Chapter 3: The Dark King
London, England
The wizarding world had changed a lot in ten years. The big thing was that Voldemort was dead. And his death had been a big public spectacle in which Harry Potter had literally turned him into dust. It was a bit awe inspiring really. The day had become a national holiday, The King's Day. Much like Halloween was also called The Boy Who Lived Day, since renamed James and Lily Potter day.
Of course, Harry could care less about the holiday other than it allowed him a day off from work. Though, when you were declared king of magical Britain you had no days off.
And he liked being busy. Reshaping the wizarding government had taken a lot of time, especially since he had to play nice with the light and dark alike, but have neither one of them knowing he couldn't stand the other.
At first he was a little opposed to the position. He had to be. The modern world didn't like monarchies, but the ministry was in shambles and to be honest no one wanted to reform what they had with the past couple of asses they had as ministers. He had considered running, but no one wanted to revive the ministry and they all wanted him to rule sans election.
They saw the defeat of Voldemort as some sort of divine event that meant he was meant to rule or whatever.
So there he was, ruling as king. It was a bit weird to say the least considering he had been born the lowest of the low—well, in his original life. He had been by all accounts the village idiot with the wife who abandoned him after he had crippled himself. Of course, that was before he became the Dark One and became the scourge of the Enchanted Forest and then being born the wizarding world's hero who grew up in a glorified broom closet. He guessed that made enough sense the hero-becoming the king, but honestly in a way he still would've preferred being minister.
At least this way, he didn't have to deal with pesky elections and he got to appoint his own underlings.
That was a plus.
He still felt weird though being called his majesty and all that shit. He halfway expected Regina to pop up when he heard that.
"Did you hear what I said about the Reform on Education Act, Harry?" Hermione asked.
She was his key advisor and the only one who didn't refer to his as his majesty.
"Sorry, wasn't paying that much attention." He said. "It is after the day after King's Day."
"And Emma's birthday." She snapped. "I sent the flowers by the way, like every year. And again, I will say that you should write to her or something."
He shrugged. "It won't do any good."
"It's been ten years, Harry." She said, "We know it won't do any good. But you could try or something. I still couldn't believe you let her go."
He couldn't believe he let her go either.
But he had too. He saw how broken she was, and it wasn't like he was going to get anywhere with her as Ford Gold. She wasn't ready for another relationship, let alone with someone years older. And he wasn't sure he'd like to be in a relationship with her, if she didn't know. There was just something wrong about that. Besides, he had to kill Voldemort. He hadn't collected all the soul pieces at that point and he didn't want Emma getting messed up in the magical world especially in the state she was.
But God knows, he regretted his decision.
He knew eventually she would break the curse, it was just a matter of time but it was hard waiting for her to find Storybrooke to tell him that magic was real. As of right now she was in Boston working as an ADA and seemed quite happy. At least that's what she said in the Christmas card she received from her.
He sighed heavily. "She wanted to leave, I couldn't keep her there against her will. You know that."
Hermione nodded. "I remember, believe me."
"Now, tell me about some of those reforms. I hope that they got the muggle studies part right this time. I know that the purebloods are against it, but a computer literacy class should be necessary. So they know what Google is and how to find their way around London without using a 'Point Me' charm and exposing us to the rest of the world."
She shook her head. "This conversation isn't over. I can't stand you being miserable."
"And you're not?" He asked.
"I'm hardly miserable."
"But you're just as single and childless as I am, dearie."
"No, you're not single and you had children. " She said. "You are still technically married. And apparently one of Britain's most eligible bachelors."
"Only because I'm king."
She rolled her eyes. "Sure, Harry. Really, look in the mirror lately? Seriously, I wish you'd do something even if it is to move on."
"Can't very well be a bigamist, dearie."
That was Rumple's excuse for everything, that he was still technically married. It shut up Hermione pretty fast. He supposed he could get his marriage to Emma annulled if he wanted too—he was king after all. But he hadn't. He even still had his wedding band.
Though he didn't wear it, way too many questions.
He had Emma's ring too. He had managed to pilfer it from Bellatrix of all people, who had found it after attacking Emma on the street.
He shook his head at the thought of the crazy witch, who now sent him love letters from her jail cell every month praising how she had destroyed the Dark Lord and. Apparently, Bella hadn't been a rabid Voldemort follower. Just a rabid fan of dark magic. If only she knew he was the Dark One then she'd truly salivate over him.
Turning Voldemort into a pile of ashes with one wave of the hand pretty much did that. Though it was really not difficult, considering he was the Dark One and Voldemort was only a figment of what he once was and a fragment of a pathetic dark lord was a lot easier to kill than a full version of a pathetic dark lord especially for the Dark One.
Hermione shook her head at him, "I'll never get used to this, you know. I know you do a good job and all, but seriously I can't believe they wanted a monarchy of all things."
"Don't knock it, you're a member of the nobility now." He said. "It's better than what they had. Besides, I think it's kind of nice in a nostalgic way that they decided to go back in time. It makes my job a lot easier."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, you haven't been the worst that's for sure."
He smirked. "I've seen plenty of horrible royals in my day to know what not to do. "
She nodded her head bemused.
They were still close. She was actually the closest person to him; no one ever called her a mudblood now that was for sure. Not since she was now titled a duchess.
It was odd how nonchalant he was with her past with her these days. Of course, there were some things he still didn't tell her, but her version of light and dark magic had changed quite a bit in the past decade. He guessed it helped that he was the Dark One, and she realized that not all-dark magic equaled Voldemort.
"I still can't believe some of those stories." She said, "Like the king who was willing to buy a baby from you. Well, I still can't get you sold babies."
"It was different in that world," He said. "And they knew what they were getting into."
"I know as much," She said. "I've lived with your back story for ten years, Harry, I'm not judging."
"I know." He said. "George wasn't the worst one though, that would be Regina."
His lip inwardly curled as he thought about his former student, the one who tried to murder him. Well, did murder him in a sense. Though, she didn't know he rose from the ashes like a phoenix. He smirked as he looked at the symbol that was engraved in his throne room a phoenix picking up a snake—basilisk to be precise. It was supposed to represent him killing Voldemort. Though, personally Rumple had no beef with snakes.
Unless their names were Tom, Snape, or Draco.
Or any other death eater that had been responsible for Bae's death.
There were lots.
Most had been killed during the war, but a few survived. Bellatrix was one of them. He had let her live, only because she had pledged loyalty to him at the end of the war and she still had her uses.
Insane, yes, but powerful. And someone he knew wouldn't betray him since her pledge of loyalty involved her heart.
That was the only way they lived, they had to give them their hearts. He didn't trust any of them. Most of them of course didn't take the offer, but Bellatrix had found the mere request to be fascinating.
She was like a more insane version of Cora, Rumple thought. He was glad he had already been through his insane brunette stage. Not that he would ever sleep with Bellatrix she had killed his godfather/son's best friend.
But she was still useful.
"I still can't believe she's out there," Hermione said.
"Who, Regina?" Harry said. "Honestly, I don't think of her often."
"But she killed you, Harry." Hermione said. "Doesn't that concern you?"
"No," He said. "She has no power in this realm."
At least in that self contained prison she lived in. Her magic was cut off as long as the curse was enacted. It didn't mean she could have burst of power, but Storybrooke was a prison of sorts for the woman. A consequence for such dark magic. He knew that one day he'd have to face her, he was going to have to get his hands on that potion, but he couldn't do anything about it right now. He wasn't destined to find Storybrooke.
That much he knew.
Emma had to find it first. He knew the time was coming too. She had just turned twenty-eight. That was the age that he foresaw her coming into town so it would be within the next year or so, at least that's what he told himself. But sometimes prophecies were wrong.
"But she killed you." Hermione said.
"She didn't." He said, "I'm here and you know that. Nothing can kill me."
But the dagger, which he had no idea where it was or if it was even brought over. He figured it probably was since he was keyed to the curse, but he had no idea where it was and in a way it was better that way.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I still don't like the fact she's out there, Harry. That woman sounds dangerous."
"Well, it's partially my fault, dearie." Harry said. "I do feel bad I taught her how to pull out a heart. I didn't think she'd do that to yours truly."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't trust anyone enough to teach them that. I mean, I get why you like to do it, Harry, you are the Dark One. It's not like you had much of a choice. But God—the heart pulling thing is just creepy and gross."
"There's always a choice, Hermione. You know how I became cursed."
"I know," She said. "And it was a pretty noble reason all kidding aside."
"It still involved murder."
While she might've accepted who he was, it still was a little difficult to admit that he had done some horrible things in the past and still did horrible things. She saw as much during the war, especially when they had come back to Boston. He even taught her how to pull out a heart. Unlike Cora and Regina, she hadn't exactly been fascinated by the process, it had been more or less a survival mechanism for if she ever lost a wand.
And she did end up taking a heart—once—and it had been all but too much for her, which was a shame really since save for the heart pulling she really was a better sorceress than Regina.
The one thing about his and Hermione's relationship that had really worked well the past ten years was that they were really good about changing the subject. If something got awkward they could always talk about something seemingly boring. Ever since he got his memories of his old life, he wasn't bored anymore talking about Hogwarts a History or some complex facet of magical theory, or now reforming magical education which both deemed inadequate—and since he was the king, well, the board had to listen to him.
All hail the monarchy.
Besides, the work had him forget about his wreck of a personal life.
"I do like the inclusion of the Computer Literacy classes you're proposing," His best mate said. "But don't you think you should include a keyboard class as well? Purebloods have no typing skills whatsoever."
"Yes, but most muggleborns are glued to their laptops as soon as their halfway cognitively aware it wouldn't be fair—"
His phone started ringing with the ringtone he set for Emma. "I have to take this."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I thought."
He shook his head. "This is important, go over an alternative for muggleborns. Maybe have them attend an introduction to magical culture class or something. I'll be right back."
He went into the other room quickly shifting into Ford Gold form as he answered the form. "Yes, love."
"Gold," Emma said. "It's been awhile."
"Yes, I haven't talked to you since I called to congratulate you about the Boston job. I've heard good things by the way. And remember what I said to call me."
She groaned. "I'm sorry, Ford, it's been awhile. Like you said, years. I got the flowers by the way."
"Oh, did you? I'm glad. I hope they were lovely."
"They were. You know white tulips are my favorite."
"That's not why you're calling though, is it? You usually send a card."
He knew that for a fact. He had the cards from all the previous birthdays he had sent the bouquets to her. He had the Christmas cards too, the graduation announcements—he did attend both ceremonies. He kept his distance though; he knew that was what he wanted even though it killed him. He wanted to hug her and kiss her, tell her how proud of her he was and how wonderful her speech was.
She sighed. "Something came up. I—"
"What is it?" He asked. "Are you in trouble?"
"No, it's not me." She said, "Well, not yet anyways."
"What's going on?" He said.
"I shouldn't have called." She said, "This was a bad idea anyway. I don' t think you can help me."
"Try me," He said. "Remember I am a miracle worker. Whose ass do I need to kick in Boston?"
"I'm actually, uh, not in Boston. I'm in a small town in Maine. One where I think you have an office in actually."
"Storybrooke?" He said as the city's location came into his mind—so she was there. Really there. He could get there now. Somehow she broke the barrier. He had to ask, "What are you doing there?"
"That's sort of what I want to talk with you about." She said, "I don't think it's something we should talk about over the phone. It's a complicated matter. I know you're in London, but I was wondering if there was an associate or someone at the office I could talk to who could—"
"No, you're getting the real thing." He said. "I'm actually in Boston. I can be there in a couple of hours if need be."
"I'd like for this meeting to be discreet," Emma said. "I heard from a little birdie that you haven't been in the town in years."
"Decades, love. It's not my favorite place."
"Yet, you apparently own it."
"Do I?" He said, "I forget how small that place is. But I don't exactly get along with the mayor there."
"Good," Emma said. "That's who I want to talk to you about. I think it might be best if I meet you back in Boston. I need to pick some things up at the brownstone anyway."
"Okay then," He said. "Emma."
"Yes?"
"Watch out for Regina, she's dangerous."
"I know," She said. "I'll meet you at noon."
Hermione came in the room after she hung up.
"Let me guess that was Emma."
Harry rolled his eyes shifting back to his every day form. "Obviously. She's the only phone contact Ford Gold cares to answer for."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "So, what did she say?"
"She found the town," He said. "I should've known. She just had her birthday."
"That means you know its location now, right?" Hermione said. "I mean, once the Savior found the location the barrier should break, correct?"
He frowned. "Yeah, I should be able to find it. Hermione, she wants to meet."
"Does she know?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I know you said that the only way she could remember was true love's kiss or that potion but—"
He shook her head. "I think she had a run in with Regina, whatever happened. Well, it wasn't good. Clear my schedule for the evening. Tell the royal subjects that I can't simply be bothered. Or better yet, tell them I decided to go on vacation. I'm a bit over due for one, don't you think?"
She nodded. "I'll work on that alternative proposal for the muggleborns too."
"Perfect," He said before poofing to Boston.
He had never been to Emma's brownstone, but had seen plenty of pictures of it. She had sent him some when she was looking for places asking his opinion. It was odd how much and how little he had become a part of her life over the past decade. Emails, letters that sort of things were on a fairly regular basis. But actually meeting with her, he hadn't seen her since she graduated from law school.
Which was why a part of him was so stunned by the woman who answered the door. It was his Emma, but a grown up polished version of Emma. She might've not been dressed to go to court, but it showed in the way she carried herself with much more confidence.
"Some things never change," She said when saw him. "You look good, Ford."
He rolled his eyes. "I look older you mean."
She laughed motioning him to come in. He noticed that there were some moving cartons.
"Oh, don't tell me you're moving to that desolate little town." He said.
She sighed heavily. "It's a temporary thing, something came up. And that's sort of why I asked you to come here."
"And to think I thought you missed my dazzling personality," He said.
She shook her head at him. "No, but it is good to see you again. How is London treating you? Hopefully, you're not overwhelmed."
That was an understatement. He was always busy. That tended to happen when you were the ruler of a monarchy. Albeit, he had things more under control than most people.
"Okay," She said. "Obviously, not."
"I'm always busy, love." He said, "It's always ironic when people ask me if I'm not busy."
She shrugged, "How's Hermione?"
"She's good. But you didn't bring me here to talk small talk, did you?"
"I'd rather we have pleasantries first, maybe enjoy a nice lunch." Emma said, "This is going to be a bit of a headache. And, well, I don't know if you can help me much."
"I doubt that," He said. "I have proven to you time after time that I'm a miracle worker."
"Gold—Ford." She said before adding, "I'm getting better, see?"
He shook his head. "At least I didn't need to remind you this time. I prefer to rip the bandage off of things. No need to prolong the inevitable. We're both officers of the court, you and I both know for me to help you you're going to have to reveal all the nitty gritty. I'm guessing this is about Regina?"
"In part," She said. "If we're not doing lunch, I'm getting out the scotch."
"Oh, Emma. Please."
"It's not for you, it's for me." She said, "I need it. I—what I'm going tell you, Ford, it's not easy. I've only told one person about this in the past ten years, and it was only because I was paying her to help me deal with this shit."
He raised an eyebrow. "Let's get you something to drink then."
She nodded as she led him to the living area. "I left a bottle out. Honestly, I don't want to get rid of this place, but its sort of a necessity that I'm in Storybrooke for a bit."
"What about your job?" He asked.
"I resigned." She said. "I mean, I'm licensed in Maine as well as Massachusetts, but I can't very well take any cases while I'm working for the city of Boston, and I'm going to be in Storybrooke for awhile for reasons I'm about to tell for you."
"Do you need a job?" He asked, "I have an office there?"
"How generous of you to ask," She said. "I think I might."
"Then you're hired, consider yourself the managing partner of the Storybrooke branch." He said not even blinking an eye.
"That's very kind of you, but it's not why I asked you to come though." She said as she poured them glasses of the liquor. "Um, you remember how broken I was when you found me."
"I wouldn't say broken," He said even though he knew that was what she was.
"I was broken, Ford." She said. "I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I was barely functional. Surely, you noticed that."
He sighed heavily. "I did. Why do you think I suggested Dr. Crane's name to you?"
"And you don't know how thankful I am for that," Emma said. "I am so thankful for you. I wouldn't have lived, I don't think much longer in that cell. Especially with Lena Green."
Harry frowned as he thought of Emma's old cellmate who had beaten her and gave her a botched prison tattoo as some initiation for some warped prison gang. He had filed a complaint against the woman and the prison. The woman was already locked up for life, so really all his complaint did was limit her privileges. He wished he would've allowed his rage to take over and crumple her heart to dust. But at the time, Lena Green was the least of their troubles.
"I was just doing my job, love." He said, "Cases like yours appall me."
"And me," Emma said. "You know that's why I wanted to work for the state to make sure that innocent people weren't prosecuted. But there's more to my story than I told you."
He took a sip of scotch as he looked at her, he noticed her hands trembling. "Whenever your ready. You don't have to tell me today if you're not ready."
"I'll never be ready," Emma said. "Remember, I told you I wasn't sure if I killed Ralph."
"You didn't though. Love, you're not a murderer."
She shook her head. "I know that, but I could've killed him. I blocked out a lot, Ford. And when I figured out what Ralph did to me, all I felt was rage. All I wanted to do was take that same knife Diana did and use it on him."
"Love, what are you—"
She took a sip of scotch before crying out. "He raped me. God, I can't believe I said it. He raped me and got me pregnant, and I didn't even know it until I was in jail. I didn't know he touched me; I must have been asleep and didn't realize it. It makes me sick every day. Not knowing that he violated me, until I found out that I was having his baby. I was almost through my first trimester when I found out."
Harry didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell her that the baby wasn't Ralph Miller's. That he was one hundred percent sure of it, that she had managed to leave that house before he put one finger on her. That he was the one who took her virginity, who gave her their baby. But he couldn't. How could he tell her the truth, when she had no recollection of him? And if he did, she wouldn't believe him. He could tell that she had kept this information for years, and there was obviously a reason. And the baby—why, didn't she tell him about the baby earlier?
"Emma."
She shook her head. "Let me talk, Ford. Please, I don't know—I don't know if I can talk about this again."
"You want to take another sip before you explain things further?" He said trying to be as calm and collected as possible and feeling like an utter failure.
She nodded as he poured her a bit more liquor.
"I had the child. I know, I didn't tell you about him, but I had him. I named him James. Jaime. I—I didn't know what I wanted. A part of me wanted him, but in the end I didn't have a choice and maybe that was better. By the time you came, I didn't want to fight it anymore. He was gone. He had a better home, or at least that's what I convinced myself. Besides, I didn't think you could've gotten him back.
"I could've." He heard himself saying because he would've done anything to get his child back. After losing Bae, after—no, he hadn't lost Jaime.
She shook her head. "It didn't matter back then. I wouldn't have been able to raise him. I made peace with my decision eventually. Dr. Crane helped me too. I did try to look what happened to him later on, but the records were sealed. My hands were tied and I took that as a sign to let go."
She laughed bitterly taking another drink. "I should've fought holder. He ran away from home the other day, and I know why that woman. She's unfit."
Harry looked at her and dreading the knots in his stomach. "What woman?"
"Regina Mills." Emma said, "She adopted Jaime. Or Henry as she calls him. Jaime hates that name though, apparently he likes the name HJ."
"HJ?"
Oh, the irony. He and his son shared the same initials, at least in this world.
"I think he thinks it's easier for me to say because, well, I have no right to call him Jaime. I gave him up."
"He was taken from you," Harry said. "It's a big difference from giving him up. You had no choice."
"But once I was released—"
He shook his head. It wasn't her fault. As much as he wanted to blame this on someone and vindictive part of him did, the more logical and compassionate part of him realized what her state of mind was back then. He didn't blame her. She didn't know that their child was made from love and that they had plans for raising him. "No, love, you were broken. You didn't have anyone."
But you have me, he wanted to say.
She sighed, "I, I, don't want Regina Mills raising him now though. I know that my chances are pretty much shot, but like you said, you are a miracle worker, Ford. So, will you help me get my son back?"