Reading Time:
20 Minutes

Chapter 1

Harry dropped his bag on the bench at the foot of the bed and took a deep breath. He hadn’t set foot in Britain since he’d left Hogwarts, and even in the bank the corruption was pushing at him in the most obscene fashion.

“Will this do, Master Potter?”

Harry focused on the dverger who had escorted him to the guest quarters. “Yes, of course, it’s great.”

She stared for a moment. “You just don’t want to be here at all then.”

“No, I loathe Britain,” he admitted. “I can’t help it at this point—it’s a magical manifestation of grief created by the murders of my family. My closest living relative is so distant that magic barely recognizes them as related.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for your time, Master Blackaxe.”

She nodded. “Master Stonewill instructed me to tell you that she’s available to brew cleansing draughts for you, if you run low. We know you brought your own, of course.”

He’d brought enough for a whole damn year, but he hoped to be in and out of the country in much less time. “Thank you, it’s always a relief to know that Omis Stonewill is available should I have a need.”

“Master Pierce will be arriving from Rome within the hour and will be housed across the hall.” She paused. “Master Ito is already here but in a meeting with the king. Do you I need to carry a message for you?”

“No, I want to get settled alone but I can…if they need me then please don’t hesitate to let me know,” Harry said.

She nodded and pulled the door shut. Wards activated as soon as the door locked, a security feature he’d always found a relief on dverger owned or managed properties. He sat down on the bench beside his bag to tug off his boots.

“Any pain?”

He looked up and found his father leaning on the wall near the door. Thanatos’ eyes were dark and intent on him, as they often were, when he physically manifested. Growing up in the embrace of Death, as he had, allowed him an immense amount of grace when it came to the impact of death magic on the body. He’d seen older and more powerful people succumb to it over the years in a variety of ways—none of them particularly good merely because of father manifested in a room.

“No, sir,” he said quietly. “It just feels disgusting.”

“You didn’t follow my advice, I see,” Thanatos said dryly.

Harry shot his father a look. “Fucking is a short-term solution, at best. Besides, I wasn’t in the mood to….” He waved a hand and shed his robe which he tossed on a chair. “I need more than most can or will provide. I’ve accepted that. Why can’t you?”

“Because I made a promise,” Thanatos said quietly. “And you living half a life didn’t factor into it.” He huffed and pulled out a case of herbals. He offered it, even as he flicked open the lid, to Harry and he took one.

Harry lit the herbal with wandless magic even as he put it between his lips and slouched down on top of his robe with no care for wrinkling material. Magic was good for a few things, chief among then—ironing and cleaning charms.

“You’re in a good place, now, and can handle the ritual required to clean up the corruption, but first you must bring Riddle to task,” Thanatos murmured. “I don’t know that you’re emotionally ready for that, Harry.”

“What choice do I have, Dad?” Harry questioned. “Dumbledore is going to demand more and more from me—even fixing the mess he made with Riddle won’t make him stop.”

“He’s precariously close to interfering in my official business,” Thanatos muttered. “And the moment he does, he’s going to meet his maker. I don’t expect him to survive this situation. I know you don’t either.”

“Managing the fall-out of the so-called leader of the light dropping dead due to his own unmitigated gall was never going to be easy,” Harry said. “But keeping him in check while I grew up was for the best, even if it did make going to school with all of those kids difficult.”

“Are you ready to see Draco Malfoy again?”

Harry flushed and averted his gaze. “Come on.”

Thanatos sighed. “In any other circumstance, your little infatuation with him would’ve been charming. Instead, it just turned into another tragic fucking loss for you.”

“We agreed!” Harry snapped and took a deep breath because he didn’t make a habit of yelling at his father. “I just…it was the only choice to be made. Anything else might have gotten him killed and he deserved better than that.” He cleared his throat. “They all did. None of those kids at Hogwarts asked to be the situation they were in—it was done to them before they were even born. This country has been corrupting itself since Riddle created his first horcrux.”

“And now?” Thanatos questioned.

“Now, I’m a jaded, unreasonable dark bastard drenched in death magic. He’s too light for me, Dad. He always will be.” Harry took a long drag off the herbal and took a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

“Ah, lad, you’re far from okay,” Thanatos murmured as he sat down on the arm of the chair. “Listen, Harry, you didn’t ask for your situation either. You did absolutely nothing in this life or even the ones before to deserve to be where you are. That’s why I said yes. That’s why I accepted Sirius Black’s sacrifice, his magic, and the profound paternal imperative that came with it.” He cupped Harry’s head gently with one hand. “And I don’t regret it.”

Tears briefly stung his eyes and he blinked hard. “Don’t coddle me.”

“Someone must,” Thanatos said gently. “And who else could?”

Harry couldn’t imagine anyone else getting away with it. He rarely let anyone touch him unless he planned to fuck them and even then it wasn’t personal. It never had been personal.

“Do you suppose the magic of the sacrifice will start to bleed away if the corruption is corrected?” Harry questioned. “Am I going to lose you if I fix this fucking country?”

“Never,” Thanatos said. “You are my son—in this life and all the ones that come after. You are the Master of Death Magic, Harry, and no one can change that going forward. I’ve made sure of it.”

“You told me once that he loved me,” Harry said. “Do you still believe that?”

“Sirius Black loved you with so much that his ritual circle in Azkaban still resonates with it,” Thanatos murmured. “And that love is in me. I embraced it, accepted it for my own because….” He sighed and trailed off. “Such creatures as me weren’t created to love, Harry. We aren’t meant for it.”

Harry nodded. “I understand. It’s why you gave me the Hallows—so I could be connected to you in the only way that is truly yours.”

“Yes,” Thanatos admitted. “Do you resent me for it?”

“Never,” Harry promised. “I swear it, Dad. I couldn’t. Perhaps no one will understand it, but I don’t care. You’re the only parent I’ve ever truly known despite having had three fucking die for me. I just…I feel like I’ve given up enough for Britain. I don’t want to give you up, too.”

“I’d never leave you given a choice,” his father murmured then stood. “Well, I do tend to wander far and wide to avoid even catching a glimpse of you having sex.”

Harry laughed.

“But I’m never so far away that I won’t know when you need me,” said and took a deep breath. “You should ask for better accommodations.”

“These are fine,” Harry protested.

“If Ragnok knew who you really were he’d never presume to stick you in a single room in regular guest quarters,” Thanatos muttered. “This is no better than a Muggle hotel.”

It was hell and gone better than any hotel room, but Harry just shook his head.

“I mean it.”

“It’s secure and I’ll be able to actually sleep here without worrying about Dumbledore or any of his crap,” Harry said. “And that’s priceless. Besides, I don’t want to be treated any differently than anyone else coming in internationally. If Hiro Ito can sleep in a room in the guest barracks of this bank then so can I.”

Thanatos shot him a look. “Hiro Ito knows his place in this world, Harry. Don’t ever think otherwise. If he knew specifically who and what you are, he’d take a knee for you. Keep that in mind as things progress in this situation.”

Harry flushed and averted his gaze.

“Is it so discomforting being my son?” Thanatos questioned.

“No, sir, of course not,” Harry denied immediately and flushed. “It’s just not something that comes up in polite company.” His father laughed. “Hi, I’m Harry Potter, son of the God of Death, at your service. Would you like you some tea?”

“Eh, it could be worse.”

“I hesitate to think what you would assume worse than yourself,” Harry admitted more amused than he wanted to be.

“Sirius Black could’ve treated with Hades,” Thanatos said with a shrug. “We were all there, you know. The moment he started drawing that ritual circle it caught the attention of everyone on the celestial plane. We just waited to make his choice. Fate required it of it us and I was fascinated to be chosen.”

“I’m glad he chose you,” Harry said. “As long as the others aren’t unduly insulted by that.”

His father laughed.

“And even if they are,” Harry admitted with a shrug, because at the end of the day he was a product of his raising.

“Sleep well, little godling of mine,” Thanatos murmured. “Wear your armor tomorrow. No need to make it easy for anyone to stab you in the back.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * * *

Draco took a seat beside Neville Longbottom and got a little nod that felt like a mixture of courtesy and acknowledgment. Longbottom had that way about him. Hermione Granger entered the room holding two paper cups that looked like they’d come from the ministry café and passed one to her fiancé before sitting down.

“Good morning, Draco,” she said quietly and took a deep breath. “Dumbledore is out in the lobby trying to throw his weight around but none of the dverger appear all that impressed with him.

“He knows he’s not allowed attend this meeting,” Longbottom muttered. “The conditions were made very clear.”

“Well, Dumbledore’s never thought the rules applied to him,” Draco said and checked his watch even as Pansy entered.

She shrugged out of her coat, draped it over the same chair he’d used and took the coffee he offered her. “I think they’re going to let him talk to Potter. It promises to be a verbal blood bath of the first order. I don’t think they’ve been in the same room in ten years.”

“Where did you get coffee?” Longbottom questioned.

“Muggle shop just outside of the alley,” Draco said. “The tea at the ministry is weak as fuck this early in the morning.”

“Agreed, but we were running late,” Hermione said and sighed at her tea.

“Don’t blame me,” Neville warned.

“It’s your fault,” she muttered and shot him a look.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You got in the shower with me,” he retorted.

Draco exchanged a look with Pansy.

“Totally your fault, Hermione,” Pansy said with a laugh.

“Definitely,” Draco muttered and exhaled slowly. “Do you think he’ll actually talk to us at all today?”

“He did agree to participate in the project,” Neville said. “Shacklebolt wasn’t very forthcoming regarding the details, though.”

“No, neither was Croaker,” Draco admitted.

Longbottom was an auror and Granger worked as a researcher in the Department of Innovation in the ministry while he and Pansy worked on the Department of Ministries. They’d never been asked to work together before in any real way though he’d passed information to Longbottom a few times when their casework had gotten intermingled.

The door opened and Master Hiro Ito entered. Draco had never met the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, but he’d heard enough to concerned that he was in Britain personally. He stood and the others quickly followed suit.

“Good morning,” Ito said quietly. “Master Potter is here.” He pulled the door shut behind him. “Dumbledore is currently in the lobby of the bank having an episode because he’s not been allowed to speak with Master Potter. Before I take you to the room where he is currently sequestered, I’d like to speak frankly with all four of you.”

“We’re listening, sir,” Draco said quietly.

“Master Potter is only here because he wants to be. There isn’t a force on this planet that could force it. I expect you all to treat that decision with the utmost respect, because if he comes to think there is nothing worth saving in this country—he will turn his back on the whole thing. There is nothing any of us can do to prevent it. Our only choice will be to blockade the corrupted magic, evacuate the ones that can be cleansed and leave the rest to die in it.”

“Would he?” Hermione Granger questioned. “Turn his back on all of us? Just like that?”

“Yes, because he knows something most of the people in Britain refuse to accept—he owes you nothing. He never did. Dumbledore is mostly to blame for that expectation, but those in your generation aren’t blameless in that perception.”

Draco nodded. He’d certainly had expectations as a child and had been extremely disappointed when they hadn’t been met.

“This country broke his heart when he was fifteen months old,” Ito said quietly. “And such a wound does not heal as fast or as well as we’d like to pretend it does.”

“We’ll do our best not to add to his burden, sir,” Draco said quietly. “Could you…tell us why we were chosen?”

Ito raised an eyebrow. “I chose Miss Granger personally based on her research on the corruptive magic. Kingsley Shacklebolt chose Mr. Longbottom because he needed an asset in your generation that he could trust, and he knows that the man will have his future wife’s back in the days to come. Croaker chose Miss Parkinson because of her work in magical theory.” He paused and focused entirely on Draco. “And Master Potter chose you. He offered no explanation as to why, and none of us had the audacity to ask.”

Ito gave them all a nod and left the room, pulling the door shut quietly.

“Wow,” Pansy said.

Draco exhaled slowly. “Potter has probably said thirty words to me his whole damn life.” He frowned and crossed his arms when they all stared at him. “And he still hasn’t answered the only question I ever asked him.”

Pansy laughed.

“Shut up,” Draco muttered.

“He answered a question I asked once,” Hermione said suddenly then frowned. “Just once.”

“What was it?”

“He had a book I wanted when we were in the library. I asked him if he was finished with it.” Hermione huffed. “He said no and walked away.”

Neville snorted.

“Shut up,” she said and nudged him.

“It’s just I can picture it—you looking wild-haired and frustrated while he looked completely unbothered by absolutely everything and everyone,” Neville said and wrapped an arm around her. “Did you ever get the book?”

“Yes, he dropped it on my desk in Charms class two days later. That’s when I realized it wasn’t a library book, but his personal copy,” Hermione said. “I read it as quickly as I could and returned it.”

The door opened and a dverger female motioned them to follow. Draco glanced toward Neville as they walked and the other man nodded. They put Pansy and Hermione between them as they walked. He knew neither would appreciate the sentiment or the chivalry, but he’d been raised well. His mother took pride in that.

They were led into a conference room—Croaker, Shacklebolt, and Ito were seated and Albus Dumbledore was standing near the unlit fireplace looking like he expected to be in charge. Draco wondered how the man had gotten past the requirements to be in the meeting.

A door near the back of the room opened and Harry Potter entered. Draco exhaled slowly and Pansy nudged him a little because the decade between them hadn’t done a damn thing but improve Potter’s looks. He was dressed in charcoal grey with a body-length suit-coat that was favored in international circles. He honestly looked like a wet dream. Draco figured he might die before this was all said and done.

The dverger king entered shortly after Potter and shut the door behind. The guards in the room shifted, attention focusing on their king as they made overt security adjustments.

The Horde didn’t trust Albus Dumbledore, Draco realized and shared a look with Longbottom that had the man putting a gentle but firm hand on Hermione. He pulled his witch closer and Draco shifted so he could put Pansy on his left. She responded briefly touching his arm, confirming that she understood just how fast things could go violent in the room they were in.

“Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore began.

“Mind yourself, wizard,” Ragnok said as he sat down at the head of the table.

Dumbledore paused and cleared his throat. “Master Potter, if we could speak in private?”

“No.” Potter checked his watch. “You were given ten minutes, Mr. Dumbledore, and I won’t allow you a second more. I was explicit in my terms regarding my participation in this project and I haven’t changed my mind. There is nothing you could do or say that would change my mind. It’s honestly more time than I ever planned to give you—as I explained to you over a decade ago.”

Dumbledore flushed. “It was my hope that further education and experience would’ve resolved your behavioral issues.”

Potter raised one black eyebrow at him. “Tell me what you want immediately or get out of my face.”

“Good lord,” Pansy whispered. “I just briefly forgot that I’m lesbian.”

Potter’s gaze flicked briefly in her direction just briefly and a small smile drifted over his mouth before he returned his attention to Dumbledore. “Now.”

“Your parents would be appalled by your lack of respect,” Dumbledore retorted.

“It’s too bad we can’t ask them,” Potter returned evenly. “Maybe if you’d bothered to do your duty to magic, they wouldn’t have been murdered, and I wouldn’t have been raised in a house with a pair of abusive and disgusting Muggles who hated me for breathing.”

The air in the room stilled and magic shifted around Potter in a way that Draco had never experienced in his life. The movement was so weighted that his vision blurred briefly and Dumbledore, for his part, actually staggered back several steps.

“Tell me,” Potter demanded.

“Tom made magical objects—to tether him to this plane. Your project won’t be successful without my input regarding those objects and that process,” Dumbledore said after a long silence.

“Oh, you mean the horcruxes?” Potter questioned and Granger exhaled loudly in shock. “If you had anything of genuine value to offer to this discussion, Mr. Dumbledore, you’d know that every single horcrux that ever existed on this planet was destroyed in 1981. There will never be another made—not by Tom Riddle or anyone else.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Dumbledore protested.

“I know it, for a fact,” Potter said evenly.

“How do you know about the horcruxes at all?” Dumbledore questioned. “I’ve not told anyone else.”

Potter stared at him, green eyes vivid and bright with magic. “Is that all you have? Do you have any idea where Riddle’s wraith is right now?”

“No, none. I’ve searched when I can,” Dumbledore said quietly. “He’s looking for a way to return. His horcruxes are keeping him here, which means they haven’t been destroyed.”

“You called them tethers,” Potter said. “Is that what you think they are?”

“Of course it’s what they are,” Dumbledore said and waved a hand. “He split his mortal soul multiple times so he could live forever.”

Potter’s eyes widened then the man did something that Draco honestly believed damn-near impossible, he laughed.

Dumbledore huffed in outrage. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, young man.”

Potter raised a hand. “Peace, old man.” He shook his head and turned to one of the dverger. “Could I trouble someone for coffee? I take it black.”

“Of course, Master Potter,” the dverger said and knocked a fist twice against the door he standing in front of. “We’ll have a service delivered shortly.”

“My thanks, please let the staff in the kitchen know that I’ll come to them to create an account for charges before the business day ends.” He unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a gleaming red dragonhide waistcoat that matched the lining of the coat both in color and material.

Potter had worn armor to the meeting.

“Oh, surely the ministry could handle any fees associated with your stay, Master Potter,” Kingsley Shacklebolt interjected.

“No, but thank you, Minister Shacklebolt,” Potter said shortly. “I don’t create debts with anyone or anything. It would be…detrimental to everyone involved.” He focused on Dumbledore then. “The magical soul is immortal, Mr. Dumbledore, and cannot be torn asunder as you’ve been led to believe. He did, however, maim his soul for eternity and has been removed from the soul cycle. This is his last mortal life.

“A horcrux is soul magic—the darkest kind of soul magic because it requires the murder of another magical person. The ritual magic involved uses the soul of the victim to create a barrier not a tether.

“Riddle murdered people to build a wall between himself and death—but he made several ridiculous assumptions about the effectiveness of such a thing. You cannot defy the God of Death—no magic exists that would facilitate it and that includes a horcrux. He tried to hide from Thanatos, and he failed.”

Dumbledore stared. “You speak of a learned place that I don’t understand, and I can’t deny the truth in your words, despite what I personally believe to be true.”

“I know.”

“You’re not the same as you were,” Dumbledore said quietly. “You haven’t been the same since….”

“Three is a very magical number,” Potter said and Dumbledore paled. “All three of my mortal parents died for me—sacrificed themselves in my defense.”

“What did they do?” the elderly wizard questioned. “What did they accomplish with such a deliberate sacrifice on their parts?”

“I’d ask you what you’d do for love, but you and I both know you’re incapable of it,” Potter said. “Go back to Hogwarts, Mr. Dumbledore, and stay out of my magical business. It isn’t and never has been any concern of yours.”

“The prophecy—”

“Isn’t about you,” Potter interrupted, tone sharp and final. “Tell me goodbye and go away or I will leave this country and never look back. This conversation is over.”

Dumbledore stared, eyes dark and furious. “Goodbye, Master Potter.”

Draco let his shoulders relax as Dumbledore left. The silence that followed was a strange sort of neutral. Potter sat down at the table on Ragnok’s right across from Hiro Ito and motioned to the empty seats.

“Let’s sit,” he said quietly.

Draco slid into a chair beside Potter even as Longbottom placed himself on the opposite side of the table near the end in a move that was pure threat assessment. He appreciated it since it put Hermione and Pansy between them.

The coffee was delivered in an ornate service that was probably used their own king. It was startling but Potter poured coffee for himself and focused on Ito with no indication that he was surprised by the refined presentation.

“Did you get my note, Hiro?”

Ito raised an eyebrow. “I did.”

“Still mad?” Potter questioned as the door opened and a man their age entered.

The man sat down next to Minister Shacklebolt without a word and pulled a journal from a dimensional store.

“No, but I can’t say the same for the entire War Mages division, which has been taxed with rebuilding the wards.”

“A proper set of defensive wards would’ve yielded to an emergency exit,” Potter said. “The ICW building is warded like a prison which is lazy, lacks imagination, and frankly hurts my feelings.”

Ito smiled briefly. “I’ll let them know.”

“I would hope so,” Potter muttered and focused on his coffee. “Everyone this is Master Lucas Pierce, observing for the World Court of Magic. Master Pierce this is Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Pansy Parkinson, and Draco Malfoy.”

Pierce’s gaze drifted from one face to another before settling on him with a small incline of his head. “Well met.” He shifted his journal in front of focused on Potter. “I’ve confirmed with Director Banner that the blockade magic is ready to deploy and will be under your direct authority inside the next sixteen hours. Justice Bertrand wants daily updates regarding the research, potential solutions, and anything in between. Are there any matters you’d rather not be officially reported since these reports will be public record within the next decade?”

“I’d prefer no speculation regarding my magical power or abilities. The prophecy, once revealed, will be declared an Official Secret of the Horde by King Ragnok. It’s for the best really as it would only encourage more stupidity by various criminals and organizations all over the planet. The next dumb bastard who tries to AK me is getting ripped limb from limb.” He paused. “Definitely put last part that in your first report.”

“Forewarning hurts nothing,” Master Pierce agreed with a shrug.

Hermione Granger turned to Pierce then. “I’m glad you’re here. I have a question, and you’re first American I’ve set eyes on in ages.”

Pierce raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

“What is it with you lot and getting half-sacrificed?” she asked.

Pierce grinned and she flushed. “Employees of the World Court, the ICW, and the Magical Protectorate wear warded medallions that will activate an emergency beacon in the event they’re placed in mortal danger. As it would happen, the opening words of a sacrificial ritual trigger the ward which calls in reinforcements. The time between beacon activation and rescue is about half a ritual sacrifice.”

She stared for a moment. “And the American part?”

“They don’t know how to mind their own business,” Potter said dryly and Pierce made a face at him. “And they’ve never met a single weird situation they won’t stick their whole foot in. A demon could crawl out of the floor right now and while the rest of us would certainly seek some sort of defensive position, Master Pierce would probably more interested in an introduction.”

Pierce opened his mouth to protest then sighed. “It was one time.”

“It was one time too many,” Ito muttered and shook his head. “Fucking Americans.”