Nineteen-year-old Hermione Granger smiled as she entered her
office in the Ministry of Magic. Her boyfriend, Percy Weasley, kissed
her cheek and left, having been assigned to deal with another
international trade disagreement. She sat down at her desk and
looked through the file that was placed before her.
It was October 2008, and she was just fresh out of Hogwarts. Due to
her high grades, she had been almost immediately hired by the
Department of International Magical Cooperation when she had
applied for a job. In fact, Hermione had, at the time, many other
options to choose from, in regard to her career. In the end, however,
she decided that working here would be most beneficial in the future.
She wanted to help the magical world grow, and that could not be
restricted to Britain alone.
"Miss Granger," said a voice suddenly. "Would you please come to
my office? I need to talk to you."
The mirror that was placed on her desk deactivated before she could
reply. Hermione was surprised. Why would the head of the
department want to talk to her?
Emily Jones, the Head of the Department of International Magical
Cooperation, smiled as Hermione entered her office.
"Madam Jones," Hermione said tentatively. "What can I do for you?"
"Take a seat, Miss Granger," said Madam Jones. "How are you
adjusting to life at the Ministry?"
Hermione paused. "Just fine, ma'am."
The older witch chuckled. "Relax, Miss Granger, this is not an
interview," she said in amusement. "I make it a point to interact with
all my employees, so there is no need to be nervous. From personal
experience, I know that Muggle-borns find it difficult to adjust to the
magical world. That's why I'm asking."
"You're a Muggle-born too?" asked Hermione in surprise.
Madam Jones nodded. "You're lucky to have joined the Ministry
during such a golden period," she mused. "There is a lot you can
learn, and for the first time, being a Muggle-born will not hinder you.
But more of that later. I have a new assignment for you. I know that
you are new here, but I'm hoping that you will be able to handle
diplomatic meetings from now on."
Hermione flushed in pleasure at being given an important
assignment. "I promise you that I'll do my best, Madam Jones," she
said swiftly.
"Good. We need to go to Bulgaria and convince their Ministry to
lower its trade sanctions on us. Things haven't been smooth
between Minister Black and Supreme Mugwump Ivan Krum, and
he's taking his frustrations out on us through the Bulgarian Ministry."
Hermione perked up at that. This was a make-or-break deal. She
was being sent to talk to the delegates in the Bulgarian Ministry? Or
perhaps the Supreme Mugwump himself? Maybe she could meet
Viktor once more. The two had been pen pals for a couple of years
before they lost contact.
This was a chance to reconnect with a friend.
"Of course, I'll be coming with you, as will a few of the senior
members of the department," elaborated Madam Jones. "You will
merely be an observer, but this is a unique opportunity to learn, Miss
Granger. Don't waste it."
"I promise, ma'am, I won't," said Hermione fervently. She paused for
a moment and seemed uncertain about something. Her boss picked
up on it immediately.
"What is it, Miss Granger?"
"Madam Jones, you mentioned that this was a golden period for
Muggle-borns," said Hermione slowly. "And yet, I've never witnessed
anything that could be characterized as such. Why would you say
that?"
Madam Jones raised her eyebrows in surprise. "That's not just my
opinion. That's what many of us feel. I've been in the magical world
for forty years, and have worked at the Ministry since I was twentytwo.
Trust me, the previous administrations were much worse when
it came to how Muggle-borns were treated. It wasn't anything direct,
but subtle. The very fact that those Muggle-born orphans were
rescued shows the Ministry's dedication to helping us, Miss
Granger."
Hermione paused. She felt conflicted. On one hand, Harry and
Daphne Potter, two people she loathed beyond reason, had actually
shown their human side for once in their lives. All those poor children
who were suffering had been rescued and were placed at the
magical orphanage. Many had been adopted by families and were
living happily, from what she had read in the Magical Daily .
If Potter was a pureblood bigot, why would he help Muggle-borns? It
didn't make sense! Was the Ministry truly interested in the
betterment of Muggle-borns like her?
She could not be certain.
On the other hand, there was another large scandal that had
escaped her notice until very recently.
"Madam Jones, I do have some questions," said Hermione slowly. "I
read today's paper and it reported that Minister Black and the Prime
Minister of the U.K. were having disagreements. Well, I was
wondering ... isn't the Minister of Magic accountable to the Prime
Minister?"
The older witch burst out laughing. "What in Merlin's name gave you
that idea?" she exclaimed incredulously.
"Well, he's the Prime Minister , isn't he? I always thought the Minister
of Magic acted as a cabinet minister. Why else would –"
"Hold on, Miss Granger. First of all, your entire approach to
understanding the magical government is incorrect. I'm surprised at
you. I thought it was fairly obvious why the Minister of Magic isn't
accountable to the Muggle government."
"And why is that?"
"It's because this is Magical Britain, Miss Granger," explained
Madam Jones patiently. "As a Muggle-born myself, I can understand
your confusion, but I learnt this very early on. You're a smart girl; you
shouldn't have taken this long to figure it out. Just because both
worlds share the same geographical area, doesn't mean they are the
same. Magical Britain encompasses all of the British Isles, while the
Muggle government is mainly divided into the U.K. and the Republic
of Ireland, am I correct?"
Hermione nodded.
"Why should the Minister of Magic, the leader of Magical Britain,
answer to the Prime Minister, the leader of another country? Don't
club the two, Miss Granger. Okay, I'll give you a better example. The
U.K. and France are both European countries. In that sense, is the
British Prime Minister accountable to the French President and viceversa?"
"No!" exclaimed Hermione. "Why should they be? They're –"
"– two different countries, exactly. The same rule applies here. The
Minister of Magic informs the Muggle Prime Minister of the existence
of the magical world only for the better implementation of the Statute
of Secrecy. In fact, it is only the European countries that bother with
it. The rest of the Muggle leaders of different countries have no idea
of the existence of the magical world because none of their magical
counterparts interacts with them – at all."
Hermione remembered Harry Potter telling her the very same thing
in her fourth year of Hogwarts. She hadn't put much stock into what
he had said, but now ...
"Okay, but what about money?" asked Hermione heatedly. "Who
fixes the exchange rate of Galleons and pounds? It is fifty pounds to
a Galleon! Fifty! My wand cost me twenty-one Galleons, Madam
Jones. That's over one thousand pounds, excluding other items that
school children are required to buy. Everything is overpriced by fifty
to one for us Muggle-borns! Isn't that wrong? Hogwarts education is
so expensive because of it!"
Madam Jones sighed. "Miss Granger," she said in a low voice. "I
understand that your life has not been easy in the magical world, but
let me assure you that in this particular instance, there is no
conspiracy. I never went to Hogwarts. I attended one of the smaller
schools of Magical Britain. While the exchange rate wasn't as high
before, it still was very expensive for me. Didn't you receive aid from
the Hogwarts Scholarship Fund?"
Hermione flushed. "They decided that my parents were quite well to
do," she admitted quietly. "I didn't receive the scholarship."
"There are many Muggle-born, half-blood and pureblood families
that are poor," shrugged Madam Jones. "They deserve it too. But
back to money, tell me, what is this?"
She placed a coin on the desk.
"It's a Galleon," stated Hermione.
"It's also, what Muggles call it, 24-carat gold," Madam Jones said
softly. "One Galleon is worth far more than fifty pounds, Miss
Granger. Do you know that every time Muggle-borns exchange
pounds for Galleons, the Ministry pays an equal amount of Galleons
to Gringotts?"
"What?" exclaimed Hermione. "Why?"
"It's because the Muggle currency is worthless. What would the
goblins or the Ministry do with it? No one trades with Muggles, Miss
Granger, not when the magical world needs the money circulating in
its economy. There are huge sanctions on those investing in the
Muggle world. Tax rates on such income are astronomical! And there
is a reason for that. Why should money that is earned in Galleons be
converted into a Muggle currency, thus weakening the international
magical economy in the process? It is the goblins who convert
Galleons into pounds and vice versa. Such gold that goes into the
pockets of goblins does not come back, as they're the ones who
handle currency as mandated by an international treaty."
"While a fifty-pound note is valuable in the Muggle world, in the
magical word, it is worth less than the paper it is printed on. The
goblins wouldn't buy it unless they received compensation in gold.
For every pound that was exchanged by you and your parents, the
Ministry paid the same amount in Galleons to Gringotts. That is
taxpayers' money, Miss Granger. It was collected from purebloods,
half-bloods and Muggle-borns alike. This system has existed for a
long time. The Ministry essentially paid for everything. Why do you
think You-Know-Who's ideology catered to so many followers? Even
though bigotry and discrimination have always existed, the Ministry
never outright ignored the plight of Muggle-borns. One of the
promises You-Know-Who made to his followers was that he would
stop such payments and use that gold for the development of all
purebloods. Thanks to Harry Potter, that monster is now dead, but it
was still a concern for us when he was seizing power. Again, there is
no conspiracy, Miss Granger."
Hermione was slack-jawed. Recovering quickly, she thanked her
boss and quietly made her way back to her office. She was lost in
thought.
It was two in the morning. Her stomach churned again. Grimacing,
Daphne Potter quickly got out of bed and rushed towards the
bathroom. A bowl descended towards her as she sat down on the
floor, emptying the contents of her stomach once more. She felt her
husband brush her long dark-blonde hair away from her face as he
helped her relax, rubbing her back soothingly.
"Water," croaked Daphne, wandlessly casting a mouth-freshening
charm.
Harry waved his hand and conjured a glass. With a flick of his finger,
he filled it with fresh water and gave it to her. She drank it slowly and
collapsed against the wall. They stayed silent for a minute until
Daphne felt the urge to throw up again. Ten minutes later, they
returned to their bedroom.
"Ahem, Harry?"
"Yes?"
"I'm hungry."
Harry smiled. "Again?" he teased.
Daphne stared at him, face devoid of expression before she hit him
with a pillow. Harry laughed. "Sorry, but I couldn't resist. What would
you like?"
"Anything," she sighed. "Just no meat, please. I can't stand it right
now."
Harry nodded before he walked out of the bedroom. Yawning and
scratching his balls sleepily, he activated the glass screen that
displayed the available food options. The Food Dispenser glowed a
white light as his order appeared in the cavity in the wall. Cleaning
his hands magically while levitating the plate containing a simple
white sauce pasta, Harry walked back to their room and sat down on
the bed next to his wife. Swatting her hand away, he slowly fed it to
her while eating some between bites himself. They ate in silence for
several minutes. Once they were finished, the used plate
automatically vanished. Now that her tummy was full, Harry decided
to broach the topic.
"This was the fifth time that you vomited today," he said in concern.
"Daph, I really think we should go back home so that your mother
can ensure that everything is fine."
Daphne exhaled in frustration. "Harry, this is normal," she said
quietly. "Pregnancy has been known to cause nausea and vomiting.
Well, I just found out that I puke bloody five times a day instead of
just in the morning."
Harry sighed. "It's been nearly three months; these symptoms should
have decreased by now. Can't we at least consult your mother?"
"There are plenty of Healers in Inbu-Hedj."
"Daphne ..." Harry growled, his left eye twitching in annoyance due
to her stubborn behaviour. Seeing that he was irritated, Daphne
nodded reluctantly. She knew that he wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Why don't you want to go home?" he asked in exasperation.
Daphne's cheeks tinted pink. "I'm in the process of creating another
prototype of the Asthron ," she muttered. "I didn't want to waste time
since we'll be leaving the city soon. We've already received
invitations for soirees from the heads of all the African governments.
Such diplomatic functions stretch on for days."
He rolled his eyes. "We can spend the remainder of the week back
home and come back to Inbu-Hedj on Monday. Will that appease
you, my Lady?"
Daphne cracked a smile and nudged his stomach playfully. "It is said
that you should never annoy a pregnant woman," she teased.
Harry smiled as he took her hand, kissing her fingers gently. "I do my
best to take care of you, but there are times when I prefer to run
away instead."
"I'm not that bad!"
"You destroyed the bedroom! Be glad that the hotel authorities don't
know about it!"
"What's new about that? I always destroy things when I'm angry!
Besides, I apologised and repaired the damage!"
"I woke up to you licking my balls – as a tigress! Did you expect me
to be silent after that ridiculous stunt? I was totally freaked out!"
Daphne blushed. "I just wanted to tease you," she murmured. "How
was I to know that you would hit the roof?"
"Daph, have you seen how sharp your teeth are when you are a
tigress? And the damn animal has a rough tongue too! I didn't want
my genitals bitten off, thank you very much! I've had them for as long
as I can remember! My hand and penis discovered pleasure together
when I was thirteen! Without my genitals, I can't make love to you
and I can't reproduce!"
"It's a good thing that I'm already pregnant, right?"
"And what are you going to do for the rest of your life?! Use a sex toy
instead of my penis? Don't you dare say that you can use healing
magic to repair the damage!"
"Spoilsport!"
"Teasing wench!"
Daphne giggled. "Maybe I should transform into a tigress when
you're fucking me, just to see your reaction," she teased.
Harry's eyes widened marginally. "You wouldn't dare!" he blurted out.
Kissing his cheek, she whispered, "It's your fault for helping me
become an Animagus. I told you my form is way better than yours."
"It can't fly, can it?" challenged Harry.
"I don't need wings to fly," shot back Daphne. "I can do so without
the help of a broom anyway!"
"Big deal! So can I, and so can several others around the world!
What can your form do besides scaring people?"
"I can sever your neck from your body," growled Daphne as she
pounced on her husband, pinning him to the mattress. Smiling coyly,
she gently caressed his balls, making him shudder in anticipation as
she added, "Want to play a teacher and his student?"
Harry grinning, enjoying the fact that Daphne was even more
sexually active during pregnancy. "We've already done that," he said.
"How about a hot-shot Healer and his patient?"
"And who is going to be the hot-shot Healer? You?"
"Of course!" declared Harry. "I'm the one with the devilishly
handsome looks!"
She simply stared at him, eyebrows raised. "Someone's in a good
mood," she observed.
"Why wouldn't I be?" chuckled Harry. "I get to make love to my
beautiful wife. How about a kinky Auror and a troublesome convict?"
"Hmm ... I like it!" smirked Daphne. "And I'm going to be the tough,
sexy Auror. Tell me, dear husband, have you ever been spanked
before?"
"You are not going to spank me! Uh-uh! No way!"
"Oh, come on, Harry! Get into the spirit of things. I'll be gentle, I
promise!"
"Gentle, my arse!"
"Yes, your arse is the topic of conversation," giggled Daphne. "Now
get that cute butt over here!"
"I'll have you know, my arse is not cute! " grumbled Harry.
"Fine, you have a sexy arse! Is that better?"
"Much," laughed Harry. He looked at her shrewdly. "You're not really
expecting me to go through with this, are you?"
Daphne shrugged. "I'm not sleepy," she stated.
"Fine," he sighed. "But only if you promise to let me be a Healer the
next time. I assure you that I'll get my revenge!"
She rolled her eyes in amusement. "I don't understand why you
always say that," she muttered. "Even if I act like a tough Auror, you
know as well as I do that you'll ravish me at the first given
opportunity."
"Ah, but it's the principle of the thing," smirked Harry. He reluctantly
got in position and felt his wife running her fingers delicately across
his bare posterior.
SMACK!
"Fuck," cringed Harry.
"Give me names, scum!" shouted Daphne. "Or trust me, I'll make this
more painful!"
"Never!" spat Harry. "I'll never reveal those names, bitch! I have the
best self-control in the world and I will never succumb to you! No
amount of pain or pleasure can break me!"
Daphne smirked evilly. "We'll see about that, prisoner," she purred as
she stroked his erect cock teasingly. "Here's a tip. Never piss off an
angry Auror!"
Those two kids in her stomach better appreciate everything he was
doing for them by keeping their mother happy during pregnancy
because Daphne was getting quite dangerous these days. Keeping
her sexually satisfied was hard work!
Not that Harry was complaining.
SMACK!
Yes ... Slytherins were most definitely evil. He should have gotten
married to a nice, quiet Ravenclaw instead. Oh, life can be cruel.
But as he held his sleeping wife next to him two hours later, moving
her hair away from her eyes, Harry reflected that there was no one
he could ever imagine sharing his life with apart from Daphne.
Gently kissing her forehead, he nuzzled her face. He placed his
hand on her stomach protectively and drifted off to sleep.
HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP
Harry had barely stepped out of the Floo at Black Manor when he felt
someone bodily slam into him. He chuckled as he embraced his
brother, allowing a bright smile to form on his face.
"I missed you," whispered Dylan.
"I missed you too," said Harry softly. "How long are you here for?"
"They gave us a week off," shrugged Dylan. "Apparently, there is a
traditional holiday during this time of year that is celebrated by
Siberian witches and wizards. I arrived last night."
"Enjoyed your alone time with Astoria? Did you even emerge from
your bedroom?"
Dylan blushed. "Yeah, we did," he said dreamily. "As for the second
question, what do you think? I really missed her over the past few
months, but I'm very glad that I chose to attend the academy. I'm
learning a lot!"
Harry nodded in approval. The brothers were talking quietly as they
moved towards the drawing room when a blur with blue hair attacked
them.
"Rainbow!" exclaimed Dylan, wincing in pain as he grabbed his
crotch. "How many times have I told you not to slam into me like
that?"
Rigel didn't care. He was beaming with happiness as he leapt into
his oldest brother's arms. "Harry, you're home again!" he cried. "I
have loads to tell you! Mum and Dad got me a new broom. And it
flies higher and faster than my old one!"
Harry smiled slightly. "A big boy broom, huh?" he teased.
"Uh-huh. I'm a big boy now!" he declared. "So can I please ride your
Firebolt?"
Dylan burst out laughing. "Sorry, Rainbow, but you're going to have
to grow up a little more before we allow you on a racing broom."
The little Metamorphmagus huffed. "I am older!" he shouted. "You
just don't know it because you were away!"
"Okay, I'll let you ride a Firebolt," assured Harry. "Why don't you
show me your broom first?"
"Yay!" cheered Rigel.
Harry and Dylan blinked in surprise when the toy broomstick zoomed
out of the store cupboard upstairs and rapidly approached their
position. Dylan grabbed it before it hurt the child.
"Impressive!" he said proudly, ruffling the boy's blue hair. "That was a
summoning charm. Good job, kiddo!"
Rigel beamed back at him. Harry discreetly waved his hand at the
broom. It changed designs and colours until it looked like a miniature
version of his Firebolt. Rigel was happy beyond words.
"I have a Firebolt! I have a Firebolt!" he danced around in happiness.
Suddenly, he paused. "Can you make one for Jacen too?" asked
Rigel hopefully.
Dylan's eyes softened. Summoning another toy broom, he charmed
it just like how Harry had done to Rigel's broom. "Here you go," he
said, giving it to the boy.
"Thanks, Harry, Dylan. I'm going to Greengrass Manor so that Jacen
and I can play Quidditch!" said Rigel excitedly before running
towards the Floo.
"I forgot that he can be quite a handful," muttered Harry, wandlessly
sending a Patronus message to his wife to inform her of Rigel's
arrival. Dylan nodded, still looking at the boy's retreating form, a
smile on his lips. They proceeded to the drawing room.
"Harry!" exclaimed Sirius as he got up to hug his son. "I wasn't
expecting you for a few more hours!"
"How have you been?" asked Amelia in concern. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, Mum, everything is fine," chuckled Harry. "Master Nicolas is
quite knowledgeable and is a wonderful mentor. Daphne is off in her
own world when she's into research, but she seems happy."
"Not that! I meant Daphne's pregnancy!"
"Oh, that. I'm handling it fine, I guess," he shrugged. "I won't lie and
say that I'm not worried, but I still have time to come to terms with it.
Daphne ensures that I talk to her regularly about it. It turns out that
planning on getting pregnant is vastly different from actually having
not one, but two children."
"If you need to talk, I'm always here," said Amelia softly, placing her
hand on his cheek. Harry smiled and nodded.
"Mum, Dad, I heard some disturbing news," Dylan frowned. "What is
this about the International Confederation coming here to talk to
you?"
Amelia sighed. "We have an Obscurial in Magical Britain that's
wreaking havoc in the Muggle world," she confessed. "It's getting
increasingly hard to maintain the Statute of Secrecy, and you know
the I.C.W. will get personally involved when the Statute is
threatened."
"They were supposed to be here several days ago, but they
postponed their arrival by a week," said Sirius. "I was hoping that
would be enough time to get things under control, but we have had
no success so far."
Harry's eyes narrowed. He had read the paper last week too, but he
hadn't known that the Ministry was nowhere close to finding the
child. He was deep in thought when Dylan spoke up.
"Why are they coming here?" spat Dylan. "Are they going to bully
you into submission? I won't let them do that to you, Dad!"
"Relax, Dylan," Sirius said softly, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately.
"The Confederation is coming to Britain only to pressure the Ministry
to take action. It's their job."
" Their job? It's not their job to threaten various magical governments
during a time of crisis! You can manage the situation better without
their interference!"
"Don't blame the I.C.W. for this," said Sirius sharply. "The Obscurial
is right now causing a lot of problems in London, Dylan. The Ministry
is currently on red alert. Everyone is scrambling to ensure that the
Statute of Secrecy is not broken. It's the job of the Confederation to
keep the existence of the magical world a secret from the Muggles.
Forget about me for a minute. What would have happened had
Fudge still been the Minister? Don't you think the I.C.W. would need
to rein him in and force him to take care of the mess?"
Dylan paused, unsure of what to say.
"I'm not sure how the Muggle world operates, but in the magical
world, our international body is quite powerful," explained Sirius. "It
was formed nearly fifteen hundred years ago, when the last of the
magical royal families came to an end, and has steadily grown over
the centuries. When the common people demanded to be heard in
the governing body, it was the Confederation who introduced the
concept of elected representatives. That's why you see such a mixed
form of governance in each and every country in the world. All
magical governments are accountable to the I.C.W. That's how they
maintain international peace. While the magical world has had
several internal power struggles, there has never been an
international conflict between any two countries. That can be
credited to the I.C.W. When the lives of innumerable witches and
wizards were threatened by Muggles, they took a bold decision and
decided to implement the Statute of Secrecy. Trust me, it was not
popular back then. Many opposed it, especially in Europe, but it still
held firm. The influence of the Confederation only grew since the
Statute was enacted. When Grindelwald rose to power, they ordered
the Aurors of different magical governments to fight him. Essentially,
they created an army of their own! Do you think without such a
strong international body, the magical world would have survived?"
"I guess not," exhaled Dylan. "But they're still targeting you, aren't
they?"
"That's politics, caused by corruption," shrugged Amelia. "It happens
everywhere, Dylan, and the I.C.W. is no exception to it. The
Supreme Mugwump is the leader of the Confederation, and if Krum
wants to send a delegation, that's how it's going to be for now. Trust
me, Krum is hardly the worst politician we have faced. We have
friends among the members too. We can handle it."
Harry quietly excused himself.
The Lion's Den.
The tall young man raised an eyebrow at the sign that was now
visible to him. Hazel eyes sparkled with concentration as he tried to
sense the various enchantments that surrounded the building. He
cursed under his breath but was not surprised to find that it
contained complex goblin concealment wards as well.
It would take time.
Taking a deep breath, after ensuring that his glamour was in place,
the young man used the key that had been given to him by his friend
that allowed him access to the highly-restricted pub. The door melted
at the touch and he walked through a barrier. A faint smirk formed on
his lips when his glamour did not budge.
The inside of the pub was definitely very luxurious. Rich carpets and
exquisite furniture decorated the length and breadth of the
establishment. It was a stark contrast to some of the lower-end pubs
that were rumoured to be run by the same person, like the famed
Blind Pig in the cheaper sections of Knockturn Alley. This place,
however, was meant for the elite – elite smugglers and gangsters,
forming the underworld of the international black market.
The wizard's lips curved into an amused smirk. Even in the dim light
of this classy pub, the white-blonde hair of the other man stood out.
"You really should consider changing your hair colour," he said wryly,
sitting down at the table. He saw a wand being drawn.
"Who are you?" growled Draco Malfoy. Blaise Zabini rolled his eyes.
"The one who is unfortunate enough to be related to you, however
distant it may seem …"
"Harry?" asked Draco hesitantly.
"Who else were you expecting?" snorted Blaise. Grinning at his
friend, he continued, "Nice disguise. I remember watching the
memories you gave me of the Dark Lord's death. I vividly remember
that you didn't look quite as attractive as you do now."
"Sorry, Blaise, but I'm happily married," Harry chuckled. "While I've
heard rumours about you being quite popular among some of the
boys at Hogwarts, I'm afraid I don't swing that way."
Blaise laughed. "I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate it either,
so we're even."
"Can we get on with it?" Draco huffed irritably. "If you want to
socialise, there is a perfectly nice restaurant down in Diagon Alley.
This is not the place for it."
"Oh, come on, Draco, cheer up," smirked the Italian boy. "There are
high-class prostitutes here, you know. You might want to take
advantage of the situation and do something about that non-existent
sex-life of yours."
"What do you mean non-existent? I'll have you know that I'm actually
seeing Mandy Brocklehurst and –"
"I would hate to break the banter between you both, but as my dear
cousin said, can we get on with it?" asked Harry. He observed the
two young men sitting opposite to him. Blaise looked just the same
as ever. Dark, flawless completion with aristocratic features that
showed little emotion, with his brown eyes filled with amusement. He
was dressed in expensive clothes that ensured that no one doubted
his pedigree. The Zabinis were one the most powerful families in
Magical Europe and were traditionally allied with the Blacks. While
the House of Black prided themselves on their political capital and
information network, the Zabinis were known – albeit secretly – for
their dealings in the underworld. Even though the current generation
preferred to focus on politics, a shadow of their connections built
over the years still remained.
The Malfoys, on the other hand, did not have such a legacy.
However, for centuries, they had remained slippery friends as they
buttered their way up to glory. Lucius Malfoy had been particularly
talented at this and had developed quite a few contacts with such
people. Harry, having spotted this as an opportunity, had ordered
Draco to step into his father's shoes after Lucius' death. Draco had
not refused. He couldn't, as he had sworn fealty to Harry.
While the blond had been quite upset by it in the beginning, he had
slowly realised that keeping his life and enjoying the benefits of
home was a better alternative to the dark atmosphere of Azkaban,
which had still not lost its gloomy presence even after all the
Dementors on the island had been destroyed with the judicious use
of Fiendfyre. The young Malfoy scion had matured over the past
couple of years. The distinct air of dottiness was gone, and even
Dylan grudgingly admitted that Draco was more likeable now.
"What do you have for me?" asked Harry.
Blaise was the one who spoke first. "The sudden appearance of
children turning into Obscurials is not something that was done by
those in the lower levels, Harry," he said carefully. "All my contacts
told me that should I seek information on what was going on, I
should consult their ringleader. I have been working on this for a
week, and was finally given access to this person after a lot of effort."
"I had a similar experience too," explained Draco. "It turns out that
this ringleader they spoke of is the same person. A goblin, that goes
by the name of Gnarlak."
Harry showed no outward sign of surprise, but his eyes seemed to
darken in interest. "Go on," he said softly.
"I'm not sure how Gnarlak rose to become the overlord of the
underworld," muttered Blaise. "About seventy years ago, from what
my mother told me, he was a regular gangster in America, running a
shady pub called The Blind Pig . There is a branch of the same here
in Knockturn Alley. MACUSA, even back then, had declared him a
wanted criminal. He rose steadily in the shadows, blackmailing,
killing and robbing his enemies until he came out on top about five
years ago."
"He's essentially running an empire here," whispered Draco. "Illegal
dealings, smuggling of dangerous potions, supplying unicorn blood,
assassinations, you name it, he has his hands dirty. Some say he is
the reason the current goblin king sits on the throne."
Harry hummed, but the corners of his lips twitched. "And what does
he know about the Obscurial? Did he agree to talk to me?"
"Not you ," said Blaise. "That's why I told you to come in disguise.
You're Amelia Black's oldest son, Harry. No one in their right mind
would deal with you when they're running a black market such as
this!"
"Did you bring what he demanded?" asked Draco sharply. "He won't
accept gold. You know that he wouldn't ever reveal what he knows
without compensation, right?"
"I have it," answered Harry. The two men nodded as they stood up,
moving towards a private room at the back of the establishment.
Harry poured himself a generous measure of Firewhisky and
emptied the glass in one gulp. He keenly observed the various
witches and wizards in the pub. It was a busy day. Slightly
penetrating their silencing charms was enough for him to know that
Gnarlak's top brass gangsters were all here.
A minute later, Gnarlak himself arrived. Dressed in an expensive
dragon-hide suit, a dagger magically concealed in a scabbard with a
cigar in hand, he cut an impression as if he were the boss of the
place – which, Harry noted, he was.
"Gnarlak, this is Evan Wilson, an independent assassin," introduced
Blaise. "He is the one who currently seeks information about the
attacks by the Obscurial on the Muggle world."
The goblin grinned, showing several pointed teeth. "And why would
you want to know of that, Mr Wilson?"
"My client wishes me to get rid of them," shrugged Harry. "Such
attacks all over the world are a threat to the Statute of Secrecy, and
he does not wish for the magical world to be exposed. Do you have
the information?"
"Do you have the venom?" demanded Gnarlak. His eyes widened in
surprise when the assassin silently removed a thick phial containing
a dark liquid from inside his robes.
"Undiluted basilisk venom, as requested," said Harry, wandlessly
levitating the phial to the goblin. He saw dispassionately as the
gangster verified if the venom was indeed genuine. Finally, the
goblin seemed satisfied.
"Not bad, Mr Wilson, not bad at all," Gnarlak smirked. "I wasn't
expecting you to get your hands on something so rare. Basilisk
venom is practically impossible to acquire these days. Where did you
find it?"
It was not a question of curiosity, it was an order.
"I heard rumours that a trader in Bābili had it," answered Harry,
without elaborating much.
Bābili , or Babylon as it was called by some people, was the largest
city in Mesopotamia and served as the capital of the Mesopotamian
Ministry of Magic. It was a province that was to the east of Europe
and north of Africa, known as the middle-east. It shared its borders
with Magical Bulgaria in the west, Magical Northern Africa in the
south, Magical Russia to the north and north-east of the Black Sea,
and Magical India to the east, ending at the Hindu-Kush mountains.
Like most of the magical governments, they too were far too
removed from the workings of the Muggle world in the region.
"The information, if you please."
Gnarlak thought for a minute. "I've heard from reliable sources that
there is a wizard who is operating in a run-down warehouse in the
London Docklands. The building has been uninhabited by Muggles
due to age. There were plans of demolishing it, but this man
apparently bought it from the previous owner. There is a secret
laboratory inside, filled with Muggles and this one wizard."
"And what is the nature of this laboratory?" asked Harry, his eyes
turning a shade of blackish-green.
The goblin gave a nonchalant shrug. "Research, I heard."
"I see," said Harry slowly, his face perfectly expressionless. "And
who is this wizard?"
"No idea," Gnarlak grinned. "Of course, more information can be
acquired – for a certain price."
"We had a deal," Harry said stiffly. Blaise and Draco moved back, not
wanting to get tangled in the argument.
"I had a deal with Zabini and Malfoy, not you, Wilson," shot back
Gnarlak. "If you want more information, I suggest you bring your socalled
client here to speak to me. I'm not some common house-elf
that you can summon whenever you wish."
Harry remained quiet. His irritation was building.
Gnarlak grinned. "Why do you want to chase damaged little wizards,
anyway, Wilson?" he asked. "Don't take me for a fool. I personally
know every top assassin in the magical world and those who employ
them. You have no client . You are doing this for your own personal
amusement or for revenge. Why bother? Such good looks and a fit
body should not be wasted. There are several powerful witches,
wizards and goblins in the room. Service us for a day or two and I'll
help you make a lot of money."
Harry's eye twitched. His friends shifted uncomfortably behind him.
From the way the group containing witches, wizards and goblins
were leering at him, he knew that they were all privy to their
conversation. His eyes turned jet black. If they thought he was going
to offer his body to them, they were sadly mistaken, for he was no
prostitute.
BOOM!
The house-elf at the entrance of the pub was the first to recover.
"Ministry Aurors coming!" he announced.
Gnarlak did not miss the smirk that had formed on the young
assassin's face. "YOU LED THEM HERE!" he howled. His dark eyes
were filled with rage and malice. "I'll show you why it is not a good
idea to mess with me, Wilson, mark my words!"
Harry didn't even bother to get up. He stamped his foot on the
ground. The floor beneath his feet cracked due to the heat as a wave
of magic flooded the building. The emergency Portkey that was
charmed to pass through significant magical barriers literally
exploded in the goblin's hands. No one in the establishment could
leave, for the Aurors had cast their charms well.
Before the Ministry could note the goblin's presence, Harry bodily
summoned Gnarlak and slapped him a custom-made Portkey. The
shock on Gnarlak's face was still visible as he disappeared in a flash
of blue light.
There were multiple cracks of Apparition as Aurors dressed in
magically-enhanced protective leather robes entered the pub,
rounding up the various inhabitants in a matter of seconds. A battle
ensued, but the gangsters were already surrounded.
"Never did I think I would be this glad that we're friends. Remind me
never to piss you off, Harry," muttered Blaise. Draco nodded
fervently, shivering slightly.
The Boy-Who-Lived chuckled before picking up the phial containing
the basilisk venom. Putting it back inside his robes, he turned to his
friends.
"Thanks for your help, you two," he said sincerely. "I know that you
spent a lot of money over the past week. Just tell me how much it
cost to get in touch with Gnarlak and I will transfer the amount to
your accounts, okay?"
Blaise and Draco nodded and quickly left, not wanting to be
anywhere close to the crime scene. Harry observed his
surroundings, his greenish-black eyes glinting in satisfaction. He
walked outside and at an intersection of two roads in Knockturn
Alley, with just a whisper, he Disapparated.
He opened his eyes to find himself standing in front of a magnificent
looking castle. A happy smile formed on Harry's lips as he saw the
familiar sight of Potter Castle before him. He had missed his home
terribly over the past three months. Entering through the front doors,
he made his way downstairs, towards the dungeons, where the
prison cells were located.
Dylan Lestrange was casually leaning against the wall, observing the
irate goblin who was cursing up a storm. The silencing charms
around the cell ensured that they couldn't hear what Gnarlak was
shouting about. He raised his eyebrows when his brother entered the
room.
"Did he reveal anything to you?" he asked curiously.
"Not really," replied Harry. "I don't have names, but I do have the
location of a place here in Britain. Thanks for keeping him company."
"De nada," shrugged Dylan. "I wasn't about to sit idle when someone
bloody enters my home without warning. I'm sort of paranoid after
Greyback's attack. Why is he here, anyway? I thought the Aurors
would handle it?"
"The Aurors did handle it," said Harry softly. "But I realised that
Gnarlak might just be the answer we are looking for."
"Regarding what?"
"Regarding an alliance with the Goblin Nation, should their imperial
council choose to elect a new king. I'm sure Ragnok will be most
pleased when we deliver Gnarlak to him. From what Ragnok told
me, he has enough support to make it happen, and this scum was
the only one powerful enough to hinder him. With the present King
Ragnuk taken care of and his grand-nephew, Ragnok, as the king –"
"– the goblins will be more cooperative and will be willing to shift
Gringotts to Camelot!" finished Dylan excitedly.
Harry nodded. "Among other things," he muttered. "But now, we
have more pressing matters to attend to."
"The Obscurial?"
"Yes. Come on, Dylan. You, Daphne and I are taking a little trip to the
Muggle world."