Harry heaved a breath out, unclenching his fists. This time… this time he'd do it, he told himself.
He shut his eyes and brandished his wand. A small flame emerged from the end of it, Harry was giving it everything; all of his will, magic and intent. With the small flame burning, he quickly poured more magic into it and by shaping it, a small dragon formed.
A quick mental command had it fly a dozen yards down the range and land on the ground.
For what felt like the billionth time today, Harry took aim and fired a piercing hex at it.
As the spell flew through the air, Harry held his breath, though his hope bled away.
Like all the previous attempts, the hex broke through the magic holding it together and fire engulfed the area.
Harry ran his hand through his hair, grabbing a fist full of hair and pulling. He let out a scream of frustration. No matter what he tried, he couldn't replicate Cuddles' fire.
Sinking to his knees, Harry picked up the wand he'd dropped and called for Cuddles to come. She breathed fire and Harry shaped it into the form of an eight-foot-tall minotaur. He used the same strength in the spell as he'd been using all day, and had it go down the range.
He sent a flurry of spells at it, piercing hex after piercing hex. He counted them, one after another, and it wasn't until the twelfth one made impact that it blasted apart, blanketing the area in a swath of fire.
Cuddles flew up and landed on his shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek. Harry's hand rose and rubbed her snout, as Harry focused on creating the magic-eating properties that only Cuddle's fire seemed to possess, without having any other effects. Perhaps if he simply focused on the density of the magic in the fire and nothing else, he would have better results.
Harry began this process but he couldn't help his thoughts from wondering, after creating the simplistic ball of fire. As he moved it to a safe distance, his thoughts plagued him.
Ivan, Cyrus, Horace, and Patrice had gone along with the plan to have their captured Death Eaters conduct raids, even with the knowledge that innocents were going to be in the crossfire. What Harry hadn't been told, because his reaction couldn't be feigned, was that they had agreed to attack their own engagement party.
The reasoning was simple. With the two highest-profile targets in the same place, along with most of their allies, there wasn't a chance that they wouldn't raid. With the portkeys and enhanced security, they should've been overpowered and killed.
Harry sighed and lifted his arm. Another piercing hex leapt from his wand and it flew down the range, blasting the ball of fire apart.
His shoulders slumped and he turned his head to look at Cuddles. "What am I going to do, girl?"
By this point in the day, he'd been at it for too long. Training to breakfast, trying to come up with better spells til lunch, and then working on this until close to dinner. Day after day, he kept to his schedule.
It had been three weeks since the Engagement Ball and Harry hadn't taken a day off, and he'd be damned if he didn't correct the flaw in his training.
At the Ball, and after it in Diagon Alley, he had no issues casting spell after spell. He'd trained to do that. In individual confrontations, he could last for hours, shielding, defusing, transfiguring or just firing of hex after hex.
But what he hadn't been able to do was expend massive amounts of magic in anything longer than short bursts.
It was an oversight he'd not considered. And, if it wasn't for the training from Flitwick and McGonagall, something Dumbledore arranged, he wouldn't have lasted at all.
Needless to say, that rankled him.
Taking on multiple casters, defending against them with his wand, was fine. It was the combined usage of wandlessly shielding against multiple attackers and using his wand to fend off and strike back at the rest that was the issue.
The combination was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. He felt like a tennis player. One that had dedicated countless hours working on his forehand, backhand, drop shots, slices and serve. Running around the court even, working on conditioning and technique simultaneously. Only, when the first real tournament started, he'd shown up and been told he'd joined a doubles' match. Except it wasn't just two people he was facing, it was more than a half-dozen and they could all fire their own balls at him.
Did the pre-tournament training help? Yes.
Was it like the real thing? No.
Could he keep up? That had been a resounding no.
While he could have individually duelled them all, and beaten them if they'd lined up in a row and taken him on one at a time, that hadn't been the case.
It was utterly unrealistic to think so.
And, beyond that, he'd been an imbecile.
Spells required the four pillars. Creativity, Willpower, and Intent were never going to be an issue. It was his Power that was lacking. Well, not so much lacking as improperly trained and inefficiently used, to an incredible degree.
Why had he focused on shielding with his magic? To block a spell, he had to use equal or more power than the caster. Whereas creating a stone object would have blocked the spell. Its destruction could have been transfigured into multiple objects to block spells.
Further, he could have set up a large object. He could have put forth a cloud or blocked their vision. Some spells would still get through, but very few would be on target.
His tactics were beyond terrible. You never heard of fights where Dumbledore, Voldemort, or Grindelwald walked around shielding their forces with a magical shield.
Voldemort attacked, he barely gave his foes a chance to breathe, let along mount a multi-front attack. Though, he didn't have the inconvenience of worrying about collateral damage or murdering innocent bystanders…
Dumbledore used his transfigurations to take control of a battlefield, to shield his forces and take the fight to the enemy. While Grindelwald controlled the battlefield with widespread charms, like wind, rain, hail. And, again, he wasn't overly concerned with keeping destruction to a minimum or preserving the lives of those who strayed into the path of his destruction.
No, what Harry failed at was defending with sound strategy. He'd tried to overpower too many people and come up lacking.
And that was why he was here. Working on his magical prowess, adding high expenditures of magic into his routine, and ensuring he would perform better the next time he was caught unaware.
But, beyond that, he still struggled with constant thoughts of how he could have made a difference… if he'd only investigated the first twinge of malicious magic he'd felt… How he could have turned the battle quicker. If it had been Voldemort, Grindelwald, or Dumbledore, he doubted so many would have died.
It was driving him, hour after hour, day after day, to improve, to become better.
Could he have used a wind to drive everyone into hiding? Could he have taken the liquid out of the drinks and turned them into ice pellets, trying to remake Maginot Rouge?
Why hadn't he created larger transfigurations? Larger Minotaurs to distract or creating and maintaining a defensive wall?
Could he have pulled out some overpowered destructive barrages that decimated the area where the Death Eaters were attacking them from?
So many questions and no real answers. Sirius had said this was the effects of survivor's guilt, much like he dealt with in the last war, but that hadn't made this any easier.
Harry scrubbed the back of his hand on his forehead and then began again.
There had to be a way to do this.
If he could have used Cuddles' special transfigured fire, the battle would have been over far quicker. The Death Eaters coerced into attacking could only attack with little cohesion or strategy.
"Any progress?" Daphne's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
Harry turned to her. "No," he said, frustration evident in his words.
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "If this still has you stumped, you probably aren't capable."
Harry's jaws clenched as he ground his teeth. "I just haven't figured it out," he said. Cuddles gave him a chirp and pressed the side of her head against his hand. He began to stroke her, just how she wanted him to.
Daphne let out a sigh and put down the book she was holding. "Harry," she said, standing back up. "You're brilliant with a wand. If you haven't figured it out after this long, it won't be from lack of any of the four pillars."
Harry holstered his wand. "I can't replicate Cuddle's fire," he said, running the hand not petting Cuddles through his hair.
"She's a magical creature," Daphne said, closing the distance between them. "You can channel your magic into her, can it work the other way?" She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze.
Harry's head shot around to look at her. Then he blinked and blinked again.
"I…" he closed his mouth, as he saw Daphne give him an encouraging smile.
Cuddles let out a shriek of approval and Harry initiated the passing of magic to her. As she grew in size, he tried to feel for her magic.
Was it possible to pull some out?
Harry tried to reverse the flow but all he felt was an inertness, like he was trying to pull water out of a rock.
His eyes turned to Daphne and he shook his head.
Harry let out a weary breath. "I'll experiment more with this," he said, frowning.
Daphne lifted his chin and then caressed his cheek. "Come," she said, "it's time to have a chat and you're going to listen this time."
Harry rolled his eyes as he let himself be pulled toward the training area's exit. "There's nothing to discuss," he said, letting out a tired sigh. "You hadn't wanted to have sex and I'm not going to do it while you're emotionally vulnerable."
Daphne made an abrupt stop and she put her hand on his chest. "I said listen," she said, all but hissing the words. "I'm sick of your honour and you not listening to the whole thing. Yes, I was wrong at first but you've not given me a chance since."
Harry remained silent. He'd seen Daphne go through all sorts of states. She'd been staying down here in the Chamber with him. Snape and Dumbledore weren't exactly pleased but they weren't going to press, not when they could deductively work out where she was staying and who she was staying with.
Daphne turned on her heels and stalked away. Harry shook his head and then raced after her. Allowing her to stew in her anger wasn't a good idea.
Cuddles launched off his shoulder and flew ahead of him, presumably after Daphne.
When Harry got into the study, Daphne was seated in her chair, beside the fireplace, a couple of logs, burning, crackling.
Harry strode in and sat opposite to Daphne. Cuddles was curled up in her lap and making affectionate noises as Daphne expertly petted her.
What he hadn't been expecting was for Fleur and Natalia to make their way into the room. Harry had the sudden feeling that he'd just walked into an intervention.
Ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he rose and greeted them both. While he did so, Daphne turned her chair into a couch and all three girls sat down, opposite him. Cuddles settled back on Daphne's lap.
The three shared a look but Harry was the one to speak first.
"You three planned this?" Harry said, caught between feeling uneasy and hopeful that they were working together.
Fleur shifted her posture, leaning towards Harry. "You've hidden yourself away, training non-stop," she said, her lips pinching together as she clasped her restless hands together.
Harry looked away from Fleur to the other two and saw they were all united in this. "I met with the Minister and I've been meeting with Horace and Patrice as well," he said before gritting his teeth together. "I'd've given him a piece of my mind if he hadn't left the country and refused to see anyone."
Harry watched as they all shared a look. "Father is going to be at my production," Natalia said, smiling shyly at him.
"They're here to brief you with me," Daphne said, her frosted demeanour still unthawed. "And to help you get your head out of your arse." A hint of a smirk formed in the corners of her lips.
"Daphne's idea is exactly what you need, 'arry," Fleur said, placing a hand on Daphne's. Their eyes met before Fleur turned back to Harry. "I spoke with Maman about it…"
Harry let out a discontented breath and looked to the fire. "This is my decision as much as it's hers," he said before swallowing the lump in his throat. "If I don't want to do it, it should be the end of it." Just as it would be hers if she wasn't comfortable was left unsaid.
Harry chanced a glance at Daphne and he wasn't surprised to see her glaring at him. Seeing matching looks on the other two girls' faces caused him to frown.
"This is what we're talking about," Natalia said, softly shaking her head. "Since the attack, you've hidden yourself away, only going to get reports but no longer listening."
Harry clenched his fists together. Was this how it was going to be? All three talking privately and confronting him jointly? Would he have to politically scheme to create a fracture there?
Harry didn't doubt his face reflected the state of his inner turmoil but what was he to say? That until he could protect them, that he wouldn't go out in public?
It was like they didn't understand the pressure he was under.
He knew a confrontation with Voldemort was coming. There wasn't a chance that the Dark Lord wouldn't react to the wholesale slaughter of his subordinates.
He almost died being confronted by a Bellatrix-led raid and Harry had seen memories of Voldemort's capabilities. He didn't need to be told that there was a veritable ocean between the two of them, regarding capabilities with a wand.
If they thought training for as much as he did was an issue, then they couldn't possibly get it. The only chance he had was that unique fire, one that could eat magic and stand up to the type of power Voldemort would throw at him.
As he pulled himself out of his thoughts, Fleur stood up and walked over to him, holding out her hand.
"Trust me," she said, looking down at him, her blue eyes filled with concern.
Harry stared back at her and then relented. She would be beside him, always, if she could be. Of everyone that walked the earth, Fleur was his most trusted.
He swallowed and nodded, reaching out for her hand.
When he closed his hand around hers, Fleur took a sharp intake of air, her eyes widening before hers searched for his. "Mon Dieu," she gasped, almost falling forward into him.
She regained her balance and then released his hand, a frown marred her beautiful face.
She turned back to the others and nodded to them.
Cuddles let out a tiny screech and jumped out of Daphne's lap and flew to Fleur. She caught Cuddles, and Fleur held her to her chest, lowering her head and whispering too quietly for Harry to catch.
Fleur walked back to the couch and held out both of her hands, after perching Cuddles on her shoulder. She pulled the other two up and then withdrew her wand, pointing it at Harry.
The chair under him began to change, keeping him afloat as it elongated and curved into a semi-circle. Fleur gestured for the other two to sit beside him as she took the further end of the couch. But as she sat down, she kicked out her legs and made contact with him.
"I know you feel we are ganging up on you," Fleur said, giving him a strained smile. "We 'ad decided to give you space."
Harry sighed, "I've had a lot on my mind," he said before placing his hand on Daphne's thigh. "And I've tried to be there for Daphne."
It had been a bit of a slog, if he'd been honest. He didn't really know what to do. He'd spoken with Horace and Patrice about it, when he'd met with them, but it'd been generic advice that was hard to apply.
So, what he had done was to just be there. He'd offered up his sanctuary to her and she'd taken it. While she was studying, he'd trained and been available to spend time with.
Some nights were crying, other nights she'd be frustrated and he'd take her to the training room and allow her to blast things apart. Other times she'd disappeared, and he'd let her have that, not asking why or where she'd gone.
Daphne placed her hand on his, rubbing it with her thumb. "I've appreciated what you've done for me," she said, sincerity lacing her voice, as she switched to rubbing circles on the back of his hand. "But I've also appreciated what the Delacours have done."
Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he turned to look at Fleur.
"Astoria transferred to Beauxbatons," Daphne said, drawing his attention again, a slight smile on her face. "I don't want her near this and they helped arrange it, as well as security for her person."
Natalia leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. "We're a team," she said, nestling into him. "We're a family, the four of us. And we need to stick together, work together."
Harry turned his head and rested his head on her, his chin on her forehead and cheek on the top of her head. "Family," he said, repeating her word.
"Family," she said again, bringing her hand up and squeezing his bicep. "We've all got to be here for each other. Because, as you'd said, people are going to try and pry us apart. They are going to try and divide us."
Daphne took hold of his hand. "We each have our specialties," she said. "And while our parents have been your advisors, it will be the four of us."
"I don't expect them to stand with us in combat, 'arry," Fleur said. "But, they are both talented. Daphne's ritual is magnifique."
Harry shut his eyes and allowed himself to bask in this. He resisted the will to snort. Fleur had felt his emotions and pivoted their approach to wholly disarm him.
He dropped his chin, opened his eyes and shook his head. What a woman. What women he'd surrounded himself with.
Taking in a deep breath, he looked at Daphne. "Hit me with it then."
She looked at the other two and then lifted her chin. "My family has been trying to come up with a ritual to fix whatever was done to our family," she said, keeping her tone neutral, clinical. "And as I've searched through everything my family has collected on rituals and then you gifted us the greatest resource we could've hoped for."
Harry smiled but only his lips moved.
"As I have studied, I kept trying and failing to come up with something that worked," she said, pinching her lips together. "Natalia had the breakthrough, actually."
Harry turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"
Natalia burrowed her head into him. "If your path is blocked by an insurmountable object, don't dwell on the obstacle, find a different approach or a way to bypass it."
"And it got me thinking," Daphne said, giving Natalia a warm look. "How is the issue attached to our family and could we move it to someone else?"
Harry's shoulders tensed. "Who would you give it to?" he asked. "You're not dooming just the individual but all of their progeny."
Fleur sat up straighter, a baleful grin forming on her face. "It's a good thing we know of a monster that deserves that and so much more," she said, her eyes flicking to his scar. "And 'e was kind enough to leave a part of 'imself to do it."
Realization dawn on Harry. "You're going to transfer the curse to the horcrux in my scar?"
"And then you are going to destroy it," she said while nodding.
"Not with a ritual?" he said, shifting in his seat. "I can't ever do one again."
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Not a ritual for you," she said, giving him an exasperated look. "But you can use a modified version of that suicide spell to remove the foreign soul from your body."
"You just don't want to try casting a Killing Curse at me," Harry said knowing it would elicit a response.
"That's not 'appening, ever," Fleur said, staring daggers at him.
Natalia had clutched onto him, her fingernails pressing into him. "It's a perfectly fine solution," Harry said. He hadn't had this conversation with all of them, just Daphne and she'd made it clear she was not in favour of it.
"Any of you casting it would be fine," he said, prying Natalia's hand to a more comfortable position. "Your Intent would be to harm the soul piece, your Will would be to protect me, and that's all there is to it."
Fleur crossed her arms. "Nobody is hitting you with a Killing Curse," she said. "Safe or not, it's not needed."
Daphne sucked in a breath and then exhaled loudly. "Moving on," she said, waiting a moment, just daring Harry to challenge her, before she continued, "I had wanted to cement things with you."
Harry squeezed her hand and gave her a drawn look.
"But these two talked me out of pursuing that," she said, giving them grateful looks. "And once I found an alternate way to attack the issue, I was able to create a ritual for it."
"And you are going to balance it with a set?"
"Of course," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "And we're going to do my ritual, unless you'd prefer another man to have me, first?"
Hary lowered his chin and turned to look at her. "Okay, now you're just teasing me and I've agreed, okay?" he said, raising his hands in surrender.
It was kind of amazing how quickly these three had changed his attitude. He'd been surly and self-focused, and now he was feeling light and free. And they were right, they were his family now. His first priorities beyond anyone or anything else.
"It's a good start but there is one more thing to deal with…" Natalia said, giving him a mischievous wink once he looked at her.
"Your father, yes," Harry said, feeling dread and anger churn in his stomach. "Horace and Patrice were in agreement that we needed to shift the attention away from ourselves. That there should be attacks, raids on 'imperiused' Death Eaters and favourite targets of the past war…"
Harry sighed and dropped his head into his hand, resting his forehead against it. "Innocents were to be spared as much as possible…"
Fleur came towards him and knelt in front of him, her hands on his thighs. "We know, 'arry," she said, her voice soft and consoling. "Papa told me too."
"And I don't believe, for a second, that my father was just collateral damage," Daphne said, her knuckles white and her shoulders tense. "The bastard will pay for this and he has another thing coming if he thought he'd use this to his advantage."
Daphne was seething and Harry could tell she was doing her best to stay composed.
"Do you have thoughts on how to 'make him pay'?" Harry asked, glancing around at them. There is no way he should be profiting from Cyrus' death.
The man's death had been a major blow for Daphne but for Harry as well. He was pragmatic, well-connected, and a major help for Harry on multiple fronts. And that wasn't even getting into the man's financial prowess.
His three fiancées looked at each other. "We have a few ideas," Natalia said. All three of them had matching, predatory grins.
Harry strode into the hall that was becoming rather familiar to him. Sometimes it was nice to just come and watch them practice, and wait for Natalia to be done for the day. Going for a walk afterwards was a nice distraction from life and he cherished the one-on-one time with her.
There were other times where it just seemed to help him think. He could come, sink into a chair and while his eyes watched, while his ears listened, he'd zone out and just think . Harry had no idea if it was helpful to have part of his brain distracted but sometimes it was nice. Just have time to let his mind wander, brainstorm, and run in directions it couldn't when he was so laser-focused.
Perhaps the downtime was just a good thing for him when he'd been pushing himself so hard.
But as he went and headed for his familiar seat, he noticed who was already there.
Ivan.
The man that had been avoiding him, the one that had pushed him to a place where he was uncomfortable, and then took off on a rocket from there, blasting past any boundaries they had set.
Harry grit his teeth together and began to trek across the dark room.
It was one of the things that Harry found interesting. That when they practised, they were on a brightly lit stage, in full costume and with the rest of the hall dark, as if they were performing.
Yes, it was rehearsal time, with the production set to premiere soon, but he hadn't expected they would be practising as if it was a real performance.
But as Harry closed in on Ivan's position, he knew he had to focus.
This wasn't going to be an easy conversation.
Upon arriving at where the elder man was already seated, Harry left the usual one chair between them, added his own privacy spells and sat down, after greeting the man.
"I'm sorry about Cyrus," the man said, looking over at Harry, his arm draped on the back of the chair beside him.
Calm. He had to maintain his composure.
Harry swallowed down his emotions and then spoke, "Sorry?" he said, keeping his voice neutral. "Sorry that he was a casualty in your plans or sorry that you disregarded the agreed-upon plans?"
Ivan pinned Harry with a flat stare. "Cyrus was a valuable ally and our business agreements would be far better off with him around to oversee them," he said before his eyes flicked back to the stage.
"That's all you've got to say? Just, he was a valuable ally?"
Ivan turned his body to look at Harry more directly. "I did what was necessary," he said, his deep voice rumbling it out. "And what happened to Cyrus is unfortunate and entirely a tragedy."
Harry shook his head and blew a breath out. Cyrus' death was far more than a simple tragedy.
"That's the best you have?" Harry asked, raising both eyebrows. "I knew the plan, if you recall; the one we all made together . The one you discarded."
Ivan leaned forward, his jaw clenching. "If you're going to try and pin the blame for his death on me, you'll find I'm not culpable."
Harry leaned back and crossed his arms. This should be interesting.
"Every guest had a portkey on their person," he said, almost growling. "And Cyrus knew he wasn't much of a fighter. But, instead of fleeing, he stayed and paid the price for his poor choice."
Harry let out a bitter chuckle. "Really, that's it? He should have run and saved himself?" he asked, incredulity leaking into his voice. "You really believe that absolved you entirely?"
"What I believe, is that a still wet behind the ears youth cannot properly judge my actions," he said, after a moment. "Not when it is by my hard work that you are safe."
Harry kept still, trying to not let the anger raging inside him come out. It wouldn't help.
Ivan minutely shook his head, almost imperceptibly so. "And you don't lay any blame with the Ministry?" he said, leaning back in his chair. "They knew Death Eaters were at large. They knew high profile targets were gathering together and still allowed their defences to be breached."
Harry's lips thinned but he kept silent, instead of attempting to rejoin the statements.
Amelia had gone over this with him. While they had a rotating guard, they'd designed it so there had been a strong reactionary force that would hear the initial report and send overwhelming force back.
There were too many targets to protect and they'd known that the Death Eaters would either use the event as a distraction to strike elsewhere or to attempt on a raid there.
The strategy had been Scrimgeour's. Have a small force in multiple high profile locations and keep the bulk of their teams from being ambushed while on patrol. The orders of those that were out on patrol were to disengage and send a signal for assistance. They were to report and hunker down, awaiting assistance.
Where their strategy had failed was they hadn't expected that many attacks, nor the number of attackers, in quick succession.
Harry had understood. They didn't know that the idea behind the attacks had been to quickly deplete the surviving Death Eaters, those captured and those who'd gotten off as 'imperius victims'. There was no thought or strategy put into escape nor keeping them alive.
In fact, it had been a major point of pride for the ministry, one they had played up in the papers. That they were not playing around with the public's safety. Their forces were putting down these dangerous criminals permanently.
"The Ministry is culpable, to some degree; Cyrus too, to some extent," Harry said, before he shifted in his seat, leaning forward. "But none of their mistakes would have mattered if you'd stuck to the plan!"
"And tell me, boy, what did your Minister say? What did Dumbledore say?" he asked, his eyes hard and his fingers pressing into the chair. "Because you can bet they were suspicious before. But now, now that your own party was put under fire? Not when you clearly had no idea."
Harry bit back his initial retort and took a second to compose himself. "I agreed to allow the Death Eaters to attack the public because that was how we'd remove suspicion," Harry said, folding his hands together. "If you'd thought we needed to do more than was planned, then why didn't you bring it up?"
"You really think Patrice, Horace, and Cyrus would have willingly put themselves and their families in the line of fire?" Ivan shook his head and let out a dark chuckle. "What I know is that it's easy to sit on your comfy chair and watch my daughter dance. What I know is that it's easy for others to plan the capture and deaths of criminals.
"Your advisors sat out the last war. They don't want to get their hands dirty. They like to meet, sit in their nice cushy chairs and open a bottle of expensive alcohol. They talk in circles and leave the dirty work to you, to me."
Harry sat back and rubbed his forehead. This wasn't just a tirade from the man, nor him disparaging for a better angle. This was him preaching his ideology.
"You've begun to understand how the world really works," Ivan said, his tone hinting at approval. "And I've allied myself to you because you have a chance to win."
"Allied with, but not trusted enough to make what you believe is the correct decision in this war," Harry said, not being able to stop himself from blurting this out.
Ivan dropped his arm off the back of the chair. "You weren't around for the last war, nor the one before it," he said, any pretence of civility gone. "You've killed one man and been a part of one action. If you think I'm going to just sit back and rest the fortunes of my family on your shoulders, then you are far less intelligent than we believed."
Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "You think all my advisors are incapable but you won't even consult with even just me," he said, shaking his head. "We're not allies, we're convenient people to partner with and take advantage of."
Ivan chuckled. "The Delacours fill your head with that tripe?" he asked, turning to look back at the rehearsal in revulsion..
Natalia had just come out for her minor part in the production. She was dancing, twirling in line with three others, all of them doing the exact same movements. It was unfortunate, though an expected unfortunance, that she didn't have a starring role but it was also a wonderful experience for her age.
"No," Harry said, leaving his eyes on his fiancé. "You've already admitted it."
"Is this what they made you do? You come to sit here, watch my daughter, and lay out judgement for my actions that have just ensured You-Know-Who's entire powerbase of foot soldiers are dead?"
Harry turned his head to look at Ivan. "This is about Cyrus, this is about three other allies you have cost me," he said, shifting his arm to the armrest. "This is about the fifty-seven innocent lives that were lost!"
"You mean the fifty-seven alibis, the ones nobody will believe you had any part in killing," Ivan said, pressing his fingers into the armrest. "That's not mentioning the other half dozen sympathizers that were quietly taken out.
"They send you to speak their words but I won't sit here and listen to their reconimerations. Not when you only have the luxury of sitting here, judging me, because of my actions," he said, giving him a look of disgust. "Without me, you would have been the prime suspect. Only you and Albus Dumbledore are capable of fighting off a horde of dementors."
Harry tensed in his seat but he tried to play it off with a roll of his eyes.. "I wouldn't have been suspected," he said, shaking his head. "But Voldemort was the one framed, the one with the motive."
The elder man let out a dark bark of laughter. "Only a handful of people believe that madman could still possibly be around," he said, his voice low. "You're incredibly fortunate that your advisors orchestrated the rise of Bones. Only her staff believe it but be assured the second they lose power… The next Minister will look to neuter your power."
Harry raked his hand through his hair. "Neuter my power?" he said, before turning to watch Natalia as she'd come back to the forefront.
"Don't you find it odd Albus Dumbledore has no businesses? That he's been placed into two ceremonial positions where he presides over a governing party?" he said, amusement undertoning his words. "Even his brother has nothing more than a run-down pub to his name."
Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. "They'll target my financial well being?" he said, rubbing his forehead. "Then my political power?"
"It isn't a collective effort," Ivan started out, wiping his face with his hand. "If you kill You-Know-Who, nobody will want you to control the politics, become exceptionally wealthy, and be unopposed magically. You could grow into a tyrant and if you wielded enough political or financial power, there would be little they could do about it."
Harry slowly sat back and took a moment to collect his thoughts and ponder why the conversation had changed topics. He turned his eyes back to watch the ballet rehearsal but his mind was engrossed in the conversation, the plan his scary fiancées had devised.
"That's something to give thought to, towards the future," Harry said, restarting the conversation. "But the heart of the matter is that I can't trust them just like I can't trust you." Harry could feel his body tense, his magic coalesce, preparing for confrontation, if it came to it. Harry doubted Ivan could touch him in a duel but he may be able to catch him off guard.
Ivan turned and his hard eyes surveyed but his mouth didn't move. The man let out a breath that sounded more like a deep growl. "You can trust that my family will be doing whatever is necessary to win this war, to protect our family, your family," he said, his face gaining a crimson colour. "While your other advisors have been sitting by their fire and sipping their expensive drinks, we've been interrogating, controlling, and ensuring the disposal of your enemies."
Harry bobbed his head in acknowledgement. "I trusted your family's expertise to play that role. Just like I trusted you to keep me in the loop."
Ivan's jaw clenched as his baleful eyes stared into Harry's. "Still on Cyrus?" he said, spitting the words out in disgust. "I thought you'd understand. The magical world isn't full of sunshine, roses, and daisies! It's full of dark, disgusting, despicable individuals that won't give a second thought on using your honour, code, morals, and loyalties against you."
As he'd been speaking, Ivan had deep cheek lines etched into his skin around his mouth. "You've gotten your hands dirty but you've never waded into the muck. You've not experienced how depraved the world really is. But you feel righteous sitting there, judging me, don't you?"
He shook his head and continued glaring at Harry. "You do, I can see it in your eyes," he said with disappointment, his forehead creasing. "But you're smart enough to know you need men like me, families like mine. So when you're tucked into your bed at night, my daughter by your side, you can sleep easy knowing we are out there, keeping you safe, doing things that you'll decry as grotesque and incomprehensible to you."
Harry sat there, not moving, letting the man rant at him. He heard the words, and was even dwelling upon them as they came but remained impassive, like the foundations of a bridge, the water flowing around the immovable support.
"The world may whisper about us, they may criticize, belittle, and even warn their children about us," he said, his deep voice rising in decibel level. "But when the tide rolls in, we'll be there, ready to face it, no matter how deep, dark, or ugly the waters get. And when the tides go out, sweeping out the debris, we'll be there, as we've always been, tall, strong, and fortified."
Ivan's chest was heaving by now, his breaths coming hard and heavy. "You don't like speaking about the things we've done for you. You don't want to delve to our level to ensure your survival," he said, repugnance colouring his words. "But you need me. You need me diving to the very depths of depravity, you need me protecting you from the dark places you won't venture."
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "It's a whole lot easier to portkey criminals than it is to interrogate them," he said, a sick smile on his face. "To strip away their humanity, their free will, to deprive them of who they are. To break them down and magically enslave them until they do their bidding to their very own demise."
Harry lowered his head and looked down at the ground as he collected his thoughts. "I did need you," Harry said, after a few moments while raising his head. He waited for the disgustingly smug smile to grow on the other man's lips.
Ivan cleared his throat. "If you don't want to be Albus Dumbledore, the wizard too powerful to be opposed that spent the prime of his years teaching snotty-nosed brats, being bandied about, thrown at every major issue and kept around as a political icon without having any major say in how the laws were written and enforced, then you'll need me."
Harry let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "That's the best angle you have?" he said, not even trying to hide his own disappointment. "You're the monster in my corner that will keep all the rest away, that's why I should keep you on as an advisor?"
"You need me, Patrice and Horace can't do what you need me to do," the man bit, his cheeks colouring to an angry red. "And when I do them for you, if you say anything to me at all, say
'thank you' and walk away."
The truth was, he had needed the man. He had sought to align with them so he would do the things Harry needed. But, he had needed him. Their plans had worked so well that there could be a cooling between them without any real concerns.
Harry turned and made sure his full attention was on the man. He slipped his hand into his pocket and passed a copy of a document to him.
"Wh-, what is this?"
A full smile bloomed on Harry's face. "Those three young women I'm engaged to… they're frighteningly intelligent," he said, scooting towards the edge of his seat as he noticed the rehearsal was ending.
"Oh, also, here are the notices for the halting of all joint ventures between the Pavlov family and the Delacour, Greengrass, and Potter families," Harry said, dropping a stack of parchment onto the previous one he'd given as he stood. "The Potter family is bankrupt, with its assets having been taken over by the Evans family. And with that, you'll find my obligations on our courting contract are complete. I'm so pleased it gave us your permission and blessing."
Harry began backing out of the row as he left the man who was trying to burn a hole in the parchments as he rifled through them, scanning their contents.
Natalia came bounding up the aisle and jumped, wrapping her legs around him. She pressed her lips into his and then peppered his face with more kisses.
"Good afternoon, wife," Harry said, loving how those words felt, escaping his lips.
Natalia leaned back, her legs still wrapped around his waist. "Husband," she said, no more words needing to be said.
Harry glanced back at Ivan and saw that he was grabbing onto the back of the chair, pulling himself up. Harry pushed Natalia off and grabbed her hand, heading out the entrance. "I just gave him a copy of our marriage certificate and the notices of us putting an end to all financial ventures with them," Harry said, picking up his pace. "I'd rather not have your father blow up at us."
Natalia nodded her agreement as she took a worried peek over her shoulder. "Sounds good to me."
The two of them darted to the apparition point and Harry handed her a piece of paper. "Read it," he said, his voice bubbling with excitement.
Harry looked down at the small bit of parchment and read the writing.
Harry Potter lives at the Evans Sanctuary
Natalia's brown eyes were filled with question but Harry placed his index finger on her lips. "You read it?"
She bobbed her head and Harry prepared himself. "Side apparition," he said in warning before he transported them.
"Where are we?" Natalia asked as she righted herself after landing.
"Home," Harry replied, giving her a warm, loving look. "We're home."
She elegantly twirled to face him. "I thought you'd let us choose or have input," she said, giving him the cutest of frowns.
"With our marriage being bumped up, and Cyrus' death, I completed this purchase. It's a large piece of land, it's got an old home on it that we can use until you three help design us a new one."
With her lips pinching together, Natalia looked at him with widened eyes. "Are you moving out of the chamber then?"
"Yep."
Harry took a hold of her hand. "C'mon," he said, giving it a gentle pull. "I took us to the edge so we could have a walk together."
The two of them walked, falling into the regular rhythm, step after step, un deux trois.
Though it was turning into a cool night, the evening sun was waning in the sky, there was still some warmth left in the day. Harry looked over his property and took in the sight. Green pasture, large, old trees with the sun descending behind them.
"What do you think?"
Natalia grabbed onto their connected arms with her free hand and pulled them to a stop. "I-I love it," she said, her voice quiet as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
Harry brought his arms around and ran his hand up and down her back. "Only the four of us know of it," he said, whispering his words into her hair. "You're the first one to see it."
Natalia leaned her torso back and looked up at him. "I am?" she said, her brown eyes shining.
Harry brought his hand up and brushed the strands of hair on her face away. "You are," he said, using the same hand to caress her cheek. "You're giving up your relationship with your family, for at least the short-term."
Natalia nodded, keeping her mouth closed, as a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked as though she wanted to say something but buried her head into his chest, nuzzling into him and just held him.
"They weren't always like this, you know?" Natalia mumbled, not raising her head up. "There were happy times when I was young. I'd play with my siblings, parents and it was so fun, pure."
Harry resumed running his hand up and down her back soothingly. "You've got a family now," he said before dropping a kiss into her hair.
They stayed like this for a few minutes as Natalia let the torrent of emotions out. Betrayal is how they would take it, piecing together that she'd assisted with finding loopholes to take advantage of, ones she'd been taught to exploit by them.
But it was good to have removed the major unknown in his camp. They'd helped him with the most important aspect, and it was going to come down to just Voldemort now. The Dark Lord that had less than a handful of followers left, the rest dead. Many of those sympathetic had been fleeing the country, scared of the supposed infighting between the Death Eaters.
Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Parkinson, Rowle, and even more than he could recall had withdrawn their assets and left for the continent. Some would return but none of them was queuing up to serve Tom Marvolo Riddle.
A response was coming, he knew that. The Dark Lord wouldn't take this lying down. He'd hit back, hard and heavy, at his first opportunity.
It was why Harry was moving. The Chamber should be safe; however, there was no guarantee that it was. Hogwarts had been invaded by Pettigrew and even his half-crazed godfather. Hogwarts was Dumbledore's symbol of power but even it's vaunted defences weren't impregnable.
Thus, Harry went for the same plan his parents had. Horace was his secret keeper this time, a man bound by an Unbreakable Vow to not divulge any secrets. A man who could not betray him.
They'd gone as far as to remove the memory from his mind. Thus, the only people that knew, or could access, about the house were he and his current or future wives.
Here, he felt safe, secure. Here, he felt he could spend time with his wives and eventually grow and shape the property into an ideal home for his future family.
"You know it won't always be like this," Natalia said, breaking their embrace at long last.
"What won't?"
Natalia smiled at him, a brittle, fragile thing. "The three of us working together," she said, taking a few steps forward and inviting him to join her with a wave of her hand. "We won't always find a common cause to put aside our differences."
Harry had quickened his stride and caught up to her. "I know, things are great right now," he said, taking hold of her hand again, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss. "But it gives me hope you can all get along and be there for me, if I need you all."
"I just hope we'll all be happy," she said, looking down as her feet moved forward.
"Me too," Harry said, his voice quiet and wistful. "Me too."