CHAPTER 19: Show of Hands (Part 5)

Harry wondered if it was too late to turn against the Gryffindors again. He knew how to do it, he had rather excelled at it last year, fucking with them so perfectly, their guardians had essentially kidnapped him and locked him up for a good two weeks. Two weeks. Damn. It had felt longer at the time. Unfortunately, a stupid part of him now cared about what Molly Weasley thought about him so he couldn't do anything to her children - even if he hadn't grown to enjoy them a bit more than he would ever say out loud. He still had this weird connection with Hermione; they weren't friends but weren't enemies either. She was just there, always watching, doing the job he had asked her to do. It was unsettling, at times, knowing that she knew him better than almost anyone else. There were still times when he considered having Bedivere obliviate her in her sleep. Unfortunately, he knew he couldn't afford that. Then, there was Longbottom, who would have been the easy target if Dumbledore hadn't already agreed to his terms. And Harry really needed Dumbledore to come through.

So, in the end, he decided he would just suck it up and keep his mouth shut. And whenever he wondered if this was a worse fate than being around the Slytherins, he reminded himself that, no, the Slytherins were much worse.

It started out tame enough. A few side glances, Ron winking at him in a way that seemed like his eye was just constantly malfunctioning, discreet nods and thumbs up. Then the Weasleys had to open their mouths and remind him that they were related to Fred and George.

"Come to join us? Finally need a break from all that cardio?"

"Official ICW meetings? Is that your secret codeword for Daphne?"

"Here, drink some water, Merlin knows you'll need it for later."

"Feeling okay? You sure you don't need some ice for those knees?"

"Are you sure you should be swimming, Harry? You tire yourself out, and you'll be no good tonight."

"Are all you that close with all the Slytherins? Or is that just a special something for Daphne?"

By the time it was nearing noon, Harry was beginning to doubt his earlier assessment. Fortunately, Longbottom never joined in. Thank fuck. He didn't know how he was going to stop himself from embarrassing the idiot. But, weirdly enough, Hermione tried to defend him. Granted, it was only a few times before she gave up, coming to the conclusion that the Weasleys needed to get it out of his system. But she still rolled her eyes whenever they tried coming up with new and more ludicrous lines.

After going to the pool, they'd gone off to their respective rooms to shower and change - thankfully, Harry found the room empty - and they later met up at one of the Chinese restaurants near their hotel at the resort. The ribbing continued all through lunch, the Weasleys showing no sign of stopping and even trying to egg on Longbottom and Hermione into their little game. As soon as Harry finished his meal, Harry saw Dumbledore enter the restaurant and head towards them, as if, somehow, he had already known exactly where they were. He looked at the five of them before a small, fond smile spread across his lips. "Good morning," he greeted them. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid I need to steal Harry for a few hours."

"Is the ICW finally meeting?" Hermione asked.

Ron nearly choked on his food. "Merlin, I hope not."

Ginny guffawed.

Dumbledore ignored the other two and kindly nodded to Hermione.

Harry said his goodbyes to everyone, even making a show of treating Neville kindly for Dumbledore's sake, before leaving the small restaurant. With both of them having phoenixes for familiars, they didn't need to walk or apparate to the resort's floo, or even use it. With Fawkes and Aurora, they could easily appear inside the temple, and make a show out of it in the process. So, when Dumbledore instead continued walking at a slow pace, Harry knew there was something in the old man's mind.

"I see you're getting along well with Neville. I'm grateful for that."

"We had an agreement," he replied curtly. "I wasn't planning on ignoring it."

That didn't seem to be the answer Dumbledore was looking for. "Yes, we do. Though, I will say again, I am not entirely sure what you're asking for is-"

"Sir," Harry interrupted. "Is there anything you need to speak to me about?"

Dumbledore sighed. He didn't speak for a while, though Harry didn't think it was for lack of anything to say. "I'm going to do something, despite my knowledge of its futility, and try to give you a few words of wisdom from an old man."

"As much as I appreciate them-"

"Please, Harry, allow me. If nothing else for my own peace of mind." Harry repressed a scoff before nodding. "It's unwise, only allowing yourself to care for something if you expect another thing in return."

"We're talking about a quid pro quo we made. A simple exchange doesn't define my whole character."

"No, it doesn't. And I think your actions during the night of the sieges proved to us all that Sirius' fears as nothing more than paranoid ramblings. But I worry because I know how you care, how you love. You feel things more deeply than any other boy your age should really be able to. And I think that, sometimes, you try to make yourself forget that you do. You, of all people, should know how dangerous that is."

At that, Harry finally couldn't contain his groan. "I'm not itching to create a Horcrux, if that's what you're worried about."

"You don't need to split yourself to hurt yourself, Harry," Dumbledore said and didn't allow Harry a chance to reply. "Just, please, keep that in mind. If I ever manage to teach you something, I hope it's that."

After giving a stiff nod, neither of them spoke for the rest of the journey. As Harry expected, Dumbledore called for Fawkes a few moments later, and the two of them used their respective phoenixes to apparate to the arrival hall inside the temple. They split up, and Harry forced himself to endure small talk with another couple of people - all the while catching eyes and giving nods to the others he had already spoken with - before he headed into Britain's designated box inside the amphitheatre where Scrimgeour was already seated. It was clear he hadn't slept much. What little hair he had was standing at the back of his head, there were purple spots under his eyes. He looked as if he was ready to bolt off his seat and punch something. Or someone.

Slowly, everyone started taking their seats. Diplomats were reviewing through their bulks of parchment, ambassadors going from group to group, trying to get a glimpse into what each country would be voting on, attempting to convince them if it didn't align with their views. It would probably be described as chaotic as someone like Madam Pince or some Ministry secretary. To Harry, it looked like an argument that had been charmed into slow motion. It wasn't boring, but it wasn't exciting. The only other person less moved by the surrounding arguments was the Supreme Mugwump Babajide Akingbade, staring at everything with displeasure. He turned to Harry, his face unreadable, and he stared long enough to make Harry wonder if he had made the right decision after all.

"Settle down, settle down," Akingbade called out from below once the doors were sealed and everyone was inside the room. "Everyone settle down!" And it was a testament to the influence he held over the international community that people rushed to oblige. "With the power bestowed upon me, I now call this eighth and final meeting for the protection of the Statute of Secrecy into session." And, after the three loud bangs of the gravel, not a sound could be heard. "Delegates, you've had the past thirty-six hours to consider everything that has been discussed. There will be no need for a preamble, no more questions will be asked. It's time for the show of hands."

Scrimgeour began cracking his knuckles, and Dumbledore, too, lost his calm demeanour as he leaned forward in his seat and stared intently down at Akingbade.

"The issue at hand is the British Intervention Proposal crafted by the International Confederation of Wizards during the first seven sessions of the 1996 Emergency Meeting. Given how its contents remove sovereignty from a delegation of this council for a period of time, there will need to be an eighty-five per cent consensus of agreement rather than simply the majority. All those in favour of passing the proposal effective immediately, raised your wands with the tips lit in blue. All those against, raise your wands with the tips lit in red."

In one singular motion, every country's main representative raised their wand. And even without close inspection, the answer was painted clearly in the air. A sea of blue light up the chamber.

After the gravel banged against the podium, finalizing Britain's fate, Akingbade ordered a thirty-minute recess before they returned to address specific details and minutia to be corrected about the proposal. Perhaps if Fudge was still in his position, he would have convened with Albus, maybe even floo called some of the other Heads back in Britain to plan how they could still change the proposal enough to mitigate its impact. But, instead, Rufus stalked out of the amphitheatre, following Akingbade at a furious pace.

He wasn't stopped. Not by the guards protecting the Supreme Mugwump nor by the man himself. Instead, when Rufus pushed his way into the alcove where Akingbade had retreated to, he found himself being offered a seat by the man. But taking a seat meant that Rufus was here to discuss the situation, and that was definitely not his intent.

"You can't do this," he growled. "You have no right-"

"We've been over this, Scrimgeour. The council has every right," Akingbade replied evenly. "There are no appeals, no extensions. This is happening, and it would go along more smoothly if you got on board as well."

"Your presence only suffocates our country. You'll destroy us. Just look at what you did to Austria! Fifty years and they still are nowhere near recovered from your intervention."

"Austria was a small price to pay to save the rest of the wizarding world. If they had taken care of Grindelwald before he grew out of control, we wouldn't have had to step in. And if I remember correctly, it was your Albus Dumbledore who rallied the Confederation into involving themselves in the conflict."

"He was," Rufus admitted. "But now he's telling you, you're doing the wrong thing. Does his word mean nothing? When he was the one who saw first-hand the impact of your intervention."

"Not when it's soaked in bias." One of the guards passed Akingbade a drink and the man downed it down in a single motion. "We're proceeding as planned. Nothing can change that now. You have until September first to get your house in order. Hopefully, by then, you'll be less stubborn."

It was a clear dismissal, and though everything in Rufus wanted him to ignore it, he still stood up. But before he managed to leave the small room, Akingbade called out to him. "You can still be useful, Scrimgeour. Get on board. Potter already has."

The guards ushered him out and the door was firmly shut, leaving Scrimgeour shaking with rage. There was no way of misinterpreting what was said, no other reason for Akingbade to say it other than to get a rise out of him. It was one last dig, a small victory for his supposed stubbornness and petulance. He wanted to fuck Rufus over, to fuck Potter over. It worked.

His feet clacked against the stone floor, and the torches on the walls almost seemed slightly dimmer. People were pushing their way out of the chamber, but as Rufus continued forward, the path opened for him, as if his magic was unconsciously pushing to the side. And as he started making his way off the steps, he was glad to see that the privacy enchantments had settled over Britain's private box. He didn't want an audience for this. He crossed through the wards, seeing the arena around him disappear as it was shadowed by the grey shades. His eyes landed immediately on Potter.

In an instant, he crossed the room. His hand crashed against Potter's throat as he pushed him against the wall and held him there. The boy looked up at him, completely unconcerned. Rufus tightened the grip on his neck.

"Rufus," Albus spoke. His voice somehow just as suffocating as Rufus' hand. "Let him go."

"You betrayed us," Rufus whispered to Potter. "I should lock you up with the rest of the Death Eater scum."

"Don't bother, it would be a waste of time. And I'd appreciate it if you took your hand off my neck."

"Rufus," Albus warned again.

"You fucked us all over. Do you think Akingbade is your friend? He'll squeeze you dry until that little prophecy of yours fizzles out. And he won't be the only one. You think you're so in control now? The moment you stop being the Chosen One, everyone who's cosying up to you will force you back into the dirt where you came from."

A ball of fire erupted against his chest. Rufus barely had a second to realise it before he was blown all the way across the box. And Potter, as aloof as always, merely gave a small pet to his blasted bird before he turned his dull gaze on him. "They're welcome to try."

Albus raised his wand and the shades around them changed from the light gray into an overwhelmed by the pure black. Small trickles of light rose from the cracks on the floor, but the fire surrounding the phoenix's wings as it perched itself on the podium was the brightest source.

"Now, Rufus, would you mind explaining what is bothering you?"

"What is-" he scoffed. "Potter sold us out. Akingbade roped him into his scheme and all but helped him ensure the proposal passed."

"He told you that outright?"

"He told me enough."

Albus raised an eyebrow. "And you're sure you're not coming to conclusions?"

"He isn't," Potter spoke. "Akingbade came to me with a deal. I took it. It's not like I had to do much, there were very few people as it was who were even willing to reject the proposal."

"There were enough," Rufus snapped. "We went over it. If you hadn't turned on us at the last minute, the proposal would have been rejected."

Potter shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said, sitting down on the stone chair nearest his phoenix. "Politics aren't the problem here. Voldemort's made it clear he's done with this route, so we can't depend on it either."

"Insolent brat," Rufus snarled.

"Harry, please tell me you didn't waste months' worth of effort from the Ministry because you suddenly decided politics aren't important," Albus said calmly.

At that, Potter had the gall to roll his eyes. "I'm not a moron. I said I made a deal, didn't I? I got us something in return. Something more important than who gets to act as who gets to pretend to be in control of the country."

"Do you think that's all that I do?" Rufus shot back. "Just sit around and wait for the next time the Prophet wants a press conference? The laws, economy, trade, transportation, inter-creature relations - everything involved in keeping the country from falling apart is done by the Ministry!"

"It is. But the ICW is too big, there are too many people, and even though they're in sync about one or two issues like the Statute, they all have very different views on politics. They'll squabble over each other before they can make any meaningful changes that fuck up the country."

"You're basing yourself on unfounded assumptions," Albus admonished the boy. "An intervention from the ICW, even in its best case scenario, will have repercussions that will take years to remedy."

"Years?" Rufus spat. "More like decades. The people will turn to the government. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wasn't appealing enough already, he will become so now. Progress on all current projects will be stopped. The Department of Mysteries will most likely be shut down, its discoveries inspected by any country that can make a good enough excuse! And, yes, the ICW is too large and disconnected, but if enough countries find a way to profit from this intervention, they'll take it without blinking, even if it fucks Britain over. The ICW bled Austria dry during the conflict with Grindelwald, and only released the country back to its people once it had been nearly overcome by anarchy."

"I'm aware of this," Potter said. Rufus groaned, his hands shaking, feeling the desperate need to pummel the boy. "I am. Do you think I just decided on a whim? I researched, I did my homework, I discussed this with people who are much smarter than me. I wouldn't have done so without being thorough."

"With whom?" Albus suddenly asked.

Potter ignored the question. "The First Blood War lasted over eleven years. I'm not too excited to waste half my life on the second one. And even if I was, Voldemort clearly isn't. We focus on him, we kill him quickly, and after the dust settles you can take over the country again and fix what the ICW mucks up."

"That wasn't your decision to make," Rufus said.

"Someone had to make it. Use your head, Scrimgeour. You heard the way people were talking around here. They're more scared of Muggles than they are of Voldemort. They don't get it, they haven't dealt with him. If we hadn't allowed the ICW to step in to protect the Statute of Secrecy, there would have been people on the streets begging their governments to prepare for war. They would have sided with Voldemort before letting the Muggles kill them off." Abruptly, he turned towards Albus. "We need to bring him in."

"No," Albus' voice cut through the air like steel.

"I'm not asking for permission," Potter said harshly. "I've spent the past six weeks, running from group A to group fucking Z, wasting my entire summer while Voldemort keeps growing bolder. I'm done. I'm going to be back at Hogwarts soon, I need everyone on the same page."

"Do you mean for just the three of us to be upfront, or are you including Bedivere Parkinson in that sentiment as well?" Albus asked.

Potter's face lost its colour, though only slightly. His hand closed to a fist. He didn't say a word.

"What are you two talking about?" Rufus demanded.

"The four of us," Potter said. "I'll talk to Parkinson myself. No one else besides us needs to know. I'm aware of how particular you are about that secret, but it doesn't matter now. Voldemort knows we know. As long as we don't spread it more than we have to, it won't complicate things."

"I don't appreciate being pressured into something like this."

"Tough. It's my life that's on the line here. If you want me to fulfil the bloody prophecy, I'll do so in my terms."

"Can either one of you tell me what the hell you're talking about?" Rufus snapped.

"Dumbledore. Merlin fuck my pride, but we need Scrimgeour. As much as I don't like him, he's reliable, he's smart, and good with his wand. I need someone I can trust in the know before I sequestered back at Hogwarts."

"You can trust me," Albus said, and for the first time he could remember, Rufus saw a slight glimpse of vulnerability in the man's eyes.

"I can't," Potter said bluntly. "I don't. Not yet… and you know why. And I don't trust Parkinson either. I need Scrimgeour involved."

Rufus stood completely still, feeling like a child again, peering through the gap in the door as he watched his parents argue. Albus, too, didn't move. His head was lowered, as if the boy's words were pulling down at it. Nobody dared to say a word until Albus regained his voice. "Very well. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps this will make things easier."

Potter turned to Rufus, rolling his eyes for some reason. "Alright, crash course. Pay attention, I won't repeat myself. Voldemort split his soul into seven pieces, placing them in various objects. They're called Horcruxes. He's immortal until we destroy them all. Longbottom destroyed one already, a diary. We're looking for the rest. Everything else we do doesn't matter unless we manage to find and kill all the little soul pieces. There's more I can't say, memory-lock or something like that."

"Parkinson's work?" Albus asked.

"Yes. I'll ask him to remove it or allow you into the loop once we get back to Britain."

"Horcruxes?" Rufus asked.

"Yeah, soul pieces. You get the gist?"

Rufus felt a large headache form at the centre of his head. "Of course, I understand. And you say there's seven of them?"

"Six," Albus said immediately. Potter's eyes shifted towards him for a second. "Like Harry said, there's the journal young Neville already destroyed. We also found another one, but Voldemort got to it before we could manage to retrieve it."

"And the others?" Rufus asked.

"We don't know what they are. Perhaps Harry has more information, but, at least on our side, we're still hunting them down. I have a few theories. I'm working with my brother on finding places important to Voldemort for clues as to where he may have hidden them."

Rufus then looked at Harry.

"Like I said. I know more things, but I can't say anything else at the moment."

Rufus rubbed his eyes, falling on the chair behind him as he tried to find something to grip. Soul pieces - Horcruxes - five of them still out there, hidden, keeping He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named alive and strong. As if beating the man in a duel wasn't an impossible task on its own.

"It's a lot to take in," Albus said kindly. "I would have hoped to ease you into it."

"And this is just the tip of the iceberg," Potter butted in. "But I'll leave you to explain everything else once you get back to the country. Who knows, Scrimgeour might find it funny. Merlin knows he hates the ICW."

"You're hunting them down?" Rufus asked, and both of them nodded. "And you need me to help you find them."

"Partly, yes, but things are more complex than that," Harry said. Albus looked at him appraisingly.

"More of Parkinson's protected information?"

"Yes," Harry gritted out. "But we'll focus on that once we're back in the country. Right now, we have ten minutes left before the session starts again. We need to prepare our arguments, see what else we can take back from the proposal. I've already got a few amendments added to the proposal from my deal with Akingbade."

"Like what?" Rufus asked.

"The intervention only lasts as long as Voldemort is alive or his main forces residing inside the country. Which means they won't stay longer than needed, and, if we really need to, and we find away, we can push Voldemort into mainland Europe and get the ICW to leave Britain immediately."

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. The life loss could be catastrophic."

"Agreed. But, it's still an option in the worst of cases."

"What else?" Rufus pressed.

"Though we don't get priority voting powers, the three of us, regardless of our positions, get access to all information to cases related to Voldemort, Death Eaters, and Muggle baiting incidents. We won't be able to control the government, but we'll know what they're doing."

"We could even-"

"Plan around that," Potter interrupted him. "Yes, I know. And it also means you don't have to keep wasting time at the Ministry."

"Are you suggesting I resign from Minister for Magic? If I do so, the Death Eaters will rush to get one of them the job."

"Not resign," Potter turned to Dumbledore. "Is there any way to make the Ministry fully defunct? Have it so that no one else can take the position in the meantime?"

"The intervention does that, to an extent," Albus said sagely. "It essentially gives the powers of Minister to the Supreme Mugwump and turns the ICW into the new Wizengamot."

"So we just need to make sure they give the job to the right person after they leave," Potter said.

"We could ask that they include an assurance that Rufus will receive back his position as Minister for Magic once the intervention is over. Argue that it was the country's last choice before the confederation stepped in."

"Or someone else I appoint," Rufus added. "For all I know, I'll be dead by the time this is over."

"Do you think the ICW would go for that?" Potter asked.

"It's likely," Albus reasoned. "A small gesture like that would be a show of good faith, and people don't like showing their selfish aspirations this early."

"If I'm leaving the Ministry, then Albus should resign as well," Rufus said. "The first thing the ICW did when it took over Austria was dissolving the Auror department and replacing them with their own Hit Wizards. Even if he was allowed to stay, he wouldn't be in control."

"Then it's time you brought back your Order," Potter said darkly. "Have them do something worthwhile for a change."

"Order? Your Order?" Rufus' mouth was filled with venom. "Just what else are you hiding, Albus?"

"Too many, I'm afraid," the old man replied with a hint of regret.

"Just make sure to chose your ranks more wisely this time," Potter added.

Albus sighed. "What else did you manage to get from Akingbade?"

"Immunity, for whatever I may or may not do, A few personal things between him and me, some other more boring things for the country in general. Oh, and I get eight Hit Wizards of my choice to be under my command."

"For protection?" Rufus raised his eyebrow. "I never thought you'd be the type."

"I'm not. As far as Akingbade is concerned, yes, it's to make sure nothing bad happens to the Chosen One. But Akingbade has agreed to have them take a vow to me, I'll be able to order them for as long as the ICW is inside the country."

"To do anything?" Albus asked. Rufus, too, felt concerned by what the boy would do with that type of power.

"To do anything but various exceptions Akingbade and I agreed on. The usuals, it doesn't matter, that's not what I was after. I figure, if I'm the one fated to fight and finally kill Voldemort, I need to be ready. I don't know how much longer my contact with the Death Eaters will last, I'll need someone to train me. Eight of the most skilled Hit Wizards should be a suitable replacement."

"Hold on, Death Eater contact? What do you mean Death Eater contact?" Rufus demanded.

"Later," Potter waved him off.

"You're taking them to Hogwarts?" Albus asked.

"At first. It wouldn't be a bad idea to put on a show, dissuade any amateurs from trying to take me out for Voldemort's favour. But, no, I don't like people following me around. I'll arrange training sessions with them, have them make errands outside the school or represent me in some meetings I can't attend, stuff like that. We'll need to make sure Umbridge cooperates with that."

"I don't feel comfortable with that," Albus said. "With or without a vow, involving them in our missions is dangerous. If the ICW learns about Voldemort's Horcruxes, I fear what they may choose to do to stop them."

"I can't be everywhere," Potter argued. "Besides, the plan has always been to compartmentalize. The three of us and Parkinson need to know everything, but everyone else doesn't. We just don't involve them in the sensitive stuff."

"Umbridge," Rufus whispered before Albus could say anything else. "She won't like this. The intervention from the ICW, she's rather obsessed with the Ministry and she hates foreigners. We can use that. Maybe…"

"What are you thinking?" Potter asked.

"We can still keep you in the loop. You don't need to leave Hogwarts for our meetings. I don't think Umbridge will recognise the ICW as the new government, she'll still look to me as Minister. If I ask her to let us use Hogwarts to host our meetings, she won't say no to me."

"That could work. And I know just what room we can use to hold them," Potter smirked.

"We can do more than that," Albus said. "Hogwarts is one of the First Sanctuaries. Just like the other Great Eleven schools, it was one of the most important places during the Dark Wizarding Ages. A place like that is respected - revered, even - by the ICW. We could ask for it to be exempt from the control of the ICW, citing its independence throughout history and claiming its for its protection and preservation. If they allow it, I can think of no other better place to use as a base of operations."

"It would be rather suspicious, if we all retreated to the castle after the ICW took over the Ministry," Rufus pointed out.

"It would, but as long as we get this included into the proposal, there's nothing they would be able to do to interfere with Hogwarts or its grounds."

"Umbridge would like that too, I suppose," Potter said. "She'd see it as the true Ministry moving over to Hogwarts. She'd make things easier for us."

"I suppose we'd have to give a reasonable explanation as to why we're constantly at the castle. I do believe Madam Umbridge has yet to find a Defence professor."

"There are a bunch of useless professors already on the school. You should have Umbridge fire them, open up more slots so that we can fill it up with the right people," Potter suggested. "If we're going to use Hogwarts as our base of operations, it's best if we have the best people in the castle."

"Do you think we could be able to convince Parkinson to join us in our staff?" Albus asked Potter.

The boy snorted. "I'll tell you what, sir. If you manage to convince him, I'll pluck all of Aurora's feathers clean off."

The bird squawked loudly before disappearing in a blast of fire. And as the sizzling faded, Rufus could hear the sound of footsteps slowly moving around them.

"It would be a waste, though, having everyone involve waste their time with classes and homework assignments," Potter said.

"It wouldn't be the first time Hogwarts' academic standards suffered for an ulterior motive."

Albus had the grace to look ashamed at that. "We'll deal with the details later. First, let's focus on making sure we can keep Hogwarts away from the ICW's control."

"Ah, yes, the easy stuff first."

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

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