15 Years Ago
Hogwarts
A sharp whistle echoed, and all movement stopped.
The elves exchanged nervous glances, their wide eyes darting toward the source of the sound. Standing atop an overturned bucket was an elf with a steely gaze and a mop of grayish hair pulled back in a tidy, albeit slightly crooked, knot. This was Nibbs, the eldest of them all and their leader in matters of, as he would put it, "special operations."
"Gather round, all of you," Nibbs squeaked, his high voice trembling with urgency. His eyes were narrowed, darting around the kitchen to make sure no one else was watching.
One by one, the elves dropped their mops and scrubbers, creeping over in silent obedience. "Why is we stopping work, Master Nibbs?" asked a small, trembling elf with a floral teapot in her arms.
Nibbs shot her a stern look. "You'll see, Tizzy. Everyone just gather 'round. And hush now," he whispered.
Once the elves formed a tight cluster, he motioned toward a pile of pots and pans stacked near the stone wall. "Grab hold, each of you," he directed in a hushed voice. "Time is slipping, and we mustn't be late!"
With wide, curious eyes, the elves lifted the clutter of pots and pans, revealing a large, greasy lever underneath. Nibbs gave them a quick nod, and with a synchronized heave, they yanked on the lever.
A low rumble shook the kitchen, rattling the shelves and sending a few forks clinking to the floor. Slowly, a section of the floor beside them slid open, revealing a dark passageway. The elves exchanged hesitant glances, but Nibbs urged them forward with a sharp whisper. "Quick now, no dawdling. Time waits for no elf."
Down the narrow staircase they went, the dim light of the kitchen disappearing as they descended. Nibbs led the way, his steps echoing through the shadowy passage. At the bottom, a large stone archway came into view, shimmering with a translucent, glassy surface. Beyond it, an inky darkness pulsed, as if inviting them into its depths.
Tizzy gulped, her tiny fingers clinging to the edge of her apron. "Is... is we going in there, Master Nibbs?" she whimpered.
Nibbs straightened his posture and lifted his chin. "Yes, Tizzy. What awaits on the other side is something we have worked for a very long time."
The elves gathered close, exchanging apprehensive glances as they looked into the portal. Then, with a quick nod from Nibbs, they stepped through.
On the other side, the world seemed to shift, their senses suddenly bombarded by a strange, heavy silence. They stood in a place that seemed like the bottom of the ocean, an endless expanse of dark water stretching around them. Faint shafts of eerie blue light filtered down from above, illuminating ghostly shapes floating through the depths.
The elves whimpered as enormous shadowy forms drifted in the distance—strange, long-limbed creatures with eyes that glowed faintly, watching from afar.
"Stay close," Nibbs whispered, though his own voice trembled slightly as he glanced at the looming sea creatures. "We are almost there."
They followed, huddling together as they shuffled through the dim, watery expanse until they reached the heavy doors of what looked like an ancient study. The grandeur of the room hinted at an age long past; faded tapestries clung to the walls, their colors muted by time, and a large wooden desk stood in the center, its surface littered with parchments and ancient quills.
At the far end of the room, standing atop a small dais, was another elf, his figure wrapped in black rags, a frayed cape trailing behind him like the tail of some dark phantom. Unlike the nervous newcomers, this elf emanated an unsettling aura, his eyes gleaming with a spiteful malice.
"Master Thistlethorn," Nibbs said reverently, bowing low. "We is here as you called, to serve as you command."
Thistlethorn gave a satisfied smirk, his sharp eyes flitting over the gathered elves. His voice was low, almost a growl. "My faithful, loyal kin," he sneered, his tone laced with mockery. "For centuries, you has toiled, scrubbing and slaving, while wizards grow fat and lazy. But soon... soon, we will show them the price of their arrogance."
"Have ye done what I asked?" Thistlethorn demanded. Some of them muttered to themselves, not willing to meet his gaze. Some even tried to turn back to him.
"What are you lot muttering about?" Thistlethorn demanded, his voice sharp and grating.
One of the elves, his face pale, took a shuffling step forward. "W-we's... wondering, Master Thistlethorn, sir," he stammered, "if... if perhaps... maybe we's best be getting back to Hogwarts? Headmaster Dippet will be terribly cross if he finds the kitchen a mess."
Thistlethorn let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Even here, in the greatness of our own homeland, the slave soul of elves can't help but yearn for bondage." His eyes glittered with contempt as he looked down at the cowering elf. "You think it is your 'chores' that define you? Your masters' whims?" He shook his head slowly. "Pathetic."
Several of the elves winced, looking at their feet as if ashamed. Thistlethorn's gaze swept over them, the cold fire of his wrath barely contained. "It's no wonder the wizards see us as tools," he spat, his voice dripping with scorn. "Even now, on the edge of freedom, you quake at the thought of leaving your broomsticks unswept."
A voice piped up from the back, low and wavering. "We... we's tried, Master Thistlethorn. We has done as you asked."
Thistlethorn's gaze snapped to the speaker, and he nodded. "Step forward," he ordered.
A small cluster of house-elves moved forward, their eyes wide with a mixture of pride and trepidation. One of them, his ears ragged and patched in several places, straightened his back and lifted his chin.
"We has worked hard, Master," the elf said, his voice firm despite his obvious fear. "The ritual binding... it has been weakened."
A murmur rippled through the group, the other elves glancing at each other in shock and awe. Thistlethorn's eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, considering the speaker with a calculating look.
"We can... disobey the mages' commands, to a degree," the elf continued. "Those of us bound to places, like Hogwarts, we's not watched as closely. But... but the ones who serve families directly…" He hesitated, looking down. "They's still under tighter control. They feel compulsions... to punish themselves. And to report any strange behavior to the mages."
Thistlethorn's face darkened, and he made a dismissive gesture. "Of course. Wizards wouldn't be so foolish as to allow their personal slaves the same freedoms. But you," he said, nodding approvingly at the group, "those bound to Hogwarts have more leeway, yes?"
"Yes, Master Thistlethorn." The elf nodded. "We has... we has taken risks. We's gone into the Forbidden Section of Hogwarts' library, Master, copied the tomes just as you ordered."
Thistlethorn's eyes lit up, and a rare smile played at the corners of his mouth. "And the bindings?"
The elf winced slightly, but he held his ground. "Still too difficult, Master. We's done all we can. But it's... complex. The rituals, the magics they've placed on us. We cannot break it alone."
Another of the group stepped forward, a frail-looking elf with deep shadows under her eyes. "We has taken in the casted-out elves," she said softly, "those who was thrown away by their families. Kept them from punishing themselves, from... from throwing themselves off the cliffs. We tells them, Master, about the Great Work."
Thistlethorn's expression softened, though the gleam of fervor in his eyes was unmistakable. "Good," he murmured, more to himself than to the others. "Yes, good." He looked over the assembly, nodding slowly, his voice rising with a sense of purpose.
"You've begun to see what it is we can achieve, all of us," he said, his tone fervent, almost reverent. "We are more than servants, more than slaves. We are a people. A nation, even. And one day—soon—the world will see that. They will fear it."
The elves shivered but did not flinch. Thistlethorn raised his arms, his tattered cape fluttering in the dim light, his voice echoing through the ancient study.
"We will break the chains," he declared. "With your courage, with your strength, we will see the end of our bondage. And we will take our place as a free people."
The Hidden Ally
"My Lord Grimmaw." Director Rottfang said and saluted.
Grimmaw didn't respond but kept working on his paperwork. His title, contrary to the popular fiction, afforded him very little entertainment. As such, he tried to make do wherever he could. One of these was keeping pompous gits like Rottfang waiting at attention. The conniving git eyed his throne from the shadows when he thought Grimmaw wasn't watching.
Making him wait, reminding him of his station in life, was one of the few pleasures Grimmaw truly enjoyed. It almost made the stress of his job bearable. Almost.
"Speak, Director," Grimmaw commanded and Rottfang saluted again before beginning.
"Your…uh… VIP guest is here, my lord?" Rottfang said.
"What?!" Grimmaw shouted and Rottfang visibly started sweating.
"Uhm…the delegation is here, my lord," Rottfang said.
"And you kept them waiting by standing still over here, wasting my and their time?!" Grimmaw shouted again. "You incompetent fool! No wonder Gringotts is going to the dogs!"
"But my lor-!" Rottfang protested.
"GET OUT! WHY ARE YOU STILL WASTING TIME! GET THEM IN HERE!" Grimmaw shouted at the director. As soon as Rottfang bailed from the room, Grimmaw burst out into vulgar guffaws.
Slapping his knees, "This will never not be funny. I kill myself sometimes."
A series of polite knocks rang and Grimmaw straightened. "Enter!"
A group of house elves, clad in basic rags entered the luxurious office. Their eyes ball nearly popping out of their eye sockets in silent exclamation at the display of wealth. Grimmaw sighed internally as he took in their lean appearance and nearly snarled in anger.
The stench of their bodies would require round-the-clock perfumes for the next few hours before it began to dissipate from the room. The sight of their malnourished, pitiful selves almost made Grimmaw call off their alliance before he reigned himself in. The house elves played an integral role in his campaign. More so than even they themselves realized. As such, their fates were intertwined for now.
However, when all was said and done, the new surface Goblin empire would need someone to take care of menial tasks while they reached for higher glory. It wouldn't do much good for house elves to be granted too long of a leash before they became lost and purposeless. Only in Goblin kind's "warm embrace" will they find solace. Grimmaw smiled widely at the thought as he got down from his desk and pattered towards them.
"My friends!" Grimmaw said as he vigorously shook each and every one of their hands. He made a mental note to order luxury perfume from Arabia after this.
"High King Grimmaw." The lead house elf awkwardly bowed in front of him. The assembled goblin guards almost broke out in giggles at the shabby display before being silenced by a glare from Grimmaw.
"Up up my friends," Grimmaw said and ushered them onto the sofas. "Now, did you have what we agreed to?"
The elf pulled a rolled-up parchment from the folds of his tattered cloak and offered it to Grimmaw. "It is here, my lord. Every child currently enrolled at Hogwarts, and—" the house-elf's smile grew wide, "a list of those with nascent magical cores. Potential students, as you asked. The headmistress doesn't know that her systems are compromised."
Grimmaw couldn't help but smile genuinely this time around. The mages had no idea of the scale of infiltration the Goblins had just conducted. Soon, they would realize the folly of their ways. Even the bastard Michael would weep with envy at what he just accomplished.
"You have done us a great deed, master elf. Rest assured, your plights will not be forgotten in the liberation wars or the kingdom to come." Grimmaw said. "The hour of our vengeance is nigh."
As the elves bid their farewell, Grimmaw ordered, "Burn those sofas."
Forbidden Forest
When he was 11, his aunt and uncle had forcibly taken him on a trip to the local zoo in honor of Dudley's birthday. Over there, he had witnessed a primal fear for the first time in his life. A massive python had emerged from an artificial pond with all the poise of a predator that struck fear into the hearts of ancient man. Soundlessly, it emerged and flicked its tongue to check for predators. That was the only time in life Harry felt he was grateful for what he now identified as muggle technology. Thick bulletproof glass protected the audience from the reptile. 11-year-old Harry had shivered with nervousness with the snake ignored all others and had chosen to lock eyes with him. Slits met nervous green eyes. Even now, Harry could swear the serpent had humorously winked at him and regarded him as something other than prey.
The exact same feelings engulfed him as he walked towards their home. A large hot tub was there in front of their yard. A couple of hulking zombies put logs into the fire at the occupant's command. Another held trays laden with champagne and other exotic biteables.
How did she even manage to get this here? Harry wondered as his fingers trailed the edge. He paused; his breath hitched as she emerged from her dive. Wet hair clung to her body as purple eyes sought out green.
"Ah, you are here," Morrigan remarked as she adjusted herself. He tried to get the word out but couldn't. Morrigan lay in her birthday suit in front of him. Obviously, they had fooled around the house before but never something so bold. There was an unspoken line that either of them seemed too hesitant to cross. The scene of bath oils, her trademark perfume hit him, and Harry exhaled deeply. A warm hand grabbed his wrist and Harry looked down to see it was Morrigan again.
"Why don't you join me, hmmm?" Morrigan said. "Such therapies are good for a troubled soul. Believe me, I would know."
Harry mutely nodded and took off his own clothes. He attempted to get in before an invisible force stopped him. Harry looked at Morrigan again in confusion.
"I set my eyes on a man, not a boy. Stop acting like a boy." Morrigan snorted. Harry blinked at her before looking down and blushing. He then took all of his clothes off before gingerly getting into the hot bath.
"Ohhhhhhhh…. That's more like it." Morrigan purred at seeing a now crimson Harry.
"A very weird time to do this," Harry said and Morrigan laughed.
"True. True." She admitted and splashed water at him and laughed as Harry scowled. "Come on! It's water with minerals. It's good for your skin!"
"Is it really?" Harry asked and Morrigan pouted.
"Or at least that's what Parkinson said," Morrigan said and Harry shrugged as he averted his gaze from her. Morrigan grinned at that.
"So, what did you want?" Harry asked.
"Oh, nothing. Just wanted to discuss things over with my precious boy." Morrigan said and tried to reply but his breath hitched. A warm presence snaked its way from across his calves up to his thigh. Painful yet sublime jolts of pleasure coursed through his lower body in anticipation.
"R-right." Harry gasped as he tried to recall everything about today's fiasco. "The ministry."
"Yesssss." Morrigan hissed. "The ministry." The presence got bolder as she began to toy with him.
"Be specific." Harry managed to gasp.
"Oh, the part where your inaction got a long-term asset killed? A ministerial one at that?" Morrigan said as her mood instantly turned stormy. "Or the part where it nearly got one of my men killed."
She shifted and then came closer to Harry. Placing a hand on his cheek, she forced him to look her in the eyes. "You can look as much as you want, dear. No need to be shy. We did swear ourselves to each other, no?"
Harry looked at Morrigan with defiance even as gentle regimen probes began poking at his mental defenses.
"Despite the takeover, Flamel is weak. He is hollow. Even now, his own cabinet sends us information on his actions." Harry said defiantly. "Bones's loss is tragic, but one she should've seen coming. I offered her private security trained by us, but she refused."
Morrigan nodded, mouth agape as her mental probes uselessly struck at iron-bound defenses that refused to budge even an inch.
"In one night, you would have lost both Abraxas and Gloria had Mortimer not been there to drag the High Lord away. Worse all, everyone believes the muggle borns were behind this. He may be hollow, but he still has you on a backfoot." Morrigan said as her ministrations made Harry grunt. He placed either shoulder on the back and flexed his forearms as his grip on the railings tightened. "I suppose you don't have fresh intelligence on Nexus either."
"N-nexus i-Is b-b-being cornered globally as we …..speak." Harry managed and Morrigan nodded slowly.
"And now, enemies, magical and mundane, move in waves we don't even know. " Morrigan said. "I would have killed you for such failures. Abraxas has been punished a lot worse for much less. So have the rest."
"Uh huh," Harry said.
"Cassie was wise enough to sense my mood and promptly hide the others. I didn't even get a chance to play with them." Morrigan pouted. "Now only you remain… the object of my attention. You know, you are lucky your zombies here were able to construct this in so little time. Warm water, I have found, helps calm me. A minute late, I don't know what I would have done."
She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck. "Whatever am I to do with you, lover?"
"You could try what you do best." Harry grinned with through gritted teeth and Morrigan's hands moved faster.
She stopped, head tilted, and eyes narrowed, "You don't think I could do it?"
"No. You cannot." Harry confidently said. Morrigan didn't say anything but kept staring at him for a while.
"You know, 4 years ago, I would've had your tongue for speaking to me thusly," Morrigan said.
"Yes, well you had your chance, and you blew it," Harry said.
"Very poor choice of words Harry," Morrigan said and channeled magic to her hands. Before she could finish off, Harry grabbed her face and moved in for a deep kiss. Body piled on body and water splashed everywhere. The two wrestled as Harry ravenously groped at her.
"Harry." Morrigan gasped as he grew rougher. Hand clawed and fangs bit into her porcelain skin. "HARRY!"
With a lunge, Harry was pushed away and crashed into the other side. He snarled as he bared his bloody fangs at the witch before him. A small trickle of blood seeped down from her left breast, but she was unconcerned. Morrigan stared down at him before moving faster than the eye could spot. Once again, she embraced and locked her lips with his. After a brief tug of war, Morrigan parted.
"1 hour lover. You get 1 hour to get things under control." She spoke.
"Or?" Harry demanded and Morrigan smiled nastily.
"I will gather my legions and burn it all. I will burn the government till it kneels before me. I will kill all the dissidents right away. I will kill any who stand in my way even if they fought alongside, you or me in the war. I will kill till nothing remains. Then I will take my legions and set the muggle cities aflame." Morrigan declared. "And if you think you can stop that, break my heart as you will, but I will prevail lover. Regardless of how strong you are now. I will prevail."
"Right," Harry muttered as he shook the carnal haze that had overcome him a moment ago. He saw Morrigan and felt a pang of guilt at her bloody condition. What am I becoming?
She reached down and roughly slapped his rear. "Well then, don't you have a world to save, lover boy?"
Aerospace Division
"Welcome to the Aerospace Division, Chairman Petrov." A cool voice commanded, and Harry's bodyguards gave him the go-ahead as he marched inside. Hundreds of mages worked in silence on large constructs. Several charms worked in crisscross to mold metal into vast structures that in turn attached themselves to existing structures. The resultant detritus was collected in levitating containers from which they were transfigured into further tools. Harry knew he could proudly boast about his facility being the first in magical or mundane for being 99% efficient in waste management and efficiency.
The massive arcane machinery will one day be the foundation of the first space program in magical history. He spotted a woman busily working on the roof of a massive ship, paying no mind to various workers nodding or greeting their boss.
"A rather cold welcome by the Aerospace Division I must say, Director Ravenclaw," Harry said.
"Says who?" The woman muttered, expecting some other sycophantic dignitary sent by the HQ to tour their high-end facilities.
"The man who writes your pay cheques." Harry declared. At that, he could just feel a mighty scowl envelop the woman's features and she ominously turned to him. Harry smiled as recognition dawned on the woman's face and she threw away everything and jumped down from the platform. Without delay, she enveloped him in a massive hug.
"HARRY! YOU'RE BACK!" The woman yelled.
"Great meeting you too, Helena," Harry said and looked around. "I see you have been busy."
"Oh, like you wouldn't believe it. Give us a bit more time, and we will have our first vessel in lower orbit before the year ends." Helena said. "You can't believe the sheer energy we have going on over here. Witches and wizards from all over the world have migrated to work here."
"Oh?" Harry said.
"Oh yeah! We never really had industries or cross-discipline collaboration on such a vast scale before. Geniuses from all over the world are excited to finally cut loose and work on well-funded projects." Helena said.
"Huh, it all kind of makes me a great guy, no?" Harry teased. "Truly, Chairman Petrov's magnanimity and benevolence are beyond reproach."
He was rewarded by a slap to his shoulder. "Prat," Helena muttered before locking arms with his.
"A grand tour of the facilities, Chairman?" Helena asked.
"I would love that Director, but I am on urgent business here. I need to go to the lower levels." Harry said and Helena's joy instantly faded away.
"I honestly forget sometimes what's below us." She muttered and looked at him. "So, I suppose it is set then? The war."
"Afraid so, Helena," Harry said.
She gripped his arm tighter and leaned her head on his shoulder. A small whizzing sound emitted from the ground below and it parted away to reveal an elevator coming forth. Harry stepped forward and Helena made to follow before he placed a gentle hand to stop her.
"What?!" Helena demanded. "You are taking my people to war again. I have a right too."
"You have done enough Helena," Harry said. "More than I had the right to demand from you."
"And.. I still offer my services again." Helena said. Harry faltered for a moment. Of all the people he knew, Helena was the one he really had a hard time refusing.
Visions of three bodies in the morgue went through him.
Sebastian. Bridgette. Elizabeth.
Harry's nerves hardened and he stepped inside the construct. "Thank you, Helena. Really. For everything."
With a soft whirring, the elevator descended below again.
Beneath Red Tape
"Strategic Arms Division." The voice intoned as Harry arrived at the hidden level. "Welcome, Chairman Petrov."
Now this was more to his liking. The entire organization comprised of entertainment, general appliances, aerospace, herbology, astrology, and mass construction divisions raised tremendous annual revenue for the purpose of financing this. The strategic arms division. No official record of it existed and a mountain of creative accounting and red tape hid it. No official employee of MystiTech ventures led it.
It was directed by Morrigan who recruited people with Harry's approval and directed projects. The site also acted as the military and intelligence HQ of MystiTech ventures. Intelligence collected from dozens who owed favors to either couple was collected and compiled here. Furthermore, mages forcibly retired by Flamel were pushed into Harry's wide-open, waiting arms for recruitment. They undertook the more arcane side of espionage such as binding spirits and wraiths, casting scrying spells, and constantly testing wards on hostile buildings.
All in all, it was the AIB reborn with the exiles of the Flamel administration.
"Harry my man!" A loud voice boomed from across the room and marched straight at Harry. After a rather macho handshake, Harry replied "Good to see you too Charlus."
"It better be," Charlus replied. "America is good but just so damned boring."
"I don't think a country in civil war should be considered entertainment for you Charlus." A female voice said. "And hello to you too, Harry. It's been a while."
"Dorea. You look great." Harry smiled. Dorea affectionately patted him on the shoulder. The future Lady Potter snaked one arm around Charlus.
"I am happy to see you are in one piece," Dorea said before sternly asking. "I do hope Morrigan's been good towards you."
He smirked as he thought about the day's events. "Oh, things have been great with us," Harry remarked.
Before further time could be wasted on idle chatter, Harry looked around, "Is everyone here?"
Dorea nodded. "Morrigan's people arrived almost 10 minutes before you did. They are waiting in the conference room."
Harry nodded. "We have very little time. Let's go."
Fin
Author Notes: Read and Review