Muggle Summer
A/N: Well, the last chapter certainly was the most controversial to date. On the one hand, some folks thought Harry was turning Dark (or at least Dark Gray) with his "Jigsaw" homage (it really was Max Max that inspired me, by the way), while others complained that I had emasculated Voldemort and the DE's. Detailed responses to these topics will probably play out in the next few chapters. Like this one.
Finally, while there are song lyrics in this chapter, they're lifted from a poem written in 1804 that is clearly in the public domain
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Chapter 48: Golden Bows and Silver Platters
Friday , July 6, 4:30pm
St. George's Chapel
Windsor Castle
With forty-five minutes to go before Evening Service, the Dean of St. George's Chapel made his way out beyond the choir screen for a brief scan of the neve. The last of the afternoon public tours had made their way through the area, and he often made it a point to ensure that the worship area wasn't too heavily trodden upon. There were, of course, chapel staff with these responsibilities, and he did trust them, but…the afternoon sun was lovely this time of year, when its rays filtered through the stained-glass windows above the chapel entrance, and it was a good excuse to escape (if but for a moment) the ever-present financial concerns that came with the upkeep and use of a six-hundred year old building.
As he made his way up the central aisle he spotted a familiar face that was obviously out of sorts. After a glance at his watch let him know that he had a few minutes to spare, the clergyman strode down to the last pew, and slid over to take a seat next to the Queen's Wizard.
"I would ask how you were this fine afternoon, Lord Gryffindor," the Dean said, "but I'm afraid that the answer to that question is readily apparent."
Harry snorted. "It has been a rather bad day at the office, Dean Conner, and please, just Harry, alright?"
The vicar nodded. "You seem to be carrying a heavy burden…is there anything you want to share with me, Harry?"
The Queen's Wizard shook his head. "Thanks for asking, Dean, but I really can't talk about it."
The vicar paused for a few moments before replying. "You know, Harry, anything we discussed would be just between us."
"I know, sir, but there are, erm…official reasons why I can't say anything."
The clergyman nodded. "Perhaps there is somebody else, then, with the proper clearances…Dame Hermione, perhaps?"
Harry shook his head. "No…I mean yes, she is somebody I could talk with, but I'm afraid that it wouldn't help."
"Why is that, son?"
"Because I already know what she would say."
"But she seems so…how can you know for certain what she would say?"
Harry snorted. "Do you know that saying about letting your conscious be your guide?"
"Yes, of course."
"Well, when my conscious talks inside my head, it sounds more like Hermione than Jiminy Cricket."
"I see," the Dean replied. "So something has happened, something that you obviously feel bad about, and you don't think that she would approve."
Harry nodded.
The clergyman sighed. "Harry, when you and Dame Hermione first came to me a few weeks ago, I was struck by just how responsible you both were. Focused and mature beyond your years…when combined with the Queen's confidence I was intrigued enough to make a few polite inquiries."
Harry swiveled his around to give the vicar a look of concern.
"Nothing too insistent, mind you," the dean said, as he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You see, a good shepherd must know his flock."
"Erm…sure," Harry replied. "And what did you discover from your inquiries?"
"Besides the fact that you and Dame Hermione are deeply committed to both each other and to the Queen's service?"
When Harry smiled, the vicar patted his thigh.
"I learned that you both ride in chariots of fire."
When Harry's blank expression told Dean Conner that he didn't understand the reference, a thought sprung to mind. He stood and said, "Harry, you are welcomed to stay here and reflect, but you should know that our evening service starts in a few minutes."
Harry stood. "Oh, well…don't want to cause a disturbance."
"No worries, Harry," the clergyman said. "I know of a place with a bit more privacy." Looking down the side aisle, he called over one of his acolytes.
"Paul," he asked, "would you please bring my young friend here to the Royal Closet?"
Once the white robed assistant had led Harry off towards the front of the Chapel the vicar moved to an anteroom and made two mobile calls.
The first was to a Castle resident who knew a few things about warrior's guilt.
The second was to his choral director, with a last-minute music request.
+++
A few minutes later, Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a question.
"Mind if we join you, Harry?"
Harry looked up and gave Sir Evan and Roger Granger a feint smile as they quietly sat on the ends of the low bench that Harry had been using.
"So you two know the Dean, then?" Harry asked.
Sir Evan nodded. "We've crossed paths a few times…imagine it comes with living and working here now." He then took a look at the immediate surroundings and said, "This has to be the fanciest closet in the world."
Harry nodded once more, as organ music began to play from below.
The "Royal Closet" was a private, inward-facing enclosed balcony that sat just above the Chapel's choir. Built by Henry VIII so that his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, could watch the Order of the Garter ceremonies, its stained glass windows were set in dark wooden frames, and displayed heraldic motifs and coats of arms. The private viewing area provided the three men the opportunity to talk quietly without bothering other worshipers.
Harry asked about their prisoner's condition as the organist began the introit. Roger told Harry that Malfoy's condition was stable, and that he was still unconscious. Dobby was keeping watch. They then sat quietly, until the chapel choir filed in and the organ began to play a familiar hymn….familiar to Harry not because his Aunt and Uncle had taken him to church, but due to the fact that Hermione's dad had shared with Harry his love for classic muggle comedy.
"Mr. Granger," Harry asked, "why are they playing a Monty Python song in church?"
Roger chuckled as Sir Evan looked at Harry with confusion.
"I think the question should be why they played a church song on Monty Python."
Harry's follow-up question got nipped by Roger's hand signal, allowing the first lines of the hymn to be heard clearly:
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
Sir Even found a hymnal and flipped to the right page as Harry head the choristers sing about building the city of Jerusalem in England (which Harry considered strange, because knew for certain that that city was located in Israel). But then he heard calls for golden bows and arrows and spears, and then something about a chariot of fire…
And that caught Harry's attention fully for the last verse:
I will not cease from Mental Fight
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant Land.
Harry looked down into the chapel as Dean Conner broke away from the processional and took his seat across from their vantage point. The vicar quite clearly looked up towards the Royal Closet gave the three men a small smile and nod of recognition.
"So he knows?" Harry asked quietly.
Roger evenly replied, "In general terms, yes."
"Sending me a message, then?"
"Perhaps," Sir Evan replied.
"And what do you think that message is?"
The eldest Art Clubber paused for a moment before replying.
"Probably that war is hell, and that a just war sometimes forces good men to do bad things, and that they aren't any less worthy of being loved for it."
Harry processed the response before chuckling. "Is that today's lesson, then?"
Sir Evan shook his head. "No, Sir Harry, it's what Albus Dumbledore told me some sixty years ago."
"Dumbledore told you that?" Harry asked with surprise.
Sir Evan shrugged his shoulders. "We were behind enemy lines, no real options for taking prisoners…"
"Albus 'Always-give-them-another-chance' Dumbledore didn't give quarter?" Harry asked incredulously.
When Sir Evan shrugged his shoulders again and nodded, Harry pressed for details. He got none, with the war veteren explaining that his exploits with Dumbledore were either too painful to talk about, or something he had promised never to talk about.
Or both.
A few minutes of silence passed while Harry tried to process this new information. He had just started to wonder whether Dumbledore had considered his horrible childhood at the Dursley's one of those "bad things" that he had been forced to do whilst fighting a just war when Hermione's dad tried a different tack.
"You know, you weren't the only one there at the time, Harry," he noted.
"Yes, but it was mostly my idea and I was the ranking officer," Harry replied. "The blood's on my hands."
Sir Even then said, "After you left Tonks came back with the Ministry's file on Lucius Malfoy."
"Why did she do that?" Harry asked.
"So that we could better understand that Malfoy deserved worse than what you offered him."
Harry shook his head. "The ends don't justify the means."
Sir Evan waited a few seconds before repeating. "War is hell, and a just war sometimes forces good men to do bad things…Harry you gave the man an option to live…that's far more than he would have done if roles had been reversed."
Harry shook his head. "But we're supposed to be better than they are."
Sir Evan shook his head. "But Harry, war is hell, and a just war…"
"Yes, yes, I know," Harry said.
Roger then asked, "So looking back, what would you have done differently? What could you have done differently?"
Having thought about these questions for more than hour, Harry had a quick response.
"We could have given him an anesthetic…we could have had his arm surgically removed...I could have done less taunting, and enjoyed the taunting less…"
"Did you enjoy it, Harry? It doesn't look like you're happy about that now."
Harry thought for a moment, and then replied, "I enjoyed having the upper hand, for once…but I didn't enjoy all that blood."
"And you cared enough to take the quick actions necessary to save his life, correct?"
"Yes but for our own purposes," Harry shot back. "If we didn't need him alive I might have just let him bleed out."
"Really?"
"Well, I…I don't know."
Sir Evan nodded. "Let's say you decided to lop off his arm before the pain got too intense. How exactly would you explain that to a muggle board of inquiry investigating maltreatment of a prisoner?"
Harry hemmed and hawed. "Well, I guess we didn't have proof that the summons would kill him, even knowing that Voldemort would call for him after the goblins delivered their ultimatum."
"So you gave the prisoner a choice. Could have been a little less painful for him, and a cleaner cut made, but we certainly couldn't provide him with a sharper weapon, could we?"
"Suppose not."
"So then, quit beating yourself up, young man," Sir Evan ordered. "You gave the prisoner the chance to make his own choices. You could have done better with the tourniquet, but you saved his life and now you learn from your mistakes. Carry on, boy."
"Not so simple, I think," Harry replied. "We still have the guinea pig armor issue to deal with."
Roger sighed and nodded his head. "You know, Harry, there was a day when common criminals could reduce their prison sentences by voluntarily serving as test subjects for experimental medicines."
Harry thought for a moment, and then said, "I'm sure that your daughter would tell us that given their status those prisoners couldn't do anything on a truly voluntary basis."
"Rubbish," Sir Evan replied. "Give him a range of options, and so long as not volunteering doesn't make his punishment any more severe than it would have been…"
"And that just gets us to a different problem," Harry replied. "There's no capital punishment in muggle Britain, and we don't trust the Ministry to keep him locked up if we turned him over."
Sir Evan thought for a moment, and then asked, "Do your goblin friends have any qualms about offing their prisoners?"
Harry's eyes brightened at the thought. "I don't think that they're shy at all about that sort of thing."
Roger then asked, "Is there any way to strip Malfoy of his magic?"
Harry frowned. "I don't think so, at least not with any spell or ritual I'm aware of."
"Okay, so you can't take his magic…can't you make him forget how to use it?"
Harry gave Hermione's dad a wide-eyed look, wondering if he would have been sorted into Slytherin had he been born with magic.
"I never thought of that before," Harry replied. "Sounds brilliant, but I'll have to ask Hermione."
With a nod the two older men stood, and as Roger patted Harry on the shoulder he said, "You do that, then, Harry…but not before you ask her for a good hug, okay?"
Harry nodded. The two older men then told him that they were returning to the Tower. Harry said that he would be along in a bit, as he wanted to wait and ask Dean Conner a question after the service. Roger and Sir Evan nodded, then walked out of the small alcove.
Not five seconds later, Harry felt another familiar presence enter the room, and a moment later the familiar presence was replaced by a familiar set of arms that wrapped themselves tightly around Harry's chest.
"Your dad just give you a call?"
Hermione's vocal confirmation was lost as her lips pressed up against the nape of Harry's neck. Rather than ask again, he reached around and guided her down towards a seat next to him. Harry then wrapped his arm tightly around Hermione's waist. As she rested her head on his shoulder, the two quietly sat for the balance of the service.
Once the service ended, they made their way downstairs, and asked for a few minutes of Dean Conner's time. He quickly agreed, and led him to his office. Once there confessions were made, loving affirmations were provided, and the details of "just war" doctrine were discussed. Particular attention was paid to Augustine directives on the treatment of prisoners and the administration of mercy, especially when the vanquished were no longer a threat to peace.
Harry and Hermione returned to the Round Tower hand in hand, with borrowed treatises by St. Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, and homework assignments to be completed before a scheduled follow-up meeting.
+++
6:30pm, Round Tower
As Fred and George Weasley helped engineers from MI- 5 ¾'s Q Branch set up a test fire range in the false-story just below the Round Tower's roof, Harry and Hermione reviewed contract language with their vanquished prisoner.
"So, let's review then, Lucius," said Harry.
"Your first option is a life-sentence to be served in a muggle detention facility. We'd have to help them keep you incarcerated, so we would necessarily obliviate every single memory you have about the wizarding world, and how to perform magic…including apparition. The muggles will then send you to a secret military prison on the island of Diego Garcia…it's in the middle of the Indian Ocean, and more than a thousand miles away from land, so you'd have problems leaving even if you did remember how to apparate."
Hermione jumped in, adding, "There would be opportunities for a reduced sentence…down to only ten-years if you voluntarily drop your mental shields and allow us unfettered access to your memories. We also would guarantee you reasonably pleasant living conditions."
"At least when compared to Azkaban," said Harry. "But mind the fact that you would be released from prison into the muggle world, and without your memories of magic, you'd be somewhere in between an ignorant squib and a muggle."
Taking note of the prisoner's scowls, Hermione decided keep things moving.
"Under the second option, you start by publicly denouncing Voldemort…we're thinking a press conference on the front steps of Gringott's. We'd announce it in the papers to make sure you get a good-sized crowd to talk to. Several hours before that, though, we'd break your wand and you would swear a wizard's oath to answer any question that we ask of you truthfully, completely, and without intent to deceive. And then you'd talk. After the press conference, we'd turn you over to the Ministry of Magic."
"Without a knut to my name, one-armed and with a death sentence hanging over my head?" asked Malfoy rhetorically.
"Well, the first two for sure, but we wouldn't have any say in how the Ministry dealt with you," Hermione replied.
"Moving on," said Harry, "Option three is simple…we hand you over to the goblins."
"Again," said Malfoy, "I would be without a knut to my name, one-armed and have a death sentence hanging over my head."
"With goblins, I'd have to agree with you on all three points," Harry admitted.
"Let's get to the last option, then," Malfoy snarled.
"Ah, yes, Option four," Harry replied. "You agree to be a test subject for body armor that we believe may be resistant to the killing curse. We get three shots, and will try not to kill you outright. If the armor works, you will be released from our custody tonight and dropped off exactly where we picked you up this morning. Your memories of the entire day's events would be erased by magical means. Your wand stays with us, but you'd get your money bag back, and we'd make no effort to capture you for three days."
"And if the armor doesn't protect me, you'll swear a wizard's oath to send Draco the money bag, along with an extra million galleons thrown into it?"
"Erm, yes…maybe you could give us his delivery address in advance?" Harry asked.
"Not on your life, Potter."
"Ah. Oh well, can't blame me for trying, can you?" Harry asked. "So, what do you think, Lucius?"
Malfoy squinted hard at Harry, but bit off a retort so that he could focus on the options as they were presented to him. Betraying his Master then living as a muggle for the rest of his life was right out. Under the second option he would likely be AK'ed on the steps of Gringott's before he had the chance to complete his first sentence. Or, if the Ministry did protect him long enough to take him into custody, he probably would be summarily thrown through the Veil.
The third option was right out as well. A painful, humiliating death was a certainty, and the best he could hope was they he'd become a martyr in the next Goblin War.
And martyrdom wasn't something that the Malfoy Family cared to be remembered for.
The final option was the only one that gave him a chance of survival, and it was obvious that his captors wanted him to choose it so as to test their bloody armor. As if anything could block the killing curse. But he had to admit that the muggles had proven themselves resourceful, at least with the Boy's help…they obviously thought themselves above testing on their own muggle prisoners.
Then there was the question on whether the boy could even cast the killing curse successfully. He had seen Bellatrix's memories of the night they were captured in the Department of Mysteries, and knew that Potter didn't have it in him to successfully cast a Cruciatus, much less an AK. But assuming he did, or they found somebody else…what if their armor worked? He could sit out the rest of the war in his Rookery flat, beyond the reach of the Dark Lord, the Ministry, and Potter. And if the armor didn't work…well he'd be dead, but it would be painless, the Malfoy name wouldn't be tarnished, and his incompetent son stood a chance of living long enough to sire a worthier heir.
He looked up at Harry and Hermione with disgust, and said, "The last option." He then spent ten minutes signing a stack of release forms and "hold harmless" agreements.
"Well, then," Harry said, "anything else we could do to help you enjoy your stay?"
Lucius sent his "scowl scale" to eleven and let loose. "Would it be too much to ask for a decent last meal?" he asked.
Harry smiled as he conjured a table and chair. "Dobby?" he asked.
A moment later his friend arrived.
"Yes, Harry Potter, sir, what can I do to help?"
"Would you please prepare your former Master's favorite meal for him?"
Dobby didn't look too happy about the request, but trusted Harry enough to pop away, only to return a few moments later with a bottle of wine and a steak dinner.
"Good-looking filet, there, Dobby," Harry said. As the house-elf swelled with pride, Harry turned towards their prisoner and decided to test-drive a bit of mercy.
"Sorry about the emergency dental work, Lucius," Harry said. "Couldn't have you slip away from us, but given things…sure you don't want something softer to eat?"
"I'll manage," Malfoy shot back.
"You know," Harry said, "with a bit of help we could probably transfigure a partial set of muggle dentures for you."
"Muggle replacement teeth?" Malfoy asked.
"Erm..yes."
"I'd rather eat soup the rest of my life."
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Don't say we didn't offer." He then turned and asked Dobby for one final favor.
"Of course, Harry Potter, sir, what can Dobby do?"
Harry let one of his slightly evil smiles slip out.
"Grab a knife…Lefty is going to need some help cutting his meat."
+++
11:30pm
Soho, London
They waited until the theater crowds had left the street to push Lucius Malfoy out of the back of an unmarked van right in front of the Rookery. Had his memories not been swiped of the day's events, he would have been wondering how in Merlin's name muggles had invented body armor that had saved him from Alistair Moody's killing curses.
In between wondering just how he had lost both an arm and a wand.
He realized that he had been memory charmed, and had lost knowledge of what had happened that day. The knowledge of just how dire his predicament had been the night previous had been retained, however. So it was all he could do not to immediately rush inside the Rookery. Instead, Malfoy took a walk, and used the cover of darkness to get lost within the crowds of Piccadilly Circus, before doubling back to his Rookery flat.
His movements were stealthy enough to have shaken off anyone who might have been following him. The walk did nothing, however, to stop digital and magical cameras from recording his return from their fixed vantage points right across the street.
+++
Saturday, July 7, 7:30am
Somewhere Hidden in Wiltshire
Voldemort thought that the goblin council's latest demands were outrageous, but realized that they could have been worse:
"For failure to properly restrain your minions, and to provide us with Lucius Malfoy's head, the Grand Goblin Council has served notice to the leaders of every non-human sentient species that any assistance they or their own provide you and your Death Eaters will be considered an act of war against the Goblin Nation. In addition, with this message we serve notice that you and your minions are prohibited from use of the Morsmorde spell, or the casting of the Dark Mark, within the visible range of muggles. Should you ignore this edict, the Goblin Nation will openly declare war against you. And yes, we know that this will likely spark another all-out war between goblins and wizards."
Attached to this notice was a second note, informing Voldemort that Malfoy's head might cause the council to rethink their decisions. The goblins were then kind enough to provide Voldemort with the most likely location of Malfoy's head.
The crystal that had encased the holographic goblin edict disintegrated before Voldemort had the opportunity to show it to anyone else. He was therefore forced to give a summary when he called in a few of his inner circle for their opinions on the matter.
The Death Eaters had been much more willing to offer candid assessments now that their Master couldn't hurl unforgivables willy-nilly. Rookwood started by giving the goblins credit for their cunning, noting their actions could be considered justifiable by those worried about preserving the secrets of the wizarding world. Bellatrix disagreed, arguing that the Morsmorde spell was the only way that the Ministry idiots knew they had a mess to clean up after some muggle hunting. Rookwood then suggested that was the whole point, and that the goblins wanted to halt all wizard attacks against muggles. When Wormtail asked why goblins would want to protect muggles, the elder Nott explained that goblins were barred from investing in the wizarding world, so they had to invest in muggle banks and businesses. Unexplained magical attacks on muggles provoked panic, and panic was bad for business.
They then spent a few minutes arguing over how the Ministry of Magic would respond if the goblins did attack them. The consensus was that the Ministry would reluctantly agree to a temporary truce with the Death Eaters, so that a united wizard front could be presented against the enemy. Nearly all of the Death Eaters had attended Hogwarts, and been taught History of Magic by Binns (in both living and ghostly forms). And if Binns taught you anything, he taught you about the Goblin Wars. There was ample historical precedent for warring wizard factions to cooperate just long enough to beat back assaults by other sentient species.
Finally, MacNair asked how the werewolves would react to the goblin council's edict, and whether it would affect their plans for that night's full moon. Voldemort expressed his confidence that the werewolves would be loyal to him, and would be furious at the thought of being ordered around by the goblins. The Death Eaters actually chuckled when their Master joked about needing to make sure that Greyback and his pack didn't change their minds, and attack Gringott's rather than their primary targets.
Voldemort then dismissed everyone but Rookwood with orders to proceed with their established plans for that night. The Dark Lord then told him what he had withheld from the others…that the goblins still wanted Malfoy dead, and had been kind enough to tell them where he was hiding.
The former Unspeakable wasn't very surprised when his Master gave him the street address of the Rookery. He knew about the building, and knew the names of some of the Patriarchs who owned flats there. The Rookwood Patriarch was one of those owners, and the whispered stories about the games Grandfather played there were closely kept family secrets.
He already knew that Malfoy was a Rookery Patriarch. It also didn't surprise him when his Master changed his assignment for the night's attacks. There'd be one less wizard creating illegal portkeys while the diversions were taking place, but Voldemort had made Karkaroff's capture, torture, and death a warning to all - nobody can ignore their Master's summons.
And with Malfoy dead….Rookwood pondered the new Inner Circle pecking order as he packed the boot of his Cooper. But as Legimens was one of the very few spells that could be cast without being detected, he waited until he was on the road and well away from his Master before daring to ponder far more dangerous thoughts…thoughts about surviving in a world without Voldemort.