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batsutousaiTitle: Stand Against the Moon
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Harry Potter/Lord Voldemort
Warnings: Violence, character death, Dark!Harry, werewolf!Harry, AU, ending of questionable happiness, underage sexual relationship (depending on the way you tilt your head)
Summary: Cursed against his will, Harry made the best of his life until he found himself, again, wandering in Death's realm. When Death offers him a second chance, a chance to right the wrongs he'd been blind to for too long, he can't possibly refuse.
Chapter Eight – International Acclaim
-0-
"So, today," Sirius started before taking a pause to take a bite of the lasagne Pinky had just brought out for them.
Harry and Remus traded raised eyebrows and Harry mouthed 'Here we go', earning a grin from Remus.
"I saw that," Sirius informed them, waving his fork between them.
"So today, Padfoot?" Remus asked, expression one of polite interest.
Sirius shot him a suspicious look. "Today, I took a wander down to the fifth level–"
Harry raised an eyebrow, but resisted the urge to comment by taking a bite of lasagne.
"–and who should I happen to see talking to the French and Italian International Confederation aides, but Dalbert Avery and Lucius Malfoy."
Harry set his fork down. "Indeed? I wonder what has them so far from their usual haunts."
"Could he be recruiting abroad?" Remus asked, one hand held politely in front of his mouth to hide that he hadn't completely swallowed.
"It's possible," Harry agreed with a frown, mind running over every interaction he'd had with Riddle. "He did suggest he was hoping to get Karkaroff to turn some of the currently graduating Durmstrang class towards his ideals, especially those looking for positions in the various European governments."
"Taking over multiple ministries all at once?" Remus murmured, gaze distant.
"It's not a bad strategy," Sirius admitted, looking like the words hurt. "With the current tensions between the muggles over their Cold War and the unrest in the Middle East, no one's going to notice a bit of minor magical governmental shuffling until it's too late."
"And you know the Soviets aren't going to help after they got burned by Grindelwald," Remus agreed. "They'll keep America in check just to prove they can."
"America wouldn't come anyway," Sirius insisted. "The magical population is as terrified of starting a war with the Soviet Union as the muggle. I mean, they're refusing to attend any meetings of the International Confederation of Wizards held any closer to the Soviet Union's borders than Portugal, and even that's pushing it."
Remus sighed.
Harry scratched his cheek. "I've made no secret of the fact that my interests are global. His attempts in the other reality were very United Kingdom specific, but global politics were a bit different in the nineties, and he didn't have the promise of the assistance of all non-humans the world over."
"You said he didn't have any power in Durmstrang then, either, since Karkaroff ran for it," Sirius added.
Harry snorted. "Voldemort never would have let Karkaroff live, not then. Honestly, I'm not sure he was going to this time, but I pointed out he could be useful."
"An international take-over now will help us later," Remus decided with a shrug. "His human forces will be even more stretched, especially if he's depending on non-humans for muscle."
"Brutal, Moony," Sirius commented, but his grin was edging on bloodthirsty; the deaths of Lily and James might still be a sore point, but he was wholly behind Harry's plan to let Voldemort take down the Ministry, then come in behind him and destroy the humans while they were still floundering in the upheaval.
Harry picked his fork back up. "Sirius, how difficult would it be to buy a couple of houses in other European countries?"
"New way houses for the werefolk?" Remus guessed.
Harry nodded. "If he's planning international, we should look into spreading our forces out a bit more, play along."
"It shouldn't be too hard," Sirius decided. "I'll drop by the fifth floor again this week, ask about international properties. If anyone asks, I'll say you were asking about seeing the world a bit before you start Hogwarts. Bring back some culture."
"Oh, the Ministry's gonna love that," Harry muttered, well aware of how the British Ministry was stuck in the 'We're the best because Merlin and Hogwarts' mentality.
"Albus will actually appreciate it, though," Remus commented. "However, if he's got wind of the Death Eaters sniffing about international affairs, it might make him a bit nervous."
"Well, so Harry said he was curious, I saw Lucius when I got off the wrong level looking for travel information, and thought it might be a better plan to get a house or two, since we have the money, and then ward them to hell and back," Sirius decided with a shrug. "Safe travelling for Harry, all thanks to Death Eaters acting suspicious."
"Moments like this," Harry muttered as he returned his focus to his food, "I understand how the four of you got away with so much while you were in school."
Sirius' responding grin was enough to make a normal person want to piss their pants.
"You realise," Harry said when Riddle sat down next to him, "that your Death Eaters are a bit notable."
Riddle sighed, looking briefly tired before he straightened and put on an irritated look. "And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean, Sol?"
Harry took a moment to get past how easily the bastardised version of his Marauder name slipped off Riddle's tongue, but he finally shook it away when Riddle let out an angry noise. "Sirius mentioned seeing Avery and Malfoy in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, talking to a couple of Confederation aids, and Arthur Weasley commented on seeing Malfoy laughing with Fudge and the French Minister."
"And?" Riddle demanded. "Black already knows I'm back, what do I care if he and some blood traitor in a dead end position with more kids than he can feed have seen a couple of my people talking to foreigners?"
Harry raised both eyebrows at him. "Dumbledore knows you're not dead. Eventually, he's going to be suspicious."
Riddle let out an angry sound and leant in close. "And what am I supposed to do to avoid his all-seeing gaze, P–Sol? Anyone even vaguely connected to me is going to be obvious, too much in the public eye to skirt the papers. Political manoeuvring is not something meant for the shadows, not that I'd expect a child to know that."
Harry considered that, casting his mind back to every time Hermione dragged him out to speak publicly about werewolves, every time he had to be loud to catch the attention of others. "Hm. Perhaps I am simply too trapped by my curse; it is surprisingly difficult to overcome the need for secrecy."
Riddle sighed, deflating some, and grabbed a biscuit off Harry's plate, as it was so busy that neither Bipdey nor Shrill had appeared with the plate of biscuits they usually brought the Dark Lord shortly after he arrived. "It is true," he admitted, "that some deeds are best left to the shadows in this little play we have begun, but those are not things someone so well established as Lucius or Dalbert can do. Being seen in public, trading polite words over a dinner everyone knows was to occur...those are the skills Lucius and Dalbert possess. Other things, like threatening in the shadows to make the play go smoothly, those are meant for my people who avoid the public light: Amycus and Alecto, Walden–"
Harry couldn't help the snarl he let slip at the mention of Walden Macnair, the British Ministry's non-human executioner.
Riddle watched him for a long moment before shaking his head. "Come now, Sol. He's hardly the only of my Death Eaters to enjoy killing people."
"It is not his enjoyment of murder that angers me, Voldemort, but that it is my people that he is killing."
"Non-humans you've never met–"
"It doesn't matter!" Harry roared and the entire pub fell silent. He pressed his eyes closed and rubbed at the corners of his eyes. "It doesn't matter," he continued quietly, "who they are or whether I've met them or not. These are my people." He opened his eyes and met Riddle's faintly nervous gaze. "I know you've never had anyone worth protecting, Voldemort, so you can't possibly understand, but this– These people–" he waved at the silent room "–they are mine. I swore to protect them from humans. Every time one is hurt, every time one dies, I have failed. And even you can understand, I think, how it feels to fail at the single most important task you have ever been given."
Harry stood, then, pushing away from his stool and the bar, and stepped directly into the Realm of Death, the doorway opening without him needing to call it. He stood there for a moment after the doorway had closed behind him, forcing himself to breathe through the ache of every report of failure, of every black shadow he'd come across in this realm that he'd known was one of his, their destiny tied to his even in death.
"Master," Death murmured, appearing at his side, "perhaps you should take a holiday, just this once."
"Just this once," Harry agreed and turned towards the Forbidden Forest, where he could run in wolf form without fear of coming across any humans or Dark Lords who didn't understand what it meant to give your everything to a people.
No mention of Harry's outburst and subsequent fleeing was made during the next dark moon, nor the one after. Honestly, Harry figured it had been completely brushed under the figurative rug, forgotten save for fitting one more piece into the puzzle of Harry Potter, Alpha Lord that Harry didn't once doubt Riddle was working on.
For the second half of May, Sirius took Harry and Remus down to Greece, where they toured the ruins during the day and met with the local non-humans during the nights. They returned home for the blue moon, then went to Spain for the first half of June. They got back in time for Harry to run to Bloody Eyetooth on the fourteenth, making it about an hour before sunset.
"Been doing much travelling, Sol?" Riddle asked as he passed an unopened butterbeer over when Harry sat down.
"It's nice to get out of the United Kingdom and not be going to settle a coven or pack dispute," Harry admitted with a grateful smile. Before he could take a drink of his butterbeer, however, fire blazed just behind him and he turned to find a familiar phoenix. "Fawkes?"
"Fuck," Riddle hissed before apparating away without a by-your-leave.
Harry blinked a few times, trapped somewhere between confusion at the phoenix's sudden arrival and amusement at hearing Riddle actually drop a curse as unrefined as 'fuck'.
Fawkes ducked his head in a bow, then let out a trill, followed by a series of chirps and a warble. To Harry, it became words: "Greetings, Alpha Lord. I came to give you warning; my familiar intends to visit your home, as he is aware you have returned from abroad."
Harry's eyes went wide. "Right. Good. Thanks, Fawkes. Richard!" he called as the phoenix left in another flash of fire.
"Alpha?" the barman asked, expression worried.
"I need to attend to another matter. I'll be back once it's seen to, but I don't know how long it will take. If someone has an issue that absolutely needs my attention tonight and they can't wait, have them leave a note with yourself or, when she arrives, Countess Sanguina, and I'll see to it at dawn, if not before."
Richard inclined his head. "I understand, Alpha."
Harry flashed him a fond smile, then followed Riddle's example and apparated from his seat, landing close enough to home that it was only a few steps through the Realm of Death to reach his room. (Were it not for the fact that apparation made noise, he'd have just gone straight to his room in that manner. As it was, using both methods worked well enough.)
Sirius and Remus were talking downstairs; a deep breath turned up no further scents, and Harry smiled to himself in victory before he quickly set about hiding the Elder Wand and Resurrection Stone in the back of his wardrobe, on top of the box holding the diadem. Of all the things that shouldn't be in the house, those two items were the ones Dumbledore would be most likely to recognise, and Harry wanted to take no chances, not when he'd no idea why Dumbledore was paying a visit.
Remus met him at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a worried frown. "Harry? Is something–"
A 'ding' echoed through the house, the signal that someone had come in through the floo.
Harry smiled at his guardian. "It seems," he said cheerfully, "that we have a guest. Does this mean I don't have to go to bed quite yet?"
Remus' lips twitched, because he and Sirius had long ago figured out that decreeing a bedtime was rather pointless when their charge could glare Remus into backing off and slip right past any traps Sirius left for him. "It depends on who it is," he replied, playing along.
"Albus!" Sirius called, a note of strain under the cover of pleasure in his voice.
"Hello, Sirius. I do hope it's not too late to call on you," Dumbledore offered as Harry and Remus made their way into the dining room.
"Not too late," Remus offered politely while Harry peered around him like a curious child, "but Harry's bedtime is in an hour, so it'll have to be a short visit."
Sirius turned to look at them over his shoulder and, upon seeing Harry's curious smile, shrugged and stepped back to let Dumbledore out of the receiving room. "What Remus said; Harry's sleep schedule has been ruined enough by sleeping in new houses."
"Not to mention time zones," Remus muttered, because instant travel made that particular global quirk far worse than travelling the muggle way. (At least according to another Hermione, who had done both and declared that, while jetlag was hell, there was a sort of loss and sense of disorientation that one felt in immediately changing time zones, especially if one went from a place where the sun had already risen to where they had a couple hours still before daylight.)
Dumbledore chuckled in a manner that suggested he knew exactly what Remus meant, then bowed forward so his eyes were on level with Harry's. "Hello again, Harry. I don't know if you remember me–"
"You were with Sirius and the blond man, the ones who saved me from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," Harry agreed, tilting his head to one side.
"I am indeed. You have an excellent memory."
Harry pointed towards Sirius. "Gotta remember Padfoot's pranks or he'll get me twice."
All the adults laughed, Sirius and Remus sounding a little bit strained.
"You never really change," Dumbledore told Sirius with an amused smile before looking back to Harry. "I realise we weren't introduced last time, Harry; I'm Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"I know," Harry returned with a knowing smile. "I've got your card." He made a face while Dumbledore's eyes lit up at the mention of his chocolate frog card. "I dunno what's so great about chamber music though."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Have you ever been to a concert, my boy?"
Harry shook his head because, honestly, no. He'd heard plenty of classical music on the wireless, and the wizarding wireless had always played a couple of songs recorded live in a traditional chamber music setting to mark the anniversary of Dumbledore's death in that other reality, but Harry'd never gone to any music performances, save for the Yule Ball and a couple Ministry functions. Nothing that one could ever call comfortable.
"Perhaps, if you're particularly good, Sirius or Remus will take you to hear it some time. Music, you will find, is always best heard in person, rather than over the wireless."
Harry shrugged, not really caring and pretty certain, besides, that Sirius would rather pull a Wormtail and cut off his own hand than go and listen to a chamber orchestra. Remus might, but only if Harry insisted.
Dumbledore chuckled and straightened. "I'm afraid I'm not as young as I used to be, and standing around gets rather wearying after a bit," he hinted cheerfully.
"Oh, of course!" Remus motioned for Dumbledore to follow him as he turned and pushed Harry towards the living room.
Harry settled on the floor, back to the couch, and Sirius and Remus settled on either side of him, Sirius ruffling Harry's hair. Dumbledore sat in the plush chair across from the couch that Remus always curled up in when he was reading.
"Not to be impolite, but what did you need, Albus?" Sirius asked as soon as they were all settled, Harry leaning against Sirius' leg as though he was tired, though the potion he took to stay up all night on the new moons wouldn't let him tire for hours yet.
"I was wondering, since you're at the Ministry so often, Sirius, if you've noticed any interesting activity from the...less-than-polite members of society?" Dumbledore asked, eyes flicking down towards Harry as he carefully worded his question.
"Lucius, you mean," Sirius guessed, his distaste for his cousin's husband obvious in his voice. "Nothing really beyond his usual slimy tactics. Kissing up to anyone Fudge shows the slightest interest in, snubbing anyone he dislikes."
"I suspect, rather, that it's the other way around," Dumbledore remarked. "Lucius directs Cornelius to those he should like the Minister to prefer and away from those he'd like him to avoid."
"If so, I doubt he has as much control of Fudge as he'd like everyone to think, or has Fudge stopped asking your advice?" Remus asked mildly.
"No, that's true," Dumbledore agreed. "Still, Alastor came to me last week with concerns about some of the people he'd heard that Lucius and a couple of his other associates were spending time with."
"Well, I can certainly keep an eye out when I'm back from holiday," Sirius offered. "We're off to Egypt in a couple of days until the full moon, then I'm back on the clock. I'll let you know if I notice anything that sets off alarm bells."
Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, Sirius. I knew I could trust you to keep your ear to the wind. Which reminds me of an international legislation currently on the table which will affect you, should it pass."
Sirius stiffened, the muscles of his thigh going ridged against Harry. "Oh?" he replied, voice forcefully casual.
Dumbledore nodded, expression turned grave. "There are some members of the international body who disapprove of werewolves, as well you know, and word has made it around that there's someone letting houses in England to werewolves in need. They want to pass a law that keeps werewolves from living in groups of more than two within a certain distance of humans."
"They can't do that!" Harry burst out, putting on his most broken-hearted expression to hide the absolute fury that had swept through him at the threat to his people. "What about the non-magical werewolves? They need to be close to their jobs 'cause they can't apparate or anything, right? But they can't get jobs away from the city, and the easiest way is to share a flat. And if you're gonna be sharing a flat, best to share with other werewolves, right? Because then there's no chance of anyone getting hurt if there's a fight. It's a matter of safety as much as it's a matter of survival!"
"Harry," Remus whispered, sounding tired, "the thing is, they don't care."
Harry climbed onto the couch and curled up next to Remus, needing the comfort of someone who understood how important pack was.
"I and some of my allies are fighting it, but you may wish to warn your tenants," Dumbledore murmured.
"Of course, Albus," Sirius agreed, obviously strained, and the couch shifted as he stood. "Was there anything else?"
"No," Dumbledore agreed and the chair creaked. "I am sorry to leave you with such stressful news, my boys."
"You just worry about fighting it on your end," Remus bit out.
"This way," Sirius directed.
There was a moment of silence, then a faint chime sounded, letting them know the floo had activated for an outgoing traveller.
Harry pushed out of the couch and snarled to himself as he stalked around Remus' chair. Fury and fear battled in his chest, making him feel sick. He needed to do something about this, but he couldn't think of anything that would actually help. Killing the originators of the bill would just prove their allies in the confederation right about non-humans.
Hands on his shoulders stopped his pacing, firm and warm. "Pup," Sirius called and Harry glanced up at him. "Hey. Deep breaths for a moment, Harry," he ordered.
Harry closed his eyes and obediently took a few deep breaths, in and out, letting them calm the turmoil of his mind, calm down so he could think of solutions.
'The Death Eaters,' he realised, eyes popping open. "Oh."
"Alpha?" Remus called, Harry's rarely-used title filled with hope.
Harry glanced back towards him and nodded. "I need to talk to Voldemort." He looked back up at Sirius, smiling at the face he made. "Getting my people involved in this will just see it exploding in our faces, but he has humans on his side who are already influential. Hell, you've seen Lucius and Avery chatting with some of the Confederation's aides."
Sirius' eyes lit up and he looked towards the nearest clock. "Right. Best you get back before he skips off, then."
Harry shook his head and pulled away, reminded of another problem. Now that he could take a minute, he realised that Fawkes was, technically, non-human. There were those of his people and among humans who would debate that status with him, since Fawkes was more animal than anything else, but there was definite intelligence in phoenixes, and from what Harry had translated of his book on non-human history, all magical creatures should fall under his purview, not just those who looked or spoke like humans.
"Fawkes!" he called, wondering if it would work. He knew phoenixes could transport to any humans they were tied to when they were needed, but Harry wasn't completely certain he qualified.
Fire flashed in mid-air and the phoenix appeared, coming to land on the arm Harry held out for him amidst Sirius and Remus' startled sounds. "You called me, Alpha Lord?" Fawkes requested in his language of chirps and trills.
Harry nodded. "Yes. I realised you're one of mine–" Sirius let out a started 'oh' next to him "–but I cannot begin to guess where your loyalty lies, given your ties to Dumbledore."
Fawkes tilted his head to one side. "That is a most complicated question. While I will love Albus until he dies, you are both Alpha Lord and Master of Death, twice deserving of my loyalty." Harry raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't ask further; Sirius and Remus' uncertain expressions suggested they couldn't understand Fawkes, and neither of them knew about his ties to Death, beyond whatever Remus may have gathered from those rare new moons he spent at Bloody Eyetooth. "I wish to continue serving Albus, but should you demand it of me, I would betray him."
Harry winced. "No, no, I would never ask that of you... Well, not fully. I only request that you don't tell Dumbledore what I am, nor who you may have seen with me tonight."
Fawkes let out a titter that was clearly meant as a laugh. "You don't want him knowing Voldemort is returned."
"I would prefer we kept that from him for a time yet, yes." Harry sighed. "For your sake, I regret that your silence will very likely mean Dumbledore's death, but he is as much a part of the problem as the rest of humanity, so I cannot honestly regret his fate."
Fawkes bowed his head and let out a single sad note that didn't seem to mean anything, then offered, "He has lived a most full life. If it is to bring about happiness for those so abused, I believe he will not mind his fate."
Harry reached up with his free hand and gently brushed a finger down Fawkes' neck. "And he'll finally be able to see Ariana again. Make up for his cruelties against her."
Fawkes let out a startled sound, jerking back from Harry's touch. "How do you–!?"
Harry just smiled and turned his gaze to where there was a small writing desk in the corner. "Could you take something to Tom for me? If only for the pleasure of sending him into a panic."
Fawkes relaxed again, letting out a faint titter of laughter. "I can," he agreed and let Harry shift him to his shoulder while he pulled out a muggle biro – Remus insisted on them, and Harry found them far more trustworthy that quills, himself – and penned a quick note on a sheet of lined paper he kept for those of his people who lived in the muggle world.
"Thank you, Fawkes," Harry said as he offered up the rolled paper, tied with twine.
Fawkes caught his beak in Harry's hair, a reminder of the way another reality's Hedwig had always showed her love for him. "Just promise me one thing, Alpha Lord."
Harry eyed the phoenix out of the corner of his eye. "What?"
"Send Gellert after?"
Harry blinked, surprised, then smiled sadly. "A second chance in the afterlife, is it?" he murmured to himself before promising, "I'll see it arranged."
"Then I will be content with my treason," Fawkes decided before he vanished in a ball of flames. They danced warmly against Harry's cheek and he couldn't help but smile as he turned back to his guardians.
"You understand phoenix, now?" Sirius asked, clearly amused.
Harry shrugged. "So it seems." He expected that was part of the gift from Death, but he wasn't about to explain that; Sirius and Remus could assume it was an Alpha Lord perk. "He's promised not to betray our activities to Dumbledore, which is more than I could have asked for, given how loyal phoenixes are to those humans they give their trust to. For now, I need to head for The Bloody Eyetooth, as I suspect leaving Carmilla to deal with an angry Voldemort on her own would be considered rude."
"What have you done to piss him off this time?" Remus asked tiredly, having heard about the way Riddle had stormed out that one time and his following two month absence.
Harry chuckled as he made for the stairs. "I just sent Fawkes to him," he admitted, and Sirius' laughter followed him all the way up to his room.
There, he collected the Stone and Wand, then apparated back to the pub. He was just settling down at his usual seat and accepting the butterbeer Richard had kept cool for him, when the door to the street slammed open and Riddle stormed in, looking livid.
"It didn't even occur to me," Harry said before Riddle could start yelling, "but phoenixes actually fall under my purview, and you know how loyal they are."
Riddle hissed some very uncomplimentary things at Harry as he settled into his stool. "You sent him on purpose," he snarled in English at last.
Harry flashed him a smile that wasn't even pretending to be apologetic. "I'd feel bad, but I felt he deserved the treat after telling me he wouldn't get in the way when we made our move on Dumbledore."
A plate of biscuits appeared in front of both of them, the house-elves clearly of the opinion that they needed sweets to keep from murdering each other. Riddle slumped, allowing himself to be appeased by the offering, and Harry smiled as he bit into a fresh biscuit himself.
"My Lord," Carmilla said as she slid onto the stool on his other side, her delicate nose twisted with displeasure, "the Death magic around you is unusually prickly today."
Harry motioned with his hand, the movement a little sharper than he'd intended, and a surprisingly strong silencing barrier snapped up around the three of them, given that it had been wandless. Riddle's eyebrows went up and Carmilla stiffened at his side. "I had to rush home to receive a most unpleasant visitor," Harry commented, keeping his voice easy, though it was clear his magic was giving his fury away. "Dumbledore came by to ask Sirius to keep an eye on any ex-Death Eaters running about the Ministry, once he returns next full moon, and also to warn that there is currently a bit of legislation going through the International Confederation of Wizards that would make it illegal for more than two werewolves to live in the same flat or house inside of a muggle city."
There was a moment of silence within the barrier, the other two clearly at a loss for what to say, then Carmilla let out a sound that was so very unladylike, Harry couldn't help but turn to look at her, disbelieving. "I will rip out their every throat," she spat, teeth sharp against her painted lips, eyes gleaming red in fury.
"That would solve nothing," Riddle snapped, clearly unimpressed by her display. When Harry turned to him, expression neutral, he promised, surprisingly sincere, "I will handle this."
Harry shrugged. "There is nothing I or any of mine can do that won't make this worse; we are in your hands."
"Do you know when the legislation is due to go to vote?"
"I don't."
Riddle sighed and nodded. "Very well. I'll find out the specifics tonight and send you an owl tomorrow. Was there anything else?"
Harry shook his head. "No. But, for the moment, I would like this kept between us. I'll brief the pack alphas tonight, but if word reaches my werefolk in the wrong manner, we'll be facing the murder of every Confederation member within hours."
"Oh, God," Carmilla whispered, feral expression turning horrified.
Harry nodded at her, then looked back at Riddle. "Thank you, Tom."
Riddle twitched. "I'll kill you when we're not dealing with an emergency," he promised before grabbing a handful of biscuits and leaving the pub.
Harry smiled after him for a moment, then shook himself and looked at Carmilla. "I need to handle this. Can I trust you to stand in my place tonight and let me know if there's anything else that needs my attention?"
Carmilla straightened in her seat, putting on her familiar proper air. "Of course, Alpha Lord."
Harry brushed his fingers against her cheek and offered a fond smile. "Thank you, my Lady. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"I suspect, my Lord, that you would get by."
Harry chuckled. "I doubt we'll be finding out any time soon," he replied before grabbing a last biscuit, then walking over to a corner and summoning a doorway to the Realm of Death.
Death was waiting for him, scythe twirling between its fingers. "I will lead you to the danger points first," it promised.
Harry felt like a weight had been torn from his shoulders and he stumbled forward.
Death caught him, skeletal hands strong around him. "It will be fine, Master," it said, genderless voice gentle as a last breath from the aged. "You will surpass this hurdle, as you have all others."
Harry closed his eyes against tears, feeling weakest in the presence of the one who knew the most of him. And, yet, still Death believed in him, had decided he would succeed; it was the greatest joke that his strongest supporter was the one being that most of the world most feared. "Thank you, Death," he choked out. "You are–" a blessing; my best friend; the only one I fully trust; everything "–invaluable."
Death's grip on him tightened – the hug of a horror film – then drew away slowly, as though unwilling to part. "Come, Master," Death said at last, scythe reappearing in its hands, "time draws its noose and we haven't long to slip the hangman's grasp."
Harry took a deep breath and nodded. "Right. Let's go keep my people from starting a genocide."
When Harry finally stumbled home, he actually tripped over his own two feet upon stepping out of the doorway he'd formed, he was so exhausted. Luckily, his bed was there to catch him. It was a struggle to turn his head to the side so he could breathe, but he managed. Anything else was way beyond him.
"Master Lord," Kreacher said on a sigh, and Harry was suddenly dressed in the pyjama trousers he always slept in. Another moment and he was under the covers, turned on his side so he was no longer half-smothering himself with his own weight.
Harry mumbled something that he'd meant to be a 'Thanks' but was pretty sure came out more like, "Ahn."
"Harry?" Remus whispered from the door of Harry's room.
"Master Lord needs sleep," Kreacher snapped and Remus let out an amused sound before the door clicked closed. Kreacher's hand brushed across Harry's forehead. "Sleep, Master Lord," he ordered and magic tingled against Harry's skin.
He couldn't even bring himself to care that his house-elf was spelling him asleep.
"Thank you," Harry said when he found his guardians in the living room, "for taking care of the United Kingdom packs."
Remus flashed him a smile. "I realised, after you left, that word was going to get out in a couple days, no matter what we did to keep it under wraps. Most of the packs around here know me, and those that don't know of me. Lady Carmilla said, when we went to find you, that you were likely starting internationally, since word was more likely to break out first where the sun is already up, so I figured I could handle everyone local to us and give you a break." He frowned, looking Harry over. "It was clearly a good choice."
"Yeah, you look like death warmed over, pup," Sirius agreed.
Harry sighed and dropped into the couch next to Sirius, not even considering he could complain when Sirius tugged him over into a half-hug. "That doorway I'm always opening to get rid of people who try attacking me, the one that creeps everyone out?"
"The one to the afterlife?" Remus asked.
Harry nodded. "I can use it to travel."
"Harry!" Remus and Sirius both shouted, fear and anger mingling in their voices.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing against Sirius. "Oh, give me a break. It's perfectly safe for me, since I'm the one opening them, and how did you think I was getting around? Apparation?"
"Actually," Sirius replied, voice tight, "since you picked up that new wand of yours, yeah, I sort of did."
Harry huffed. "Sometimes I do," he admitted, "but the doorways aren't blocked by wizarding wards, so I can go anywhere I want with them, like the Forbidden Forest, or into those covens and pack lands warded against wizarding travel means. Sometimes, the Realm of Death is my best option."
"I don't like it," Sirius snapped, and Harry opened his eyes and tilted his head so he could look up at his angry godfather. "It's dangerous, Harry. I don't care if you shove people through, but I don't want you walking through them."
Harry sighed and closed his eyes again. "Yes, I rather expected you'd say that. Well, it hardly matters now; what's done is done." He forced himself to get off the couch, feeling unspeakably exhausted, despite the tea and Pepper-Up potion Kreacher had plied him with when he got up. "I'm probably going to go back to bed, just thought I should let you know I'm fine."
"Fine?" Sirius muttered. "You look like you're going to collapse any minute."
Harry glanced between his guardians, both clearly still angry with him. "Let me put it this way," he suggested drily, "there are almost three hundred werefolk groups outside of the United Kingdom, all of which I had to get to last night, covering every continent save Antarctica. If I'd tried apparating that much, I would have killed myself. Walking through the Realm of Death, I'm just physically exhausted. To me, the danger was worth it."
So saying, he stumbled back up to his room, silence following him.
Harry stared down at the parchment he was holding, fingers white where he held it tight enough that, had he not covered it in strengthening charms, it would have torn multiple times over. 'I will kill him for this,' he grumbled to himself, though he suspected Riddle had set this up as get-back for using his first name again. Or sending Fawkes to him. Possibly a bit of both.
A gentle hand squeezed his shoulder and he looked up to offer Sirius a shaky smile. "You can do it, pup," Sirius promised him.
Harry gave a tight nod, then stepped through the doors with his godfather, into the massive chamber filled with witches and wizards from all over the world. Dumbledore sat directly across from the door, a supportive smile on his face. When Harry and Sirius stopped at the podium set up in the middle of the room, Dumbledore called, "Order! We are convened to hear from Sirius Black and Harry Potter on the matter of Legislation 1988-W. Will the Confederation please fall to silence!"
When the room had fallen quiet, Dumbledore nodded to Sirius. He nodded back, then said, voice magically amplified by the podium and translated into every language necessary for their audience to understand him, "My name is Sirius Black. I am the godfather and legal guardian of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Two years ago, after I took Harry in, he asked me if we could turn my mother's house, which I didn't want, into a home for those in the magical world who were having trouble finding or keeping a home. I agreed, because it seemed like a good cause. It should come as a surprise to no one that every resident of that building is a werewolf, and about half of them can't afford to pay me more than a sickle a month for rent, because they simply don't have any form of income, or what income they do have goes to their pack, which has to live and survive in the wilds as best they can.
"The first time I had to turn a werewolf away because I'd run out of room, I realised I could afford to buy another house to set them up in, and then another, and a fourth. The buildings have been magically strengthened and are locked down on the full moons, so there's no chance of anyone getting loose when they change, and each house has a compliment of house-elves who hide during the full moons for their safety, then come out at dawn and see to the residents. Other than a broken attic window – the event did not result in the werewolf escaping, this body will please note – I have never had a problem with any of my tenants, either on the full moon or during the rest of the month.
"But British werewolves aren't the only ones struggling to make ends meet. I got to thinking, a couple months ago, that it would be nice to open a few of what Harry calls 'way houses' in other countries. Just before I was about to open one in Greece, I was informed that this body was debating a bill which would make everything I've worked for over the past two years obsolete. When it was suggested I might appeal to you, I immediately set about looking into the specifics, and so here we are, asking you to, please, don't pass this bill."
"Touching, I'm sure," one wizard said from their left.
"Willard Ackerly is my favourite," Harry said, voice echoing in the chamber as he turned to look at the man who had spoken. "Do you know why I like him best?"
"Do I look like I care, kid?" the man shot back, only for the woman next to him to lean over and hiss something in his ear that made him look away.
Harry smiled. "Willard works at the grocery a couple blocks from the way house. The first time I met him, he gave me a bar of chocolate and winked at me. I didn't find out until a couple days later that it was the only sweet he ever allowed himself to buy with the money he earned, one bar per payday, because everything else went back to his pack. One of the older women of the pack has a muggle disease, the sort of thing they can cure at St Mungo's in a week, but Mungo's won't admit her because she's a werewolf, so Willard gives up on sweets so he can buy her potions and she can go to a muggle doctor who shakes his head every time he sees her, certain she'll be dead before her next appointment."
Harry took a deep breath in the silence, looking down at his parchment of names, those who lived in the way houses who didn't mind him telling their stories, every word so painfully true, they completely shredded his heart every time he remembered them; these were his people, the forgotten and abused of their world. These were the names he had sworn to bloody his hands for, the stories that he would give anything to erase.
"Jasmine Bookman's story is a little better. She was bitten in university, just three months from getting her teaching license. She struggled and fought and kept on, and she finally managed to get it a year later. She was fired from the first two schools she was hired at because of the full moon, but the third school was headed by a squib, and she covers for Jasmine. Sometimes, Jasmine told me once, this squib misplaces complaints from other teachers, putting herself at risk so Jasmine can keep her job, can keep teaching the kids who adore her. They bring her presents whenever she's out sick, leaving them in piles on her desk, and she's got a bottomless trunk that she saved up for almost a year to get, where she's kept every single one.
"Cavell Wordsworth works in construction, helping build muggle buildings without magic, though he is a wizard. He was bitten the summer between his sixth and seventh years, and Durmstrang wouldn't take him back when they found out. He kept his wand, and he uses it at work sometimes to keep accidents from happening, keeping the muggles he works with safe. His manager got a commendation last year, because of the low number of accidents, and Cavell was the first in the line to congratulate him.
"Norman White owns a florist shop in London. He doesn't get a lot of business, struggles to make enough to keep the building, but his mother loved flowers. She was out in the garden, tending some night blossoms, when the werewolf attacked. She died and Norman, who went out to try and save her, was turned. He said he started the shop to remember her, to keep her alive in any way he can. He turned the back garden of his way house into a fairyland, there's so many flowers. Every morning, he goes out and tends them and brings in a fresh bouquet for the table, so everyone can enjoy them. Close to the full moon, he picks gentle scents, so no one's nose is overpowered, and near the new moon, he picks the stronger scents, because he says it aches, sometimes, when you can't smell every little scent, but the stronger flowers help, make them feel a bit more steady month 'round.
"Mitchell Kester works at a bookshop and the corner shop and the docks, when he has the time. He, like Willard, sends all his money back to his pack. His two little brothers count among them, bitten by their father, just like Mitchell was. Their father killed himself when he'd realised what he'd done, orphaning all three. They were lucky, got taken in by a nearby pack, even though their father used to be cruel to the pack. Mitchell lives in a constant state of fear, afraid that leaving his brothers alone will only see them hurt by the pack, but equally certain that, if he isn't out, making as much money as he can, their lives are forfeit. So he works two and three jobs and only keeps enough back for bus fare and some food and rent.
"Lyda Rodwell only got turned last year, while she was on holiday. She already had a nice job, working as manager for one of the big chains in the centre of London. She got kicked out of her flat, though, after her first full moon in London, because even though she'd locked herself in a cage, stuffing her mouth with clothing so she couldn't make any noises, her neighbours heard and complained. She was facing a demotion at work when she found Sirius, and she managed to make it through with the help of everyone else at the way house.
"These are only a few of the werewolves I've met since Sirius took my suggestion two years ago. They're all super nice, and Willard still shares his chocolate bar with me every time I visit, even when Sirius says I don't need the sweets." A couple of people let out quiet laughs and Harry grinned around at them, eyes damp and not entirely faked. "Every single one of those werewolves wake up after the full moon covered in wounds they gave themselves, and every single one of them refuses to let the house-elves take care of them until they know none of them were hurt. Every single one of them has told me, multiple times, that I must never visit on the full moon. I've seen every one of them stop next to a window and rap on it with their knuckles, like they're testing to make sure the glass will hold against them.
"Witches and wizards are scared of werewolves, and that's okay, really, even though all the ones I've met are super nice when they're human. But, the thing is, if you're scared of them, imagine being one. Imagine going through every single day knowing that you turn into a monster once a month, seeing the reminder of your curse in the scars you leave on yourself, hearing it in the growl of your voice when the full moon is too close. Imagine knowing that a single misstep, a single human in the wrong place at the wrong time, could mean you've committed the worst sin you can imagine.
"Now imagine, if you can, finding a place where you can come home to. Most of the werewolves living in the way houses were loners, had never lived in a pack before. They'd never been around others like them, never had the support base of someone who understood the need to tap on the window. They've found a family, a home. They've got some place safe, some place where they can be themselves and never wonder what might happen if a housemate finds out what they are, 'cause they all already know.
"Now, please, if you can, imagine being told that the government – not even your government, for those muggles among them – is looking into ways to rip that safety, that home, that family from you. They've already lost everything once, and now you're threatening to rip that away from them again.
"Please, please don't hurt them any more." Harry ducked his head, closing his eyes against the urge to cry, and whispered, "Please don't take my family away from me. Not again."
"Thank you, Sirius, Harry," Dumbledore said into the silence, his voice tight.
Sirius led Harry out of the chamber and they settled together in the chairs next to the door, waiting to hear the verdict.
Twenty minutes later, Dumbledore poked his head out long enough to smile at them and wave over a scrap of parchment:
Pass the bill?
Ayes -- 12
Nays -- 73
Abstain -- 2
They'd done it.
"So," Sirius said, voice rough, "ice cream?"
Harry swallowed. "Can we go to the pub?"
Sirius let out an amused snort and motioned for them to head back towards the international portkey station. "Yeah, alright. Moony'll probably be there, anyway."
The victory party that night at Bloody Eyetooth was epic, ice cream and blood and alcohol and biscuits left in little messes all over the inside of the pub and out in the alley.
And if Harry had a moment when he thought, 'Riddle should be here. It's his celebration too,' well. The only one who would ever know would never tell.
Stand Against the Moon Chapters:
Prologue - Like a Ghost in My Town
1 - Procuring Freedom | 2 - Exeunt From Hell, Stage Left | 3 - Never Quite Perfect
4 - Drop the Shades | 5 - The Little Victories | 6 - Uneasy Alliance
7 - Determining Boundaries |
10 - Absence | 11 - Eye of the Storm | 12 - No Regrets
Nose to the Wind Chapters:
01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05 || 06 || 07 || 08 || 09 || 10
11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20
21 || 22 || 23 || 24 || 25 || 26 || 27
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