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Chapter 5

Harry stayed where he was at the table as everyone left. Ragnok’s subtle dismissal of the entire meeting had been done very smoothly. The doors shut and privacy locks engaged.

“Something amiss?”

Ragnok pulled a small carved wood box from his dimensional store and slid it across the table. Harry put a hand on the box to still it’s journey across the glossy wood surface and magic shimmered around it.

“I don’t accept gifts, Master Windrider, as a rule.”

“I’m aware and it’s not a gift,” Ragnok said. “It’s a security measure. I’d rather not have the God of Death come down on this country like a plague and we both know very well he could.” He paused. “And would.”

Harry opened it and found a shining mithril bracelet resting on a bed of crushed velvet. “This is a sentient ward.”

The magic of the device was light and so clean that it was kind of startling. Sentient wards were intuitive, and they adapted to the person who wore them. They were designed to see threats coming and respond with as much force as required to end a threat. It required a lot of power and personal fortitude to create one. Harry had seen just four in all the years he’d lived abroad. Hiro Ito wore one, but he’d never allowed anyone to study it or touch it at all.

“Yes.”

“It’s illegal as fuck in Britain, as you know,” Harry said.

Ragnok shrugged. “Only because British magicals don’t have the power, ability or knowledge to create and manage such a thing. I’m not so diminished. Lenore and I discussed this at length, Master Potter, and I would be grateful if you wore it. There may come a point when the Horde’s seat of power is moved out of Britain, and we are preparing for that. But, for now, this bank is the foundation of the collective magic of my species. It’s where we began when we came to this world, where we started anew after the forced migration from our home dimension.”

Harry took a deep breath. He’d never heard a single dverger speak so casually about their migration from their original dimension, which had taken place thousands of years before he’d been born the first time.

“My father would never endanger your species or your collective magic given a choice,” Harry said quietly.

“He’s a father,” Ragnok said. “And it’s for the first time ever in his existence as far as we’ve been able to discern. I’d do a great deal of horrific damage in the defense of my son’s life, and I wouldn’t feel guilty afterward.”

Harry stared for a moment then pulled his dimensional store off this wrist and placed it on the table. Once he touched the ward, it would start to bond with his magic. “You created this personally?”

“The sentience is mine if that is what you’re asking,” Ragnok said. “Razel wears one made by his mother and we considered that route, only briefly, for you. Lenore is very protective by her very nature, but she also is intolerant of threats and the ward my son wears has killed two people for transgressions that could’ve been mitigated in less permanent ways.” He cleared his throat. “Her ward is the reason my son is widowed.”

Harry stared for a moment. “The ward he wears killed his bonded husband?”

“Yes, for domestic violence,” Ragnok said roughly. “The blow no more than landed before Yawl was dropping dead of a heart attack. It is not well known, of course, that the ward caused the death.” He waved a hand. “And Razel has another bloody year of mourning to go through before he can be free of the situation without any social ramifications. I was perfectly willing to explain what actually happened, but he wanted to keep the whole thing private.”

“Some people get exactly what they deserve, even if a divorce would’ve been faster,” Harry said. “Now I regret the flower arrangement I sent.”

Ragnok grinned. “It was appreciated regardless. Razel loves peace lilies. He kept that arrangement since it came planted rather than cut.”

“I never buy cut lilies,” Harry admitted and flushed when Ragnok merely nodded.

Harry focused on the bracelets then nodded. “Okay.” He picked up the sentient ward and placed it on top of his dimensional store then with a shimmer of magic the two melded together. “If someone ever comes to question it, I won’t reveal who made it.” He put the dimensional store back on his wrist and it disappeared.

“Since you don’t accept gifts and refuse to keep a debt on the books, you can donate an appropriate amount of magic to the wardstone at your leisure,” Ragnok said and Harry nodded his agreement. “I do agree, you know.”

“Agree with what?”

“It’s not a good idea for the Master of Death to owe someone a significant debt,” Ragnok said quietly. “And I appreciate the care by which you live, Master Potter.” He cleared his throat. “Do you know how long he will be embodied?”

“The sacrifice of all three of my mortal parents is feeding his embodiment,” Harry said. “And they will continue to embody him as long as they remain outside of the soul cycle. We’ve both told that it would be fine if they allowed themselves to be reincarnated, but they’re being stubborn about it. They currently have no true form of their own and exist as spiritual manifestations on the celestial plane.”

“That bothers you.”

“They have each other and they assure me that’s enough, but it doesn’t seem fair. I’d have ever asked for an eternity of sacrifice of any of them.” He took a deep breath. “At the end of the day, the decision is his and I support whatever path he wants to take.”

“As you should,” Ragnok said. “Being the son of any god can’t be easy, but you wear it well.” He paused. “Though I do wonder what you were like before the adoption.”

“I am product of my raising,” Harry said dryly and Ragnok stared for a moment then laughed.

“I just bet.”

* * * *

“You think you’re going alone?” Draco questioned.

“I think,” Harry began and Neville sighed. “That anyone on the team could be used against me in some fashion or another. Right now, both of you are free and clear of manipulative magic and the corruption has been dampened due to the length of time you’ve spent in the bank’s wards.” He paused when they both made faces at him. “And I won’t be alone. Director Banner will be there along with Hiro Ito. Though Dumbledore would never acknowledge this, they’re both more powerful than he is.”

“Where is your partner?” Draco questioned. “You don’t work solo for the Protectorate, right?”

Harry hesitated and exhaled slowly. “He’s close by, but we’re both working under direct orders regarding his identity. These are standing orders, actually, as it’s not generally a good idea for people to be associated with me in criminal circles. My first partner with the Protectorate was kidnapped four times in the first year. He eventually demanded that Director Deering make a different choice for us both and suggested that my official working partner not be listed by name in any publicly available document. Though, honestly, most employees of the Protectorate aren’t known by name.”

“Because you work in hoods and code names, like Unspeakable field assets,” Draco said.

“Yes, there are times when we work in hoods and I’m sure that Director Banner will bring at least one pair of War Mages with him. They will be hooded,” Harry explained and they both nodded. He focused on Draco. “I told you that my job is hard, Draco.” He exhaled slowly. “And I meant that in every single possible way that could be meant.”

Draco stared for a moment, gray eyes dark and intent. “Very well.”

Neville cleared his throat and stood up. “I’ll just go write a report for the DMLE about the project without revealing a single thing they actually want to know.”

Harry hummed. “That reminds me. I’ve made a list of things you can include that won’t matter, won’t satisfy, but will look like you tried.” He pulled a piece of folded parchment out of his journal, which he handed to Neville. “Any questions can be avoided by citing the contract we all signed regarding the project.”

“Thanks,” Neville said. “Creating an official document full of dragonshite is one of my favorite things to do.”

“Weirdo,” Draco muttered and Neville just laughed as he left them alone in the kitchen.

Draco went to the counter and activated the kettle with a flash of magic. Harry watched the operation as he knew that most magicals in Britain actually avoided appliances that were made in the Muggle world and adapted for magical use. It was clear that Draco had no issues using the kettle.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Harry confessed.

“I know,” Draco said and poured tea for himself, put a distressing amount of sugar and cream it before settling down in a chair near the fireplace in the room.

Harry followed him. “You aren’t going to give me any sort of direction.”

Draco stared at him over the rim of his cup and raised one eyebrow. “Is that what you need from me?”

He stared for a moment and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know, honestly. My go-to solution to emotionally dangerous situations is to avoid them at costs.”

“Emotionally dangerous,” Draco repeated and his gaze narrowed. “I see.”

“Do you?” Harry waved both hands in frustration. “Because I don’t.”

“I see that, too,” Draco muttered. “Go tell Dumbledore off in the most vicious way you most possible can then come back so we can actually do some work. We need to hire the Horde to capture Riddle’s wraith, so finding him is a priority. They have superior methods for wraith and inferi capture.”

“Yeah, it was discussed in advance as an option. He’s in Britain at this point since he was run out of Albania.” Harry smoothed one hand down the front of the overcoat of the War Mages uniform he’d put on, and activated the armor built into the lining. “Don’t worry about this. Dumbledore can only piss in the wind at this point.”

“Piss in the wind,” Draco repeated. “You’ve spent an inappropriate amount of time with vulgar Americans. Director Banner should probably reconsider his hiring practices.”

Harry shrugged. “I think the US just sends us the most reckless ones they have on tap for their own protection.”

“Right.” Draco grimaced. “Something to consider, I suppose.”

* * * *

The Wizengamot was strangely quiet. Granted, Harry had no experience with the room or it’s occupants as he’d never attended a single session. But still he’d certainly attended various large, public meetings all over the world and none of them had been so subdued. He didn’t know if it was because of him or Dumbledore who was sitting on a high platform at a very ornate desk above the body.

“That’s pretentious as fuck,” Harry muttered and Director Banner hummed his agreement.

They were seated a table, center to the room across from Dumbledore, on the floor. Harry wondered if he was meant to be intimidated by the positioning. There was a man standing at a podium off to the left of them, staring at Harry like he was trying to figure out a puzzle of some sort. He only half-listened as the session was called to order as the details didn’t matter at all to him.

“Mr. Potter,” the man at the podium began. “We’re here today to discuss your work on the magical corruption left behind by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when you vanquished him in 1981. The people of Britain are gratified that you’ve finally agreed to do your duty regarding this issue.”

Director Banner exhaled sharply but said nothing.

“I didn’t get your name,” Harry said. “Was it said?”

The man flushed. “Yes, I’m Daedalus Diggle and I’m here representing the ministry in this inquiry. I’m the Director of Legal Affairs.”

Harry stared for moment. “Let us be clear, is it your position that I incurred a personal debt to this country in 1981 when I survived my own attempted murder at fifteen months old?”

Somehow, the room got even quieter.

“I….” Diggle took a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what exactly did you mean?”

“As you know, there is a prophecy….”

Harry held up a hand. “You have no idea what that prophecy says, Mr. Diggle. In fact, there are only two people in this room who know the specific wording and I’m one of them.”

“How could you know the contents? You’ve never agreed to view it,” Mr. Diggle said, wide-eyed with shock.

“You do realize, Mr. Diggle, that the ICW receives copies of every single documented prophecy from associated and member countries.” Harry paused. “Right? I viewed that foolishly little prophecy over a decade ago in Rome. It has absolutely nothing to do with resolving the magical corruption currently eating this country. At best, it might be considered a ramification of it.”

He turned to stare at Dumbledore. “Why are you hiding behind this bureaucrat, Dumbledore? I made it clear before I returned to this country that I wanted as little to do with you as possible. There is absolutely nothing you could say or do that will change that. I only came here because the ministry agreed that I wouldn’t have to interact with you on a daily basis. Frankly, I’d prefer to never set eyes on you again as long as I live.”

Dumbledore stared at him, eyes dark and furious. “You are a very disrespectful young man.”

“You are a very corrupt old man,” Harry retorted. “You are also morally bankrupt, Dumbledore, and it’s genuinely disgusting to be in the same room with you. It always has been. I could hardly stand to attend Hogwarts a full seven years and count my last day in that school is one of the more relieving experiences of my life.”

“You need my help to resolve this situation.”

“No, I don’t,” Harry said evenly. “You’ve done nothing for decades and it’s best for everyone involved if you continue to do nothing.” He paused. “Frankly, you’ve done precious little ever to the benefit of this country unless you count that time you stopped blowing Grindelwald long enough to stop his dumbarse plot to take over the world.”

“Merlin’s nutsack,” Banner muttered beside him and exhaled slowly.

“But, let’s be honest, you didn’t do that for Britain. You did that because he was carrying the Elder Wand and you wanted it.”

Dumbledore’s face slowly whitened and his aura flared. “How…dare you speak to me that way!”

“What are you going to do about it?” Harry asked curiously. “I only ask because Chief Justice Bertrand had to delay his portkey and he should be arriving in about five minutes. If you’re going to declare a blood feud or something else amusing, he’d be very irritated to miss it.”

“I don’t have the Elder Wand,” Dumbledore said flatly.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” Harry said and slouched back in his chair. “It removed itself from your dubious care on November 3, 1981, roughly five minutes after my innocent, and illegally incarcerated, godfather sacrificed himself on a filthy floor in a cell in Azkaban.”

The silence in the room shifted from disquieting into something else entirely. Harry made a face and turned to his boss. “Is this what a deafening quiet sounds like?”

“Yes,” Director Banner said.

“What could you possibly know about your godfather’s sacrifice?” Mr. Diggle questioned, clearly horrified with shock.

“I know he gave his life to protect me—the final of three sacrifices to ensure that I would be safe in this world without my parents because he came to understand there was no left he could trust with my life.” He paused. “Well, no one mortal, at any rate.” He paused. “And he succeeded.”

“He could’ve trusted me!” Dumbledore shouted. “Instead, he did whatever he did and destroyed the lives of hundreds—caused murders all over the world with his selfish choices. It drove all of the Death Eaters insane!”

“Well, practically none of that is true,” Harry said evenly. “The fact that he was in Azkaban proved beyond any doubt that he couldn’t trust you. He didn’t drive Tom Riddle’s marked followers insane, Riddle did that himself in what amounted to a temper tantrum. He pitched a genuine fit, you see, in a forest in Albania. The whole area has been quarantined since it happened. Also, you and I both know that not all of Riddle’s followers were given the Dark Mark. There are reports that indicate that he marked less fifty percent of idiots who bought into his stupid ideology in this country.”

“Your disdain for the people of Britain is discomforting,” Mr. Diggle interjected.

“Then do better,” Harry said plainly and the older man stared at him shock. “You get what you earn from me, and my baseline is indifference.” He returned his attention to Dumbledore who was staring at him, like he often had at Hogwarts. “I will not agree to your participation or observation of the project.”

“Why?”

“Because Tom Riddle has been corrupting this country for decades and every single magical person over the age of fifty in Britain is too vested in the stain to be helpful in any way—no matter what you might think. I know you like to pretend that alchemy ward you built for yourself is protecting your magic, but all it’s doing is hiding the damage.” He waved a hand. “At least you had the decency not to sell your so-called solution to others. That’s the least offensive thing I know about you.”

“I insist on oversight,” Dumbledore said firmly.

“No.”

“You have no choice!”

“I can leave this country, facilitate the migration of those who can leave safely, invest myself in activating the magical blockade that has already been constructed around this country, and watch from afar while you all rot away in your own generational filth. Then, when you’re all dead, I can come back and clean up whatever mess is left.”

“We deserve better from you!”

“If you wanted a wizard who would love this country, who would sacrifice for you and your so-called greater good, then you should’ve made sure I wasn’t raised by a pair of abusive Muggles who hated me for existing,” Harry said and relaxed back in his seat. “So, decide—again. Because this conversation was had several times before I agreed to come back here, and my agreement was dependent on you keeping your distance from me whenever possible.” He grimaced. “Also, this is the last time we’re having this conversation. I’m tired of telling you repeatedly that I want nothing to do with you. I’ve been doing it since I was eleven years old.”

“Director Banner, I insist you order Mr. Potter to allow oversight and observation regarding his project by the Wizengamot,” Dumbledore said.

“No.”

“No? Do you think you’re above the law?” Dumbledore demanded.

“First, and foremost, I am in fact above the laws in this country,” Banner said dryly and a smattering of laughter drifted through the audience. “Second, despite what you might think, you aren’t the law in Britain. Third, I answer to the World Court of Magic. And finally, Master Potter is not here as an employee of the Magical Protectorate. He is here as a private citizen because if he were here under my direction, the migration would be in process, and the blockade would be already in place. I don’t happen to think this situation worth his time.

“Master Potter is a very successful and powerful field asset for the Magical Protectorate, and his magic would be better spent on situations that impact the entire world because that’s our job. He shouldn’t have to waste his time on this backward country, and I told him so. Fortunately, for you, he takes his duty as a magical person seriously. He’s offering the best option first, but the second option will work just as well, and the rest of the world will be satisfied with the results.”

Thaddeus Banner leaned forward. “Did you want me to take over this project as the Director of the Magical Protectorate?”

Dumbledore stared, aura flaring in a manner that probably intimidated people who couldn’t see the falseness of it and shook his head. “Your lack of loyalty to your own country is appalling, Director Banner.”

“You aren’t the country either,” Banner said evenly. “Your ego proceeds you by a kilometer, Dumbledore, and that’s always been a problem.”

Dumbledore’s gaze drifted back to Harry, and something shifted between them. He saw the curiosity and an old obsession surface as they sat staring at each other. “What happened to the Elder Wand, Master Potter?”

“What makes you think I know?” Harry questioned.

“It’s obvious that you speak of the Deathly Hallows from a very learned place,” Dumbledore said. “And frankly, no matter your behavior, I’ve never known you to tell a single lie. It’s always been unfortunate that your seemingly innate honesty is utterly incompatible with common courtesy.”

“Perhaps, it comes down to a matter of trust and worthiness,” Harry said evenly. “Objects of great power have been known throughout the history of our species to remove themselves from the custody of those who do not deserve them.”

“Tell me what I want to know!”

“You don’t want to know where the Elder Wand is, Dumbledore, because you know you have no hope of ever owning it again.”

“You can’t possible know that!”

Harry drew his wand and put it down on the table in front of him. “Then take it.”

The room grew quiet. Dumbledore’s gaze dropped to the wand. “That’s not….”

“You know it is,” Harry interjected. “You carried it for decades, and the appearance of a thing in the magical world is subject to change even if the power of it is not.”

Dumbledore’s wand snapped into his hand. “Accio!” The spell hit the Elder Wand where it sat on the table, and nothing happened. He cast the spell twice more to no avail. “What have you done to it?”

“The matters of such things are clearly none of your concern, Chief Warlock Dumbledore,” Director Banner said as he stood.

Harry picked up his wand and holstered it, aware that he’d trod upon a boundary with his boss that he hadn’t known existed until it was too late.

“I have the right—”

“No,” Director Banner snapped. “You have no legal or moral right whatsoever to question any employee of mine and I’ve reached my limit with this process. Master Potter’s magical business is beyond your purview in every way possible. It, clearly, always has been. You got his parents killed with your foolish and manipulative behavior and nearly allowed him to be murdered as an infant when you promised to protect the Potter family. If you were a wizard worthy of the skin and bones that made you—you would’ve done as you promised or died trying.

“At the end of the day, whatever events that were put into play because of Sirius Black’s sacrifice in Azkaban are entirely your fault. If you’d done even half of your duty to magic, we wouldn’t be standing here today having this stupid conversation.”

Harry followed Banner out of the Wizengamot chamber, straight to a floo, and through back to the bank. He exhaled slowly as his boss stalked toward an unused conference room, motioned him inside, and shut the door with a sharp little snap.

“You just outed yourself as the fucking Master of Death to the entire planet.”

Harry shrugged.

Banner turned to look at him with a frown. “Had you bothered to ask me, I would’ve told you that I would prefer it not be revealed at all.”

“Sir.” Harry took a deep breath. “With all due respect, there’s only one person who could tell me to keep my mouth shut about my nature and you aren’t the one.”

“Your nature?”

“I can’t be separated from it,” Harry said quietly. “I’ve been the Master of Death for as long as I remember, since the night Sirius Black died. I will be the Master of Death for the rest of my existence, a decision that was made amongst those who make such decisions. Moreover, I’ve always found it impossible to deny it if I’m asked directly. I can ignore the question, but I can’t say no.”

“Can you say why?” Banner questioned.

“It would be blasphemy,” Harry admitted and Banner’s eyes widened. “Is it too much? Is that why you haven’t asked? Armand figured you just liked the mystery of it.”

“Are you asking me if you’re too much?” Banner raised an eyebrow as he focused on Harry. “Because you’re not. Maybe I did like the mystery of it and the speculation, but I don’t want you to think I viewed you as a source of personal entertainment.”

“I understand the desire to speculate on a point of interest,” Harry said with a shrug. “And I interest far more people than I wish I did.”

“Your baseline is indifference,” a voice interjected.

Harry turned and found Chief Justice Bertrand standing in the doorway of the conference room. “Good afternoon, sir.”

Louis Bertrand stared for a moment and shook his head. “Fucking Master of Death, eh? Just like that—on day like today? You just swung right out of the fucking reaper closet without even a by your leave.”

“Who exactly do you think I should’ve sought permission from?” Harry questioned and raised an eyebrow when Bertrand glared at him. “Professionally, I owe you both a certain standard of behavior that I acknowledge. I’ve signed contracts, taken oaths, and agreed to under take a job for the Magical Protectorate. But there is but one person on this planet that can determine how I handle the duties of being the Master of Death.”

Bertrand shut the door and the privacy protocol activated. “And just who would that be?”

“Me.” Thanatos appeared at the end of the conference table and tossed his booted feet up on the glossy surface. He focused on Banner even as both men took seats. “Do either of you need an introduction?”

“No, sir, I don’t believe we do, my Lord,” Banner said quietly after a shared look with Louis Bertrand who had gone pale.

Harry just leaned on the wall next to the fireplace and frowned at his boot.

“Harry.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” he said as he focused on his father.

“I know.” Thanatos stared for a moment. “But in this particular instance, I’m merely providing these two men in your life a reference point they can focus on in the future when you do something that you must that they will have…to deal with. Because they both need to understand that I’m the final authority in your life and you literally can’t defy me.”

Banner just nodded then frowned. “Can anyone?”

“Free will exists, but there are prices to be paid,” Thanatos said. “Tom Riddle will never live again for his transgressions against his own soul. He’s not the first, of course, but he is the last. I won’t allow horcrux magic to ever work again on this world.” He paused. “Though there was an immense discussion about it as the Lady is not often inclined toward limiting the free will of her children.” He stared for a moment then stood. “Be careful with my boy, gentlemen, or a severe price will be paid.”

He disappeared with a flash of magic and Harry sighed.

“I know I should file some kind of something about this,” Bertrand muttered. “I just don’t know what.”

Banner laughed.

“I’d like to be dismissed,” Harry said and they both grimaced at him. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Go do it then,” Banner said warily. “For fuck’s sake.”

Harry left before Bertrand could protest because he could see it brewing all over the Frenchman’s face. He trotted down the hall and slowed as he approached the first of four check points between him and the space where the team were housed. A few moments after leaving them behind, he entered the work space.

All four of them looked up and focused on him with the same exact expression on their faces. It made him question how closely they were all related.

“Blowing Grindelwald,” Draco said and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, totally. They were fuck buddies for years,” Harry said and slouched down on the chair across from Draco.

“There is so much wrong with everything you just said,” Hermione said and glared at the parchment she was writing on. “Like I needed that mental image.”

“How did you know for certain that he couldn’t summon the wand?” Draco questioned.

“Because it’s mine,” Harry said. “And it can’t be taken from me—not even defeat. It won’t work for anyone else.” He paused. “All three Hallows will leave this world when I die and when I’m reborn then they will return to me.” He watched Draco absorb that information and slowly nod. “It is the nature of such things going forward because of Riddle’s corruption.”