Uprooted and Upheld Part Four (Inception/HP, Arthur/Eames, Big Bang)
Part Four
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
The next day, while they are sitting at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, which had been reconstructed after the war and placed under the ownership of Fortescue’s son, eating ice cream to celebrate a job well done, Ambrose Darkholme himself, along with his hundred-strong coven, appear at the Ministry. People run with hysteria, until they realize that the coven are allies, not enemies. Then there is much fanfare, and much blood offered. The Ministry, although Shacklebolt hates to do so, holds a large mingling to familiarize the two parties. Most of the vampires socialize with the throngs of people, and they are polite, if not a little distant.
It’s while they’re watching this when Saito appears.
“I’ve got news,” Saito says, suddenly appearing next to them. Ariadne shrieks and nearly drops her raspberry ice cream. “Where Arthur is.” He leads them over to a side-alley (“This is becoming a habit.” “Shhh, Yusuf.”)
“Well?” Eames asks.
“He’s at the Lestrange estates,” Saito says. Eames makes a sound.
“Well, that’s -“
“Extremely hard to get access to,” Saito says, “and it’s under all sorts of dark magic spells.”
“And that means?” Ariadne demands.
“That means it’s going to be hell getting him back,” Cobb says, rubbing his eyes.
“What do we do?” Yusuf asks.
“We go through hell to get him back,” Eames says. “Now.”
“Oh my God,” Yusuf suddenly says. “L-look at this.” He leans down he ground and picks up a newspaper. They all look down onto its front page.
“BLACK HEIR FOUND,” the headline reads. And then in the space below, “RECLAIMS INHERITANCE FROM POTTER ESTATE.”
“That,” Cobb says, “cannot be good.”
“Not good at all,” Eames says. “Shit.”
And then a loud sound of trumpets blaring flares through Diagon Alley.
"What the bloody hell is that?" Yusuf asks. They all run to the opening of the alley to peer down the main street, and what they see is a large procession similar to the Independence Day celebration in Washington, D.C.
"Run!" A woman in front of them whispers to another beside her. "Run before they stampede right over us!"
The procession is a solid force moving towards the opening of Diagon Alley, and everything caught in its path - barrels, people, cats -- are swept up in the procession. Everyone marching is wearing purple and white robes.
"Are they?" Ariadne asks.
"Yes," Eames says, "those are the Illiads." Each purple-white clad Illiad member carries something in their hands, holding it in front of them as if presenting them for the first time to an unworthy people.
"Their timing is impeccable," Cobb says. "We can never catch a break."
"Hold on," Yusuf says, "is that? Is that Arthur up there?" The whole team stills and looks over every member of the parade, trying to find their point man. Ariadne lets out a small shriek.
"Oh my God," she says, "he's right there!" She points a finger at a man in the center of the crowd, the one man who moves towards the entrance of Diagon Alley about a foot or two higher than everyone else. Arthur wears the same purple-white robes as everyone else around him is, and he is not walking, but instead sitting on a chair levitating along the cobblestone roads.
"They're showing him off," Eames says, "that's what this is. Oh, those bastards." He utters a slew of curses.
"So close yet so far," Saito murmurs. "There are thousands of protection charms around them. The time they chose to coincide with Darkholme is-“
“Like a big ‘fuck you’ to the coven,” Yusuf says.
“That too. We couldn't get near to Arthur even if we tried."
"We can't sit here and do nothing," Ariadne says. "He was kidnapped and now he's right there!"
“Wizards and witches,” a loud voice echoes throughout Diagon Alley. Everyone turns to the tall man who levitates himself until he is right next to Arthur, towering over the chair. He is a thin man in his mid-thirties, with a sharp nose and a narrow forehead.
"Yorrick," Eames identifies, recognizing him from the Ministry.
“We, the Illiads, introduce our newest pureblood member, Arthur Black." He flourishes at Arthur, who stands up straight and turns in a circle, nodding every once in a while at certain members of the procession. He does not look at anyone who is not wearing a purple-white robe, and even when he sits down, does not turn left or right to look at any of the stores.
"As you may have read in the Daily Prophet, and other lesser regarded newspapers," Yorrick sneer slightly, "Mr. Black has taken back his inheritance from Harry Potter, and has reclaimed his title as Lord of the Black estates. Today, we commemorate his return to proper wizarding society, and welcome him to our ways and our life."
"Doesn't look like they're treating him badly," Cobb observes. "He doesn't look malnourished." Arthur looks like he did before, only in a different set of clothes. His hair is still gelled back, his face is gaunt like always, and he is sitting with the same air that he sat with before.
"His mental state," Eames says, "that's what needs to be looked after."
While they are talking, the procession and Arthur move closer and closer to where they stand. As the front of the procession moves past them, Arthur comes into better view, and for a moment all the team members feel as if they can sense Arthur's presence amongst them, standing right next to them and criticizing how they conducting their inception of Ambrose.
Arthur comes within two meters of them, now nearing the exact alley that they are in. He does not turn to them, even when Ariadne reaches out a hand to signal to him. He keeps his eyes trained in the direction that he is moving, never turning his head left or right, even under the noise and the cacophony around him.
"His eyes," Eames says, "his eyes have nothing in them. Like..."
"Like he's had his soul taken from him," Saito says.
And like some God above has decided that that particular day was going to be the day of reckoning, the screams begin.
“Get down!” Eames roars. The sirens alerting creature invasion are sound off left and right, and a loud, booming voice yells out "Protego totalum!"
Glass shatters left and right, and the sound of rending flesh tears through the air. There are vampires advancing, but they ignore all the people and head straight towards Ambrose's coven.
"Shit, it's going to be a bloody vampire war," Eames says, ducking when a wayward arm hurls towards him. "Don't get caught in the crossfire!"
But it doesn't matter if they're caught in the crossfire or not, because a pack of werewolves descend on them, and little house elves start smacking their feet. Yusuf is tripped over, and a werewolf hovers threateningly over him.
"Yusuf!" Cobb yells. Armed with a chair from Florean Fortescue, Cobb brings it cracking down on the werewolf, who whimpers and falls to the ground. Another one immediately jumps on Cobb's back, teeth snapping and saliva dripping.
"Duck!" A voice yells, and a jet of bright red light flashes past them, nearly catching Saito's ear. It hits three of the werewolves, who fall back on the ground and don't get back up.
"Neville!" Eames calls, unbelievably happy to see the Herbology professor. "Thank God!"
"Been getting a little rusty with your skills, eh?" Neville says. "Not that it means much - you've dealt with five already I see!" Eames manages a small smile, aiming jets of green at several other werewolves that have snuck up.
From behind them, Ariadne unleashes a feral cry as she merges a pack of silver bullets into multiple werewolves.
"Eames, they won't stop coming!" Ariadne cries out. Her red hair sticks to an already-sweaty face.
"They will eventually," Eames reassures.
Another fresh wave comes out.
"Eventually," he says again, reassuring himself this time.
Hooves thumping on the ground alert Eames to the presence of centaurs on Diagon Alley. Centaurs.
"Ministry Alert - Level 9! Update on the situation," a loud, calm voice carries over the entire streets, and everyone fighting barely listens to it as they fend off the creatures. "All roads have fighting activity, repeat, all roads have fighting activity. Species involved at the moment: vampires, werewolves, elves, goblins, centaurs, pixies, manticores, trolls, leprechauns. Species approaching: dementors."
"Not good," Eames says. “Fuck.”
"What do we do?" Ariadne shouts, not having the slightest idea of what all those species were. "Do we assume they're all against us?"
"Of course not," Eames says, "I'm certain the unicorns, if any, are going to be on our side. And half the goblins are fighting for us."
"How do we tell them apart?"
“If they’re aiming for your throat, it means -“
Blood splatters over all of them from a man being ripped apart above them by pixies. Eames spits the mouthful of blood out.
"Oh that is vile," Eames spits out. Yusuf hacks and coughs, accidentally swallowing a bit.
"If I get AIDS from this Eames," Yusuf says, bringing the blunt side of an ax down on a goblin's head, "I swear I will kill you."
"If I'm not dead by the end of this already,” Eames says. “Sectumsempra!”
The sound of battle continues to surround them. There are magical creatures everywhere: the Cornish pixies on the mannequins inside of Madame Malkin’s, the vampires opening cages inside of the Magical Menagerie, and the trolls smashing shelves and wands in Ollivanders.
“I have to go find something out,” Eames shouts to the rest. “I’ll be back in ten minutes - stay close to Neville!”
“Can you handle this?” He asks Neville. Neville nods.
“I think so, but come back quickly!”
Eames takes off for the Ministry of Magic, getting past the protection charms because wizards with lycanthropy, who have chosen to run with the wolves instead, have already broken them. He runs down the Ministry halls, ducking a troll's fist and jumping over a low-aimed stupefy. He runs down to the Minister's office, which positively glows with protection charms and everything to keep the creatures out.
It recognizes Eames as an Auror - a nifty inclusion in all Ministry charms, and lets him stumble in to where Kingsley and several high-ranking Ministry officials are gathered.
"Auror Eames," Kingsley says formally, "what is the situation?" The other occupants of the room eye his blood-spattered robes. Eames brushes aside a bit of goblin flesh he knows is stuck to his cheek.
"Do we have permission to kill?" Eames asks.
"Not explicit," Kingsley says, "but it's too late for that." The light in the room is red, and when Eames looks behind the minister, he sees the blood-spattered windows.
"This is far more brutal than anything we've ever experienced," a man that Eames only knows in passing says. He has labels on his suit that identify him as a ministry official in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. "There is nothing we can do but fight back and kill them to prevent further harm."
"But these creatures are peaceful - they were, ten years ago!" A woman from the Department of Magical Creatures cries out. "They do not attack unless provoked, we started this!"
"Majorie," a woman from the Department of Magical Transportation says, "we started this, but they're not letting it end. We said we'd negotiate them ten months ago, but they never replied!"
"But they have werewolves, vampires, and centaurs amongst them - they are the most civilized of magical creatures!"
"Henry, what is the status of other governments?" Kingsley asks, voice quieting the emerging argument.
Henry Fie, the head of the Department for International Magic Cooperation, stands to attention.
"The Ministry of Magic of China is fine," Henry reports, "but the Ministry of Magic of Russia is falling to pieces. China has sent over troops, but there are a lot of merpeople climbing onto the land and killing people."
"And Canada?"
"Overrun with all sorts of magical creatures."
"Are any Ministries pledging aid to us?"
"Sir, most Ministries are facing crises of their own. However, Iceland and France are guaranteeing all forces - Aurors and friendly magical creatures - to our aid. We have reports that the Aurors will arrive once we agree (“Tell them yes, that we need all the help we can get,” Shacklebolt says) and that most of the creature population are being sent here on ships and through other means of transportation -“
"The public will have trouble differentiating," a man from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes says, "they have enough trouble with even the simplest of tasks - how can you expect them to not arouse the foreign creatures against us?"
"That's a risk we have to take," Shacklebolt says, and the dark lines on his face astonish Eames because they speak to how troubled and tired Shacklebolt has been.
"I think," Shacklebolt rumbles, "that we must aim to only subdue."
"What happens if we kill?" Eames asks, not wanting for another second to stay inside the room while his team - the people he has gotten close to in the past year - is outside, defenseless. Cobb's Beretta Storm, Saito’s Walther PPK, Yusuf’s SIG-Sauer P239, and the various weapons that Ariadne has managed to procure will help, but not for long. Neville can only fend off so many creatures.
"Nothing," Shacklebolt says, and that's as good a guarantee of freedom to kill as anything. Without saying another word, Eames turns and rushes out of the room, which explodes into "Nothing?!" "Oh, shut up, this is a war!"
The moment Eames rushes out of the ministry, he can see that things have gotten worse. Carnage lays all around him, and blood literally drips off of every building wall. He grabs the nearest Auror he recognizes.
"Adams!" He shouts, casting a quick protective charm around them. "How are the protections separating us from muggle London?"
"Oh shit, I knew I was supposed to help McGreggor with --"
"You idiot!" Eames shoves him away, and runs towards the opening of Diagon Alley, to that little alley that connects to the Leaky Cauldron. He's too late - the trolls are there already, ramming into the bricks with their clubs and heads. The magically-enforced bricks, hard and withstanding for years, refuse to budge.
"Thank Merlin!" A female voice says from above him. There's a flash of purple and white, before two Illiad members drop down from the skies and begin to cast spells, beating the trolls away from the entrance.
"We'll take it from here, Auror Eames," a man - who now Eames recognizes as Macmillan, who used to share the same office space as him.
Knowing Macmillan to be qualified for his job, Eames nods, turns, and runs back to where he last left the rest of his team. Illiad members descend left and right, throwing themselves into the blood and gore. Several members magic off their white robes in exchange for darker ones, and the ones who have left their white robes on now look like tomatoes - with the exception of some black streaks left by black blood.
He runs to Florean Fortescue, and looks around him for Cobb, Ariadne, - anyone he knows he put in danger. He can't find them.
"Cobb!" He yells. No answer.
"Ariadne!" He tries again, running to the left to Madame Milkin's (insert). Heart pounding, he realizes that he can't see a goddamned thing, with guts and eyes and limbs surrounding him. Everywhere he looks he can only see war.
"Point me, Dominic Cobb," he says to his wand, and it rises out of his hand, only to spin in circles that never stop. "Shit."
"Point me, Hikaru Saito." Again, the same thing.
"Goddamn!" He yells into the air, and sends a vicious slicing curse at the nearest vampire he sees trying to feed from a fallen witch. He sends a stinging hex towards a ghoul advancing on some children - goddamned children, who aren't even supposed to be there. He doesn't even know if they're dead or alive.
"Ministry update," a different voice says. "Reinforcements due to arrive in five seconds. Friendly dispatch forces of werewolves, centaurs, and goblins are due to arrive. Please make sure to notice the difference. Sign of friendliness is located on the arm in the form of a blue armband. Please take note."
And then a completely different voice says, roughly, "C to E, we are the Bed and Breakfast that serves deviled eggs." Eames finds himself running towards Knockturn Alley as fast as he can, tripping over fallen bodies as he goes. Bed and Breakfast means B & B, which means Borgin and Burkes.
The battle is still in full swing, but this time, it feels like the new creatures - all with a bit of blue wrapped around their arms - are fighting back considerably well.
"Eames!" A light, female voice calls out. Eames turns to find Luna Scamander, possibly the best expert on magical creatures he has ever seen.
"Luna! I'm sorry, I don't have much time to talk --"
"Yes, that message was for you," Luna says, smiling airily at his shocked look, "don't worry, your friends are in safe hands. There are a few gulping plimpies around keeping guard."
"What are - never mind. Thanks, Luna," Eames says, starting forward.
"Even that one is safe," she calls out after him. “And his ideal date is an underwater aquarium!” He turns around in surprise to ask her if she’s talking about who he thinks she is, but when he does so, she is already too far from him, braids and a trail of light sweeping behind her.
"Eames!" Someone yells to him. "Over here!" He follows the voice to the storefront of Borgin and Burkes to find Ariadne kneeling over an injured Yusuf. Cobb is nowhere in sight.
"Thank Merlin you're alright," he says, tugging her up fiercely and hugging her close. Ariadne hugs back briefly.
"I'm alright, but Yusuf was cut badly by one of the big cat things.”
“A nundu.” Eames turns his attention to Yusuf immediately, leaning down to check on the wound. It is large and purple, stretching down the side of Yusuf and practically exposing his ribs and flesh to the whole world.
“Tergeo,” Eames says, and a faint blue light settles over Yusuf's wound.
"Cobb said he was going to find a Healer," Ariadne frets from above.
“Don’t worry, I sterilized his wound and the air around it. He won’t get any worse. The blood is clotting.” Ariadne looks relieved. She lets out a breath and looks around her.
"Why is it so... empty here?"
"Knockturn Alley," Eames says. "Cleared out after the last war. Magical creatures probably don't suspect anyone to be here."
"Cobb put out a boggart - if that's what they're called - earlier. I saw Mal in real life, is that normal?"
"Shows your darkest fear - or in this case, Cobb’s." Eames casts another purifying charm. "Who brought you here?" Ariadne's face breaks out into a smile.
"Oh, Eames," she says, smiling the brightest she's smiled in a good few days. "Arthur brought us here." He looks at her in surprise.
"Really?”
“Yes! We were being attacked by those nundu things, and then Arthur came in with his wand. He cast a spell at them and they took off; then he brought us here.”
“Where is he, then?" Eames asks, craning his head for a glimpse of Arthur.
"He took off right after that," Ariadne says, smile dimming. "Didn't even speak to us."
"At least he's alive." Cobb appears, a woman trailing after him. The stranger immediately begins to work on Yusuf's wound.
"We can't stay here," the woman says, "it's unsafe. At least on Diagon Alley, there are a few protection charms." Eames nods in agreement, swallowing tightly.
"What do we do with," Ariadne asks, gesturing at Yusuf.
"I will take him," the woman says, "St. Mungo’s is going around gathering all the injured. He will be put in for treatment."
"Thanks," Eames says. A sharp whip crack and the woman and Yusuf have disappeared. Once they’re gone, he turns to Cobb.
“Deviled eggs? Really?”
“The devil is black,” Cobb says plainly. “And Knockturn Alley is a dark arts alley.” Eames looks up into the sky, sighs, and heads towards Diagon Alley again, Cobb and Ariadne following him.
"Ministry update," a cool voice says once they walk right into the conflict. "New forces approaching in less than five minutes from New Zealand and Sweden. Please note the blue armbands." The battle that they walk into has calmed somewhat. There is less carnage around them, and the number of wizards, witches, and creatures wearing a blue armband far outnumber the creatures.
"Retreat, retreat!" A vampire yells, and just like that, all the vampires disappear from the scene in a rush of smoke. Werewolves, howl at one another, and they retreat as well.
"It's over!" A man Eames has never seen before throws his arms around him. "It's over!"
Bit by bit, the magical creatures leave, some plain giving up and ignoring the hordes of humans around them, others taking down whatever they can before they leave. In minutes, only wizards and witches fill Diagon Alley.
A loud, rancorous cheer starts to rise, and everyone is up on their feet, yelling and cheering that they have won.
“We’ve won! We’ve won!” Everyone screams. A louder cheer rises when Kingsley Shacklebolt steps out from under the corpses of two trolls. All the Illiad members are congregating together over at the side, and Eames’ eyes are naturally drawn over there, searching for the brown head of one Arthur Black.
There are Ministry officials rushing around each other, trying to get a platform set up for the Minister to give his victory speech - to rouse the crowd with greater hopes of a brighter tomorrow, and to congratulate those who had given their most to fight for the land that they loved. Eames catches his breath with Ariadne and Cobb, and all three of them start edging towards the Illiads, hoping to get Arthur.
"My fellow wizards and witches," Shacklebolt begins, standing on the newly raised platform. Cleaners sweep up and down the streets, cleaning up bits of blood and flesh that decorate the streets. The dead magical creatures are banished away, and the dead wizards and witches are transported to St. Mungo's, where they will be examined and prepared for burial. The few injured who are still alive are sent to St. Mungo's straight away for treatment.
"Today, we have fought a hard battle," Shacklebolt continues. "Against magical creatures of all kinds. However, we must not forget that we have lived in peace before, and in order to continue to prosper, we must find this peace again. This peace is not limited to only us and the magical creatures, but also us and the muggle world, and --"
"Sectumsempra!" A voice roars. Shrieks start anew when Minster Shacklebolt falls to the ground, blood pouring from the new wound on his shoulders.
"Sectumsempra!" More -human- voices shout, and people in the crowd fall down the ground, blood gushing out of their new cuts.
"This is what you get, blood traitors!" It becomes all too apparent that the attacks are coming from the Illiads.
"We protected you!" A fallen wizards yells. "You were our hope for the future if we all died!"
"As we should be," an Illiad member yells. "We are the best wizards and witches, the most original!"
"We outnumber you," someone else shouts. "You can't possibly win!" All the Illiad members laugh, bringing back unsavory memories of the last war between Harry Potter and Voldemorte.
"Yes, we can," an Illiad member says. Eames recognizes that it is one of his previous close friends - Macmillian. "We've got the upper-hand, a new ability. The result of true and pure wizards and witches breeding!" The Illiad members start to move away from something in the middle of their crowd. Slowly, the members begin to expand out, causing the crowd to move back further and further away. Eames' heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he realizes that it is Arthur.
"Bloody hell," he says.
"Ohhhhh fuck," Ariadne agrees.
"For years people have been saying that mudbloods are the same as us. You've mixed and matched dirt and gold. But not anymore! Today, we shall prove that only purebloods have true power! Go on, Arthur, do what we know you can." Arthur stands up tall and straight, as confident as he is with a gun in his hands. But this time, instead of a gun, there is only a wand in his hand.
"Protego!" Harry Potter's voice yells out. "Protego Maximus!"
"Stupefy!" Several more voices cry out. "Expellimarus!" Chaos breaks out completely, and the sides are clearly defined. The Illiads have worn their purple-white robes to this battle, and everyone can immediately find each other.
“Shit, they might get Arthur!” Cobb suddenly says, and then he’s off, racing towards Arthur to get to him before anyone can hurt him.
“Come on, Arthur,” Eames hears one of the Illiads say to Arthur. “Do what we know you can do!” He doesn’t have to anything you want him to do, Eames thinks angrily to himself, also running over to where Arthur is.
“Eames, run faster!” Ariadne shouts from behind him. They dodge spells left and right, spells that are cast by people who have already been put through the wringer.
“Incendio!” Flames lick at the corners of Flourish & Blotts, prompting multiple people to yell, “Aguamenti!”
The Illiad member previously talking to Arthur is now shaking Arthur, and when Arthur looks up, Eames feels a jolt of bad premonition at Arthur’s dull, dead eyes. All of a sudden, the pandemonium ceases. Everyone just full-stops - everyone except for Eames, Cobb, and Ariadne. From his spot, Eames can see Cobb in front of him, pausing in his tracks in surprise that everyone has stopped moving. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ariadne ducking under a man's unmoving outreached hand and wand.
"Good, good," the Illiad member says. "Now, let's put the plan into action. I point, and you move, okay?" Arthur doesn' t make a single sound of agreement or disagreement, but the Illiad member takes it as a sign to continue speaking.
"The purebloods in this group, excluding our members, are the Browns, the Blishwicks, the Burkes, the Gamps, the MacDougals, the Maxes, the Potters, and the Weasleys," he says the last two with distaste. "Gather them in the front. Everyone else can be disposed of." The moment Arthur's eyes flicker in concentration is the moment the pandemonium begins again.
The people with the last names the Illiad member had mentioned walk towards the Illiad members, each muttering strange things.
"I'm driving, Eddy, I'm driving!" A woman Eames believes is a Gamp says. "See, we're moving foward."
"Just keep running," another man says. "Keep running in a straight line and I can win this race."
But in the group not composed of purebloods, it's a different story.
A man repeatedly swats at the air, screaming: "the fly is still in the room, Ingrid! Can't you see I'm trying to hit it?" He hits at least five people in the head while he does so, but never says that he's got the fly.
"Hi-yah!" A woman screams, bringing her hand down on a shoulder, and then another. "Hi-yah!"
People are moving left and right, each making absurd movements that are harming other people. Several people have been beaten unconscious, and are lying on the ground.
Eames, Cobb, and Ariadne have relocated into a deserted store and crouch where they can see the Illiad members and Arthur, but no one can see them.
"What's going on?" Ariadne asks.
"I think," Eames says with wonder in his voice. "I think that Arthur has managed to put everyone in a lucid dream without using a PASIV device."
"Jesus Christ," Cobb says softly. "What the fuck."
"Why aren't we like them?" Ariadne asks, pointing. Arthur looks directly at them at that moment. He doesn't wink, doesn't smile, doesn't do anything that shows he even recognizes them.
"He did this on purpose," Eames says. "He wants us to do something."
"What do we do?" Ariadne asks, worrying and watching the targeted people slowly mill towards the group of purple-white figures.
"Wait," Eames says, catching movement that is too quick and purposeful to be someone inside a dream. "I think - I think there are more people who weren't affected." Through the flailing crowd, he makes out Kingsley Shacklebolt walking quickly to the same store that they are hiding in. He is carefully sidestepping people on the ground, even surreptitiously banishing away out of harm. Auror Granger is moving towards the Minister, Luna Scamander following behind her.
“Auror Eames,” Shacklebolt says once he steps through the threshold.
“Minister,” Eames replies back. After about five minutes, there are a total of about seven people inside of the store.
“How are we all,” Eames says, waving a hand to gesture at their group.
“We met Arthur,” Hermione says immediately. “All at different times, but he trusts us enough to take action against the Illiads.” The Illiad members outside suddenly begin yelling and chanting, whooping and cheering. Apparently, things are going just the way they planed.
“We can do introductions later,” a man says from Eames’ side. “Arthur’s giving us this chance to stop the Illiads - we need to take it.” There’s something about the man that strikes Eames as odd. There’s a tone in his voice like he’s been an Auror before, or at the very least seen war.
The man is middle-aged, near fifty, with long black hair that reaches past his shoulders. Eames takes a glance down at the man's arms, and finds no wand holsters. Instead, there is the lump of a gun holster on him. The man is a muggle. Suddenly, there is a tugging sensation on Eames' mind when he comes to this conclusion. He looks up and finds Shacklebolt's eyes, which tell him to keep his mouth shut, and that everything will be explained later.
"What do we do?" Ariadne asks.
"I think - I think Draco is on our side," Eames says. The suspicious man is surprised.
"Draco Malfoy?" He asks. Eames nods. "Wow. I never thought I'd see the day."
"Yaxley," Hermione says. "He's the one touching Arthur right now. There might be a form of mind-control in that."
"Arthur's not the type to do this," Ariadne says, pointing at the outside. "Us being free, it means that Arthur's controlling his own actions. He wants this to happen."
"But that doesn't make any sense," the man says. "Arthur can tell right from wrong. He wouldn't just let a couple hundred people die, especially if he can control his own actions."
"He's up to something," Cobb announces. "The only reason why he'd keep up this charade is if he had an end in mind."
"But not a end for us," Eames says, words forming in his mouth as quickly as the thoughts do in his mind. "It's an end for --"
"The Illiads," Hermione says. "Are - are they?" They peer outside to where the Illiads are at, scanning its members. As if Arthur can sense their thoughts, one of the Illiad members makes a movement like he is stroking a horse in thin air.
"Oh," Hermione says breathlessly. "He's brilliant!"
"As if he doesn't know," Eames thinks he hears the man say.
"So even the Illiads are caught," Shacklebolt says. "But not all of them are - Yaxley isn't, and a couple amongst them are not, either."
"Arthur must have created this mass chaos," Ariadne says, "so that we'd be able to get to the Illiads without seeming suspicious."
It's true: everyone outside is running around and casting strange spells left and right. There is no rhyme or reason to anything anyone is doing, and from the look on Yaxley's face, it's exactly what the Illiads want. The group of pureblood wizards near the podium face the crowd, faces blank and slack. Yaxley is conversing with other Illiad members. Arthur has his eyes shut, but his entire body is pointed at Flourish and Botts.
But when Eames looks at him, Arthur's eyes dart open for a brief second, and in his eyes are a single message: "go."
"We need to move," Shacklebolt pronounces. "There are bodies piling up on the streets. We will make our way through the crowds, separately, until we are within distance of the Illiads. There--"
"Wait," Ariadne interrupts. "Wait. I don't think it's enough for us to just attack and subdue them - it seems too simple. I doubt we can subdue them all at once before they find out that Arthur is behind it and hurt him.”
"Hurry up and come to a plan!" The man bursts out. "Arthur is up there, people are getting hurt, and the Illiads are almost about to leave with the purebloods. What the bloody hell are we doing standing around for?"
"Calm down," Shacklebolt says, and immediately the man looks abashed.
“Sorry, Kingsley,” he mutters. “I just - if Arthur gets hurt I wouldn’t forgive myself.”
“There’s something on them,” Hermione says suddenly. “Something tied to their waists - tied to the waists of those who are still awake, anyways.” There’s a small belt around the waist of every Illiad member who is still awake. It is a normal brown, leather belt, only there are small gems inlaid every few inches. It’s a stretch to immediately say that they act against Arthur’s influence, but every Illiad member who is not awake does not have one.
“We need to get rid of those,” Hermione continues. “And then, once Yaxley and the others are under as well, it’ll be easier to round them up.”
“What are we waiting for?” The man says. He walks out of the store before anyone can stop him and heads straight for the Illiads.
“They probably have spells on them to make them unattainable by other spells,” Hermione yells out after him, voice nearly indiscernible in the crowd. “We have to do this physically!” The man raises a hand in the air to indicate that he’s heard.
“Oh come on,” Eames says, pulling out his wand. He casts a disillusionment charm on the man, and then all of them. “Who is that guy, anyways?” No one answers him, although Hermione shifts guiltily.
“Let’s go,” Cobb says, also stepping out. They each move quickly to where the Illiad members with the belts are standing, mindful that if they are too slow, the Illiads and the purebloods will disappear. In a matter of minutes, they are standing near their targeted Illiad members. The push and pull of the crowd against the Illiads covers the new, purposeful movements.
Hermione is the leader. With three fingers up, she puts them down one by one.
Three, everyone readies their hands to grab at the belts.
Two…
One! As quickly as they can, they each yank the belts off of their Illiad members. It works like an Alohomora. As Arthur’s influence settles over the remaining Illiad members, they can even feel the bodies stiffening and moving in the way that Arthur wants them to move. At once, Arthur leaves his spot in the middle of the podium and walks towards them.
“Oh, Arthur!” Ariadne says, rushing forward to give Arthur a big hug.
“No, don’t,” Arthur says through clenched teeth. “Not yet. If you - if you touch me, everyone will wake up.”
“Let’s paralyze them and move them to holding cells,” Hermione says to Eames and Shacklebolt. “And then we can try them for their crimes.” It’s easily done as said, and all too soon the Illiad’s bodies are Petrificus Totalus’d and then Wingardium Leviosa’d to the Ministry. Arthur releases his influence over the other wizards and witches soon after, and Shacklebolt once again takes the podium to calm everyone down.
It’s over. Arthur stumbles tiredly forward, landing in Eames’ arms.
“Darling,” Eames starts, full of an emotion he can’t name. He draws Arthur closer to him.
“Eames, “Arthur mumbles. “Eames, I can put people into dreams with my fucking mind.”
“I know, Darling,” Eames says. “I know.”
“Arthur!” The man from before appears, yanking Arthur out of Eames’ hold. “Are you okay?”
“What?” Arthur says, almost shaking himself awake. “Sirius? What are you doing here?” Once again, Eames looks at the man closely. Who is he?
‘There may have been a few family secrets you’re not privy to yet,” the man - Sirius - says. “Go to the Leaky Cauldron and stay there until tonight. I’ve got to - well, I have some unfinished business to do.”
“Wait, what?” Arthur tries, but Sirius pushes Arthur gently to Eames, who immediately catches him. “What the hell was that?”
“No idea,” Eames says. Hermione and Shacklebolt are heading for the man already, so he deems the situation covered.
“Don’t worry. You need rest.”
“Hnnggg. Alright,” Arthur says, practically collapsing in Eames’ arms.
“Alright?” Eames repeats, lifting Arthur into his arms and brushing aside a blood-clumped patch of hair out of Arthur’s eyes.
“Well, alright then.” He carries Arthur back to the Leaky Cauldron bridal-style, meeting up with Cobb and Ariadne along the way.
The mess on the streets - and all of magical England, actually - gets cleaned up in almost no time. The creatures that gave up in the process of the war, either because they gave up in their own ideals or they just got tired of fighting, return to their homes. New treaties are made, and the ‘Being” category of magical creatures resolve to once again assume their prior roles.
The entire human wizarding population all over the world begins to make amends. They reach agreements with goblins over goblin-made objects; they vow to stop deforestation; they enact more laws to protect the rights of magical creatures, such as laws preventing the abuse of house-elves and laws protecting the right of werewolves to an education. There is still much more to do.
A week after everything, Arthur is finally deemed fit to travel.
“We’re finally going home,” Arthur says, walking down the steps of the Leaky Cauldron with his luggage. Cobb, Saito, Ariadne, and a healed Yusuf are out already, waiting near a cab. “Wait, Eames, where’s all your luggage?”
“Arthur, love, this is my home,” Eames says, gesturing at the Leaky Cauldron. His Auror mission had come to an end, and he was now being called upon to aid in reconstruction and peace negotiations.
“You aren’t coming back with us?”
“No, my life is here,” Eames says regretfully. The two years he spent in the muggle dreamshare business - the two years he spend knowing Arthur - are two years that he will never forget.
“Oh,” Arthur says. There’s something hanging in the air, something that should be discussed, but a cold look settles over Arthur’s face, shuttering himself against Eames. “Then I’ll just - just go then. Goodbye, Mr. Eames.” He turns stiffly and heads towards the car.
Eames watches, and then -
“Wait.” Eames' arm shoots out to grab Arthur’s.
“What do you want?" Arthur bites out, not turning around.
“Come eat dinner with me before you leave,” Eames says, desperate. Arthur turns around, surprised.
“Eames, what're you-"
“Like a date - a proper one. Merlin knows we’ve been leading up to this for months.”
“I-“
"I know I lied about things," Eames says. "I know that I'm not the perfect man and I've never gotten braces. I know that --"
"Wait, Eames -"
"-- Maybe I don't have the best fashion sense. I've been told that I have -"
"Eames, listen to me-"
"I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life thinking about what could have been between us," Eames finishes, pleading with Arthur using his eyes.
"Stay for a while, stay forever maybe.”
“Eames,” Arthur says, voice carrying all of Eames’ hopes and dreams. "If you would just let me finish, I was going to say that it seems that even you can have good ideas once in a while." It takes a moment for Eames to process that, and even less to let his emotions show on his face.
“Condescension," he says, smiling widely. "One again appre-mfph!” Arthur's luggage falls to the ground with a sharp crack as Arthur grabs Eames and pulls him down into a kiss. In that one kiss are all the words and touches and lingering gazes that went unspoken of. In that one kiss, they tell each other their visions of the future - a private house in San Francisco with simple furniture, an ocean view, and one king-sized bed, and a flat in New York filled with bizarre paintings, bad music, and one queen-sized bed.
In that one kiss, they tell Cobb, Ariadne, Saito, and Yusuf that it's okay to leave without Arthur, and to cancel Arthur's plane ticket for him.
Because Eames wants Arthur to stay for a while, for dinner, and possibly forever.
THE END
Endnotes
Art
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
The next day, while they are sitting at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, which had been reconstructed after the war and placed under the ownership of Fortescue’s son, eating ice cream to celebrate a job well done, Ambrose Darkholme himself, along with his hundred-strong coven, appear at the Ministry. People run with hysteria, until they realize that the coven are allies, not enemies. Then there is much fanfare, and much blood offered. The Ministry, although Shacklebolt hates to do so, holds a large mingling to familiarize the two parties. Most of the vampires socialize with the throngs of people, and they are polite, if not a little distant.
It’s while they’re watching this when Saito appears.
“I’ve got news,” Saito says, suddenly appearing next to them. Ariadne shrieks and nearly drops her raspberry ice cream. “Where Arthur is.” He leads them over to a side-alley (“This is becoming a habit.” “Shhh, Yusuf.”)
“Well?” Eames asks.
“He’s at the Lestrange estates,” Saito says. Eames makes a sound.
“Well, that’s -“
“Extremely hard to get access to,” Saito says, “and it’s under all sorts of dark magic spells.”
“And that means?” Ariadne demands.
“That means it’s going to be hell getting him back,” Cobb says, rubbing his eyes.
“What do we do?” Yusuf asks.
“We go through hell to get him back,” Eames says. “Now.”
“Oh my God,” Yusuf suddenly says. “L-look at this.” He leans down he ground and picks up a newspaper. They all look down onto its front page.
“BLACK HEIR FOUND,” the headline reads. And then in the space below, “RECLAIMS INHERITANCE FROM POTTER ESTATE.”
“That,” Cobb says, “cannot be good.”
“Not good at all,” Eames says. “Shit.”
And then a loud sound of trumpets blaring flares through Diagon Alley.
"What the bloody hell is that?" Yusuf asks. They all run to the opening of the alley to peer down the main street, and what they see is a large procession similar to the Independence Day celebration in Washington, D.C.
"Run!" A woman in front of them whispers to another beside her. "Run before they stampede right over us!"
The procession is a solid force moving towards the opening of Diagon Alley, and everything caught in its path - barrels, people, cats -- are swept up in the procession. Everyone marching is wearing purple and white robes.
"Are they?" Ariadne asks.
"Yes," Eames says, "those are the Illiads." Each purple-white clad Illiad member carries something in their hands, holding it in front of them as if presenting them for the first time to an unworthy people.
"Their timing is impeccable," Cobb says. "We can never catch a break."
"Hold on," Yusuf says, "is that? Is that Arthur up there?" The whole team stills and looks over every member of the parade, trying to find their point man. Ariadne lets out a small shriek.
"Oh my God," she says, "he's right there!" She points a finger at a man in the center of the crowd, the one man who moves towards the entrance of Diagon Alley about a foot or two higher than everyone else. Arthur wears the same purple-white robes as everyone else around him is, and he is not walking, but instead sitting on a chair levitating along the cobblestone roads.
"They're showing him off," Eames says, "that's what this is. Oh, those bastards." He utters a slew of curses.
"So close yet so far," Saito murmurs. "There are thousands of protection charms around them. The time they chose to coincide with Darkholme is-“
“Like a big ‘fuck you’ to the coven,” Yusuf says.
“That too. We couldn't get near to Arthur even if we tried."
"We can't sit here and do nothing," Ariadne says. "He was kidnapped and now he's right there!"
“Wizards and witches,” a loud voice echoes throughout Diagon Alley. Everyone turns to the tall man who levitates himself until he is right next to Arthur, towering over the chair. He is a thin man in his mid-thirties, with a sharp nose and a narrow forehead.
"Yorrick," Eames identifies, recognizing him from the Ministry.
“We, the Illiads, introduce our newest pureblood member, Arthur Black." He flourishes at Arthur, who stands up straight and turns in a circle, nodding every once in a while at certain members of the procession. He does not look at anyone who is not wearing a purple-white robe, and even when he sits down, does not turn left or right to look at any of the stores.
"As you may have read in the Daily Prophet, and other lesser regarded newspapers," Yorrick sneer slightly, "Mr. Black has taken back his inheritance from Harry Potter, and has reclaimed his title as Lord of the Black estates. Today, we commemorate his return to proper wizarding society, and welcome him to our ways and our life."
"Doesn't look like they're treating him badly," Cobb observes. "He doesn't look malnourished." Arthur looks like he did before, only in a different set of clothes. His hair is still gelled back, his face is gaunt like always, and he is sitting with the same air that he sat with before.
"His mental state," Eames says, "that's what needs to be looked after."
While they are talking, the procession and Arthur move closer and closer to where they stand. As the front of the procession moves past them, Arthur comes into better view, and for a moment all the team members feel as if they can sense Arthur's presence amongst them, standing right next to them and criticizing how they conducting their inception of Ambrose.
Arthur comes within two meters of them, now nearing the exact alley that they are in. He does not turn to them, even when Ariadne reaches out a hand to signal to him. He keeps his eyes trained in the direction that he is moving, never turning his head left or right, even under the noise and the cacophony around him.
"His eyes," Eames says, "his eyes have nothing in them. Like..."
"Like he's had his soul taken from him," Saito says.
And like some God above has decided that that particular day was going to be the day of reckoning, the screams begin.
“Get down!” Eames roars. The sirens alerting creature invasion are sound off left and right, and a loud, booming voice yells out "Protego totalum!"
Glass shatters left and right, and the sound of rending flesh tears through the air. There are vampires advancing, but they ignore all the people and head straight towards Ambrose's coven.
"Shit, it's going to be a bloody vampire war," Eames says, ducking when a wayward arm hurls towards him. "Don't get caught in the crossfire!"
But it doesn't matter if they're caught in the crossfire or not, because a pack of werewolves descend on them, and little house elves start smacking their feet. Yusuf is tripped over, and a werewolf hovers threateningly over him.
"Yusuf!" Cobb yells. Armed with a chair from Florean Fortescue, Cobb brings it cracking down on the werewolf, who whimpers and falls to the ground. Another one immediately jumps on Cobb's back, teeth snapping and saliva dripping.
"Duck!" A voice yells, and a jet of bright red light flashes past them, nearly catching Saito's ear. It hits three of the werewolves, who fall back on the ground and don't get back up.
"Neville!" Eames calls, unbelievably happy to see the Herbology professor. "Thank God!"
"Been getting a little rusty with your skills, eh?" Neville says. "Not that it means much - you've dealt with five already I see!" Eames manages a small smile, aiming jets of green at several other werewolves that have snuck up.
From behind them, Ariadne unleashes a feral cry as she merges a pack of silver bullets into multiple werewolves.
"Eames, they won't stop coming!" Ariadne cries out. Her red hair sticks to an already-sweaty face.
"They will eventually," Eames reassures.
Another fresh wave comes out.
"Eventually," he says again, reassuring himself this time.
Hooves thumping on the ground alert Eames to the presence of centaurs on Diagon Alley. Centaurs.
"Ministry Alert - Level 9! Update on the situation," a loud, calm voice carries over the entire streets, and everyone fighting barely listens to it as they fend off the creatures. "All roads have fighting activity, repeat, all roads have fighting activity. Species involved at the moment: vampires, werewolves, elves, goblins, centaurs, pixies, manticores, trolls, leprechauns. Species approaching: dementors."
"Not good," Eames says. “Fuck.”
"What do we do?" Ariadne shouts, not having the slightest idea of what all those species were. "Do we assume they're all against us?"
"Of course not," Eames says, "I'm certain the unicorns, if any, are going to be on our side. And half the goblins are fighting for us."
"How do we tell them apart?"
“If they’re aiming for your throat, it means -“
Blood splatters over all of them from a man being ripped apart above them by pixies. Eames spits the mouthful of blood out.
"Oh that is vile," Eames spits out. Yusuf hacks and coughs, accidentally swallowing a bit.
"If I get AIDS from this Eames," Yusuf says, bringing the blunt side of an ax down on a goblin's head, "I swear I will kill you."
"If I'm not dead by the end of this already,” Eames says. “Sectumsempra!”
The sound of battle continues to surround them. There are magical creatures everywhere: the Cornish pixies on the mannequins inside of Madame Malkin’s, the vampires opening cages inside of the Magical Menagerie, and the trolls smashing shelves and wands in Ollivanders.
“I have to go find something out,” Eames shouts to the rest. “I’ll be back in ten minutes - stay close to Neville!”
“Can you handle this?” He asks Neville. Neville nods.
“I think so, but come back quickly!”
Eames takes off for the Ministry of Magic, getting past the protection charms because wizards with lycanthropy, who have chosen to run with the wolves instead, have already broken them. He runs down the Ministry halls, ducking a troll's fist and jumping over a low-aimed stupefy. He runs down to the Minister's office, which positively glows with protection charms and everything to keep the creatures out.
It recognizes Eames as an Auror - a nifty inclusion in all Ministry charms, and lets him stumble in to where Kingsley and several high-ranking Ministry officials are gathered.
"Auror Eames," Kingsley says formally, "what is the situation?" The other occupants of the room eye his blood-spattered robes. Eames brushes aside a bit of goblin flesh he knows is stuck to his cheek.
"Do we have permission to kill?" Eames asks.
"Not explicit," Kingsley says, "but it's too late for that." The light in the room is red, and when Eames looks behind the minister, he sees the blood-spattered windows.
"This is far more brutal than anything we've ever experienced," a man that Eames only knows in passing says. He has labels on his suit that identify him as a ministry official in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. "There is nothing we can do but fight back and kill them to prevent further harm."
"But these creatures are peaceful - they were, ten years ago!" A woman from the Department of Magical Creatures cries out. "They do not attack unless provoked, we started this!"
"Majorie," a woman from the Department of Magical Transportation says, "we started this, but they're not letting it end. We said we'd negotiate them ten months ago, but they never replied!"
"But they have werewolves, vampires, and centaurs amongst them - they are the most civilized of magical creatures!"
"Henry, what is the status of other governments?" Kingsley asks, voice quieting the emerging argument.
Henry Fie, the head of the Department for International Magic Cooperation, stands to attention.
"The Ministry of Magic of China is fine," Henry reports, "but the Ministry of Magic of Russia is falling to pieces. China has sent over troops, but there are a lot of merpeople climbing onto the land and killing people."
"And Canada?"
"Overrun with all sorts of magical creatures."
"Are any Ministries pledging aid to us?"
"Sir, most Ministries are facing crises of their own. However, Iceland and France are guaranteeing all forces - Aurors and friendly magical creatures - to our aid. We have reports that the Aurors will arrive once we agree (“Tell them yes, that we need all the help we can get,” Shacklebolt says) and that most of the creature population are being sent here on ships and through other means of transportation -“
"The public will have trouble differentiating," a man from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes says, "they have enough trouble with even the simplest of tasks - how can you expect them to not arouse the foreign creatures against us?"
"That's a risk we have to take," Shacklebolt says, and the dark lines on his face astonish Eames because they speak to how troubled and tired Shacklebolt has been.
"I think," Shacklebolt rumbles, "that we must aim to only subdue."
"What happens if we kill?" Eames asks, not wanting for another second to stay inside the room while his team - the people he has gotten close to in the past year - is outside, defenseless. Cobb's Beretta Storm, Saito’s Walther PPK, Yusuf’s SIG-Sauer P239, and the various weapons that Ariadne has managed to procure will help, but not for long. Neville can only fend off so many creatures.
"Nothing," Shacklebolt says, and that's as good a guarantee of freedom to kill as anything. Without saying another word, Eames turns and rushes out of the room, which explodes into "Nothing?!" "Oh, shut up, this is a war!"
The moment Eames rushes out of the ministry, he can see that things have gotten worse. Carnage lays all around him, and blood literally drips off of every building wall. He grabs the nearest Auror he recognizes.
"Adams!" He shouts, casting a quick protective charm around them. "How are the protections separating us from muggle London?"
"Oh shit, I knew I was supposed to help McGreggor with --"
"You idiot!" Eames shoves him away, and runs towards the opening of Diagon Alley, to that little alley that connects to the Leaky Cauldron. He's too late - the trolls are there already, ramming into the bricks with their clubs and heads. The magically-enforced bricks, hard and withstanding for years, refuse to budge.
"Thank Merlin!" A female voice says from above him. There's a flash of purple and white, before two Illiad members drop down from the skies and begin to cast spells, beating the trolls away from the entrance.
"We'll take it from here, Auror Eames," a man - who now Eames recognizes as Macmillan, who used to share the same office space as him.
Knowing Macmillan to be qualified for his job, Eames nods, turns, and runs back to where he last left the rest of his team. Illiad members descend left and right, throwing themselves into the blood and gore. Several members magic off their white robes in exchange for darker ones, and the ones who have left their white robes on now look like tomatoes - with the exception of some black streaks left by black blood.
He runs to Florean Fortescue, and looks around him for Cobb, Ariadne, - anyone he knows he put in danger. He can't find them.
"Cobb!" He yells. No answer.
"Ariadne!" He tries again, running to the left to Madame Milkin's (insert). Heart pounding, he realizes that he can't see a goddamned thing, with guts and eyes and limbs surrounding him. Everywhere he looks he can only see war.
"Point me, Dominic Cobb," he says to his wand, and it rises out of his hand, only to spin in circles that never stop. "Shit."
"Point me, Hikaru Saito." Again, the same thing.
"Goddamn!" He yells into the air, and sends a vicious slicing curse at the nearest vampire he sees trying to feed from a fallen witch. He sends a stinging hex towards a ghoul advancing on some children - goddamned children, who aren't even supposed to be there. He doesn't even know if they're dead or alive.
"Ministry update," a different voice says. "Reinforcements due to arrive in five seconds. Friendly dispatch forces of werewolves, centaurs, and goblins are due to arrive. Please make sure to notice the difference. Sign of friendliness is located on the arm in the form of a blue armband. Please take note."
And then a completely different voice says, roughly, "C to E, we are the Bed and Breakfast that serves deviled eggs." Eames finds himself running towards Knockturn Alley as fast as he can, tripping over fallen bodies as he goes. Bed and Breakfast means B & B, which means Borgin and Burkes.
The battle is still in full swing, but this time, it feels like the new creatures - all with a bit of blue wrapped around their arms - are fighting back considerably well.
"Eames!" A light, female voice calls out. Eames turns to find Luna Scamander, possibly the best expert on magical creatures he has ever seen.
"Luna! I'm sorry, I don't have much time to talk --"
"Yes, that message was for you," Luna says, smiling airily at his shocked look, "don't worry, your friends are in safe hands. There are a few gulping plimpies around keeping guard."
"What are - never mind. Thanks, Luna," Eames says, starting forward.
"Even that one is safe," she calls out after him. “And his ideal date is an underwater aquarium!” He turns around in surprise to ask her if she’s talking about who he thinks she is, but when he does so, she is already too far from him, braids and a trail of light sweeping behind her.
"Eames!" Someone yells to him. "Over here!" He follows the voice to the storefront of Borgin and Burkes to find Ariadne kneeling over an injured Yusuf. Cobb is nowhere in sight.
"Thank Merlin you're alright," he says, tugging her up fiercely and hugging her close. Ariadne hugs back briefly.
"I'm alright, but Yusuf was cut badly by one of the big cat things.”
“A nundu.” Eames turns his attention to Yusuf immediately, leaning down to check on the wound. It is large and purple, stretching down the side of Yusuf and practically exposing his ribs and flesh to the whole world.
“Tergeo,” Eames says, and a faint blue light settles over Yusuf's wound.
"Cobb said he was going to find a Healer," Ariadne frets from above.
“Don’t worry, I sterilized his wound and the air around it. He won’t get any worse. The blood is clotting.” Ariadne looks relieved. She lets out a breath and looks around her.
"Why is it so... empty here?"
"Knockturn Alley," Eames says. "Cleared out after the last war. Magical creatures probably don't suspect anyone to be here."
"Cobb put out a boggart - if that's what they're called - earlier. I saw Mal in real life, is that normal?"
"Shows your darkest fear - or in this case, Cobb’s." Eames casts another purifying charm. "Who brought you here?" Ariadne's face breaks out into a smile.
"Oh, Eames," she says, smiling the brightest she's smiled in a good few days. "Arthur brought us here." He looks at her in surprise.
"Really?”
“Yes! We were being attacked by those nundu things, and then Arthur came in with his wand. He cast a spell at them and they took off; then he brought us here.”
“Where is he, then?" Eames asks, craning his head for a glimpse of Arthur.
"He took off right after that," Ariadne says, smile dimming. "Didn't even speak to us."
"At least he's alive." Cobb appears, a woman trailing after him. The stranger immediately begins to work on Yusuf's wound.
"We can't stay here," the woman says, "it's unsafe. At least on Diagon Alley, there are a few protection charms." Eames nods in agreement, swallowing tightly.
"What do we do with," Ariadne asks, gesturing at Yusuf.
"I will take him," the woman says, "St. Mungo’s is going around gathering all the injured. He will be put in for treatment."
"Thanks," Eames says. A sharp whip crack and the woman and Yusuf have disappeared. Once they’re gone, he turns to Cobb.
“Deviled eggs? Really?”
“The devil is black,” Cobb says plainly. “And Knockturn Alley is a dark arts alley.” Eames looks up into the sky, sighs, and heads towards Diagon Alley again, Cobb and Ariadne following him.
"Ministry update," a cool voice says once they walk right into the conflict. "New forces approaching in less than five minutes from New Zealand and Sweden. Please note the blue armbands." The battle that they walk into has calmed somewhat. There is less carnage around them, and the number of wizards, witches, and creatures wearing a blue armband far outnumber the creatures.
"Retreat, retreat!" A vampire yells, and just like that, all the vampires disappear from the scene in a rush of smoke. Werewolves, howl at one another, and they retreat as well.
"It's over!" A man Eames has never seen before throws his arms around him. "It's over!"
Bit by bit, the magical creatures leave, some plain giving up and ignoring the hordes of humans around them, others taking down whatever they can before they leave. In minutes, only wizards and witches fill Diagon Alley.
A loud, rancorous cheer starts to rise, and everyone is up on their feet, yelling and cheering that they have won.
“We’ve won! We’ve won!” Everyone screams. A louder cheer rises when Kingsley Shacklebolt steps out from under the corpses of two trolls. All the Illiad members are congregating together over at the side, and Eames’ eyes are naturally drawn over there, searching for the brown head of one Arthur Black.
There are Ministry officials rushing around each other, trying to get a platform set up for the Minister to give his victory speech - to rouse the crowd with greater hopes of a brighter tomorrow, and to congratulate those who had given their most to fight for the land that they loved. Eames catches his breath with Ariadne and Cobb, and all three of them start edging towards the Illiads, hoping to get Arthur.
"My fellow wizards and witches," Shacklebolt begins, standing on the newly raised platform. Cleaners sweep up and down the streets, cleaning up bits of blood and flesh that decorate the streets. The dead magical creatures are banished away, and the dead wizards and witches are transported to St. Mungo's, where they will be examined and prepared for burial. The few injured who are still alive are sent to St. Mungo's straight away for treatment.
"Today, we have fought a hard battle," Shacklebolt continues. "Against magical creatures of all kinds. However, we must not forget that we have lived in peace before, and in order to continue to prosper, we must find this peace again. This peace is not limited to only us and the magical creatures, but also us and the muggle world, and --"
"Sectumsempra!" A voice roars. Shrieks start anew when Minster Shacklebolt falls to the ground, blood pouring from the new wound on his shoulders.
"Sectumsempra!" More -human- voices shout, and people in the crowd fall down the ground, blood gushing out of their new cuts.
"This is what you get, blood traitors!" It becomes all too apparent that the attacks are coming from the Illiads.
"We protected you!" A fallen wizards yells. "You were our hope for the future if we all died!"
"As we should be," an Illiad member yells. "We are the best wizards and witches, the most original!"
"We outnumber you," someone else shouts. "You can't possibly win!" All the Illiad members laugh, bringing back unsavory memories of the last war between Harry Potter and Voldemorte.
"Yes, we can," an Illiad member says. Eames recognizes that it is one of his previous close friends - Macmillian. "We've got the upper-hand, a new ability. The result of true and pure wizards and witches breeding!" The Illiad members start to move away from something in the middle of their crowd. Slowly, the members begin to expand out, causing the crowd to move back further and further away. Eames' heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he realizes that it is Arthur.
"Bloody hell," he says.
"Ohhhhh fuck," Ariadne agrees.
"For years people have been saying that mudbloods are the same as us. You've mixed and matched dirt and gold. But not anymore! Today, we shall prove that only purebloods have true power! Go on, Arthur, do what we know you can." Arthur stands up tall and straight, as confident as he is with a gun in his hands. But this time, instead of a gun, there is only a wand in his hand.
"Protego!" Harry Potter's voice yells out. "Protego Maximus!"
"Stupefy!" Several more voices cry out. "Expellimarus!" Chaos breaks out completely, and the sides are clearly defined. The Illiads have worn their purple-white robes to this battle, and everyone can immediately find each other.
“Shit, they might get Arthur!” Cobb suddenly says, and then he’s off, racing towards Arthur to get to him before anyone can hurt him.
“Come on, Arthur,” Eames hears one of the Illiads say to Arthur. “Do what we know you can do!” He doesn’t have to anything you want him to do, Eames thinks angrily to himself, also running over to where Arthur is.
“Eames, run faster!” Ariadne shouts from behind him. They dodge spells left and right, spells that are cast by people who have already been put through the wringer.
“Incendio!” Flames lick at the corners of Flourish & Blotts, prompting multiple people to yell, “Aguamenti!”
The Illiad member previously talking to Arthur is now shaking Arthur, and when Arthur looks up, Eames feels a jolt of bad premonition at Arthur’s dull, dead eyes. All of a sudden, the pandemonium ceases. Everyone just full-stops - everyone except for Eames, Cobb, and Ariadne. From his spot, Eames can see Cobb in front of him, pausing in his tracks in surprise that everyone has stopped moving. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ariadne ducking under a man's unmoving outreached hand and wand.
"Good, good," the Illiad member says. "Now, let's put the plan into action. I point, and you move, okay?" Arthur doesn' t make a single sound of agreement or disagreement, but the Illiad member takes it as a sign to continue speaking.
"The purebloods in this group, excluding our members, are the Browns, the Blishwicks, the Burkes, the Gamps, the MacDougals, the Maxes, the Potters, and the Weasleys," he says the last two with distaste. "Gather them in the front. Everyone else can be disposed of." The moment Arthur's eyes flicker in concentration is the moment the pandemonium begins again.
The people with the last names the Illiad member had mentioned walk towards the Illiad members, each muttering strange things.
"I'm driving, Eddy, I'm driving!" A woman Eames believes is a Gamp says. "See, we're moving foward."
"Just keep running," another man says. "Keep running in a straight line and I can win this race."
But in the group not composed of purebloods, it's a different story.
A man repeatedly swats at the air, screaming: "the fly is still in the room, Ingrid! Can't you see I'm trying to hit it?" He hits at least five people in the head while he does so, but never says that he's got the fly.
"Hi-yah!" A woman screams, bringing her hand down on a shoulder, and then another. "Hi-yah!"
People are moving left and right, each making absurd movements that are harming other people. Several people have been beaten unconscious, and are lying on the ground.
Eames, Cobb, and Ariadne have relocated into a deserted store and crouch where they can see the Illiad members and Arthur, but no one can see them.
"What's going on?" Ariadne asks.
"I think," Eames says with wonder in his voice. "I think that Arthur has managed to put everyone in a lucid dream without using a PASIV device."
"Jesus Christ," Cobb says softly. "What the fuck."
"Why aren't we like them?" Ariadne asks, pointing. Arthur looks directly at them at that moment. He doesn't wink, doesn't smile, doesn't do anything that shows he even recognizes them.
"He did this on purpose," Eames says. "He wants us to do something."
"What do we do?" Ariadne asks, worrying and watching the targeted people slowly mill towards the group of purple-white figures.
"Wait," Eames says, catching movement that is too quick and purposeful to be someone inside a dream. "I think - I think there are more people who weren't affected." Through the flailing crowd, he makes out Kingsley Shacklebolt walking quickly to the same store that they are hiding in. He is carefully sidestepping people on the ground, even surreptitiously banishing away out of harm. Auror Granger is moving towards the Minister, Luna Scamander following behind her.
“Auror Eames,” Shacklebolt says once he steps through the threshold.
“Minister,” Eames replies back. After about five minutes, there are a total of about seven people inside of the store.
“How are we all,” Eames says, waving a hand to gesture at their group.
“We met Arthur,” Hermione says immediately. “All at different times, but he trusts us enough to take action against the Illiads.” The Illiad members outside suddenly begin yelling and chanting, whooping and cheering. Apparently, things are going just the way they planed.
“We can do introductions later,” a man says from Eames’ side. “Arthur’s giving us this chance to stop the Illiads - we need to take it.” There’s something about the man that strikes Eames as odd. There’s a tone in his voice like he’s been an Auror before, or at the very least seen war.
The man is middle-aged, near fifty, with long black hair that reaches past his shoulders. Eames takes a glance down at the man's arms, and finds no wand holsters. Instead, there is the lump of a gun holster on him. The man is a muggle. Suddenly, there is a tugging sensation on Eames' mind when he comes to this conclusion. He looks up and finds Shacklebolt's eyes, which tell him to keep his mouth shut, and that everything will be explained later.
"What do we do?" Ariadne asks.
"I think - I think Draco is on our side," Eames says. The suspicious man is surprised.
"Draco Malfoy?" He asks. Eames nods. "Wow. I never thought I'd see the day."
"Yaxley," Hermione says. "He's the one touching Arthur right now. There might be a form of mind-control in that."
"Arthur's not the type to do this," Ariadne says, pointing at the outside. "Us being free, it means that Arthur's controlling his own actions. He wants this to happen."
"But that doesn't make any sense," the man says. "Arthur can tell right from wrong. He wouldn't just let a couple hundred people die, especially if he can control his own actions."
"He's up to something," Cobb announces. "The only reason why he'd keep up this charade is if he had an end in mind."
"But not a end for us," Eames says, words forming in his mouth as quickly as the thoughts do in his mind. "It's an end for --"
"The Illiads," Hermione says. "Are - are they?" They peer outside to where the Illiads are at, scanning its members. As if Arthur can sense their thoughts, one of the Illiad members makes a movement like he is stroking a horse in thin air.
"Oh," Hermione says breathlessly. "He's brilliant!"
"As if he doesn't know," Eames thinks he hears the man say.
"So even the Illiads are caught," Shacklebolt says. "But not all of them are - Yaxley isn't, and a couple amongst them are not, either."
"Arthur must have created this mass chaos," Ariadne says, "so that we'd be able to get to the Illiads without seeming suspicious."
It's true: everyone outside is running around and casting strange spells left and right. There is no rhyme or reason to anything anyone is doing, and from the look on Yaxley's face, it's exactly what the Illiads want. The group of pureblood wizards near the podium face the crowd, faces blank and slack. Yaxley is conversing with other Illiad members. Arthur has his eyes shut, but his entire body is pointed at Flourish and Botts.
But when Eames looks at him, Arthur's eyes dart open for a brief second, and in his eyes are a single message: "go."
"We need to move," Shacklebolt pronounces. "There are bodies piling up on the streets. We will make our way through the crowds, separately, until we are within distance of the Illiads. There--"
"Wait," Ariadne interrupts. "Wait. I don't think it's enough for us to just attack and subdue them - it seems too simple. I doubt we can subdue them all at once before they find out that Arthur is behind it and hurt him.”
"Hurry up and come to a plan!" The man bursts out. "Arthur is up there, people are getting hurt, and the Illiads are almost about to leave with the purebloods. What the bloody hell are we doing standing around for?"
"Calm down," Shacklebolt says, and immediately the man looks abashed.
“Sorry, Kingsley,” he mutters. “I just - if Arthur gets hurt I wouldn’t forgive myself.”
“There’s something on them,” Hermione says suddenly. “Something tied to their waists - tied to the waists of those who are still awake, anyways.” There’s a small belt around the waist of every Illiad member who is still awake. It is a normal brown, leather belt, only there are small gems inlaid every few inches. It’s a stretch to immediately say that they act against Arthur’s influence, but every Illiad member who is not awake does not have one.
“We need to get rid of those,” Hermione continues. “And then, once Yaxley and the others are under as well, it’ll be easier to round them up.”
“What are we waiting for?” The man says. He walks out of the store before anyone can stop him and heads straight for the Illiads.
“They probably have spells on them to make them unattainable by other spells,” Hermione yells out after him, voice nearly indiscernible in the crowd. “We have to do this physically!” The man raises a hand in the air to indicate that he’s heard.
“Oh come on,” Eames says, pulling out his wand. He casts a disillusionment charm on the man, and then all of them. “Who is that guy, anyways?” No one answers him, although Hermione shifts guiltily.
“Let’s go,” Cobb says, also stepping out. They each move quickly to where the Illiad members with the belts are standing, mindful that if they are too slow, the Illiads and the purebloods will disappear. In a matter of minutes, they are standing near their targeted Illiad members. The push and pull of the crowd against the Illiads covers the new, purposeful movements.
Hermione is the leader. With three fingers up, she puts them down one by one.
Three, everyone readies their hands to grab at the belts.
Two…
One! As quickly as they can, they each yank the belts off of their Illiad members. It works like an Alohomora. As Arthur’s influence settles over the remaining Illiad members, they can even feel the bodies stiffening and moving in the way that Arthur wants them to move. At once, Arthur leaves his spot in the middle of the podium and walks towards them.
“Oh, Arthur!” Ariadne says, rushing forward to give Arthur a big hug.
“No, don’t,” Arthur says through clenched teeth. “Not yet. If you - if you touch me, everyone will wake up.”
“Let’s paralyze them and move them to holding cells,” Hermione says to Eames and Shacklebolt. “And then we can try them for their crimes.” It’s easily done as said, and all too soon the Illiad’s bodies are Petrificus Totalus’d and then Wingardium Leviosa’d to the Ministry. Arthur releases his influence over the other wizards and witches soon after, and Shacklebolt once again takes the podium to calm everyone down.
It’s over. Arthur stumbles tiredly forward, landing in Eames’ arms.
“Darling,” Eames starts, full of an emotion he can’t name. He draws Arthur closer to him.
“Eames, “Arthur mumbles. “Eames, I can put people into dreams with my fucking mind.”
“I know, Darling,” Eames says. “I know.”
“Arthur!” The man from before appears, yanking Arthur out of Eames’ hold. “Are you okay?”
“What?” Arthur says, almost shaking himself awake. “Sirius? What are you doing here?” Once again, Eames looks at the man closely. Who is he?
‘There may have been a few family secrets you’re not privy to yet,” the man - Sirius - says. “Go to the Leaky Cauldron and stay there until tonight. I’ve got to - well, I have some unfinished business to do.”
“Wait, what?” Arthur tries, but Sirius pushes Arthur gently to Eames, who immediately catches him. “What the hell was that?”
“No idea,” Eames says. Hermione and Shacklebolt are heading for the man already, so he deems the situation covered.
“Don’t worry. You need rest.”
“Hnnggg. Alright,” Arthur says, practically collapsing in Eames’ arms.
“Alright?” Eames repeats, lifting Arthur into his arms and brushing aside a blood-clumped patch of hair out of Arthur’s eyes.
“Well, alright then.” He carries Arthur back to the Leaky Cauldron bridal-style, meeting up with Cobb and Ariadne along the way.
The mess on the streets - and all of magical England, actually - gets cleaned up in almost no time. The creatures that gave up in the process of the war, either because they gave up in their own ideals or they just got tired of fighting, return to their homes. New treaties are made, and the ‘Being” category of magical creatures resolve to once again assume their prior roles.
The entire human wizarding population all over the world begins to make amends. They reach agreements with goblins over goblin-made objects; they vow to stop deforestation; they enact more laws to protect the rights of magical creatures, such as laws preventing the abuse of house-elves and laws protecting the right of werewolves to an education. There is still much more to do.
A week after everything, Arthur is finally deemed fit to travel.
“We’re finally going home,” Arthur says, walking down the steps of the Leaky Cauldron with his luggage. Cobb, Saito, Ariadne, and a healed Yusuf are out already, waiting near a cab. “Wait, Eames, where’s all your luggage?”
“Arthur, love, this is my home,” Eames says, gesturing at the Leaky Cauldron. His Auror mission had come to an end, and he was now being called upon to aid in reconstruction and peace negotiations.
“You aren’t coming back with us?”
“No, my life is here,” Eames says regretfully. The two years he spent in the muggle dreamshare business - the two years he spend knowing Arthur - are two years that he will never forget.
“Oh,” Arthur says. There’s something hanging in the air, something that should be discussed, but a cold look settles over Arthur’s face, shuttering himself against Eames. “Then I’ll just - just go then. Goodbye, Mr. Eames.” He turns stiffly and heads towards the car.
Eames watches, and then -
“Wait.” Eames' arm shoots out to grab Arthur’s.
“What do you want?" Arthur bites out, not turning around.
“Come eat dinner with me before you leave,” Eames says, desperate. Arthur turns around, surprised.
“Eames, what're you-"
“Like a date - a proper one. Merlin knows we’ve been leading up to this for months.”
“I-“
"I know I lied about things," Eames says. "I know that I'm not the perfect man and I've never gotten braces. I know that --"
"Wait, Eames -"
"-- Maybe I don't have the best fashion sense. I've been told that I have -"
"Eames, listen to me-"
"I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life thinking about what could have been between us," Eames finishes, pleading with Arthur using his eyes.
"Stay for a while, stay forever maybe.”
“Eames,” Arthur says, voice carrying all of Eames’ hopes and dreams. "If you would just let me finish, I was going to say that it seems that even you can have good ideas once in a while." It takes a moment for Eames to process that, and even less to let his emotions show on his face.
“Condescension," he says, smiling widely. "One again appre-mfph!” Arthur's luggage falls to the ground with a sharp crack as Arthur grabs Eames and pulls him down into a kiss. In that one kiss are all the words and touches and lingering gazes that went unspoken of. In that one kiss, they tell each other their visions of the future - a private house in San Francisco with simple furniture, an ocean view, and one king-sized bed, and a flat in New York filled with bizarre paintings, bad music, and one queen-sized bed.
In that one kiss, they tell Cobb, Ariadne, Saito, and Yusuf that it's okay to leave without Arthur, and to cancel Arthur's plane ticket for him.
Because Eames wants Arthur to stay for a while, for dinner, and possibly forever.
THE END
Endnotes
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