"So? What's your plan?"
Harry finished pulling his shirt over his muscled torso and looked back. "Who says I have a plan?"
Daphne sighed. She set down her wand, which she had been using to clean herself of his remnants. As she fixed her dress, moving the straps back onto her shoulders, she said, "I know that you're playing coy, but truly, don't. It's only making you look dim." She looked at him, tilting her head. "You would not have come this far without a plan of some kind. If I am to be on your side, I must know it."
Harry nearly chuckled. She might have been surprised to learn just how little of a plan he did start with. To fight back was an emotional, un-pragmatic choice. Albeit one he had no regrets on.
"What do you think of this little world we've built?" he asked.
Daphne creased her brow. "If you're hoping to distract me, my memory is not so short."
"Just say, Daphne."
When her name passed his lips, Daphne subtly rolled her shoulders, trying to hide the way it made her straighten in her seat.
"It serves me well enough," she said. "I have this whole mansion, house elves at my beck and call, and plenty of money. I have no complaints."
Harry stepped into his pants, hooking them over his bad ankle. "It doesn't bother you at all? The… hollowness of it?"
"Astoria and I are different people. Unlike her, I am not second choice in my own home," Daphne said "This life is not perfect, but I see no reason to complain."
"Yet the moment I offered you more, you jumped at it," Harry observed.
Daphne found it hard to meet his eyes, a blush spreading over her cheeks.
"Perhaps… my body had a few complaints… But that's a different matter!" She straightened and attempted to deflect. "And what about you? What do you think of our world?"
"I think we got everything we wanted," Harry said. "And in doing so, we were left with nothing."
"Dramatic." Daphne snorted. "I have a very nice house, and you should see my collection of wines. I wouldn't classify that as nothing."
"My apologies," Harry said. "I should have taken your wine collection into account ahead of time."
He left it at that. He couldn't tell yet if Daphne had the makings of a short-term ally, like the other old families he recruited, or if she could turn into something more. She talked as if she was content with her life. But the desperation with which she latched onto him spun a different yarn.
"You asked what my plan was?" he said, and Daphne leaned in, nodding eagerly.
"It's simple," Harry said. "I'm going to do whatever I have to for the power to decide my own fate."
O-O-O
They parted on a promise from Daphne to lend him her vote, and a promise from Harry to visit more often in return. The following day, Harry stepped out of his home, standing on the hill overlooking Godric's Hollow.
He'd strengthened his defenses as his activities earned him an ever-increasing number of enemies. Now, to Apparate, you had to descend the hill and cross out of the town. It was mostly precautionary— this was his land, decreed by Voldemort himself, and to interfere here was too much even for Crouch.
It happened once before, but back, then, Harry had been clinging to neutrality. For another wizard to even step foot on this land without his permission could be tried as a serious crime, if Harry chose to pursue it. With how deep Lucius and Yaxley had their fingers in the legal system, should Crouch overstepped his bounds, they wouldn't miss such a perfect opportunity to hurt him.
As Harry moved through Godric's Hollow, a ball bounced up to him, rolling against his foot. He stared at it. A moment later, he heard quick and soft steps.
A little boy ran up, but when he saw where the ball ended up, he stopped and stared nervously. A sign that he was from a wizarding family.
Godric's Hollow was a joint settlement, which meant that while over half the population was Muggle, there were quite a few wizarding families around. The Muggles loved Harry. He helped around town with all kinds of things, a habit he picked up from Hermione. The magical families didn't exactly hate him… but they were wary. They understood that their lives depended on him.
Harry stooped down, picking up the rubber ball. He tossed it to the boy, who had to stretch in order to catch it.
"That's a quality ball," Harry said. "Try not to lose it."
Wide-eyed, the boy nodded rapidly and ran away, carrying his ball with both hands. Harry finished the walk out of town. It was a sunny day, bright and warm without being hot. The light glinted off the gutters that lined the slanted roofs. Harry could hear the laughter of children; perhaps the same ones he returned the ball to. He turned on his heels and Disapparated.
Harry reappeared on linoleum. Harry stepped out of a featureless booth into an auditorium-like waiting room. Designed to accommodate as many as a hundred at one time, only four or five wizards moved about it. Harry left through a door at the far end, recalling his last visit to Pettigrew's All-Purpose Emporium.
His life had changed that night. He still remembered the moment Fleur walked onto that stage. It would stay with him for the rest of his life… However long or short that may be.
This place had changed since then. Pettigrew was no more, and just seeing that name on the wall was enough to make Harry smirk, remembering the grisly fate the man earned. It felt like this place had lost its way as everyone involved tried to understand where things were going to go from here without their boss.
Which was precisely why Harry was there.
He walked the same hallway that he and Draco passed through on the night of the auction. Still retracing their steps, he took the stairs up to the VIP box where they had watched the show. Instead of Yaxley and Lucius awaiting him, it was two boys his own age.
Theo Nott was sitting on a lavish seat. It was one of the five that Harry and company used during the auction, but now, it was the only one of its kind left. The other seats had been replaced by simple wooden ones, not even a cushion spared for their oaken surface. When Harry entered, Nott looked at him, resting his chin on his fist in a way that only added to the impression of a king— a skinny one with beady eyes and a prominent overbite.
After staring silently at Harry, he moved his eyes to the other boy in the viewer's box. "Our guest is here. Are you going to keep demeaning yourself like a common servant?"
When Harry was last here, a dapper goblin had been manning the complimentary bar. Now, it was a dark-skinned boy with sharp, nearly-golden hazel eyes. Blaise Zabini poured Firewhiskey together with mixers, filling a glass to the perfect height. He repeated the process with a second glass, proving that it hadn't been luck.
"There's nothing demeaning about mixing a drink, Theo," Blaise said. "Witches love it."
"I wouldn't know," Theo said. "None I've been with complained when I left that busywork for the elves. I like to keep my hands free for other activities."
"Well, you know what they say." Blaise lifted the drinks he'd poured. "Best not to draw conclusions from a small sample size."
Harry wasn't completely sure that Theo understood he'd just been insulted. Blaise strode across the room, stopping briefly to insert the spare drink into Harry's hands.
"I don't drink," Harry said, looking at it.
"Never too late to start!"
Blaise laughed, drank half of his drink in one go without flinching, and sat down in one of the simple chairs, crossing his legs. Harry stayed standing.
"Can we get on with this?" Theo asked.
Blaise gestured to show that he had no objections. Theo's thin lips twitched.
"C'mon then, Harry," he said. "Tell us what you're here for."
"I have an offer," Harry said.
"And I'm the newest owner of the largest business in Britain," Theo said.
"Possible newest owner," Blaise corrected.
"Likely newest owner," Theo settled on, saying it in a tone that suggested they should all know it was already a done deal. "The point is, I have everything. What do you have, Harry, that I could want?"
"You don't have my support," Harry said. "But you could."
Theo was silent for a moment, his lips slowly pulling back. He laughed humorlessly.
"Oh, what a great offer," he said. "And I suppose for your 'support,' I'd have to listen to every word you say?"
"Of course not. You would only have to work with me, and take my advice into consideration."
Theo stood abruptly, attempting to look down his nose at Harry— something that was made difficult by the fact that Harry was taller.
"Your offer is noted," Theo said. "And rejected. I agreed to this meeting because I thought you might surprise me, but I find myself disappointed. Theo Nott is nobody's puppet!"
As he stormed out of the room, Harry noted that he cut a very different figure to Peter Pettigrew. Where Pettigrew was always kowtowing for favors, Nott stood with the posture of a ruler. Between the two options, Harry found that Pettigrew was more annoying to deal with… but at least the rat was self-aware.
As soon as Nott was out of the room, Blaise laughed to the point that he doubled over. He stood up, still laughing, and walked over to the nicest seat— the one that Nott had occupied. Blaise settled there like he was born for the position, lounging with his legs spread. He knocked back the rest of his drink as his final chuckles faded.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "It's just— I think he actually believes that!"
Despite himself, Harry snorted.
"You know, I've always regretted that you weren't at Hogwarts with us, Harry," Blaise said. "Nott's head has been too big for his britches since our first year, Crabbe and Goyle are… themselves. And Draco? He's no fool, but he's so garish. He has to pick fights with everyone beneath him, and every time he outfoxes someone, he goes to brag about it that very night. That dorm sorely missed someone of your sort. Competent — more than the rest! — but you wouldn't know it just from listening. Unlike Draco, you know how not to run your mouth."
"Should you say that? Draco and I were as close as brothers."
"Sure. Were." Blaise shrugged. "I can't imagine that relationship has survived your new political stances. Perhaps I'm wrong, and you're great mates. You still know that I'm right. Won't you sit already?"
With just the two of them, Harry finally moved closer, taking the chair Blaise had left. The dark boy grinned. "That's a good start! If it keeps up like this, I might actually have you drinking by the time this meeting is over!"
"How likely is it for you to succeed Peter Pettigrew?"
Blaise's grin didn't disappear, but it did mellow.
"You're clearly aware of the situation at least a little bit," he said, his eyes all-business now. "Pettigrew disappearing left a vacuum. He never kept a second-in-command, scared that they would plot against him. Because that's what he'd do in their position. So when he runs off to assault your slave and ends up as a puddle on your floor… Whoosh! There's no one to take over the business."
Harry nodded. That was more or less the impression he'd gotten from his sources. One of his new allies, the Rowle family, had deep investments in the company, and they'd done an admirable job keeping him updated on the current power struggle.
That's why he said, "This is where you come in."
"From a mere auctioneer, to owner of the company!" Blaise said. "It's a true rags-to-riches story! Except that I'll have bought my way there."
The Zabinis were a peculiar family. The only lasting members were Blaise and his mother, Sofia. Blessed with good looks and one of the five largest fortunes in the country, they should have been in the very top echelons of society. Unfortunately for them, they lacked the thing purebloods valued most: pedigree.
Their wealth came via marriages. Sofia married rich men, all of whom fell ill or ran into freak accidents soon after. Some of the oldest families in Britain had been torn to shreds by her tricks, leaving the Zabinis as relative black sheep in social circles. You wouldn't know it, though, if you only looked at how many places they'd bribed their way into.
"It feels like the perfect position for me, doesn't it?" Blaise said. "The cut-throat merchant: yet another Zabini living up to our swindler reputation."
"But how close are you to making it reality," Harry pressed.
Blaise looked over his shoulder at the empty auction stage beneath them. "The tug-of-war isn't over yet. I purchased this building, and I own about half of the stock for the next auction." He winced. "A percentage which is dropping by the day. The Yaxleys and the Malfoys are donating items from their own collections in Nott's name to catch him up. Almost all of the middle management is on his side."
"Estimate your chances," Harry said. "Out of a hundred, if you will."
"Thirty-percent," Blaise said immediately. He'd clearly run the calculations before for his own benefit, possibly over and over in his head. "And that's if I don't wind up in Azkaban over some invented charge. I trust our Auror department as far as I could Banish it."
"Thirty-percent…" Harry cocked his head. "Alright. I can work with that."
Blaise looked amused. "I assume that you're extending the same offer you gave to Nott?"
"That's right," Harry said. "Frankly, the offer was always for you. You're the one in need of support."
The Notts were everything the Zabinis weren't. They dated back generations, and their family tree linked with every prominent family. But they had never found their big break. Although not poor, they lacked the money to sway politics, build a proper manor, or buy their way into a position like the one Theo coveted. That he'd come so far was a sure sign that he'd been picked. Yaxley lost one puppet in Pettigrew, so was looking to replace him with another. There was a reason Blaise laughed so hard when Theo stormed out, insisting he was his own man.
"True that," Blaise admitted. "Though I'm not sure how much your support would be worth. No offense, of course. We all know how good you are in a duel, but you know what they say— It's Galleons not curses that make the world go round."
"I control five Wizengamot votes and counting. Soon, that number will climb higher. As of yesterday, the Greengrass family became one of mine. You would be shocked to find how many sympathizers I have among Yaxley and Malfoy's ilk."
"Maybe I would. You're keeping it awfully vague, though. The Greengrasses are all well and good, but who are the rest?"
"You'll learn that when we have a deal," Harry said. "Until then, you must trust my word."
"Trust? In our world?" Blaise's grin had become sardonic. "That's bold."
Harry's face didn't change. Slowly, he lifted the glass Blaise gave him, drinking the entire thing in a single go. When he lowered the glass, his face hadn't changed at all.
"I suppose that was your gesture of trust?" Blaise asked, looking amused.
"Make of it what you will," Harry said. "The thing is, you have to trust me."
"Pray tell why?"
"Because you have no other choice."
Chuckles escaped through Blaise's nose as he tried and failed to keep them contained. Giving in, he laughed loudly. "Talking to you makes me want another drink. Fine. What would you be asking in return for your kind support of a poor boy like me? Don't waffle about listening to your advice. I want to know exactly what the favor is that you're looking for."
"End the slave business," Harry said.
"Abandon our top seller. Of course." Blaise sighed, because despite his jokes, he knew he had to consider this seriously. "Why?"
"Because it's a blight," Harry said bluntly. "It is making our society weak. Divisions are forming. Have you seen the way Draco lives?"
"We were never quite close enough for house visits. If you're referring to the slave he spends all his time with, I've heard that, though. Lavender Brown, right? I knew her in school."
"The slaves are nothing but a vice," Harry said. "They do everything the purebloods who bought them command because they have no choice."
"And you dislike that?"
"I dislike that it's making people weak."
Blaise didn't contradict him. He settled back in the nice seat, tossing his empty glass from one dark hand to the other. He sighed deeply.
"...I could stomach a few changes for the greater good," he said.
A sense of victory sprouted in Harry's gut. He opened his mouth to close the deal—
"Harry Potter Sirs!"
A house elf appeared in the room with them, right next to Harry. Blaise bellowed with fright, dropping his glass onto the floor where it shattered, drawing his wand. When he saw it was just an elf, he groaned and dropped his hands. Harry had the opposite reaction. When he recognized the elf, he only grew more tense.
"I didn't know you had any elves," Blaise said.
"Just one," Harry said, distracted. "Dobby, what's wrong? You know you're not supposed to show yourself."
"Dobby knows, Sir! Dobby is very sorry! But you must come quick! Miss Shiny has already gone to fight them!"
Ms. Shiny was Fleur. She had never seen the elf, but he had seen her while she was eating the food he cooked for them. The nickname came from the brightness of her hair— but none of that mattered now.
"Gone to fight who?" Harry asked, seizing his elf by the shoulders.
"The Death Eaters!" Dobby said. "There's was no warning, Sir! Godric's Hollow is on fire!"
Harry was on his feet immediately, sweeping toward the staircase as fast as he could go. "This conversation must end for now."
"Don't delay on my account," Blaise said. But it was unnecessary, because Harry and his elf were already gone. A bit of glittering amber caught Blaise's attention.
Underneath the chair where Harry had been sitting was an untouched drink, previously hidden behind an illusion. Blaise recalled the drink Harry downed and the ease with which he did it.
"Son of a bitch!" Blaise said, unable to help barking out a laugh. He summoned the drink, catching as it sloshed inside the glass. "I might actually have to throw my lot in with him. On account of that utter shamelessness, if nothing else. Provided he survives the night, of course."
Blaise gulped down the drink and returned to the bar, pouring himself a new one. Before downing it, he toasted the air.
"Try not to die, Harry," he said. "Things were just getting interesting."