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Black Phoenix	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21568 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

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Chapter Six—A Hidden Face
            “You can’t get away with not confronting people forever, you know.”
            Ron’s heavy voice came from behind him. Harry ignored him for a second, still nodding to the wandmaker whose head floated in the fire. His name was Lorraine, and he had his own business, currently in Belgium, that he wasn’t anxious to leave, but he had an apprentice he had said might be willing to try England.
            “Thank you,” Harry said. They’d had to use a Translation Charm, but he was sure it had gone correctly. His magic wouldn’t let him mess up something that was so important to the future of Hogwarts, he thought. At least, not while he was in Hogwarts. “Tell him I look forward to his arrival.”
            Lorraine smiled, bowed once, and disappeared, his beard appearing to puff into an excess of white flame. Persephone looked up briefly from her perch. She had been more interested in fire than usual lately, leading Harry to think her burning day might be near.
            He stood up and crossed the room to stroke her back. Persephone snapped at him, a flash of her beak and wings so quick that only the way Harry understood her permitted him to pull his hand back in time. Ron sucked in a sharp breath behind him.
            Harry turned around and leaned casually on Persephone’s perch. “What do you mean? I had confrontations with Hermione and McGonagall, didn’t I?”
            Ron grimaced, but didn’t say any of the many things Harry was sure he could say about Hermione. “Only the one McGonagall forced on you,” he said. “I mean that you can’t get away with not attacking the Ministry forever. I’m sure that Malfoy brought you the news of the laws the Wizengamot is trying to pass now.”
            “Yeah,” Harry said. “But I’ve taught all the lessons I can to the Wizengamot, I think. If the ones about personal loss of control and prestige don’t stick, which ones can I expect to do it?”
            Ron just stared at him in silence, and Harry sighed. “Between people urging me to hold off from interfering in the election, people urging me to attack the Ministry, people telling me not to cause a war in the wizarding world, and people who would be perfectly happy to see me torture their enemies, I’m not sure which advice you want me to pay attention to.”
            “Who would be perfectly happy to—”
            Harry jerked a thumb at Persephone, partially because it was true but partially because he was sure Ron would blame Draco if he didn’t. “Tell me, should I listen to her? She’s accurate about threats to me, and she made a good emissary to the centaurs. But her instincts aren’t the best. I can be a little surer of human people, sometimes. But everyone is convinced that they know what’s best, and most of them have good reasons. It seems to come down to who I can trust.”
            “You trust me, don’t you?” Ron’s eyes were enormous. “More than anyone?”
            Harry nodded. He didn’t want to make comparisons between how much he trusted Draco and how much he trusted Ron, especially when those things tended to happen for different reasons and in different ways, and his trust for Hermione was in abeyance right now. He didn’t know if she was working against him yet, but he didn’t know anything, one way or the other.
            “All right then. Listen.” Ron took a step towards him. “You may think that the Ministry won’t care about you setting up a little independent state inside their borders, but they’ll attack as soon as they learn what you mean to do. And if more people flee here, where can you put them all?”
            Harry did snort at that. “You’re worried about people filling up Hogwarts? Out of all the things you could be worrying about?”
            Ron still had his sense of humor, luckily. A smile sprang to life in his eyes as he chuckled. “All right. You have a fair point. But—say they could live in Hogwarts. How are you going to feed them? Pay them? Give them work? If everyone who could come to you for shelter decides to see if you’re serious about it?”
            “I don’t know all the answers yet,” Harry said. “But I’m working on a solution to one of the problems you mentioned. Tell me what you think of this.” He’d have liked to show the letter to Draco—but he had meetings this morning—or to Briseis—but she was working on an official announcement to the Ministry and the newspapers about his alliances with the centaurs and merfolk. So he gave the letter to Ron instead.
            Ron took the letter, glanced from it to Harry, and cocked his head. “Did you write this?”
            “Yes,” Harry said. “I reckoned they won’t care as much as some of the other people I could write to would about pretty words. And everyone who might have helped me was busy.”
            “I would have helped you,” Ron said, and started reading. “I just usually see your handwriting as being messy.”
            Harry shrugged and petted Persephone again, this time until she tried to take his ring finger off at the knuckle. He thought neat writing would impress the people he was contacting more than a messy scrawl, too, but he thought they could probably interpret that if they wanted to. They must see worse on old documents.
            A second later, Ron gasped, hard enough that Harry leaned forwards, a little concerned for the state of his friend’s breathing. Ron looked at him, face pale and tongue almost hanging out.
            “Harry,” he whispered. “You never.”
            Harry half-smiled at him. “Well, there’s no reason not to try, is there? I made alliances with the merfolk and the centaurs. And from everything I’ve learned about them in the past few days, they don’t pay much attention to the wizarding governments. They went on functioning under Voldemort’s regime the same as they did under the legitimate Ministry. They might accept the offer and they might not, but there’s no reason not to ask.”
            “You’re talking about stealing Gringotts under the Ministry’s nose,” Ron said flatly, waving the letter.
            Harry rolled his eyes. “Remind me never to let you write the official biography of my reign. You would fill the whole thing full of melodramatic adjectives when it only works if it’s simple.” That got him an even heartier scowl. “No. All I’m doing is asking the goblins if I could put together a private account and transfer some Galleons into it from my vaults and other people who give me authorization to do so. That could include people who are leaving Diagon Alley for my court, of course. And then they could be paid out of that.”
            “The goblins would never do that,” Ron said, but he eyed the letter uneasily.
            “Maybe,” said Harry. “Maybe not. But there are things I’m willing to give them. Concessions, the way I’ve made to the centaurs and the merfolk. Protection if they wanted it. More respect than they would get from ordinary wizards.” He paused, and gently took away the edge of his cloak from Persephone’s reaching claw. “Maybe even a gift.”
            “What kind of gift would a goblin value, except money?” Ron shook his head again.
            Harry made a sharp gesture with his hand. The walls of Hogwarts had brought him what he was thinking of earlier, but he had left it concealed behind the stones, because seeing it out in the open might lead people off the topic. Now the stones pulled back, and showed the Sword of Gryffindor lying in the middle of a niche in the wall that might have been made for it.
            Ron stared at it, then at Harry. Harry shrugged. “I know that they made it for Gryffindor and he didn’t really steal it, but they want it back. This could be a way of showing them that I want their goodwill. It could create a debt that they would feel bound to repay.”
            “But you can’t let them have it!” Ron blurted. “It has to be here for a true Gryffindor to pull it from the Hat!”
            Harry snorted. “And you think being in Gringotts would keep it from coming back when it was needed?”
            Ron hesitated. “Well, no, now that you mention it,” he said. “But it’s an artifact of the school. Are you going to give it away like it’s nothing?”
            “No,” Harry snapped. “I’m going to give it away like it’s something fit to buy money for my people, and maybe underground access to food markets and goblin trading networks, when we start having to worry about buying food and other things.”
            Ron stared blankly at him. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
            Harry half-grinned and ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t think it through when I jumped ahead and declared myself Dark Lord. Hermione was right about that. But I’m trying to think now, and determine what I should have done in the first place. I trust the Sword of Gryffindor to come back if we need it. But I don’t trust myself to be able to buy the goblins’ aid without it.”
            Ron bit his lip in silence for a while. Then he handed the letter Harry had written to the goblins back. “I think there’s a high chance they’ll go for it. But you should be careful, since we did break into Gringotts during the war.”
            Harry shrugged. “If they blame me for that, then I’ll make sure to remove all my gold from the bank as soon as possible, and advise anyone else who wants to live in my court to do the same. And then I’ll figure out something else.”
            "It's war, no matter what happens." Ron's voice was soft, his eyes troubled. "You know that, don't you? War with Gringotts if you tell people to take their money out of the bank. War with the Ministry if you succeed in negotiating with the goblins. You're telling them that you'll succeed in living your way, or you'll fall."
            "I'm aware of the risk." Harry spread his hands. "I just don't think it's unlike the risks I've been taking so far. I'll do what I need to do to increase my people's safety and what they can keep, instead of give up, when they come to me. If that brings me into open conflict with the Ministry or Gringotts, fine. I can only offer what I can offer."
            "Will you ever act instead of react?" Ron said.
            Harry had to give a short laugh. "What is this letter going to be?"
            Ron shook his head, his hair rustling. "You're reacting to what the Ministry did to you, or what they're going to do when they pass this law. That's not the same thing as taking an action that--I don't know, makes a declaration."
            "I made a declaration when I proclaimed myself Dark Lord," Harry said. "You might as well claim that everything the Ministry has done since then is a reaction to me."
            "But you only did that because they were going to close down Hogwarts," Ron said. "It still doesn't count."
            Harry laughed and held up his hands. "You're cleverer than I am. So go prove it. Make any changes that you think you need to to the letter, and then bring it back to me. In the meantime, I have a history class to teach." He was introducing some fifth-years to the history of the first war with Voldemort today. He'd only had a brief chance to revise the books himself, but if worse came to worse, he could tell the story of how it had ended. The tale of his mother's heroism was one that he never got tired of telling.
            Ron sighed hard enough to make his lips ruffle. "Fine. I don't know that this is the best thing to do, but you're right, I can't think of anything better."
            Harry clapped his shoulder, grabbed his books, and went out the door. Persephone stirred once as if she would follow him, then settled back on the perch.
            Harry was glad. She caused him enough problems without deciding to set someone in the classroom on fire for fun.
*
            "Minister...ial Candidate Malfoy."
            Draco let himself grin like a wolf as he reached out to grasp Azalina Rahad's hand. She was a medium-tall witch with brown skin, dark hair that she wore pulled back right now with a few silver clips, and eyes that watched him, waiting for some response. "Commander Rahad. Looking forward to the day that promotes a change of title?"
            "As are you, it seems." Rahad's hand briefly tightened on his. "I do not bear that title."
            "Not at all," Draco said, and turned to escort her further into the party. He had nearly filled the great dining room of Malfoy Manor. Supporters of Tillipop circulated everywhere, caged and chased and chivvied by his own. Some people would leave here tonight converted, and others would leave scared, and others bribed. Draco didn't much care which, as long as Tillipop's more powerful supporters stopped being a threat. "I give you that which you've earned, by right."
            Rahad gave him a tight smile. Draco smiled back, more naturally. So Rosenthal's information about Rahad being in line for promotion in the Custodes, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's semi-secret corps that focused on protecting wizarding Britain's interests in international politics, was true. And that meant so was the information that Tillipop had turned her down for the command, saying that they didn't need "anyone foreign-looking" of a high rank among the Custodes.
            Draco could have shaken his head over Tillipop's blindness, but he didn't. It was the kind of thing that a lot of "normal" wizards, the group that Tillipop hoped to appeal to, would think. And Tillipop had counted on that group to help him into the election.
            The problem was, the Ministry, the group that should have done the most to help the Minister, was no longer one with Tillipop in anything except perhaps fear of Harry. And there were people like Rahad who wouldn't care about that, as long as something got done.
            "I do think that it's a privilege to be here," Rahad murmured, extending a hand to pluck a glass off a tray carried by a house-elf. "And to receive an invitation that was not worded as were your invitations to some of my colleagues."
            Draco veiled his eyes with lowered lids. "Is it my fault that some of them mistrust me so much they would not come except if they could take it as a challenge?"
            "Not your fault," Rahad said consideringly, as she sipped the champagne in the glass. Several small amulets bound here and there in the folds of her robes flashed a bit, neutralizing any poison or potion that might have been in the champagne. She had worn them openly enough for Draco to see, and that told Draco exactly what her balance was in the delicate dance they were doing. "Your choice, perhaps."
            Draco smiled at her. "I think that your willing acceptance and my willing invitation augur good things for the future."
            Rahad smiled back and bowed a little, moving away. Draco followed her track with his eyes and smiled again when he saw where she was going. Jackson Tudor had been a thorn in his side, because while he didn't like Tillipop much, he kept insisting that no one who had done anything wrong in the past should be in the Ministry, or Minister, or a member of the Wizengamot, or any other position of power. And he had an annoyingly clean past.
            Rahad was the thorn in his side, though, and if she could provoke Tudor into a public argument, then his reputation would have the beginnings of a stain.
            "Candidate Malfoy."
            Draco turned around, wondering who the next person was that he needed to greet. Rosenthal hadn't bothered giving him a list for the party tonight, telling him there were too many important targets, and she would have to trust him to know which ones needed his personal attention and which didn't sometime.
            His interest sharpened when he realized that this witch wore a thick cloak, one with red embroidery around the black hood. That might mean she was an Unspeakable or Auror reluctant to show her face. If his campaign had reached that deep, then they had done better than Draco had expected this early on.
            He reached for a glass of champagne and held it out to her, but the woman shook her head so frantically that Draco raised his brows and retained it for himself. "I do not know you," he said. "Will you give me a sign so I will know who you are?"
            And not an enemy, was the unspoken corollary to those words. On the other hand, Draco wasn't much worried. He had not only allies but some defenses that only Rosenthal knew about within his beck and call.
            The woman hesitated, and cast a rapid Privacy Charm around them, before reaching immediately for her hood. Draco nodded his approval. She couldn't retain the Privacy Charm for too long without causing unwanted curiosity.
            He felt both nod and smile freeze when her hood fell to her shoulders.
            "Look," said Hermione Granger, staring at him. "I need to know what you're doing, and what you really mean to do when you're Minister, and whether you're influenced by Harry."
*
Genuka: Are you talking about the girl and the kitten? They are connected together, but the kitten can move around and leave her if it needs to.
BAFan: Sometimes you wonder.
AlterEquis: No. No more than Persephone did. If either one of them could somehow have been destroyed completely, that would decrease his magic.
SP777: Like I started this one. ;)
Harry is only in his early twenties, but he’s had a lot of experience with the Ministry’s bollocks.
Glad you liked the kitten.
banditdoz: Not everyone, but he could do it for other abused children.
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Black Phoenix