to it contained names like Vincent Van Gogh or Leonardo Da Vinci, it never quite had the same effect on him.

In a way he supposed the sciences fascinated him more than the arts. Or perhaps just the notion that it was built for something specific and all of the minor details that went into that. He wondered if people would still travel to see such things in five hundred years. And if they did, what would they think?

Would they laugh at the inept designs or the silliness of it all? That certainly wasn't happening with the art they looked at. That felt timeless. Priya didn't think they would. There were other past scientific relics in other museums that people revered. There was no reason to think they wouldn't earn the same stations.

It was a fun, albeit mostly meaningless, afternoon. No one recognized them while they were out. And Harry didn't sense any unusual magic or anything worth noticing during the entire trip.

But he hadn't been looking that hard once they'd made the museum. Perhaps it was a mistake on his part. Nothing dangerous happened though. And even their slow walk back to the hotel was pleasant and uneventful.

Harry spent most of his time wondering what museums he should suggest if their stay in London wound up being extended. He'd stashed a pamphlet for the Churchill Museum and the Imperial War Museum in her purse while she wasn't paying attention. Then, since he figured that may have been slightly biased in his selection so he added in one for the Victoria and Albert museum as it looked like something she'd have enjoyed.

She hadn't noticed, or at least hadn't commented, by the time they'd returned to the hotel. Priya leaned against him in the elevator. Her eyes closed as the floors ticked by. Harry debated picking her up and carrying her back to the suite, but she shifted off of him before the doors reopened and led the way to it.

He saw her reflection in a mirror in the bedroom and thought that the travel and day was catching up to her. It wasn't uncommon. Magic could help a bit, but so much instant travel through time zones always caught up eventually. The best way to deal with it was to sleep it off. But they were yet to have that luxury.

Part of him wondered if he should just no-show Fudge. It wouldn't be that big of a deal. He could apologize and reschedule for a different date. He was sure Fudge would be amiable to it. Why wouldn't he? The man seemed almost desperate to chat further with him.

But any course of action that led to him apologizing to Fudge was far too unbearable to even fathom.

They shared a shower to save time. It was never quite as fun as it sounded. The chill after stepping out gave them both some renewed energy as they dressed for the evening.

Priya chose to impress, with a little black dress that did wonders for all of her best assets. Harry watched her dress with more of a leer than was necessary but he didn't care. He liked how she looked as she slipped the dress on, while magic did her hair up into an elaborate bun.

It took him far less time to dress than her. And when he did he opted for dark jeans and a green and black button up shirt. He put the minimal effort into his hair required for formality and spent the last few minutes of their time in the hotel suite watching her apply the final touches of her makeup.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Fantastic as always," he answered with complete honesty. "Me?"

"Like I'd rather let you wine-and-dine me than meet Fudge," Priya said.

"You know that's an option, right?" he answered as wolfishly as he could manage.

"This is going to be a boring, one off meeting where you measure each other's cocks in the least appealing way possible," Priya started.

"I really didn't want that mental image," Harry interrupted.

"So we may as well get it out of the way and worry about fun things we'll do while he and his advisors try to dissect every little detail of whatever you say tonight before the second meeting," Priya finished.

"I hate that I think you're going to be right," Harry answered.

"Now now. Don't short change me. You know I'm going to be right," she answered as she walked toward the door of the suite. Harry followed, watching her backside as they walked back to the lift and out into London proper.

Fudge had picked a Muggle hotel in central London for the site of their meeting. They'd scouted it out when they'd arrived and found nothing unusual. They'd debated staying in that hotel, but figured it would serve them better to find a different one. And that was only after they decided that staying at Avery's house was too obvious.

They arrived late. But that too, was an intentional decision. Harry wanted to keep Fudge a bit on edge. And he wanted him to think that he was far less interested in this agreement than he was. He figured a blithe reaction to all of it, mixed in with some casual disinterest, was the best way to go.

It took a few minutes talking with the concierge to be directed to a small conference room. It was not the type of setup Harry had expected. Nor had he expected to be surrounded by fifteen Aurors as soon as he'd entered.

He'd expected at least thirty. He was almost insulted.

It took more willpower than he cared to admit to not start hexing people as soon as he entered the room. He'd sensed their magic from the moment he'd entered the hotel. So he knew that he could be walking into a trap.

The only reason he'd continued on was that he didn't sense any malice from the group. Nerves, sure. But nothing that indicated they expected a fight or were worried about him any more than they should be.

He glanced around the room as he entered. Every pair of eyes in it shot straight toward the door. He felt Priya shift behind him and take a few steps back, as if bracing herself against the oncoming storm.

The first thing he noticed was the long tables in the back filled with food. It seemed unusual to ambush someone at a dinner party. But he'd heard stranger things before. And it gave him numerous ready-made weapons to use in a pinch. Because sure, a fork didn't look dangerous, until someone used magic to project it through your eyeballs.

The second thing he noticed was an absolutely terrified looking Cornelius Fudge in the back corner, standing with a plate filled with food. His knuckles gripped the plate so hard they were white and trembling.

The final thing was that none of them appeared to be armed. A single large table in the middle of the room contained what looked like it had to have been everyone's wand sectioned off in a wooden display. He'd heard of such things at diplomatic meetings before but he'd never seen it.

It felt more like an archaic formality more than anything. Some of them may have required a wand to cast spells, but he doubted most of the Aurors did. Sure, it would weaken them, but given how vastly outnumbered he was, he suspected they would think that didn't matter.

Still, they stepped away from him as he entered the room. And it was Fudge who gained his composure first.

"I apologize Mister Potter, they were supposed to come and get me and allow me to talk to you, alone, before this meeting," Fudge said. He walked toward the main table in the room and set his plate down on it. He took a moment to clean off his hands before offering one to Harry. Harry looked at it, then back at Fudge.

"You're not doing a very good job of putting me at ease," Harry said. He shifted to block the doorway, to make sure none of them had a line of sight on Priya. He didn't raise any magic around him. He didn't think it was an ambush, but he wasn't ready to let his guard down.

"Mister Potter, I assure you-" Fudge started.

"Ten of them leave or I'm going home," Harry said. He kept his tone light. He eyed each Auror. Only a handful of them looked concerned. A couple snickered, like they thought the punk before them couldn't be any sort of a problem. It was clear many of them had no idea why Fudge was wasting his time with the other man.

"Mister Potter I assure you these are my most trusted men. They have all been vetted. Their loyalty is not in question," Fudge said. Harry shifted his gaze from the Aurors to Fudge. When he didn't speak, the minister seemed to take that as a sign to keep talking.

"We've also charmed the room. Nothing we say can be overheard once the door is closed. And, in addition to my personal vetting of all of them I have had them swear oaths of loyalty to me. They will not discuss anything that goes on here unless I give them the go-ahead," he finished. He wiped his hands on his coat again as he shifted. It reminded Harry of Peter Pettigrew begging for his life when Sirius and Remus found him.

He kept his eyes level on Fudge. He let the room stay silent for a few beats before he spoke.

"I'm not negotiating. Ten of them leave. Or I go home," Harry said. To his surprise the response came from behind him.

"If you want ten of them gone just make it happen," Priya said. "No reason to start with this already."

"Like he-" one of the Aurors started but another reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry recognized him as one of the men whom he'd frozen during his impromptu interview to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

God, he thought, that hadn't even been a full calendar year ago. My how things could change. The silent Auror shook his head and the other stopped talking.

"I told you this was a stupid idea," a different Auror said. He was a young man, standing closer to Fudge. He wore a serious expression and had alert eyes. Harry expected his scowl was near permanent.

"Not now, Harper," Fudge hissed.

"If he was going to hurt you, he'd have done it in Japan where three missing Englishmen wouldn't be much of note. I told you bringing this many people to the meeting would spook him," Harper spoke.

"Harper, enough," a different Auror said. Harper rolled his eyes and turned away from his companions.

"Look, I'll gladly go home to Leanne and enjoy my evening. But I'm taking some of the food with me," he said. He turned his back on Harry and walked to the tables at the end of the room.

"He can stay," Harry said. He couldn't help but smirk at the balls on the young Auror.

"Dammit," Harper sighed.

"They can all stay," Priya said. "I hate to undermine you, dear, but I don't want this meeting to take any longer than it has to."

"Fine, But…" Harry waved his hand and the collection of wands on the center table vanished. He closed his eyes and reached for the magic constricting against him. He knew the purple glow would surround him before it filtered off.

He let it travel around the room, slithering over the floor and around the walls. He kept it away from the food. Not that he thought it would do anything but figured better safe than sorry, but otherwise let it encompass the entire room. When he finished he opened his eyes only to have Priya nudge him out of the way as she entered.

"What was that?" Harper asked.

"Magic," Harry shrugged and closed the door behind him. Priya made her way through the Aurors and to the food. One or two of them looked like they wanted to stop her but none of them were dumb enough to try.

"Where's my wand?" one of the older Aurors hissed. Harry gazed over at him and answered.

"In your kitchen, in the empty flower pot you keep on the counter."

"How…" the man started.

"Magic," Harper answered from next to Priya. She started making up two plates. After only a few moments she moved back toward Harry and handed him one. He didn't want to eat but he knew there were ancient political laws about extending protection to guests symbolized through food, so he took a small bite of bread before he sat at the table. Priya joined him.

"Why on Earth did you think this was a good idea?" Harry asked, turning his glare full on Fudge. The Minister sat on the other side of the table. A few of the Aurors flanked him but most fanned around the room and tried to look casual. None of them moved behind Harry. He wouldn't have let them if they'd tried. But he appreciated that they were smart enough not to try. It gave him a modicum of hope for the fight to come.

"Mister Potter, it pains me to admit it, but these are quite possibly the only men I can trust. I didn't want to alienate any of them by having them think they were being left out," Fudge said.

Two things in that sentence bothered Harry. He didn't think a good leader would worry too much about that. A good leader would be able to properly communicate his position with his subordinates and have them understand his decisions. Sending fifteen men to do a job more suited for three sent the wrong message.

But Fudge was used to being in power and having a base of power. If that was dwindling away from him to the point that the small corps in the conference room with him was all he could trust. Well, he could see why the man would want to keep them close.

Harry made a point of looking at all of them before he spoke.

"Now you're making me wish I'd have stayed in Japan," he said.

"The situation is quite dire. We've actually sent some men to investigate some of the rumors in France. They have not returned yet. They were due back yesterday. I was hoping to have something for this meeting," Fudge said.

"What exactly are these rumors?" Priya asked. "Forgive us but we've only heard the bare minimum. English news doesn't travel that fast over the Pacific."

They'd both heard enough. And, if it was what they expected. They had at least some form or proof. But it would serve to see what Fudge would tell them. A test of sorts to see his honesty.

The most predominant rumor was quite simple. People who shouldn't have had any sort of abilities, people who seemed absolutely normal, were starting to demonstrate powers that were anything but normal in some small French villages.

Some Muggles had caught some of it on camera. Which led, naturally, to hundreds of people flocking to zones. The French Ministry tried to shut down most of it. And news has slowed to a standstill from the areas in question.

But that didn't bother Harry that much. It should have. But he didn't care if some people got some powers. Even if the common consensus was said powers were almost always being abused.

The other rumor was that a few of the Witches and Wizards in the area seemed to be augmented past that of a normal person. That seemed to be what the French were hiding. And Priya had a journal in her purse that spoke to examples of it.

While they did recall reading of some Muggle rioting in Paris. They could not find if it was connected in any way. Harry thought it had to be, as it seemed too coincidental. Priya disagreed, saying Muggles rioted over random things. It wasn't necessarily common. But it happened.

"There's been some activity in the exclusion zone in France. And I've been unable to get my French counterpart to even talk about it," Fudge said.

"Because of magic or because she's French?" Harry asked. He knew little about the French Minister of Magic, a Malory Gouin, aside from the fact that she'd only been in power for a couple of years.

"Hard to tell," Fudge admitted. "Our calls get cut short when it gets brought up. It could be magic preventing her from talking. Or someone pulling her away. Lord knows with the Muggle rioting and the other rumors she has to be busy."

"Other rumors?" Priya pried.

"There's talk of Muggles gaining magic in some towns. We've investigated them and can't find anything to indicate it happened or is possible," Fudge said.

"It's possible," Harry said.

"You can't know that," one of the Aurors said.

"I believe him," Harper shrugged. He stood a few feet behind Fudge and was working on his third chicken drumstick.

"We encountered something like it in Iran," Harry said. He figured the royal 'we' would work for this situation. He supposed it was possible Emily had mistaken what she'd seen and discussed. But he doubted it.

"Gracious! And you didn't tell us?" Fudge asked.

"I'd barely been back from there when you rushed in to forcibly remove me from my position at Hogwarts. Almost certainly on information you received from Grindelwald," Harry countered.

"I didn't know that at the time," Fudge spat back.

"I don't believe you," Harry answered. Fudge flushed crimson and looked like he wanted to yell while Harry sat in his chair and stared across the table. The Minister turned his gaze to Priya as if looking for support of some kind but she shook her head. Fudge took a deep breath.

"Acting on that information was very short-sighted of me," Fudge admitted.

"That's one way of putting it."

"Look, there were mistakes from both of us," Fudge said.

"No. There weren't," Harry said.

"You can't think rushing off to combat Grindelwald wasn't a mistake," Fudge said.

"Losing was a mistake. The conflict was not. If you thought it was, I wouldn't be here. I'm here for one reason. I don't know what garbage you sold your cronies. I don't care. I suspect the rumors you're worried about are far more than rumors."

"It's just all so unlikely. Why would he want to give magic to Muggles?"

"He doesn't," Priya said.

"Then why is it happening?"

An offshoot of something he's doing to augment others. And probably himself. We've encountered people with considerably more power than they should have," Harry started.

"People like you?" Harper interrupted with a raised eyebrow. Harry couldn't help but smile as he paused.

"My path was different but I suppose there is a similarity there in terms of the end product," Harry said.

"Are you going to explain your path?" Fudge asked.

"My wife already did. It's not her fault you blacklisted her research," Harry said.

"I've read that," Harper interrupted. "There's nothing there about empowering people with magic. In fact it's far more about the opposite."

"It is, isn't it," Harry shrugged. Priya rolled her eyes.

"We don't know exactly how he's doing it. I'm not sure that detail matters too much for the time being," she said, attempting to bring the conversation back around. "But we know he can do it. Which feels like the most pertinent bit of information at this time."

"I find that hard to believe," another Auror said.

"I met some of his followers in Iran. I fought them. He sent some of them to ambush us not too long ago. They had considerably more magical power the second time," Harry shrugged. Again, he figured mentioning that it was Emily they'd ambushed wasn't the best idea.

"And what happened?" Harper asked.

"They died." The young Auror snorted his amusement.

"Figures," he said.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Fudge asked.

"I'm telling you now," Harry said.

"I sent men to investigate," Fudge continued. "If he found them…"

"If they missed reporting back, I wouldn't have much faith in their survival," Harry said. "They'll probably disappear."

"We think he can siphon magic out of anything and give it to someone else. If they have any semblance of power he'll almost certainly use them," Priya answered.

"Longbottom is harder to kill than that. I'm sure he's fine," Harper said. Harry blinked and thought he must have misheard.

"Harper!" Fudge scolded.

"Oh. Sorry sir." The Auror didn't look the least bit sorry.

"Neville is helping you?" Harry asked. He wondered if it should surprise him. It didn't really. His former housemate had a strong moral compass and wanted to help out. He just hoped his friend knew what he was getting into.

"He's not the only one," Fudge said. But before Harry could comment further a frenzied series of knocks rang out through the room. He turned his gaze to the door. His own abilities had sealed off any magical presence outside of the room. He let his power slide away from the door as four of the Aurors moved toward it, figuring it was best if Fudge didn't lose a handful of his closest allies in one move.

When they opened the door a disheveled woman pushed her way past them as if they were nothing. She was panting and her clothing had seen better days. Hell, most of her had. She was covered in a sort of soot and part of her shoulder was singed black. She clutched a stained mokeskin folder to her chest.

"We found him," Fumiko Avery said as both Harry and Priya struggled to bite their tongues. She struggled to catch her breath and gave an apologetic look toward Harry.

"Where?" Fudge ordered.

"On the south east corner of the exclusion zone. He has a sort of magical citadel set up. We think it can move. There's a low level attraction charm drawing Muggles to it. He's….well," she tossed the folder down onto the table and opened it. Harry saw partially developed photographs of what looked like husks of humans.

"You all made it out?"

"Alexander and I did. He's at the hospital. He took a worse blast than me. Neville stayed to buy us some time. I don't know what happened to him. His guards were ruthless when they caught up as we fled," Fumiko admitted as she collapsed against the table. Priya was on her in an instant, her wand drawn as she started diagnostic spells.

"Well then," Harry said, rising to his feet and focusing his power on France.

"What are you doing?" Fudge asked.

"Anyone with that many human corpses has committed some type of crime. At the very least you can get him on some trumped up Necromancy charge," Harry said. Most of the Aurors looked shocked. Harper laughed.

"You can't just rush in, you have no idea what could happen. You blew up a mountain last time!" Fudge yelled. Harry could only shrug his shoulders as he focused his mind. He'd have preferred if Emily were here to join him. But a cadre of Aurors would have to do. He was not going to let Neville turn into one of those bodies. He'd been responsible for enough of the bad things that happened in his friend's life. He wasn't going to let Neville die because he was too slow in dealing with Grindelwald.

"I'm going to go get my friend," he said as he let his magic swell. And, what was the old saying? Third time's the charm? Well, that worked for him.


Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing I do appreciate all of the support I receive. If you'd like to support me further I am available on PAT RE ON at TE7writes. There are currently the next five chapters of CTS available there, including the penultimate chapter. As well as either nine or ten of my other WiP, Conjurations & Catacombs.

Thanks again for your continued support through years of this hobby.