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Chapter 9

Harry stopped just after entering the potion lab, and the guard left him with a short nod.

“Are you ingesting a narcotic-level calming potion on the regular?” The potions master asked without even looking up.

“No, Master Earthborn,” Harry said and tucked his hand behind his back as the dwarrow in question looked up from the ledger he was writing in. “But, I’m not surprised you’d question it. There are a lot of arseholes on this planet, and my exposure is beyond the pale.”

“I’d be in prison for serial homicide.” He rolled his eyes when Harry laughed. “I was going to have your potions delivered.” He motioned toward a crate on the edge of his work table. “Surprised you ordered from me when you have a world-class brewer on your team. Mr. Malfoy could earn an international mastery very easily.”

“Draco is busy with the needs for the whole team,” Harry said. “I didn’t want him to shift his focus. What sort of contacts do you have in Tibet? He needs three kilos of magically pure salt.”

“I’ve got a connection in Yanjing, but the cost would be significant for the amount and the purity requirement. As much as 1500 galleons for that much,” Master Earthborn raised an eyebrow. “Nothing on his project agenda should require such a thing.”

“It’s a personal project and I’d like to contribute to it in a way that is both useful and overtly supportive,” Harry said as he stepped forward and picked up the crate. He stored it with a thought and watched that information settle. “I would appreciate it if you’d go ahead and place the order as discreetly as possible

“Of course,” Master Earthborn said. “I’ll contact you when it arrives.”

“Thank you.”

Outside of the Potions Guild, he was redirected toward the administration area by a guard. Since Dumbledore and Shacklebolt were banned from the bank, he didn’t know who could be demanding his attention now, but he was fast becoming convinced that many people didn’t actually want the problem solved if they couldn’t be personally involved. It was, oddly, one of the more selfish situations he’d seen.

He was led into a room where his boss, Hiro Ito, and Louis Bertrand were seated. Harry stared for a moment, then slouched down in a chair next to the fireplace and pulled out his herbal case. He lit an herbal took a long drag and exhaled slowly.

“I’m starting to wonder if Dumbledore wants the problem resolved at all,” he said quietly. “The current circumstances have given him a lot of power—social and political—that he’d have been hard pressed to earn any other way.” The other men said nothing, but the silence didn’t feel oppressive. “If he comes at me, I’ll kill him.” He focused on Director Banner at that point. “The mandate might not fully protect me from the consequences, but don’t worry about it over much as my father will retrieve me. He’d not allow any mortal justice system to punish me for doing my duty to magic.”

“The people in Britain would be hard-pressed to find a single international organization who’d agree to take part in such a process,” Justice Bertrand said dryly and Ito nodded his agreement. “I’d personally not wish to cross the God of Death in any circumstance because I know, for a fact, he could appear before Hekate, herself, and ask for retribution.”

Harry nodded.

“Did he get rid of the dementors because of you?” Hiro Ito questioned. “I can see how paternal instinct might have made him act against such dark creatures.”

“He had precious little to do with that,” Harry admitted. “Unless you count his teaching me how to draw a personal ritual circle. I asked Hekate to remove the dementors from Earth because they were an abomination. She accepted and agreed to my petition.”

“You were…very young when that happened,” Banner said.

“Just over five years old,” Harry said and the older man grimaced. “But they offended me to an overwhelming degree. I could feel them, no matter the difference between Azkaban and that hateful little house in Surrey. They weren’t as old as many assumed and had never existed with an active Master of Death.”

“Why do you think the Hallows didn’t allow themselves to be owned by one person for so long?” Ito questioned.

“Death’s Hand is a special artifact of a sort,” Harry said. “I’m the Spectre—the fourth Hallow. When such a magical creature as me is embodied, the ramifications are far reaching. I was meant to be the Master of Death from the point of my conception. I think that Sirius Black knew that, or at least he suspected it, due to his own relationship with death magic which I won’t be discussing with anyone.”

“Good,” Banner said roughly. “Whatever he was allowed to do is best left unsaid as it was an immensely powerful magical event that still resonates in the stones of Azkaban. The whole island is different—nothing like it was in the past and that can’t all be about the removal of the dementors. Though, I can’t say that was impactful. I just don’t know how the two events merged and changed the environment.”

“Azkaban is a place of punishment,” Harry said after a long moment. “And while we all face judgment in the act of dying—from one direction or another—even that is not a punishment. Can we face damnation in the afterlife? Absolutely, the soul cycle is meant to refine and evolve the immortal soul. Most cycle repeatedly with that goal first and foremost in their existence.

“Those that lose sight of the ideal outcome, are ultimately taken to the place you know as Hell were the ruler there—Lucifer, Hades, Pluto, Osiris, Hel—whatever personification makes you feel the most comfortable sees to their rehabilitation. Some souls, frankly, ever leave that process as they are too damaged or mortally bankrupt to be saved from themselves.” He finished his herbal and only briefly considered another before focusing on Hiro Ito. “You know you aren’t exempt from that cycle, right?”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve a duty to this world that I’ve yet to complete and it could be hundreds of years before the dark magic there is subdued enough to be removed entirely.”

“When you get tired and you’re ready to go,” Harry began. “Just tell me and I’ll take your place as guardian over whatever you’re holding hostage in the Kunlun Mountains.”

“I fully intend to take it with me when I go, lad,” Hiro Ito said gently. “But I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

Harry exhaled slowly. “Let’s bring the ICW here and make them sit in the corruption to have a discussion with me about the Hallows.”

Ito snorted. “Consider it done.” He stood and Bertrand stood with him. “After that, not a single person in Britain will have a leg to stand on in the international community. You know that.”

“Yes, of course, I do. But none of them truly understand how disgusting it is here. They won’t ever understand it, but they’ll have no choice but to acknowledge one reaction after another as the representatives from other countries come here and feel it.” He waved a hand. “I couldn’t sleep in this country outside of the bank on a bet after being gone so long so be prepared to house any that choose to avoid multiple portkey trips in France.”

* * * *

The members of the ICW refused to submit to the restrictive wards in place around the British Ministry of Magic much to Harry’s amusement. He’d been kept updated on the process as the team had focused on creating a runic sequence to create the magic sinks. It was tedious work, but they all worked well together, which Harry would privately admit he’d worried about.

“I didn’t realize…my suggestion could lead to this kind of process,” Draco murmured as he sat down at in front of him.

The ritual circle was glowing, still empowered by the ritual that Neville had done before he’d gone to take a lunch. They were the only ones in the work room, but Harry flicked a hand toward the door to shut it to give them more privacy.

“Don’t blame yourself for whatever skullduggery the ministry is engaging in. They’ll get nowhere fast, but they’ll never admit it. Those people are impotent on the world stage, and not a single one of them has been taken seriously in decades. They have no authority regarding this project or how it’s managed. None of them seem to truly understand that they are part of the problem no matter how often they’re told.”

“I think my mother would deny it as well,” Draco said. “And I hate that for her. I don’t know how to leave her behind if we have to blockade.”

“We’ll certainly try to cleanse every single magical person we can, Draco, but I can’t promise anything on that front. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

“Yeah, I know,” Draco said. “She’ll not let me stay. In fact, she’s trying to get me to move abroad since I finished my mastery. But leaving her behind has always felt like…I have so few people in my life I can truly trust. It felt like leaving them behind would be life ruining.”

“And now?”

“Now, there’s you,” Draco said. “Our potential for more is certainly evident but the circumstances are daunting as fuck. I won’t let any of those bastards use me against you, Harry.”

“What they say and what they could actually accomplish are two entirely different things,” Harry said dryly and Draco laughed. “I’m not a magically immature child being bombarded by death magic like I was at Hogwarts. Bertrand accused me of swinging out of the reaper closet, by the way.”

Draco laughed.

“What he doesn’t seem to fully grasp is that I came out swinging and not a single one of them is safe from me,” Harry said plainly. “I’d send any single motherfucker on this planet on their way to the afterlife if they cross us.”

“Us.”

“Definitely us,” Harry said. “I’ve made the choice already and I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not saying you’re stuck with me or anything but I’m all in.”

Draco smiled and exhaled slowly. “Good.” He wet his lips. “I think we should keep it just with the team for now. If we can extract ourselves from Britain without violence, that is my preference.”

“And if things get extremely violent?” Harry questioned. “Do you have a limit on how much fucked up you can handle?”

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. “Is that okay?”

It had to be, Harry thought, and just nodded. Draco stared for a moment then frowned.

“What?” Harry questioned.

“It’s clearly not okay,” Draco retorted. “You can…I want you to be able to tell me what you’re thinking. I spent fucking years being in the dark where you’re concerned.”

“Granted,” Harry said roughly and cleared his throat. “I’m worried that it’ll be too much, but you already know that. My life isn’t soft and I’m not a light wizard. I’ve never been a light wizard. Frankly, I’ve never had any interest in that kind of existence. Nearly all of my craft since I was small has been grey. I’ve cast two of the three Unforgivables though I do have the legal right to cast them all due to the Protectorate’s mandate.”

Draco stared for a moment then slowly nodded. “The Killing Curse and the Imperius, right? I’m certain you’re capable of torturing someone—you’ve just never had to.”

“Yeah, and you’re right, of course. I’d have no problems doing it depending on the circumstances. I came close once because my beacon wasn’t working and I realized rescue wasn’t going to be timely. One of my captors got too close to me and I was able to compel him to take off the suppression cuff.

“The cuff itself was impacting the emergency beacon which was believed to be impossible. We had to research the alchemy of that bracelet for a full year to figure out why it subdued both my magic and the beacon system.”

“Your father didn’t come for you?” Draco questioned.

“He couldn’t find me,” Harry said roughly. “Well, the moment suppression cuff came off he was there, and every single person in the house died in the wake of his landing.” He made a face. “And my body count with the Protectorate went from zero to sixteen. Fortunately, they were all dark bastards who were wanted in multiple countries, and no one bothered to ask questions.”

“Have the two of you found a way to resolve that particular weakness?” Draco questioned.

“Alchemy based magic is difficult to prepare for,” Harry admitted. “Before the cuff incident, our emergency beacons were empowered with our own magic and there was no mechanism if the beacon lost its connection with the system. Now, if a beacon goes offline alarms immediately sound and emergency responders are directed to the last pinged location of the operative.”

“But a person could be moved during that time,” Draco said.

“Yes, and that’s happen. No system is perfect, but the Protectorate hasn’t lost an operative in action in twenty-seven years,” Harry said. “And that death was intentional.”

“Intentional,” Draco said. “What does that mean? Is it a secret?”

“All operatives carry a relatively harmless secret that is protected with an unbreakable vow,” Harry explained. “It’s our way out of an untenable situation. For me, the time between a call for help and the time required to respond could equal an extinction level event. If I were captured and compromised—I would violate my vow immediately to protect both my father and death magic itself.”

“I see,” Draco said. “I’ve heard that Unspeakables do something similar. I declined a position in the upper ranks of the department last year. Croaker wasn’t exactly thrilled with me, but I’m not prepared to make vows of loyalty to this country. I don’t see how anyone in my generation could. The youngest Unspeakable is in their forties, if the rumors are to believed.”

“That sounds about right,” Harry said. “We don’t have a list of names, of course, but the Protectorate hasn’t been notified of a new Unspeakable in Britain since the 1970s. All member countries of the ICW are required to keep us informed of those assets no matter what they’re called in individual countries.”

Draco reached out and took his hand. He looked down, focusing on the way their fingers laced together in away that felt commonplace and natural.

“Do you remember anything specific about our first life together?”

“No, there’s just this knowledge of who we used to be. But…Arthur loved Avalon and part of me grieves the loss of that. I wouldn’t cultivate it or even try to get over the resentment I have for modern Britain, but there was a time when I would’ve given my life for the ideology that Avalon was founded on.”

“Do you wonder if your disdain for Britain now, is a reflection of the harm they’ve caused to your kingdom?” Draco asked and Harry exhaled slowly. “It’s still yours, Harry. It always will be. You were the last magical king of Avalon, and I have a feeling only you could invoke those protocols even now.”

“They’re not worthy of such an endeavor on my part.” He paused. “The time investment alone would be absolutely appalling.”

“What about the children that come next?” Draco questioned. “Are they worth it? Over 400 students will be sorted next September at Hogwarts unless the blockade happens. It’s the biggest class of first years in practically a hundred years.”

“The Protectorate won’t leave any child behind if the blockade happens—we even have relocation plans in place for Muggle-borns and their families. We have to balance the ethics of manipulating them with the protection of Hekate’s children and magic must come first.”

Draco nodded. “I understand and I agree—magic comes first. I think the world would fall apart completely without it both magical and muggle alike.”

“Muggles have this theory about a living Earth. They call it the Gaia Hypothesis,” Harry said. “It’s a fantasy for them and subject to debate. They don’t understand how delicate the life balance is on this world and they don’t seem to care about their impact of their actions. The end result is that they’re corrupting the air and water on a global scale. Eventually, the Protectorate will have to respond because there will be a point when their actions will endanger magic.”

“Because Earth does live,” Draco surmised.

“Yes, of course, she does,” Harry said. “And from her all of us—mortal and celestial alike sprung.”

“Hekate is their Gaia?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “She’s the creator of life as we know it on this planet, but many Muggle religions are very focused on a male representation. I don’t honestly know that Hekate has a gender as we know it be but like all celestials enjoys a variety of personas in order to relate to humans, magical or not.”

Draco nodded. “My mother didn’t disallow religion, but she never educated me on the subject either. I had to seek out resources on my own at Hogwarts. Many purebloods in Britain are unwilling to acknowledge the source of their power, you know.”

“Yes, and that’s why they suffer as they do—generation after generation,” Harry said. “It’s why the corruption dug so deeply into this country, and why in the end it may be impossible to fix. Does it bother you?”

“That you’re devout? Not at all,” Draco said. “In fact, it’s very compelling to be with someone so certain in their own ethics. I’ve lived with a lot of ambiguity and flexible morals is the norm here.”

* * * *

Harry had to wonder how much goodwill Ito had burned with the Horde as they settled into the Hall of Mages. Dumbledore and Shacklebolt both were in the room, and the dverger clearly had no interest in pretending to be pleased by it.

“How’d that happen?” Harry questioned.

Tyr Warhide shrugged. “The ministry paid 10,000 galleons to allow them to be on Horde land for the next hour.” He paused. “Each.”

Harry laughed a little. “An hour?”

“If they stay a minute longer than that, they’ll be in violation of fifteen different treaties,” Tyr said. “And will be fined personally for each one.”

Ito took his seat and the representatives grew quiet with a sweep of magic. Harry found the reaction curious as the only people in the room who appeared to find the magical inducement to pay attention was those from the British Ministry of Magic.

“Master Potter, the British Ministry of Magic has accused you of Crimes Against Magic for reuniting the Deathly Hallows,” Ito said dryly. “They’re insisting you be forced to part with the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone, specifically.”

Warhide stood. “Master Ito, there are but three crimes that meet such a burden and not a single one of them is associated with the possession of the Deathly Hallows. Moreover, the Horde has known for decades that the Hallows were reunited in 1981. Master Potter was a toddler. An orphaned toddler who had been secluded in the home of a pair of bigoted Muggles in a direct violation of James Potter’s last will and testament. In fact, James Potter stated explicitly that he’d rather his child be placed in the magical orphanage rather than live in the Muggle world.”

Ito nodded. “The fact that British Ministry of Magic circumvented his parents wishes his well known, Master Warhide. Unfortunately, there are no international laws that were in place at the time that could be used to punish those involved in that situation.” He glanced toward Dumbledore with an expression of overt distaste. “It is just one more disgusting situation in Master Potter’s past that can’t be genuinely atoned for as no one in Britain seems inclined toward paying any sort of attention to justice.”

Daedalus Diggle stood, smoothed down his waistcoat and at least had the decency to wait until he was acknowledged before activating the sonorous charm on his desk. “Master Ito, it is our position that no human being should be allowed to stand as the Master of Death. As Harry Potter is a citizen of Britain, he is subject to local law. It was declared a crime against magic to own all three Hallows in 1982 in the United Kingdom.”

Ito raised an eyebrow. “You are aware, of course, Mr. Diggle, that Master Potter hasn’t been a citizen of Britain since shortly before his eighteenth birthday.” He lifted an eyebrow. “He is well-known to be a citizen of Italy. Moreover, no local government may declare any single action a crime against magic without approval of the ICW. This body has not recognized any such law regarding the Deathly Hallows ever in its history. We certainly won’t be doing it today.”

Diggle glared briefly. “We have the right to make our own laws, Master Ito, and Britian denied Mr. Potter’s migration to Italy.”

“Neither Master Potter nor Italy needed your permission for that migration. He denounced his British citizenship legally and magically—it is done and can’t be undone without a significant magical process that I won’t be allowing.” He waved a hand. “Moreover, he is an operative of the Magical Protectorate and the only organization on this planet that can legally file any sort of charge against him is the World Court of Magic. I know, for a fact, that Justice Bertrand laughed in your face when you demanded him declare the need for a trial on his matter.”

Diggle took a deep breath. “I demand that Harry Potter explain himself.”

Harry shared a look with Tyr who looked deeply amused.

He leaned forward and cleared his throat. Ito focused on him with a raised eyebrow. “Master Ito, I’m going to need a clarification on that…demand. What exactly would Mr. Diggle like me to explain about myself?”

“Tell us how you took the Hallows!” Diggle shouted. “Immediately.”

“Oh,” Harry said then slouched back against his seat and laughed breathlessly much to the shock of practically everyone around him. “Seriously? How are you all so fucking daft?” He waved a hand when Diggle puffed up in rage. “I guess I can’t really be surprised—after all you seem to think I defeated Voldemort as a toddler, too.”

“Of course you did! Who else could’ve?” Diggle questioned.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ito said and shook his head. “Master Potter, feel free to answer as much of that ridiculous question as you would like.”

“My mother defeated Voldemort,” Harry said flatly and the room stilled around him. “She created a sacrificial ward, fueled with her own life and magic, then allowed that dark son of a bitch to kill her without a fight. It is and always has been profane how dedicated the average British magical is to ignoring her sacrifice. In fact, they ignore the sacrifices my entire family made as if their lives didn’t matter at all. It’s just one very specific reason why I denounced my British citizenship the moment I could.

“I will never return to Britain permanently. I will never submit to their laws, their bigotry, or their unreasonable goddamned demands because of their profound lack of respect for the blood my family has spilled for this country.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I solemnly swear on my life and magic to never lie about the use or knowledge of the Deathly Hallows, so mote it be.” The room stilled around him as magic flashed over his skin. “I didn’t become the Master of Death. I was born the Master of Death. I didn’t steal the Deathly Hallows—they came to me because they belong to me. They’ve always belonged to me.

“There are not three Deathly Hallows, there are four.” He stood and as the Cloak of Invisibility flowed out of his bracelet. He let it pile a shimmer of magic on the table in front of him then lifted a shimmering mithril chain over his neck. The Resurrection Stone hung on it in a delicate mithril cage. Finally, he allowed the Elder Wand to leave his bracelet and appear in his hand.

“And the fourth?” Ito questioned quietly.

“I am the fourth Deathly Hallow,” Harry said coolly. “The Spectre. I was born the Spectre. It is not a state that any single one of you can take from me or obtain outside of the will of the God of Death. No one in this room can touch the Hallows without my permission. They will not work for you—they won’t work for anyone but me as long as I live.”

“How long will you live?” Diggle demanded hoarsely.

“As long as the God of Death wills it—just like you. Not a single one of us is exempt from the soul cycle. We are all—the light, grey and dark—subject to the judgment of Hekate. You will all be made to answer for the choices you make, the bigotry you’ve allowed to nest in your hearts, and the blasphemy you wallow in.

“In the eyes of Hekate, all magical creatures are equal. Human magicals are not superior to anyone and all of you live by her grace and you should kneel for her favor. Most of you exist in a state of genuine atrocity, and it has not gone unnoticed.” His gaze settled on Dumbledore and found the elderly wizard glaring at him furiously. “You’ve never fooled me, Dumbledore. I’ve seen the whole of you since I was eleven years old, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

The cloak flowed into his bracelet with no intent on his part, the wand followed, and his father appeared in a sweep of magic. Thanatos picked up the necklace and lowered the chain over Harry’s head in silence. For the first time in a very long time, his father stood full in his power—aura drifting around him in a horrific display that made it clear he was a celestial.

“I am Death,” Thanatos said and his voice resonated in the room. “I’ve known many names since my manifestation. I do not require your worship—none of us do. But you all exist because of Hekate, remember that and understand the only mercy any of you will ever know is a gift from her.”

He turned to stare at Dumbledore. “The Elder Wand never belonged to you. It tolerated your possession because I allowed it—just as it did all the dark bastards who came before you. It won’t be allowed ever again. You seem to think that the Master of Death would control me, and you’re a fool for that belief. The Master of Death is my hand on his plane. He controls the flow of death magic—it is his duty and his birthright. You cannot change these circumstances, Dumbledore.”

Thanatos looked around the room—taking in the fear most couldn’t keep to themselves. “Were you living just and moral lives, not a single one of you would have a reason to fear me.”

He faded then with a dark wave magic and the press of the shroud slowly lifted. Those who had been too overwhelmed emotionally to even notice it stumbled under the loss of magical weight.

“Does anyone have any other questions for Master Potter?” Hiro Ito questioned. “Mr. Diggle?”

“How are we supposed to trust him after this?” Diggle questioned. “He could make the corruption worse.”

Ito stared. “You’re aware, of course, that operatives of the Magical Protectorate are oathbound to protect magic—from all threats. The corruption in Britain has put us all at risk, which is why the blockade has already been constructed. It would already be active if Master Potter hadn’t agreed to come here and investigate a method of correction.”

“Yes, but….” Diggle shook his head. “He is the crime against magic.”

“I genuinely hope your ignorance isn’t contagious,” Ito said and several people in the room laughed. “Do you simply not understand the fact that Master Potter’s magical circumstances were actually manifested by Hekate herself? Do you think he would exist—gifted from birth—if it were to be considered a crime against her?”

“We can’t allow him to remain here,” Diggle said. “Not anywhere on this planet—Harry Potter should be made to die like he was meant to as a child.”

“Made to die,” Ito repeated. “Is Britain advocating for the murder of a man who is caused no harm to the innocent? He’s not been tried and convicted of a single crime locally or internationally.”

“Not murder,” Diggle protested. “But a lawful and necessary execution.”

Tyr Warhide stood. “Master Ito.”

“You have the floor, Master Warhide,” Ito said.

“As Master Potter’s solicitor of record, I will be seeking to see the British Ministry of Magic sanctioned by the World Court of Magic for conspiracy to commit murder. I reserve the right to levy further charges based on a thorough investigation which must be conducted by the Magical Protectorate.

“Due to the circumstances, and the moral bankruptcy of the British Ministry of the Magic I must declare on behalf of His Majesty, Ragnok II, the retreat of the royal seat of the Horde from Britain to take place over the next twelve months unless the entirety of the current administration is replaced in a fair election process to be overseen by the International Confederacy of Wizards. Let it be known and understood that the Horde will never stand with those who would defy the will of Hekate, the Goddess of Magic.”

Ito nodded, made several notes in the oppressive silence that followed then focused on Harry. “Master Potter?”

“Mr. Diggle is insane,” Harry said and magic of the room shifted. “I would wager that every magical person over the age of seventy in Britain is. They’ve been entrenched in the corrupted death magic that Tom Riddle created since 1943 when he created his first horcrux at Hogwarts with the murder of Myrtle Warren. I’m not sure they can be helped and I’m not sure they’ll survive the corrective magic being designed to fix the problem.

“I believe they’ve also come to realize they won’t survive and that’s why they’ve been trying to gain control of both me and the project. At the end of the day, they’d rather drown in the taint than allow everyone else to be saved. It seems that Dumbledore’s much touted greater good is only for certain people.”