CHAPTER 7: A Man of Wealth and Taste (Part 6)
Harry gave a sharp nod as he looked around the Longbottom's ballroom. The room was usually dark and lifeless, with the closed curtains blocking any light from the outside and the locked doors barring anyone from entering. It would have looked almost abandoned if not for the lack of dust and cobwebs, not unlike that dark, decrepit room in Montague Manor. But now there were candles lit all over the wall and hanging onto the large chandeliers spread all over the room. The sunlight shone against the floor, and the gold and diamonds shined on every surface of the room. But the portraits gave it that special effect Harry couldn't help but savour. He did enjoy the way they all glared down at him.
As soon as they saw his approval, the five house elves that had been working on the room immediately disapparated. He didn't blame them. They were Longbottom elves, and just like all the portraits around him, they weren't too happy with his continuous humiliation of their masters. But if Harry was pressed to say, he would admit to feeling like a better master to them than Augusta ever was.
Tonight was important. It had been even since before everything started crashing down. If he wanted to keep his power, he needed to protect his status. That meant keeping himself in the public eye, interacting with those who had money and fame and influence, and doing anything he could to tie himself to them. Everything he hated to do, but it was something important regardless of what type of life he wanted to lead. Doors were already opening up to him, but he needed to make sure he kept that going. Longbottom had already wasted his status away and earned nothing, he wasn't going to let himself make that mistake. It hadn't been a coincidence that his little arrangement with Malkin only just became public today.
And even if nothing came through on that front, this would be the perfect cover he needed.
As much as he wanted to take credit and say he had planned this all from the start, he couldn't. It had been dumb luck. Sure, he could have and would have moved the date around if necessary, but it also would have been suspicious if people started asking too many questions. In the end, he didn't have to worry about that. His coffee with Junior had ended up being a waste of time. Despite how much influence he still had over him, it wasn't enough for Junior to rat out the Death Eaters plans. It was more annoying than surprising, Harry had expected that response before he contacted the man. But it didn't hurt to test out the boundaries of their relationship after everything that went down.
Fortunately for them, Theo had come through with what they needed. As soon as he told them about the dinner his father wanted him to attend, Harry knew it was connected to the Muggle attack. It wasn't a dangerous position, yet, and Theo would have been forced to show up regardless, but he still wasn't thrilled about the whole thing. After hearing everything Theo had to say, his first instinct had been to go to Scrimgeour with the information. It would have been quick, and efficient, and with various Pantheon Death Eaters involved, it would have dealt a large blow to Voldemort without risking any Muggle bloodshed. But it would have been a poor move. A waste of an opportunity they sorely needed. Which is why they went to Bedivere with a different plan.
Bedivere made some changes, bringing the others in on the plan while forcing Theo, Pansy, and him to take a backseat. Theo was relieved by that. Harry, on the other hand, wished he could have been more involved. It was just like his arguments with Scrimgeour, it seemed neither man was quite willing to put him in the field. He understood their reasoning and even appreciated the tactical approach they were taking to this war. As much as he was itching for a fight, he was beginning to enjoy the more subtle aspects of the game. Dario had been his last chance, but the moment he showed up empty-handed to Palazzo Zabini, Harry knew he would have to stay on the sidelines for this one.
"Just a little bit longer," the wandmaker had barked out when Harry started pressing the matter. "Maybe if I had more feathers…"
Of course, Dario wanted to swindle him for more phoenix feathers. They were valuable, verging on priceless. Every wandmaker, whether seasoned or aspiring, sought them out desperately. And the fact that Aurora was one of the three known phoenixes to currently exist at the moment meant her feathers weren't something he should give away so freely.
"First finish my wand," he replied. "Then we'll discuss a price for the feathers."
Harry wasn't particularly fond of the man. He was brutish. Unpleasant. And, by the looks of it, an opportunist. Entrusting him with this hadn't been easy, even with Alessia's assurance that he would deliver a fine product. But he wasn't famous or prominent. As a local Italian wandmaker, he was too far away from Britain to involve himself in the war, and he wasn't renowned enough for the Death Eaters to actively seek him out yet.
He would give him a couple of weeks, at most. For Dario's sake, Harry hoped it was finished by then.
After one final look around the room, Harry snapped his fingers three times. Footsteps rang behind him as Augusta walked past him before turning around and bowing slightly. It wasn't a submissive gesture, she just preferred to hide her anger from him. A week or two ago, there would have been nothing more satisfying than this. But the rush it gave him was now gone as the hatred bubbled up to the surface. It didn't give him pleasure any more, nor did it give him joy, and as much as he would enjoy getting rid of her somehow, she was more valuable to him staying where she was. For now, he'd continue locking his door at night and sleeping with one eye open. But the moment she stopped being useful to him, he would make sure he found a small, dark cell for her.
"Is everything ready for tonight?" He asked.
"Yes," she bit out.
"Good," Harry pulled out a few parchments from his robes. He gave them a quick overview before he shoved them into her arms. "That's the list of our guests. Go dress up. You're going to be the one at the door receiving them."
She kept her head bowed, though he could feel her eyes scanning the parchment's contents. Her hands began to shake, and the edges of her neck started growing red. She was angry. Good.
"I said go."
This time, she didn't disobey.
They had only been here for thirty minutes, and Daphne's ears were already ringing. There were hundreds of people crammed inside the place, talking and jesting and laughing, creating a never-ending cacophony that somehow kept rising and rising. The band's singing echoed from wall to wall. Cups were being chinked as dinner was being served. Already there were dozens of couples dancing in the centre of the room while entertainers blasted fireworks at the ceiling and created light shows for people to oooh and ahhh. It was the most expensive whirlwind of chaos and luxury she had ever come across with.
Her entire family had come with her. Astoria was sitting in between Daphne and her mother, already tuned out from the conversation at the table as she became lost in her world. She was fourteen, after all, and despite all of her mother and father's teachings and instructions, it was hard to get a little girl like her interested in the modern politics of the wizarding world and how these latest attacks would impact the British wizarding economy. Daphne could feel her parent's anger rising already. They weren't giving nasty glares at Astoria or making a scene, but there was a certain tenseness only someone from the family would recognise as a bad sign.
Daphne had been forced to learn to involve herself in those adult conversations. In her parent's world, being a child wasn't an excuse for anything. It wasn't that being young was an excuse to be lazy and waste your time, it wasn't a time to mess around with friends or waste the days away without doing anything. Being a child wasn't something to be enjoyed, it wasn't a special time when you could do whatever you wanted without consequences. That was when you were introduced to the world. When you learned about everything you needed for when you finally became an adult. While other parents sent their sons and daughters to a children's table, the Greengrasses were forced to sit and listen and learn. Everything was a new lesson, and anyone wasting their time would get nowhere in life.
During all her childhood, she had hated that. Now, she wished she could go back to just that.
Tonight, it wasn't Daphne's job to listen to whatever the adults were talking about. She wasn't here to further the discussion or shine a light on herself for the adults to appreciate her insight on whatever topic they might fancy. No, she was here to look pretty. Her mother had spent the entire day working on her. Spending hours styling her hair so that it turned out just perfect, doing her nails and make-up and picking out a set of robes that was entirely too small for her. She had only eaten a small apple for breakfast. Her father didn't even allow her to drink water since last night. "You'll get swollen," he told her. "Guys don't like it when girls get fat like that."
She had been dying to eat anything since the moment they arrived, having her stomach growl as they went around the room, greeting families, wasn't the best look. That had been her mistake. She ate entirely too much, getting so bloated her own robes were actually hurting her. It felt as if the dress was about to tear at any moment. Her father noticed it right away. The dark green colour hid the lump from anyone not looking for it, but it wasn't enough to fool him. She wasn't worrying about that now, whatever her father had to say to her would wait until they returned home. Right now, she was just focused on ignoring how uncomfortable she was and carrying on.
With them at the table were the Selwyns and the McLaggens. She had dealt with both families before, her father was a good friend with both patriarchs and Daphne went to school with their sons. She didn't understand how or why, but they were important to her father. They had some business or arrangement that they had been working on for well over a year now. And that was why she had to look pretty. Why she had been forced to wear a dress two sizes too small and painted and styled until she looked like the perfect, unattainable girl all guys would stare at. For as much as his father preached about learning and using brains to advance in the world, the moment she had grown breasts and arse, her purpose had become on making the brats and creeps happy. It didn't matter if they were her age or her parent's age, as long as they could gawk at her and feel her up, she was doing her part.
McLaggen was already practically draped all over her. With his chair scooted all the way up to hers and his arm around her shoulder, Daphne was practically gagging at the overpowering smell of blue cheese and something nastier that was coming out of his mouth as he whispered into her ear.
"It's not a shoddy party, but the Longbottoms could have done better. Trust me, if my family were to host something like this and bring in people like the Minister, we'd at least have it in some place more impressive than this. Maybe they just aren't as rich as we thought, after all. "
Merlin, what an arrogant prick. Brash and condescending and, worst of all, just a plain moron. Boasting about wealth and status as if he wasn't talking to a Greengrass. The McLaggens were leeches, hanging out with people with far more money than them just so that they could feel included. At best, they were charity cases for families like hers. And unlike Theo, he was stupid enough to not realise that. But she kept smiling and nodding, forcing herself to keep still as McLaggen kept getting closer and closer to her. His hand was on her thigh now, shoulders touching. She laughed when she had to, flirting back as little as she could, but enough to keep her father happy. And all the while she tried to ignore how the Selwyn boy was unabashedly staring at her breasts from the other side of the table.
She'd done this dance before. Despite McLaggen being a Gryffindor, and a year older as well, this wasn't the first time he tried to court her. He was fair-looking and had a good figure, but everything else about him was just rotten. None of that even mattered in the first place. Even if she somehow fancied someone as off-putting as McLaggen, his family was too poor for his father to hand them one of their daughters. And for someone in her position, it didn't hurt to count her blessings.
"Come in," he gave her a wolfish smile. "Let's go dance, shall we?"
Daphne could almost feel her father looming behind her. Like a large shadow that would collapse on her at any given moment. She didn't even allow herself to glance sideways. "Of course."
McLaggen was an… adequate dancer. He wasn't stepping on her toes and followed the music well enough. It was the groping that was getting to her. His left hand lowered until it was nearly touching her bum, gripping at her body tightly enough for it to feel noticeable. He wanted to go further, even sometimes tried, but whenever he started getting dangerously close she would just step on him. She played it off as an accident, and McLaggen was too filled with lust to challenge her apology. It may be her role to keep McLaggen happy, but she was still a Greengrass. If McLaggen wanted to grab someone's arse in front of the whole party, he could go dance with some other whore.
After the fourth song, her father appeared behind them and cleared his throat. "May I step in?" He asked, and McLaggen had no other choice but to concede her hand. His father was a much better dancer and his breath didn't stink. He didn't grope her or make any rude mentions of her body like he usually did. Daphne was starting to believe that this would be a more enjoyable dance until he finally opened his mouth.
"Good work with the McLaggen boy."
"Thanks," she replied curtly.
"Your sister will keep Selwyn's son busy. You go find Potter."
If not for the crowd dancing beside them, Daphne might have stopped. "She's fourteen."
"He fancies her," her father said as if it was normal. "That's all that matters."
"She won't know what-"
"She'll learn." The look her father gave her almost made her wish she was still dancing with Montague. And despite herself, she shrank under it. "You give Potter a good show, yeah. Make sure he still wants you. And pull down that dress. You aren't showing enough cleavage."
Her face went red. She couldn't look her father straight in the eye any more. And when words refused to leave her mouth, she nodded. All the sound from the party seemed to drown out. Her body was moving on its own, muscle memory to the dance she had practised for so long. It was only after her father dropped her hand and stepped away that she realised the song had ended. And suddenly everything came back to her. It was intense, and for a moment she lost herself in the crowd. But after taking a deep breath and subtly fixing her dress, she felt somewhat back to normal.
Daphne walked around the entire room, mingling with the important families and greeting those she hadn't had the chance to before. She could feel the eyes on her as she sought out Harry. Even had to bat away a few offers for a dance. Her father had been clear, he wouldn't appreciate seeing her wasting valuable time. When she finally found Harry, he was welcoming the Weasleys into the house. It wasn't surprising seeing him hanging around them. For whatever reason, he had grown fond of the family sometime when he was on the run. But they didn't fit in here. In this room filled with Ministry Heads, British celebrities, and the wealthiest families in the countries, the Weasleys in their frilly, time-worn robes stood out above everyone else. It didn't matter that they were part of the Sacred 29. It didn't matter that they had a spot in the Wizengamot. The only noteworthy thing about them is that they somehow managed to gain Harry's favour.
Despite her thoughts on the family, Daphne still acted accordingly. She greeted the herd as politely as she could, making sure to add extra touches with Ginny and Ron as she asked them about their school year. What she did notice was that only one of the Weasley twins had shown up, she would have to ask Harry what happened to the other one as soon as she had the chance. None of them seemed particularly impressed with her, something Daphne didn't particularly care about, but after seeing Harry accept her at her side, they couldn't do much but return that politeness.
Eventually, the family left, blending into the crowd as they sought out their places. And before Harry could get snatched up by anyone else, Daphne grabbed his hand and pulled him away. They left the ballroom and sneaked into a dark hallway of the manor, where Daphne could finally push Potter against the wall and begin snogging him. She lost herself in the feel of the kiss. Focused completely on the way his hands were roaming over her body and the way their tongues were dancing with each other, until she forgot that her father had been the one to tell her to do this.
Potter was a good kisser. He was a good shag. She wasn't doing it because it was what her father wanted of her. She wasn't some slag for her family to pass around as they pleased. She was doing it because she liked the way it felt. The way he felt. She liked what it did to her. She liked how it made her feel. This was far from love, but it didn't have to be. She wanted this. She needed this. She was doing this because it was what she wanted.
Her brain melted into her body. There was no thought. Nothing. The only thing she knew was the way he felt against her.
"Wait," Harry breathed out, but Daphne kept kissing him anyway. She kept him pinned against the wall, shutting his mouth with her own and deepening the kiss. Her hands roamed around, feeling his hair, his face, gripping at his shirt. "Wait," he said more forcefully this time, managing to push her away.
"Come on," she whispered lustily, kissing her way down his neck. "Let's find somewhere private."
"Not tonight," he tilted his head and exposed his neck further. "I'm working."
That got her attention. She pulled away, but still kept herself pressed against him. "On what?"
He smirked at her. "Wouldn't you like to know? Come on."
Before she could protest, he grabbed her hand and began pulling her back into the ballroom. She thought about starting kissing him again, finding a way to entice him to leave the party and whatever work he had on his mind. But she knew Harry well enough, that whenever he got like this, there was no stopping him. It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive, and not for a second did she think he didn't enjoy their late-night sessions. She still had a hold of him, more than almost anyone else, she was sure of that. But the moment she tried to push it, she'd lose it. It was best to leave him alone for tonight. He'd come to find her when he was ready.
"Any clues you'd be willing to give," Daphne prodded, still keeping her voice flirty.
"Maybe," he replied. "Depends on how persuasive you are."
"Oh, I can be rather persuasive."
He laughed before letting go of her hand. "I'm sure you are."
No one paid attention to them when they returned to the ballroom. And as she was deciding if she should stay with Harry or give him some space for whatever he was doing, her eyes landed on Theo.
"I thought Theo said he was coming alone today," Daphne said.
"He is."
"Then what is Mister Nott doing here?"
Harry's head immediately snapped towards where she was looking. And the moment his eyes landed on Titus Nott, Daphne saw as his face turned slightly paler.
The street was empty. Unnaturally so. It had been nearly twenty minutes since they started surveying the place, and they hadn't come across a single Muggle. They had been expecting a very low amount of stragglers walking around the street once the play started. It was late enough as it was, and anyone not entering the Opera House would not be hanging around here. It was almost too quiet for Richard's taste. There was just something about the silence that bothered him.
"Start moving in," his father ordered. "You already know your places. Get into position."
"Father, are you sure?" Richard whispered, but already the Death Eaters were apparating away. "Shouldn't we wait? Send someone in to make sure the coast is clear."
"Bah," his father waved him off. "It'll be fine. Oizys confirmed the MLE isn't watching this place."
That was true. Unlike all the major London landmarks, the Royal Opera House hadn't gained the attention of the Ministry. Despite its importance and status, it wasn't prominent enough for the DMLE to actively survey in case of an attack. Despite that, there was something about it that left Richard feeling so uneasy.
"Very well," he nodded.
"I don't get it," one of the masked men whined. He wasn't a Death Eater. Wasn't in the meeting the other day. He was probably one of the snatchers that Hades had brought in his place. "Why don't we just attack them now."
"And what? Blast the theatre to pieces?" His father boomed, and immediately, the masked man backed away. "Make it clear this was a wizarding attack. No, if we want to do some real damage, we have to make sure the Ministry can't undo this. They won't rebuild this. They won't make them forget about this. This will stick. And the Muggles out there, the ones who remember… they'll know this was us."
"But… the Dark Lord said he wants us to- to continue making ourselves known."
"The Dark Lord won't care how we brought down this building," another Death Eater sneered. "He'll see filthy Muggle blood and smile."
"Quiet, that's enough," his father commanded. "You know your positions, now move."
There was something wrong. From the moment his father suddenly told him that he wouldn't be joining the others on the raid, he knew it. His father was a particular man, but he was no fool. Theo wasn't sure what happened to change his father's mind, if there was something about the attack that rubbed him the wrong way, or worse, if he accidentally slipped up and his father noticed it. Whatever it was, it put him on edge. It wasn't an accident his father hadn't told him about it until he was about to leave the Longbottom party, and despite how much of a social climber his father was, this sudden interest in attending the Longbottom ball wasn't just about sucking up to the Minister.
Something was wrong, he could feel it as surely as when he looked up at the sky and saw a storm coming.
"It was important to create a response," his father said when Theo asked why he changed his mind. "To bring Death Eaters together and have them attack the Muggles back. More than that, it was important to be a part of that. But to actually participate in the attack would have been an unnecessary exposure."
"But won't they notice you bailed on them?" Theo asked.
"Some undoubtedly will. But the loud activist is recognised more than the quiet soldier."
Madame Longbottom gave them some trouble at the door. His father, though, stepped in, charming the woman into letting them pass. But if someone were to ask Theo, the woman looked more unnerved than charmed. There wasn't a world in which she would not let them inside. Based on everything Harry had told him and Pansy, Madame Longbottom would do anything he asked. The problem was how much time they wasted before she let them in. Thankfully, it didn't take long to find Harry after they arrived. Theo saw the moment his eyes landed on him.
And as much as he wanted to hurry over and pull Harry away, he just couldn't. There were too many eyes watching. The entire room was always looking at Harry from the corner of their eye. It was important not to cause a scene. And with Daphne at Harry's side and his father still holding onto Theo's shoulders, they couldn't speak in private.
Harry was the first to make a move, rushing toward him as calmly as possible. He could see the shift in his eyes. It's what happened whenever he was duelling. They'd turn dull, almost lifeless, as everything else faded away, and he focused on his only goal. It was unnerving seeing the quick switch from the social Harry to the person who was actually underneath the facade.
"Mister Potter," his father called out from behind Theo as he neared them. He gently pushed Theo out of the way before animatedly shaking his hand. "It's an honour to meet you. Truly. I have read a lot about you."
"Mister Nott-"
"Oh, none of that Mister Nott stuff. You can call me Titus."
Harry's smile was strained, and filled with impatience. "Titus. I'm glad you and Theo could make it."
His father's grin widened, and he started moving his hands like a madman. "Yes, yes, I hit a bit of a snag, but thankfully managed to free myself from it just in time." And then, ignoring all sense of decorum, his father put his arm around Harry and began pulling him away from Theo and Daphne.
"I've heard a lot about you, son. Theo, too, has told me plenty. It's incredible. Truly. At the risk of coming on a little strong, I can't help but admit, I am a big fan."
"What are you doing?" Daphne suddenly asked Theo.
"Oh, what?" He stuttered, not paying attention to her as he focused on what his father was telling Harry.
"To go from being just a nobody to rising and becoming the most important person on the country - the planet even - that's something truly special."
"You two keep a lot of secrets, don't you?" Daphne continued to press.
Theo snorted and finally turned to her. "You would know, wouldn't you?"
"That's not something anyone could achieve," his father continued. "People like that are usually born into those positions. They inherit them. But you… you fought for it. There's nothing more I respect."
"Thank you, Mister Nott," Harry replied rather sharply. "From what Theo tells me, you're like me in that regard."
"Yes, I'd say so myself."
"Would you care to share any of them?" Daphne asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"You'd have to ask Harry that," he smiled sardonically at her.
She rolled her eyes at him.
"It's inspiring seeing more people like that," Harry said. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who had to earn his place here."
"Absolutely," his father nodded eagerly before reaching into his pocket. "I want to give you this. Anything you want, anything at all… you only have to ask."
"Thank you, sir."
Harry pocketed something on his robes as the two of them turned to look back. "Theodore, come. Let's leave Mister Potter to his guests."
"Actually, sir, I was wondering if I could borrow Theo for a moment."
"Of course," his father said genially, before turning to Daphne and giving a curt bow. "Miss Greengrass," he said, and as soon as Daphne curtsied, he left them alone.
"Daphne, could you give us a moment, please," Harry said, his voice now gaining an edge over them.
She looked between the both of them, a rebuttal clear and ready, but it never came out. As soon as she left them, they stepped out of the ballroom. Before long, they had found a private hallway to themselves that Harry immediately secured with a bunch of privacy charms.
"Why is your father here?" Harry barked.
"I don't know. He just said he was going to join us after all. Out of the blue. He didn't explain why he changed his mind."
"Could the plan have changed? Could it have been a ruse?"
"No, no," Theo shook his head. "There were too many people involved just to trick me."
"What if they moved it up?"
"The whole Ministry is here, you would have known if something happened."
That seemed to finally calm Harry down, and weirdly, countering all of Harry's arguments calmed him as well.
"What if he knows? Maybe he-"
"Don't even say it," Theo said seriously. "I can't think about that right now."
"We'll talk about it later." Harry raised his hand awkwardly as if he was about to pat him on the arm or do something of the sort before he just put it down. "Should we warn Bedivere?"
"We've already been missing for too long." He could tell how hard it was for Harry to stay on the sidelines. He looked just like he did during the night of the sieges, itching to just run to the Department of Mysteries. Then it had been a good idea. Tonight, it wasn't. And in the end, it seemed Harry knew that as well.
He felt the burn in his right arm, the third signal so far. Only five more remaining. It was still an odd sensation to Richard, feeling the way that spark of pain made its way through his whole body was something he doubted he'd ever get used to. It was a special kind of magic. Dark, almost preternatural compared to all the other magic he'd been exposed to in his life. Despite the apprehension he had toward it, he couldn't deny the genius behind it. Every time he thought he had figured out the mark completely, he was shown just another way it could be used.
Just a few more minutes and they would be ready. But Richard was patient, the added ten minutes they were taking in transfiguring the structure of the building into explosives was crucial to make it look like a convincing Muggle attack. Sure, any wizard who came to analyse the scene would be able to detect the magic cast, but given how the explosion from afar would look like a genuine bomb, there was no way in which the Ministry would be able to interfere. And once the others realised what they had done, more would follow. Not just Death Eaters or snatchers connected to the Dark Lord. This is what would make any proud, Muggle-fearing wizard with enough courage to step out of the shadows and fight back.
The Muggle shooter had been the wake-up, and now this would be their call to arms. Soon enough, witches and wizards all over the country would be tearing it all down. Only now, the Ministry wouldn't be able to cover it up and undo any of the damage.
His arm burned again, and this time, Richard did smile. Half of the teams were ready.
"Come on, boys," his father shouted. "The faster we blow this thing, the faster we can get out of here."
The snatchers began to hurry up, but transfiguring rocks into explosives was incredibly dangerous, and not something taught at any school. Another time, his arm burned. The fifth signal. There were only three missing. Only a few more minutes to go.
But before his arm burned for a sixth time, a series of apparition cracks echoed around them.
When Potter first told him about the party he was hosting, Rufus' first instinct was to refuse. He had never fancied events like that, and with his pile of work that had been continuously rising ever since he was sworn in as minister, wasting a whole night away on something like that wasn't the best way to spend his night. More importantly, he still didn't trust Potter. The boy hid too many secrets from too many people. Rufus had seen first-hand how easily it was for him to lie, and how convincing he was when he did so. An invitation like this smelled like a cheap way of trying to buy a relationship with him.
In the end, despite how much Rufus wished he could avoid it, he was convinced to come. The truth was, with Potter being as prominent as he was nowadays, events like these drew in a crowd of everyone important in the country. Members of the Wizengamot, other Heads of the Ministry of Magic. Celebrities who had a large swaying power over the wizarding world and even foreign politicians. Having them all under one roof was the perfect chance for him to start working on people. It was a big part of politics, one he abhorred to his very core, but with the pressure from the ICW rising and the Death Eaters attacks coming more and more often, he needed to work with these people. And unlike him, they didn't take their business seriously. It wasn't just about scheduling a meeting with these people and then making a proposal. You had to befriend them, join them for some drinks and listen to them ramble, all so that you could have a chance of them actually hearing you out.
So that's what he did all night, politicking and getting on the good side of everyone who had been postponing their meetings or fighting against what he was trying to do with the Ministry. Potter surprisingly helped, spending a good amount of time breaking the ice between him and his targets and sometimes outright speaking his support for him. With no one in the country unable to say no to him, it was exactly what he needed to start the change he wanted. When Rufus realised he would have to work with Potter, he had been worried about how their relationship might be. After everything that happened in the past year, it would have been easy for Potter to turn against him or just ignore the Ministry completely. What he was doing was unlike anything he had expected, but it was just what he needed if they were going to win this war.
For the first time since he offered the opportunity to the boy, Rufus was sure he had made the right decision in inviting him to the emergency ICW assembly that would take place in a couple of weeks.
He kept his eye on the boy for the rest of the party. Potter was well aware of it, sometimes catching his glance and even understanding when he required his assistance. It was uncanny how well the boy could read him after just a few months of working together. He watched as he sneaked off with the Greengrass girl and hung out with his friends. How he welcomed all of his guests and fed the egos of everyone who had come to the party. It didn't take long for Rufus to realise what Potter had been doing during his off hours.
"I saw your advertisement at Madam Malkins' Robes," Arthur Weasley praised. "Fine pictures they were."
"I wasn't aware you were promoting businesses like that, Mister Potter," Alphard Bletchley, one of the owners of Slug and Jiggers apothecary, mentioned.
"It's something rather new," Potter answered with a charming smile.
"Mister Potter, would you be willing to work with us on a similar project?" Silvanus Pritchard from Quality Quidditch Supplies abruptly asked.
And as a group of businessmen started clamouring for an opportunity at a deal with Harry Potter, the boy smiled and told them vague guarantees of considering their proposals. It was a smart move on his part, something he hadn't thought Potter would have been capable of at first. But it seemed the boy would keep surprising him in such a way. Once again, that wasn't a comforting thought.
After only two hours, Rufus was already exhausted. The party would go on until past midnight, but he wasn't sure he would last as much. And just as he was starting to attempt and come up with any excuses for an early departure, he watched as Kingsley and Dawlish rushed to his side.
"There's an attack going down," Kingsley whispered in his ear.
"Where?"
"Some Muggle theatre," Another Death Eater attack. Immediately, his years as Head Auror came back to him. Kingsley must have seen it too. "Albus is already on the scene, we need to get you to safety."
"Everything alright?" Potter suddenly asked. The entire hall had gone silent, and despite the lack of words, Rufus knew he wanted them out of there. The four of them left the ballroom quickly, with hushed whispers echoing behind them as soon as they did. "What happened?"
"Another Death Eater attack," Rufus explained, and just as Potter was about to open his mouth he continued. "Albus has it handled. I'll post some Aurors around the property just in case. I have to return to the Ministry."
"I can help too," Potter insisted.
"This is your party, Potter. Make sure everyone inside is safe."
Surprisingly, Potter didn't argue back.
They were everywhere. Aurors. Nearly a dozen of them raining hexes down on them. But he couldn't see them. They were shadows in the night. The only sign of them were the constant flashes of bolts that surrounded them. They had already taken out three of them. His father was fighting back, but there was nothing to be done. Apparition wards had been put in place. They were pinned down, launching curses in the dark and hoping for the best.
Richard knew it had been too quiet.
Something had gone wrong. Someone had set them up. There was no other option. They had made sure the coast was clear. They had been quiet and hadn't launched a single curse. No one could have possibly noticed that something was going wrong, not unless they were watching the building. It was too fast a response. And there were too many Aurors for this not to have been a planned attack.
The streets had been empty. There had been no one in sight. It was all a trap. A set-up. Someone sold them out. People were shouting. Curses crashed against the floor, blasted their cover, and brought down their shields. Because of course now they didn't care about making a scene. They had made sure there were no Muggles in sight. This was planned to the very detail.
Richard could almost feel the floor moving underneath him. He had tried to fight back, he tried to help his father and the others push back the Aurors. But he quickly realised he was not skilled enough for it, and if his father hadn't been there to shield him, he most likely would have ended up on the ground with the others. Stunned. Bound. Without even a wand in his hand.
He was shaking. His ears were ringing. He was trying to compose himself, but he couldn't. There had to be a way out of here. Something he could do. Anything to help. But as the Aurors kept advancing on them, more Death Eaters started falling.
It was just he and his father now. Richard hid behind the wall of stone they had conjured while his father fought them all off. This couldn't end this way. If they were going to be caught, let it all burn. Pressing his forearm himself, Richard felt the painful burn spread all over his body.
"Destroy it!" He shouted. "BRING IT ALL DOWN!"
"NO!" His father shouted, but he soon became overwhelmed by the Aurors' attack. And before Richard could even react, he heard a series of roaring blasts from the distance. They single-handedly silenced the entire street, stopping the continuous burst of bolts that pinned them down. But before he could react, Richard watched as the building began collapsing on itself. Collapsing on them.
By the time he was being pulled out of the wreckage and placed in handcuffs, his father was nowhere to be found.
He was having trouble breathing. He couldn't feel his legs. Couldn't feel his arms. Couldn't move anything except his eyes, and even then, it took an effort. But he could still feel the pain. The burns. The bruises. He felt them everywhere. If he hadn't managed to shield him and Richard, he would have been dead already.
Edward didn't recognise where he was. It was a large manor. Older than his. Empty. And someone was dragging him across the floor. They weren't hiding his face, but the angle at which he was being carried didn't let him see anything beyond his back.
The man started dragging him down some stairs. The back of his head was smashing itself against each one. And it was once they reached the bottom floor that his captor readjusted his hold on him and Edward finally managed to catch a glimpse of him. It was a boy, young, one of the Aurors he had been fighting against. The smile he gave him terrified Edward to his core. The boy's face suddenly started melting away, completely changing as long blond hair replaced the black one and one of his arms suddenly disappeared.
Edward nearly passed out again once he recognised Yaxley's face.
"Edward McNair," he suddenly shouted to the room. "Pantheon member and loyal servant of the Dark Lord since his first rise. Codename: Thanatos; the God of Death. One of the Dark Lord's greatest assets… is that good enough for you, Saint Potter?"
Slow footsteps rang inside the dungeon before Harry Potter's face appeared above him. "Works for me," he said coldly. "Lock him up and give him the locket. I have to go back to Blackstone."
Thank you for reading! Hope you guys enjoyed this new chapter.
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