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Power Plays Chapter 42
🕑 Added 2024-09-04 15:59:00 +0000 UTCTension filled the air outside of the French Minister of Magic’s office as Harry remained seated with a pair of Hit Wizards flanking him. They were both stood stock straight and staring straight ahead, but Harry knew that their focus was entirely on him. It felt like he was a prisoner. The Minister’s secretary continued on with her work at her desk, either politely ignoring the uncomfortable atmosphere or simply used to seeing it by now.
The faint shouting coming from within the Minister’s office didn’t help matters either. It was telling that she didn’t bother with a silencing charm. She wanted Harry to hear just how cross she was with Sebastian. Regardless of the fact that Elwyn hadn’t been one of his Aurors, the matter remained that Elwyn had been right beneath Sebastian’s nose the whole time he’d been in France. Even if Elwyn hadn’t given away a single hint as to where his true allegiances lay, it was still a bad look for a government that was already losing the support of its people.
It felt like a year ago all over again when the Death Eaters had resurfaced in Britain. The political turmoil from that time had only continued to grow on the island, even if the public wasn’t hounding the government anymore. To a degree, he could sympathise with Minister Liliane Roche. She was going to see fallout from this entire mess, and it wasn’t her fault.
Harry let out a frustrated sigh, and the simple action of slightly shifting in his seat was enough to make one of the Hit Wizards draw his wand. It irked Harry like he was being treated like an accessory to Elwyn’s attack. He was the man who killed Voldemort!
With a raised eyebrow, Harry stared up at the man. “You’ll have to be faster than that if you want to try to stop me from taking you down.”
The man stiffened in place and eyed Harry much more warily now. Harry knew that he shouldn’t have said that, especially when tensions were so high, but it had felt good to do so.
Suddenly, the voice shouting within the Minister’s office went silent. A moment later, the door opened, and Sebastian walked out of the room with his head held high. Even so, that didn’t do anything to help remedy the grave look on his face.
Minister Liliane Roche stood in the doorway, watching Sebastian walk towards Harry. Her steely-cold eyes flickered over to Harry’s for a moment before she turned sharply on her heels and slammed the door closed behind her.
“I take it your meeting went well,” Harry said to Sebastian sardonically.
“You could say that,” Sebastian sighed, ignoring the two Hit Wizards beside Harry. “I haven’t been chastised that badly since I was a young boy when I stole my father’s wand and ventured into the muggle side of Paris to wreak a little havoc.”
“I guess I know where Gabrielle gets her trouble-making streak from,” Harry snorted.
“You could say that again,” Sebastian said. “Look, Harry, we appreciate all the work you’ve done for us here, but things are getting… complicated.”
Harry knew exactly where this conversation was going. “How long do we have to pack up and leave?”
“Within the hour were the words used,” Sebastian told him, a tinge of frustration and sadness leaking into his voice. “I believe that the Minister will be sending an envoy to discuss the terms of our joint arrangement with your Minister in the coming days.”
“And the Death Eaters will continue to roam around France,” Harry grimaced.
“Not for long,” Sebastian replied, although he didn’t sound happy about it. “The Minister has ordered a full-scale assault on all known Death Eater safe houses and other locations. We’re to press on with our full might, take down any wards and traps within, and then capture as many Death Eaters as possible.”
“And what of the Death Eaters who escape?” Harry asked.
“They’ll regroup and cause problems in the future,” Sebastian answered.
Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek. This wasn’t good. This was a bold-headed play that might lead to short-term success, but unless they managed to take down Cyrus and Emile, the two heads of the Death Eaters, then they would always remain a looming threat.
“What’s happening with Elwyn?” Harry asked Sebastian. “He’s still a British citizen.”
“The Minister won’t let him go,” Sebastian informed him. “He’s caused too many headaches for her not to make a big show out of this. She needs to keep him around to give the public a target to focus their ire on, otherwise she’ll be the one they go after. She’s already planning on working out a deal with your government so that they won’t attempt to extradite him or take this matter to the International Confederation of Wizards.”
“That’ll be a hard sell for Kingsley,” Harry replied. “He’s already having enough trouble at home as it is. If the Wizengamot finds out that he’s letting another government prosecute one of our Aurors…”
“That’s for the politicians to sort out, not us,” Sebastian said.
Harry wished that it was true, but he knew quite well that Head Aurors were not free from politics. The fact that Elwyn was one of Harry’s subordinates would come back to bite him in the arse. The Wizengamot would call him in for questioning, and the press were likely to have a field day once the story reached them. Harry knew that he had to get ahead of this now. Perhaps Rita could accidentally catch him in Diagon Alley and get a few favourable quotes from him.
“Well then,” Harry said as he slowly stood up. “I should get back down there and help everyone pack up.”
“You won’t be going back there,” Sebastian said with a pained tone. “I’m to escort you to a private room where a portkey is ready to take you back to Britain.”
“You’re not going to curse me in the back, are you?” Harry chuckled.
The joke fell flat. Sebastian was clearly dealing with too much stress to offer more than a weak chuckle that lasted a fraction of a second. He gestured to the door ahead of them and started ahead, knowing that Harry would follow close behind.
Both Hit Wizards trailed close behind Harry as they navigated through a series of interconnecting corridors. They didn’t go far before reaching a series of rooms, likely used for important diplomats or senior members of the Ministry to travel to and from.
Sebastian opened the door, revealing nothing more than a table, a burning candle, and a simple wide-brimmed hat sitting inside.
“The hat will activate the moment you touch it,” Sebastian informed Harry.
Harry turned to face the older man whom he’d stood beside for these past several weeks. “It was a pleasure working with you,” he said as he offered him his hand.
“As it was with you,” Sebastian replied as he grasped Harry’s hand in a firm grip. “I just wish that it’d finished with a better outcome.”
“Keep me posted on whatever you can,” Harry said as he shook his hand.
“I will,” Sebastian promised. “Though, I imagine that Gabrielle will beat me to the punch. She’s taken quite the shine to you.”
Harry smiled. “Yes, she has.”
With that, their hands parted, and Harry stepped inside the room. Sebastian and the two Hit Wizards watched as he crossed over to the table and reached out to touch the hat.
“Sebastian,” Harry said suddenly. “Help will always be found if you only ask for it.”
Before he could hear a reply, Harry grabbed the hat and was whisked away.
The swirling colours that enveloped him forced Harry’s eyes shut, and the moment he opened them back up was when his feet landed down smoothly in the British Ministry of Magic. He was down in the very same room they’d used when they were preparing for the attack on Rowle Manor. The leak must have been Elwyn back then too, Harry surmised.
He considered going into the Auror Office to check in on Tonks, or perhaps up to the Minister’s Office to see Kingsley, but right now, all he wanted was a bit of comfort. He was frustrated with the way things had ended up. Elwyn’s betrayal was going to have a ripple effect that would cause issues with the Aurors here, and Harry was going to have to be the one to shield them from it the best he could. He needed to get his head on straight before then.
With a turn of his heels, Harry apparated away.
He landed back inside of Greengrass Manor. The second that he did, Hobsy popped into view just a few feet away. Her cheeks were dusted with flour, as was the oversized green apron.
“Lord Potter!” Hobsy exclaimed in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Weren’t you scheduled to remain in France for another week?”
“Things happened,” Harry grimaced. “Is Daphne around? Or is she at the Ministry.”
“Neither,” Hobsy shook her head as her ears drooped low. “She’s at St Mungo’s. Lady Astoria…”
Harry sucked in a deep breath. “Is she dead?”
“No,” Hobsy answered, looking heart-broken over whatever Astoria was having to deal with. “But she collapsed in the hospital. She keeps subconsciously using up all of her magic to protect the baby growing inside of her belly from the blood curse, and it was just too much this time.”
“When did it happen?” Harry asked quickly.
“We received word just over an hour ago,” Hobsy told him.
Harry turned on his heels again and landed right inside of St Mungo’s waiting area. It was just as it was the last time he was here, and he remembered the route up to Astoria’s room well. He ignored the surprised sounds of patience and staff at seeing him and hurried straight to the lift, which he took up to the fourth floor.
By the time he reached Astoria’s room, Harry was already dreading the worst. Daphne, Draco, and Anastasia were sitting at Astoria’s bedside, holding her limp hands in theirs.
He walked in silently, placing a comforting hand on Daphne’s shoulder. Despite the fact that she didn’t look up to see him, she clearly knew who was standing behind her. He didn’t know if the gesture was appreciated or not, but at least it was something.
There was nothing more that he could do besides conjure a chair next to Daphne and sit beside her and wait. His troubles could be dealt with later.
For days, Harry sat at Astoria’s bedside. Daphne was there more often than not, but her duties to the Wizengamot were unavoidable. She was too important a member to excuse herself from crucial debates and votes on legislation that would affect so many lives. Harry could see how much it hurt her to have to leave her sister’s side, but she felt better about it knowing that Harry and Draco would be there day and night. Anastasia was still too ill and weak to do more than briefly visit when she could.
A letter had arrived the day of Harry’s return to Britain from the Minister. Kingsley had somehow been apprised of Astoria’s situation and decided that the best thing to do would be to let Harry take a week off to be there for his family. There were allusions to the fact that his time away from the Ministry would help Kingsley smooth things over with the French government over what had happened in France, but Harry had already surmised as much with the generous amount of time off.
There hadn’t been any letters from Sebastian, but Gabrielle and Fleur had both written to him. Gabrielle emphatically expressed her exasperation with Minister Liliane and the troubles she was causing her dad, as well as her deep desire to see Harry again soon. Fleur’s letters mirrored much of the latter part of Gabrielle’s letters, along with a lovely magical photograph of her in bed. Sadly, Harry’s mind and heart were focused on other things instead.
Astoria’s baby was okay, thankfully. Andromeda assured both him and Daphne of that fact, but she was stuck in a coma. Andromeda explained it as her magic’s way of trying to recover its power and to prevent the blood curse from doing any more damage in the meantime. She was bound to recover, but the next attack from the curse was likely to be worse than this one.
Draco looked almost as bad as he had back in their sixth year at Hogwarts. His face was unnaturally pale, and he was barely able to stomach any food. He was emotionally distant, even when Daphne tried to talk to him. All he did was hold Astoria’s hand and stare at her angelic face, hoping she’d wake. He’d only left Astoria’s side for brief periods of time whenever Narcissa or Harry forced him to take a break.
It was an absolute mess of a situation, and one that none of them wished to be dealing with. To know that the birth of your child could mean the death of your partner was something that Harry hoped that he’d never have to go through.
There was, perhaps, a brief bright moment on the weekend when everyone came by to visit. Narcissa, Delphini, Tonks, Teddy, Anastasia, and Andromeda all came to join Harry, Daphne, and Draco at St Mungo’s.
Everything had been fine at first. They’d sat around on conjured sofas and chairs. The kids were off in the corner, playing around with some toys under Andromeda’s watchful supervision. Narcissa was quietly comforting Draco while Anastasia did the same for Daphne, and Harry was out in the corridor with Tonks where they wouldn’t disturb anyone about their talk about the goings on in the Auror Department under her watch. But then Harry sensed something. A prickle on the back of his neck. A strange taste in the air. His blood pumping through his veins.
At first, he’d been confused. Glancing around for any sign of danger. None came. At least, none that he could detect. There were only healers, medi-witches, and medi-wizards roaming the halls. Occasionally, a patient or a family member of a patient would pass by, but none of them seemed to be up to anything suspicious.
“Is everything okay?” Tonks asked him concernedly, picking up on his searching gaze.
“I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly. Everything seemed fine, but his mind was screaming at him that something was wrong. Had he seen something that his subconscious had detected? If so, he needed to be closer to his family. “Let’s go back inside.”
As soon as he stepped inside, Harry scanned the room for any threat. Using his wand as subtly as he could, he cast the Revelio Charm to try to discern if there was something or someone secretly lurking about, but nothing came into view.
“—wake up in a week, we hope,” Narcissa murmured softly to Draco, but her eyes glanced up at Harry’s. She saw something in them that made her lips turn sour.
Harry gave a slight shake of his head to tell her that everything was fine, but that wasn’t enough to assuage her. She gave her son a brief hug before standing up and navigating over towards Harry.
“You’re in Auror mode,” she pointed out, whispering to him. “What is it?”
He wished he could tell her.
“Something, I—”
“Excuse me, everyone,” a high-pitched voice spoke out from the doorway. Harry recognised the motherly-looking woman there as Healer Strout, the woman in charge of many long-term patients like Neville Longbottom’s parents and Daphne’s best friend, Tracey Davis. “I need to clear the room so I can check up on the magical instruments in here.”
It was a routine thing, something Harry had seen done twice already in his stay here. His eyes found Andromeda, and she didn’t seem to think that anything was out of the ordinary. She was already ushering Teddy and Delphini out of the room.
So why did he feel like something was wrong?
Harry stayed back, letting everyone else leave ahead of him. They crammed out into the corridor and started down towards one of the waiting areas so that they wouldn’t be in the way. Harry stepped out into the corridor after them and grabbed Narcissa’s wrist, holding her back for a moment.
“Buy me time,” he murmured to her before he turned back around to Healer Strout. She was in the process of closing the door behind her into Astoria’s room, but Harry stuck his foot in the doorway to stop it from happening. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine dear,” Healer Strout replied with a pleasant smile, but Harry’s careful eyes could see just how forced it was. “If you’ll just move your foot, I can get on with my work.”
Instead of that, Harry pushed his way inside of the room and closed the door behind him. Healer Strout staggered backwards, nearly falling back onto Astoria’s bed.
“What are you—”
“What does Alice Longbottom give her son every time he visits?” Harry asked as he drew his wand.
“Mr Potter, sir, this is highly unusual,” Healer Strout stammered, taking a step back away from him. “You need to put your wand away or I’ll be forced to call for security.”
“Answer the question,” Harry demanded.
Suddenly, Healer Strout’s eyes caught the light shining in from the window, and Harry realised exactly why he’d felt like something was wrong. He’d seen these eyes several times before. He’d been hunting for them for a very long time.
“Revelio,” Harry said with a wave of his wand.
The imperfect human transfiguration reverted, and Healer Strout shifted from a woman into a man.
“Hello, Cyrus,” Harry growled dangerously as he shifted into a duelling stance.
The tired, sad, broken man raised his hands in surrender. “Please, just hear me out.”
“On what?” Harry asked him.
“My daughter, Astoria,” Cyrus said seriously. “I know how to cure her.”
Comments
Cody
Damn I certainly didn't expect that. Cyrus vanished in part one of the story and now here he is claiming to have a cure for Astoria. He better or Harry is going to tear him apart.
jp9901
He better have a cure or we killing him!
