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Author: Cygnus Crux Story: Harry Potter's Existence After Life Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 2 Words: 158,815
Having stayed overnight at an inn in Hogsmeade, Hermione made her way onto Hogwarts grounds, accompanied by Padma Patil. They were on their way to the Ranger ship…or whatever it was. "Hermione, why didn't Ron turn up yesterday?" "Is this for an article you're writing?" Hermione asked, looking at her with an expression of mistrust and apprehension. Padma smiled patiently. "I know you've had bad experiences with reporters, but that was uncalled for. Besides…" She took a letter out of the pocket of her robes and showed it to Hermione. "I got sacked this morning. I went over a lot of heads to have my article published." "I'm sorry." "I'm not." Padma shrugged, taking her letter back from Hermione and tucking it away. "I meant it as an apology for my reaction," Hermione said. "And to answer your question, Ron still believes that Harry was evil," she added, in a tone that suggested that she'd rather not talk about it, and thankfully, Padma suppressed her inquisitive nature and let it be. As they passed the memorial Monolith, they saw a woman kneeling in front of it, and crying. For a split second, Hermione thought it was Ginny. "That's Heidi Gravenstein," Padma said sadly. "I understand she and Harry were… close… for a while." "Harry got over Ginny?" Hermione asked incredulously. Padma shook her head slowly. "I don't think so." Hermione sighed in vexation. "Padma, you're not making any sense. Anyway, she looks just like Gin…oh, I see!" A slow smile spread over Padma's pretty face. "Good to see you're still as sharp as a Manticore's sting. Actually, I can't be sure whether he got over Ginny or not, but from the looks of that woman, I would say not. She is too much like Ginny. It can't be that Harry just liked redheads!" Hermione blushed. She was glad that Padma was no longer upset with her for beating her O.W.L score. Padma had been 2nd best, with an extraordinary fifteen O.W.L.'s, but Hermione's otherworldly feat of twenty-two O.W.L.'s out of a theoretically possible thirty, cast it into a deep shadow. "Your theory requires some big assumptions to work, but you might be right." She observed the red-haired woman more closely. About her age…and rather attractive. "So what's their story?" "I don't know the details, but basically Harry succumbed to temptation." Padma shrugged. "I don't really blame him. She's pretty enough and more importantly, looks a lot like Ginny. And I reckon he was very lonely." As they approached the vessel, they saw the name Boreas written on it in gleaming golden letters. A seam formed in the otherwise smooth belly of the vessel, and a circle lowered itself, with a rather short and thin Ranger standing on it. He had mousy hair, a thin, pasty face and a crooked nose. Padma recognised him. "Gavin Carey, Ravenclaw Head Boy in from 1990 to 1991, Prefect before that, fourteen O.W.L's, correct?" The man smiled. "Very good, Padma Patil, who attended Hogwarts from 1991 to 1998, Prefect from 1995 to 1998, overshadowing my own O.W.L achievement by one." He then looked at Hermione. "Need I recite you achievements?" "I can't guarantee your safety if you do!" She blushed. He gestured for them to step onto the circle, and after they did, it rose smoothly up into the belly of the ship. Hermione was quite impressed as she pondered the magic that had to have been used in the construction of the Boreas. "I wish the other ships were this nicely decorated," said a plump witch, as she saw Hermione admire the ship. Hermione recognised the woman who had brought her the bad news. "They're not?" Hermione looked surprised. "No," Padma said. "I've seen another one, and it was quite sober." She looked at the Ranger for an explanation. "This cruiser is reserved for the transport of important dignitaries," the Filipino woman explained, "when a good impression needs to be made." She gestured Hermione and Padma to have a seat, and they slid into a comfortable, almost circular booth. "Lieutenant Diatta will be with you soon. Can I get you anything in a the meantime?" "Butterbeer would be nice," Padma said, and Hermione nodded. Lilia grinned, walked over to the bar and opened up a cabinet, showing no less than seven different flavours. "You'll have to be more specific than that." "I wish Ron were here!" Hermione mumbled softly. Padma, who had been the only one who heard her, nodded sympathetically. "I'll have the sweet 'n salty." Hermione said. "May I have the extra sweet?" Padma asked. Carey had stepped onto a square that had come down from the ceiling, and rode up onto what could only be the next deck. As Lilia busied herself with their drinks, a crease formed itself in the ceiling, and the platform came down, with the African Lieutenant standing on it. "Get me a spicy while you're at it, Lilia." "What do we say?" her subordinate smirked. "That is an order?" Diatta smiled. "That might work since you outrank me, but there is a better way." "All right, please?" "Spicy, coming right up." Diatta slid down next to Padma. "And could you add those chocolate biscuits I like so much?" she asked Lilia. "What do I look like, a stewardess?" Lilia scowled, and she silently muttered some swear words as she searched for the biscuits. "You could well be!" Hermione giggled. "This place looks just like a first class compartment, no even better, those private planes rich businesspeople own…or the American President's plane!" Lilia was about to comment, when a square detached itself from the rest of the ceiling and whooshed down. On it, was a shirtless Wolfe, whose eyes widened and cheeks flushed as he noticed there were two visitors on the lower deck. "Up!" he barked, and the square shot up again. Padma was giggling, for once reminding Hermione very much of her twin and Hermione's own face felt hot. "Was that a preview for in-flight entertainment?" Lilia burst out laughing. Being a half-blood, she had flown in a plane a couple of times, and unlike Diatta, she'd understood Hermione's remark. She was distracted, as the elevation square came down yet another time. "Wolfe bwoke my node, Lilia," said Nathaniel Kelly, who was pressing a piece of cloth tightly to his nose, and holding an unconscious Gavin Carey over his broad shoulder. "And I think he knocked pencil neck here into a coma," he said, referring to Carey. "Did you deserve it?" Lilia asked. Nathaniel nodded and sighed. "I guess. We told 'im the visitors we'en't here yet, that it was safe to come down!" Diatta was frowning sternly. "But he still isn't allowed to strike you! Do you want to bring him up on charges?" "Nah! You'd have to bwing us too. We deliberately set 'im up to be embarrassed. Let it slide. 'Sides, the look on 'is face was priceless." Lilia brought the butterbeer and biscuits over to the booth, before dragging Nathaniel and Gavin off to the small infirmary room. "Come on, you dick! Let me fix that ugly face of yours…I swear, if you keep this up your face will end up looking uglier than your ass. You know, you've changed…you're supposed to be the quiet brother…" Padma giggled furiously. "Can a Ranger walk round shirtless like that? I mean, I would think that there's a code of discipline in your Order?" Diatta shrugged. "Officially there is. But no one's complained. The men didn't mind and the girls enjoyed watching the shirtless person in question too much. We can hardly give him a reprimand after all this time. Besides, he is extremely disciplined when doing his duties. Anyway, that's not why you're here." She took a sip from her butterbeer. "Ms Patil, we couldn't help but feel that it was our fault that you lost your job. My commanders are willing to pull some strings to get you a job in Concordia. These days, English is rivalling Latin as the universal language in Concordia more and more, and there is a demand for reporters who know English, so it wouldn't be too difficult. You can skip the one year waiting period." Padma's eyes shone with childish excitement. "Really? I'd love too! Wow!" Diatta nodded and paused to take a bite from her cookie, and then looked at Hermione. "Then there is the matter of Harry's belongings. He didn't leave a will, but he did tell our counsellor all he possessed was to be divided among you, Remus Lupin and the Weasleys, including Ronald, if he would have it." Hermione bit her lip, and her eyes filled up with tears again, which she quickly wiped away. She simply nodded, unable to speak. "Before I continue, I also wish to apologise on for my crew's behaviour. I realise you must still be hurting, and I guess it's tough to see us laughing and joking as if nothing happened. But if we don't laugh about it, the life of a Ranger would be impossible to lead, because it would grind us down psychologically." "I understand," Hermione said quietly. "I was also given the task to ask you whether you wanted to join the Order of Illumination." Hermione's mouth fell open. "Your twenty-two O.W.L.'s say everything about your skill and diligence. I didn't immediately link your name with the event, when Command mentioned you, but now I remember reading the headlines!" Diatta smiled. "As a Ranger, you'd start earning about as much as a midlevel Ministry official, and it would increase as you get promoted. Our Commander earns enough to keep a nice place in the sixth tier of Concordia, but they could never pay me enough to become a commander!" She shivered, and explained that when she was a twenty-one year-old rookie, Ironheart had had a full head of dark hair. In that year he was had been promoted to Commander, and his hair was had turned silver one year later! The stress must have been tremendous. That had been fifteen years ago. The Lieutenant continued. "Oh, if you keep your quarters at the base you won't have to pay for a place to live, either. It'll be about as large as a…how do you call those places where single Muggles sometimes live, Lilia?" She yelled so that Lilia could hear her from the infirmary. "Their parents' house?" Lilia laughed. "Ouch!" They heard Nathaniel yelp. "Sit still, butthead!" the plump witch's voice snapped at the huge wizard. "You mean a studio!" Hermione nodded. "That's the word." Diatta smiled. "Interesting…and what kind of work would I do?" Diatta started counting on her fingers. "Well, your records indicate that you would make a great Intel analyst, and you have excellent qualifications to be a medic. In the former case you'd work for Captain Kovalenko and I, and in the latter for Captain Sharif and Lieutenant Montoya. We know you lack the raw amount of power that most field operatives have, so you probably won't have to go into the field as often as I do, if you choose Intelligence." "I'm not afraid to fight!" Hermione said, feeling slightly insulted. "I was Harry Potter's friend. I'm not bad in a scrap." "I wasn't implying that you were afraid. I was just stating a fact. One of our recruiting criteria is raw magical power. You're brilliant, but not quite as powerful as most of us." Hermione frowned, wondering how exactly the Order's recruiting process worked. She also wondered why they were asking her, apart from her intelligence and medical skills. So she asked, "Why me?" "Intel scouts have been following you for quite some time…since you were thirteen. You've always shown great promise. I wasn't actually aware of the fact that you were being followed, but I'm often out in the field and recruitment procedure isn't really my department. "Oh." Hermione's face softened. "Well in that case I think I'll accept your invitation. It'll be a good way to remember Harry." She sniffed. "You shouldn't feel obligated to anything, Ms Granger." "Oh no, I mean, I'd like to do it for me too, not just for Harry's memory." "Shall I report your acceptance, then, or do you want to think about it? A decision like this is not made lightly." Hermione shook her head. "Sign me up. Diatta nodded. "Welcome into the Order, then. You will also receive a tough physical training regimen, because you'll still have to be able to hold your own in a fight. If you choose to become a medic, you'll probably find yourself in combat situations more often." She paused, and took a swig of her Butterbeer. "Personally, and this is only my opinion, you should choose to become a Medic. We only have…" She counted on her fingers. "Ranger Seventh Class Rosaria…that's Lilia, Ranger Sixth Class Angelou, Ranger Fifth Class Ivanova, Ranger Fourth Class Kozminski, Lieutenant Montoya and Captain Sharif. Captain Sharif has a magical artificial leg, and he's fifty-eight, so he never goes out on missions." She munched on a cookie before continuing, and Padma and Hermione patiently listened. "And Galatea's skin can't handle the outdoors very well. She only went out twice, and stayed in the ship both times. Besides, she has empathic abilities that make her an excellent counsellor. She keeps us all sane…" Diatta smiled. "…Whenever she isn't driving us women insane by pining over Wolfe," she whispered conspiratorially. "Are romantic relationships between Rangers allowed, Lieutenant Diatta?" Diatta shot her a peculiar look. "Why? Did your eye catch a certain shirtless someone?" Hermione flushed red. "You enjoyed the view as much as I did…and no! I just want to know more about the Order's organisation." She wanted to know as much as possible about the Order she was going to join. She already knew some things, like the fact that they were much like a highly trained Auror force that operated on a global scale, that they were known for their honour and integrity, and that only the best and brightest of wizard-kind were ever approached with an invitation to join. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Padma trembling, struggling not to start taking notes. "Hmmm, where to begin? Well, there are seven classes, the upper three having the titles, Lieutenant, Captain, and Commander. Sometimes, there is a rank above that but I'll get back to that. Now, promotion from seventh to sixth class takes one year on average, from sixth to fifth three years, from fifth to fourth, six years, ten years in total. Then the Ranger serves as a Ranger 4th class for ten years, provided they don't get promoted, and then they retire…though many don't retire, even if they don't get promoted. They are kept in reserve, and quite a few came out of retirement to fight Voldemort's supporters." "So how do you get promoted beyond Fourth Class?" "By showing leadership skills," Diatta said. "You can shoot up the ranks very quickly through merit in your area of expertise, but if you want to become an officer, you have to be able to lead. Take Wolfe, for example. He's very powerful, and very flexible and resourceful in a fight. But he's terrified of having the responsibility over other people's lives. He was commissioned after a year of training, like you will be…" she said, looking at Hermione. "I forgot to mention that. The training lasts one year. All right, where was I, oh yes. Wolfe was only nineteen when he was commissioned…joined us when he was eighteen." "That young?" Padma gasped. Diatta nodded. "He finished Salem's Wizard Academy when he was seventeen…one year early. He did his first and second year in a single year. In fact, when he went to Salem he already knew enough about some subjects to pass his O.W.L.'s in them. But I'll tell you about that some other time. Where was I…yes, he was nineteen, and now he's twenty-three, that's four years. In theory, he should have been promoted to Fifth Class recently, but was promoted to Fifth Class two years ago because of his merit in combat. He's going to be the youngest Fourth Class ever, if his recklessness doesn't get him killed first." "What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "Never mind that. I shouldn't have entered this avenue of thought. If you want to know, you ought to ask him, though I don't recommend that…he's a private person!" she warned, before sipping her butterbeer. "Anyway, there are at all times two Commanders, six Captains and ten Lieutenants, no more, no less. "Then there is the Ranger Prime. The Rangers have a magical Orb called the Orb of the First Ones. It contains the memories of all the Ranger Primes of the past. The memories are sentient, and they test every Commander for suitability. Neither Ironheart nor Nomvete, good as they are, were found suitable. We do have a Ranger Prime right now…Anita Basham, but she's one hundred and twenty-one years old, and she's not going to last very much longer . She's just finishing up adding her memories to the Orb, before she dies. In the six hundred years that the Rangers have existed in their current form, there have only been five First Rangers." "Wow," Hermione sighed. She was just about to ask Diatta more about Wolfe, but the levitation square came down again with Wolfe on it, fully dressed and armed. Two other Rangers came down soon afterwards. Hermione recognised the eloquent Ranger who had spoken at Harry's funeral. Girls had become women and boys became men had become as he'd recounted the Harry Potter's exploits yesterday. "We just got a message from Command, Lieutenant. It looks like there's an Acromantula colony in this forest that needs some culling. The centaurs in the forest have contacted their kin on Nomad Island. The spiders used to leave many other creatures in the forest alone, because their leader respected Hagrid. The leader is dead now though, and his eldest children feel no obligation to carry on their father's promise." Diatta sighed at Hermione and Padma. "Duty calls." "Can I come?" Hermione asked quickly, a hopeful look on her face. "Can we come?" Padma added, and Hermione blushed a little as Padma reminded her of her selfish phrasing of her request. Diatta seemed to be thinking it over when Wolfe grumbled. "The spider colony is big, and this is going to be tricky. I can't baby-sit these two. I'll be too busy killing spiders." Padma and Hermione scowled at him, but he didn't seem fazed. Diatta looked at the two young witches apologetically. "Sorry, but he's right. You two had better go back. I'm sure you need to do a lot of things to prepare yourself for the move to Nomad Island." She tapped a mirror on a bulkhead, and it glowed to life, the image of the Lieutenant's face being replaced by an Asian face. " Yes?" Diatta gestured at towards Hermione and Padma. "The ladies will be accompanying us to Nomad Island in four days. Please bring down two copies of Concordia through the Ages." The face in the mirror nodded, and the image faded. Diatta nodded at the mirror. "Hwang is an artificer. He knows all about magical artefacts and the animation thereof. He's the principal pilot of this vessel, and he has to fix it if it malfunctions." "Will I learn how to operate this ship?" Hermione asked. "You'll learn the basics, and get some experience behind the controls, yes." Hwang came down, holding two thick books, and offering them to Padma and Hermione. Hermione and Padma discussed the book while walking back to Hogsmeade. "I can't wait to read this! I don't know much about the place," Padma said, her eyes gleaming with delight. Hermione too, had a silly grin on her face. "Ooh, look!" She pointed at a passage. "Over forty-five thousand magical beings…and the elves are free!" she shrieked delightedly. Padma nodded. "The governing body is called The Combine…my…look at that building…it's located on the top tier of the city along with the Lord Mayor's house. I can't wait to see it all up close." * Four days later, the Patils and some of the Weasleys were all standing on Hogwarts grounds, saying their goodbyes. Hermione had already bidden her parents farewell, and promised to send them lots of pictures of the magical island. George was there with his wife and children. Arthur was eating a Language Lollypop and chattering in Spanish because of it, while his two sisters were staring, first at Padma and Parvati, and then at themselves. They had never seen twins like themselves before, and were too young to remember or understand that George was their father's twin. They would get an explanation soon enough, because Angelina had found out that she was expecting another set of twins, which would put their total children's tally at six! "Six is enough." she sighed, as she rocked Fred to keep him calm. "After this, I'm going on birth control!" Hermione kissed George and his wife goodbye. "Be sure to come and visit sometime. And I read that there aren't any joke shops in Concordia, George. There is a definite niche in the market for you there!" George raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then I guess I have to talk to talk to Percy to find out which steps should be taken to open a branch there. Thanks, Mione!" he said, cheerfully using her pet name to annoy her, as he strode over to where Percy, who was present in an official capacity, was speaking to Ranger Carey and Lieutenant Ranger Diatta. Then Molly Weasley descended down on Hermione and showered her with advice, telling her not to do anything foolish and get herself killed, and not to talk to strange wizards. "Too late for that, mum!" George called over. "She just talked to me!" Molly and Hermione laughed. "But you know what I mean, dear," Molly said, and Hermione nodded. She also read in Molly's expression, that the Weasley matriarch didn't want her to give up on Ron just yet, but that was something that Hermione knew was out of her hands. She loved Ron, and if he would ever come to his senses, she would welcome him back with open arms. But if he didn't she would have to get on with her life. Ginny was up next, and she hugged her friend tightly. "Don't rush into anything." "What do you mean?" Ginny frowned. "Lenoir." Ginny frowned. "No one can replace Harry in my heart." She bit her lip and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "I know he isn't Harry…but I need to get on with my life. Hermione thought about Harry's relationship with Heidi. Part of her thought Ginny deserved to know how Harry had felt about her, but she decided not to say anything. Firstly, because all she knew, or thought she knew was based on second-hand information and an assumption about Harry's psyche. And second, Ginny did have to get on with her life, and telling her that Harry had possibly loved her as much as she loved him would not necessarily help her on her way to recovery. She just wiped away Ginny's tear. "Will you be okay?" Ginny nodded, just as Charlie appeared and put his arm around his sister. "Good luck, Hermione. Make us all proud!" "I'll try!" Then Percy strode over and gave her a hug. "I think I'll be dropping by in a couple of months, for an official visit. The Ministry wants to discuss some new treaties with Concordia." "Be sure to let me know in advance so I can be ready for your arrival," Hermione reminded him. "Hey…it's me, Percy, remember?" the tall and thin redheaded man said. "I don't know…maybe you're an impostor! The Percy I know would never elope," she joked. Percy's ears went red, and he ran his hand through his already thinning hair. He took after his father a lot in that respect, like Bill, whose hair was also thinning, but not quite as bad as Percy's was. Hermione guessed it was the stress. "Yeah well, people change." Hermione nodded sadly, thinking of Ron. "Yes…they do." Percy realised what his remark had brought up. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" "It's okay Percy." Hermione forced a smile onto her face. She didn't want the Weasleys to walk on eggshells, because of her predicament with Ron. They had all been very supportive towards her after she'd told them about it after Harry's memorial service. "Keep me posted on Ron, will you?" Percy nodded solemnly. "I will!" The dark and surly looking Ranger Wolfe came up to them. "We have to leave Miss Granger," he said in a low voice, all the while looking at Molly Weasley with narrowed eyes. "Excuse me ma'am, but are you related to the McKinnons?" Molly's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Why yes. My grandmother was a McKinnon…Violet McKinnon. Why do you ask? "I recognise you from a picture taken at a family reunion. My great-grandmother's family reunion to be precise. Her name was Rose McKinnon, daughter of Elric McKinnon." "Oh, then you're a distant cousin!" Molly said delightedly. "Yes! Great-aunt Rose married a Chinese wizard…my grandmother told me about that, goodness…Old Elric wasn't too happy about it. What's your name, dear?" "Wolfe…Maximilian…Donovan, Wolfe, ma'am," he said haltingly, and Hermione guessed that the bashful Ranger rarely said his full name out loud. "My mother was at the reunion too, but she was killed shortly after that. Her name was Elisabeth van…" "Ketel…" Molly finished searching her memories. "Elisabeth van Ketel…her father was a Dutch wizard…oh dear, she was pregnant at the reunion…" Wolfe nodded slowly. "With me." Molly stepped forward and shook his hand. "Well, it certainly is nice to meet you. Look after Hermione, will you? She's like a daughter to me." "Uh…o…kay." Wolfe stuttered, looking at Hermione's embarrassed expression, and completely taken aback by the rather familiar request of a near perfect stranger. "Honestly Mrs Weasley, I can take care of myself," Hermione huffed. "Shut up, or I'll hex you!" they heard Lilia yell as she carried a hissing Crookshanks, who hated to travel in his wicker basket. Crookshanks sensed the witch was serious and ceased his annoying behaviour immediately. Charlie nodded at Lilia and grinned. "She's got spunk. She single?" he asked Wolfe. "Uh…I uh…" "Why don't you go ask her?" Hermione said to Charlie, rescuing Wolfe from having to interact with an unfamiliar human being. The Ranger used Hermione's distraction to beat a hasty retreat. "I don't understand," Molly," she frowned. "His mother was a very jolly girl. I remember Elisabeth…strange…" she muttered. "I thought…oh, never mind." She smiled at Hermione again. "I don't know…Mrs Weasley. I think he doesn't know how to communicate very well, especially with people he doesn't know." "His eyes…" Ginny said quietly. "Like Harry's," Charlie added. "I bet he's had a pretty rough life too." "Yes," Hermione agreed. "I noticed too." She sighed. "Hopefully the other Rangers are a bit more normal than he is. I don't know how I'd cope if they were all that rude and distant." "You don't have to worry about that," the redheaded Ranger, who looked like Ginny, said. "Ranger Wolfe is a loner. He works in teams well enough, but he excels in scenarios where he works alone." She looked at Ginny. "You must be Ginny." Ginny nodded uncertainly. "Yes…" The woman frowned darkly. "It seems you got your wish. Harry got out of your sight, and never returned into it. Just as well…because you didn't deserve to gaze upon him again!" she said bitterly, before glancing at Hermione. "Time to leave, Miss Granger." Then she spun on her heel and strode over to the cruiser. A few anguished sobs escaped Ginny before she ran back up to the castle, tears pouring out of her eyes. Hermione wanted to go after her and comfort her, but she realised that she had no idea what to say if she did, and she was actually surprised by the fact that Ginny hadn't tried to curse the daylights out of Ranger Gravenstein. She guessed that Ginny was too crushed, emotionally, to fight right now. "I'll write," she mumbled at the remaining Weasleys, before she walked towards the Cruiser. ** Draco Malfoy had to use every ounce of his willpower not to strut down Diagon Alley with his trademark superior smirk on his pale face. Yes, the last few nights his dreams had been sweet. Harry Potter was dead! After his trial two years ago, Potter had told him that he would get what was coming to him sooner or later, even if it wasn't at the hands of the Ministry. But Draco knew better than that! Voldemort had been a fool in his quest for immortality and world domination, and Draco had played both sides of the fence expertly. He'd always suspected that Voldemort wouldn't be the sure victor his father had made him out to be, and that he might lose his head at some point though not quite that literally. And while the Dark Lord was now the object of Nearly Headless Nick's envy, Draco Malfoy had survived. He still marvelled at his own genius as he remembered convincing Voldemort not to give him the Dark Mark, arguing that being the son of a suspected Death Eater placed him under a lot of scrutiny already. He insisted that the Ministry would be checking his arms, or indeed his whole body after he returned from the Christmas holidays. Sticking to his idea had probably saved his life. Voldemort had tortured him for his insolence, of course, and accused him of being a traitor, but Draco had endured the Cruciatus Curse and in the end the Dark Lord had grudgingly admitted to seeing the merits of Draco's plan. And Draco had secured his own safety soon after, by co-ordinating the capture and murder of the Gryffindor Mudbloods Dean Thomas and Colin Creevey, thus delivering on his promise and proving to the Dark Lord that his decision to spare him had been the right one. "After Potter's defeat of Voldemort", many of Voldemort's supporters were tried and convicted, and were now rotting in Azkaban, guarded by conquered Dementors. Draco had escaped justice by drinking an anti-mnemonic potion that erased a number of pre-selected memories, so he'd yielded no evidence of his involvement when he was under the influence of Veritaserum. They hadn't noticed the gaps in his memories, and their case against him had already been weak in the absence of tangible evidence. That idiot Percy Weasley had insisted that they investigate him further. But after Draco's eloquent speech quoting Dumbledore himself, saying that it didn't matter what someone was born as but what they grew up to be that was important, they'd let him walk. He'd left himself a note saying that he should look in a safety deposit box. at a Muggle bank for his own personal and secret Pensieve, where the Ministry of Magic had never guessed to look, and thus he'd restored his memory. To distance himself further from his past and because all of his father's money had been given out to the Death Eaters' victims, he took a Ministry job in the Office of House-elf Relocation. He chose this job to subtly spite Potter, and remind him that he now had control over the fates of many House-elves. Potter had protested to the Ministry, claiming that Draco was known to have abused an elf. But the Ministry's reply to the unpopular hero had been to inform him that Draco Malfoy never put the Cruciatus Curse on anybody. That had been the best day of his life after the war, until Saturday, when he'd got word of Potter's death. That was now his number-one happy memory! While he worked at the Ministry, he'd saved every Knut while he moved on to bigger, better and more illegal things like smuggling dark artefacts. Sure, he'd had to take a lot of risks in his first year after the end of the war, but now it had paid off. He had already laundered most of his Galleons through a branch of Gringotts in Petra, Jordan. That bank was particularly known for its 'no questions asked' policy, and the local Ministry had a tough time checking the transactions because many of the Jordanian officials, while not evil, weren't exactly squeaky clean either, so they hampered many investigations and nothing got discovered. By now, Draco had a fortune almost as large as George Weasley's but he still kept his job at the Office for House-elf Relocation for now, as a cover, if nothing else. He was planning to start a legitimate business, something to justify his wealth, and after that, he would quit his job at the Ministry and buy back Malfoy Manor. Now that the financial part of his five-year plan had been completed, the next course of action to take would be to re-establish the Malfoy name. He decided that he was going to do this by making large donations to charity, like his father had, but he could only start with that when the business he had yet to open was thriving. In the meantime, he was busy wrapping the proverbial strings around the limbs of people like Borgin. He always took Polyjuice potion before meeting Borgin, so the older man wouldn't recognise him, and he always had a different identity. This was a necessity while smuggling dark artefacts, to minimise the chances of Borgin finding out who he was. After all, crooks like that couldn't be trusted. If anything, he needed things to blackmail them with, rather than the other way around! That's why carried out all his illegal activities in disguise, and a little Confundus Amulet his father had left him served to baffle the Sneakoscopes his shady business relations always carried, so they never suspected him of falsehood and thus didn't question his identity. As he walked into his office, he finally allowed himself to smirk. Harry Potter was dead, and Draco Malfoy was thriving. Of course, there was the problem called Percy Weasley, who was keeping too close an eye on him. Maybe it was time to orphan his unborn baby…of course, it had to look like an accident and be untraceable to him. But that could be arranged. Malfoy already had the blood of two Gryffindors on his hands. One more wouldn't be a big deal. He went over his mail, and saw a marriage application made by Dobby the House-elf. Apparently Winky had finally consented to marry him. Grinning broadly, he drew up a letter of rejection, stating that there were no laws concerning the marriage of ownerless elves, and that he therefore couldn't approve of any marriage. For a brief moment, Draco was actually sorry that Harry was dead, because no doubt it would have tormented him to see Dobby's attempt to exercise his freedom, thwarted. Too bad that Potter wasn't alive to witness it. Officially, he'd have to draw up a request for a law to be written, to cover the rights of free elves, but he glanced at the heap of paperwork on his desk. He could probably say it slipped his mind and get away with it. All he needed was someone to witness him hard at work with the stack of parchments, so the person in question could support his claim that it had slipped his mind, should it ever get to that. Draco chuckled as a delicious solution presented itself. He would use a House-elf as a witness! "Destiny is not without a sense of irony, Dobby!" he mumbled to himself, as he called Slinky the House-elf up to deliver his morning cup of coffee. He would complain about the heavy workload in the presence of the elf. He knew he he'd have to approve of the marriage at some point, but he would enjoy torturing his former servant for as long as possible. Ah, those were the little things that made life more interesting. His mother's face appearing in a flame distracted him. "Draco." "And what can I do for you on this fine day, mother?" he sneered. "Why did you stand up Pansy last Saturday?" Draco snorted. Because he'd been in too good a mood upon hearing about Potter's death. That shrew Pansy would have ruined a perfectly good day. Of course, he couldn't say so over the fire connection, because at the moment it wasn't prudent to say anything bad about the tragic hero, Harry Potter. "I thought it was highly inappropriate to go out and amuse myself on the day the news of the death of our greatest hero reached us, mother," he said instead. Narcissa seemed to catch the message, and nodded. "Of course. But remember, we have to find you a nice girl of good family." He knew that by 'good' she meant pure-blooded, but they had to be careful these days. "Of course," he replied. "Tell Pansy I will see her at her convenience. Goodbye mother!" he said, and broke the connection. Draco leaned back in his chair. He really didn't want Pansy Parkinson, but there weren't many alternatives. He had wanted Fleur Delacour, but she'd married a Weasley. Padma Patil was a pureblood, and very attractive, but she was too intelligent to risk a relationship with. He needed a good-looking pureblood wife he could control. But there weren't many witches who fit all three of those criteria. Then a brilliant thought crept into his mind. It would be difficult, yes, and he'd need to be really convincing, but it could be done…and if he pulled it off it would be oh so satisfying! He tore up the letter of rejection. Maybe…for the plan to work…he should publicly take a personal interest in the well being of House-elves.
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