HP fic: Greater Than, Lesser Be / Part Two, A
Greater Than, Lesser Be
Part Two, A
Previously...
**
PART TWO
**
A man’s gotta do,
what a man’s gotta do.
Don’t plan the plan,
If you can’t follow through…
All that matters,
Taking matters into your own hands.
Soon I’ll control everything,
My wish is your command…
-- “A Man’s Gotta Do”, Dr. Horrible’s Sing-A-Long-Blog
**
Summer, 1988
It took four years, but Cloak & Dagger had not only a working demo of their Hitashi television, but they had a fully utilised and ready studio in London. Remus and Harry made some excellent decisions in their first employees; those employees were the most loyal they would ever have. They were also the ones who felt out their old employers and found other similarly disgruntled and underpaid employees who felt that a change was needed.
Cloak & Dagger then grew to its current size of nearly 250 employees, all within numerous divisions and departments. Harry’s original seven were the Heads of their respective departments, or co-Heads, in Sebastian and Edith’s case.
In the end, the team at Cloak & Dagger really came through for Harry-and Remus-and on Saturday, a team would be travelling to Saudi to meet with Hassan Mostafa, who would see the final tests in a pensieve recording. Then if they met with his approval, he would feel out the various leagues and team who might be interested in such a product.
Saudi Arabia was, needless to say, very impressed and eager with Cloak & Dagger’s product and would receive the product at a discounted service running cost for their personal use.
Harry and Edith remained behind in Britain as Remus and a few others travelled to meet with Hassan. Harry wanted to go, but had to oversee the final touches to the telephone system his teams were implementing and installing within the building that week.
Now, he was waiting for confirmation from Remus. It would come in the mirror that Sirius once gave Harry-now, a lifetime ago, literally-for their brief, but instantaneous meeting.
Harry, Edith, and the entire crew and teams that had all a part in creating the television set, including the box that would translate the magical signal, similar that the WWN used, into a visual onto the television screen, were assembled in the cafeteria, the largest part of the company.
Finally, Harry’s mirror vibrated in his hand and Remus’s voice floated to him.
“Harry? You there?”
The room went silent as Harry waved his free hand. “What’s the verdict, Remus?” Please, please let it have worked and that Mostafa was pleased. I can’t take failure of that magnitude so early in the game, with only less than a year to go.
After the four years, the twenty-eight year old Marauder slowly resembled the man Harry remembered Remus being in his previous timeline. The werewolf’s maturity, outlook, and personality were so similar… and so was that crooked, marauder smile.
“He loved it! We’re to set up and preview a mock Quidditch match of Puddlemere next weekend to the British Department of Games and Sports, as well as the entire International Quidditch Association board.”
The cafeteria filled with deafening cheers. The contract that the Ministry, as well as the other countries who would not want to be behind “backwards Britain” would sign, would be a huge revenue boost.
“Harry?” continued Remus, barely heard over the cheers and catcalls.
“Yeah, Remus?” asked Harry, light-headed.
The man’s eyes softened. “You did well, Harry. You did so well. They would be so proud of you.”
Harry’s eyes went suspiciously wet and Remus ended their mirror-call. Edith flung her arms around Harry, smelling like a grandma, and kissed him nosily on the cheek.
Cloak & Dagger was a success. And they weren’t going anywhere.
**
Things moved quickly from that point on. To generate further loyalty and exposure to their products, all employees of Cloak & Dagger received free television sets if they didn’t have one before, and those who did, received the standard transmission boxes. Bonuses were handed out all around, and several employees booked holidays with their families in the upcoming summer months.
For everyone else, it was business. Remus and Harry had to hire new employees at the Cloak & Dagger London location, within the studio. They changed the name to something apt: Prestige Studios; from there, they remodelled and reworked the studio to fit several back lots and dressing rooms, and created a news studio. They poached some of the best reporters from the Daily Prophet, and in a bold move, Harry approached Luna’s father.
“I’d still want you to be in charge of The Quibbler, don’t get me wrong,” stated Harry as the two met for lunch in the Leaky Cauldron. “But I would like to also contract out your employees. You’ve got some talented reporters, and you’ve got some good contacts that our news station would love to have.”
Xenophilius Lovegood mused over the decision during the working lunch they shared. In the end, he agreed; he would run The Quibbler but Harry would have full access to his staff and contacts, with a percentage of the profits going to the Lovegood family.
After the success of the demo magical television sets for Hassan Mostafa and the IQA, as well as the numerous Ministries of Magic, Remus and Harry needed to find a place for production-a mass-scale one-and then a store to sell them through. In the end, they rented out a large storefront in Diagon Alley, just near where the future Weasley Wizard Wheezes would be, and then had to find staff to hire. And somehow they became an instant success.
**
Summer, 1991
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with his Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Head of Ravenclaw Filius Flitwick, Head of Hufflepuff Pomona Sprout, and Head of Slytherin House Severus Snape, in front of him on the other side of his desk. They were going over the new incoming list of students for the 1991-1992 school year, trying to put together the class schedule and debating the new prefects and Heads.
“Has anyone turned the offer to Hogwarts down?” questioned Albus, firstly.
“No,” replied McGonagall, primly. “Although we had difficulties getting young Mr. Potter to receive his.”
Severus Snape snorted, and McGonagall shot him a dirty look.
“Hagrid reported that his relatives removed themselves from their home in Surrey to a hut on the Irish Sea to avoid the owls.”
“Does Harry have the letter now?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. The Boy-Who-Lived, soon attending Hogwarts! Albus had such plans for the boy…
“He’s coming,” confirmed McGonagall. “Hagrid is taking him to Diagon Alley later today.”
“Excellent news,” smiled Dumbledore. “What news on our Defence Professor?”
“Quirrell?” piped up Flitwick. “Well, he seems fine. We have Charity Burbage beginning as Muggle Studies professor, since Quirenus has asked for the new position.”
Dumbledore frowned. “When did he request this?”
Flitwick began sorting through some papers with a few swishes of his wand. “Two weeks ago. He applied on his return from Albania.”
Sprout also frowned. “I thought he wanted time off and away from the children? He said that he wanted to further explore the Muggle world better for a stronger foundation in his curriculum.”
“That’s what I thought too,” agreed Flitwick, turning to his co-worker. “So it is quite a surprise.”
“Indeed,” mused Dumbledore, aloud. “As I have sent an owl to a candidate I thought would suit the role better.”
“Who?” drawled Snape, although his coworkers, who knew him, saw how tense he had become. It was no secret that he wanted the Defence position.
The twinkle returned to Dumbledore’s eyes. “Mr. Lupin. I thought he would make an excellent Defence professor, and with young Harry joining us this year, a good tie to his parents.”
“Has he responded?” asked McGonagall, thinking back on one of her favourite students.
Dumbledore pouted a little, here. “He has, stating he is too busy. However, he agreed to meet with me later this morning, before noon.” Dumbledore pulled out a strange-looking pocket watch and prodded it a bit with a free finger. “In fact, he should arrive here shortly. Until then, let us continue.”
Within the next hour, the Heads and Headmaster completed their upcoming schedules for the school year, as well as debated the role of prefects and Heads to several candidates.
Finally, Dumbledore broke off mid-sentence and with a bright twinkle, called out, “Please, come in Remus.”
His office door swung open, and the room waited patiently (with one scowling) for a well-known and well-liked alumni.
Dumbledore was expecting the Remus Lupin her knew: a Pureblood from a poor family, with faded, scruffy clothing and messy hair. A haggard expression on his face from scrimping and saving his sickles and knuts for rent and food. A man eager to take up the position offered to him by the man who let a werewolf into Hogwarts. Dumbledore was counting on all of that. Instead -
Remus Lupin strode into the Headmaster’s office, looking every inch as if he owned it. He wore fashionable Italian-made leather shoes, paired with an expensive Armani suit in black with silver pinstripes. A gold Rolex adorned his right wrist, and matched his gold cufflinks. His hair was cut neatly with a small, rakish bit falling into his eyes and highlighting the amber colour. His fashionable appearance, in addition to his well-kept hair and closely-shaven face made his scars from Greyback’s attack look roguish; the smile on his face only added to his appeal.
“Mr. Lupin!” cried out Sprout, rising to meet him. She stood back and surveyed him. “Merlin, you look well!”
“Thank you, Professor Sprout,” agreed Remus genially. “I’ve had an excellent employer for the past decade, and an even more excellent job as you can see.” He turned to greet the others in the room. “Professor Flitwick, McGonagall, how are you?”
They greeted him warmly and enthused about his wardrobe. Finally, Remus turned to Dumbledore and Snape.
“Professor Dumbledore, how kind of you to welcome me back to Hogwarts,” said Remus, settling into a chair the Headmaster conjured for him. Eyeing his schoolyard enemy, Remus nearly growled, “Snivellus.”
Splotchy colours appeared on Snape’s shallow face, but the man bit off any retort.
“Ah, Remus,” began Dumbledore, taking the werewolf’s attention from his Slytherin classmate. “It’s lovely to see you again. And you said that have had an employer for several years?”
“Almost a decade now,” agreed Remus pleasantly, although there was a hard glint in his eyes that Dumbledore didn’t quite like. “I’m the Vice-President of the company.”
“Congratulations!”
“That’s wonderful news, Remus.”
“Quite spectacular.”
Remus bowed his head in thanks to the other professors who were quite pleased with their student, as well as learning the new gossip and playing catch-up. Dumbledore, however, looked sour for a moment before composing himself.
“Quite brilliant, my boy,” he chuckled appreciatory. “Who is it you work for?”
“Cloak & Dagger,” answered Remus, having been coached on what to say by Harry. “I’m in charge of the Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology units within the company. Those employees report directly to me.”
“I have heard about Cloak & Dagger before,” began Dumbledore, slowly, “But I am unsure on what they do. Could you share, Remus?”
“Of course,” agreed the werewolf, slipping into his usual sales pitch. “Cloak & Dagger is a private experimental magic and research firm that creates new techniques and lifestyle opportunities for the magical community. You’ve probably seen several of our products in Diagon Alley, I’m sure. These are items such as the MageBox, the magical equivalent to the television set, as well as our inner-office module of office supplies. I know the DMLE and DIMC use our communications telephone system, instead of the flying memos now.”
“The what?” bit out Snape, frowning heavily. Having grown up in the non-magical world, he was familiar with the terms Remus was throwing out.
“The Ministry tends to use flying memos to convey messages between the departments. It’s neither safe nor secure by any means. We’ve developed an item that is similar to the non-magical telephone, but we’ve combined it with the two-way communicators of linked mirrors and the Patronus charm,” explained Remus steadily. It was easy to see that he was comfortable with the terminology, as well as his role as the VP to pitch products to those who had no idea what they were about. “This way, all employees within the departments using our Chatter system will be able to instantaneously communicate without the memos, but also securely through visual communication like the Floo. There’s no way someone can hijack the Floo system now, looking to overhear conversations or catch unauthorised Floo callers.”
Here, Remus cleverly forgot to mention that all conversations used in the Ministry departments that had the Chatter system were recorded and stored at the Cloak & Dagger Headquarters in Dorset.
“Ingenious!” bubbled Flitwick, thinking of the combination of charms required to layer an item, and then to assume the upkeep on the product.
“Thank you.” Remus inclined his head at his old Charms professor.
“And you’re happy there?” asked Dumbledore, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. “Because I would greatly appreciate it, Remus, if you decided to come to Hogwarts and join us as our Defence professor. Young Harry is beginning his first year.”
Remus eyed Dumbledore, and considered the offer. He and Harry-the one from the future-knew from the moment they received the owl that this would happen. But there was still so much they needed to do-Charity Burbage had just been hired and yet no one looked at her resume, which would have shown that she had worked for a year at Prestige Studios, a conglomerate of Cloak & Dagger. They didn’t need Remus; not yet, anyway.
“Thank you, but no,” answered Remus finally. “I’m quite happy with my position as Vice-President of Cloak & Dagger and have several long-term projects on the drawing board that require my attention.”
“Very well,” interrupted McGonagall, shooting Dumbledore a look as he opened his mouth to say something. “We wish you all the best, Remus!”
“Thank you, Professor,” grinned Remus. “You should stop by the Diagon Alley store Cloak & Dagger owns, Whodunit?, when you have a chance, professors.”
Flitwick grinned. “You are the Vice-President of a company called Cloak & Dagger, own a store in Diagon Alley called Whodunit?... why, Remus, what other themes does the company follow?”
“You should meet the President,” answered Remus dryly as he headed to the door, pausing before exiting. “His name is Harry Houdini.”
**
Harry was working at his desk when Remus walked in to the head office. He was solely concentrating on the papers in front of him, which Remus was sure were plans for their next project, the integral one for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and one of the culminations of Harry’s ultimate plans.
“So how did it go?” asked Harry, without glancing up.
“Fine. Dumbledore was so disappointed of course,” answered Remus with a smirk, worthy of his Marauder days. “I’m sure he’ll try again.”
“I have no doubt. We’ll have to do something soon with Grunnings so that we can get control of mini-me-Harry. He’s not going back to the Dursleys after this year,” agreed Harry, firmly. He then looked up and eye Remus. “Are you going to Azkaban this weekend then?”
“Yes,” replied Remus shortly. Briefly, the werewolf was struck at how Harry looked, now thirty-five. Remus could only imagine what James Potter would’ve looked like had he lived; Harry was a splitting image of his father, but there were still notable differences.
Harry’s emerald eyes were hidden behind fashionable glasses, and his wardrobe was like nothing James would ever wear, having been a jeans-and-jumper type man. Harry was into the power trip that well-made suits and the right shoes and accessories could bring. He had learnt it from his uncle, and later he learnt it from his employer and his contacts and hits. Harry also had that hard-nosed, shuttered look that war veterans had, and a sense of paranoia that blanketed the entire company as well as his private life.
He had not had a date, to Remus’s knowledge, since he arrived in the past, and seemed more concerned about running Cloak & Dagger as well as implementing their long-term plans to change the wizarding world.
Bitterly, Remus wondered aloud, “Do you even plan to survive the war when it comes?”
Harry looked startled-a look that Remus had seen on James’s face before which was eerily familiar and broke his heart a bit. “Not really. I’ve already made my will and left everything to you and the little me. I’d imagined if I could still battle Voldemort as a grown-up I could save mini-me from all that instead.”
“Do you think the prophecy would let you?” queried Remus.
Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Anyway, if you’re going to Azkaban, can you make sure that we get the guards on our payroll? Fudge is as incompetent as I remember, but he likes money. I’m sure we could outbid him when it comes to donations and he already knows of me due to our dealings with the other departments. I just need to be on his good side until Voldemort gets his body back.”
Remus sighed. “Sometimes I worry about you.”
“The greater good and all that, is it, Remus? Or do you favour the road to hell is paved with good intentions?” queried Harry as he turned back to his papers. A thoughtful frown settled on his face and Remus leaned over to see the title of the project: it was for the new security firm contract they acquired.
“I just worry about you,” sighed the younger man. Harry still found the age difference weird.
“I know you do,” answered Harry with emotion as he looked up from the papers. His eyes held Remus’ steadily, and Remus felt warmed by the emotions he saw in them: love, acceptance, pride. Harry glanced at the wall clock on the far wall, near his built-in cabinets. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Diagon Alley in about twenty minutes to run interference with Hagrid and mini-me?”
Remus looked startled, glanced at the clock and swore. “Oh bugger! I nearly forgot! Shit, thanks Harry!”
Remus dashed out of Harry’s office, presumably to the secure Apparition point near the basement lock-down area. Bemused, Harry shook his head. He trusted Remus explicitly, and knew that the plan would fall into place easily enough. The werewolf was more than competent.
Pressing a symbol on his Chatter mirror/phone, Harry called up his secretary, Edith’s squib daughter. “Emily?”
“Yes Mr. Houdini, sir?” the plumb Welsh overtones of the Valley accent rolled over Harry, and he briefly wondered if he would have sounded Welsh instead of English had he remained living with his parents in Godric’s Hollow.
“Can you see if you can get a hold of Yui, please? I need an update on her weaponry experiment for later this afternoon,” requested Harry, rubbing a temple.
“Yes, Mr. Houdini, sir!” chirped Emily, and with a cheery smile she disconnected the Chatter call.
Sometimes Harry wondered if Cloak & Dagger was worth everything he was doing; but then he thought back to those years stuck at the Dursleys, and then the heat of betrayal that Ginny revealed to him-and Harry felt his determination resume its roaring pulse. It was totally worth it.
**
Eleven-year-old Harry Potter was in complete and utter shock. He was a wizard! His parents had been magical! He was magical! He was going to a magical school! Hagrid made Dudley have a pig’s tail!
Harry sighed in wonder as he tried to take in everything at Diagon Alley-the shops, the people, their manners and dress, everything about them. Hagrid was leading him to the bank, Gringott’s, which he said was run by goblins! Real, live goblins!
They entered the white building, with Hagrid making a bee-line for the shortest line; there was another wizard ahead of them. He was tall, with salt-and-pepper sandy hair and strangely enough, wearing a business suit that Harry knew to be expensive; his uncle would’ve liked this man.
When he concluded his business, he turned and blinked at Hagrid and Harry. First, he looked at Hagrid, and then at Harry, but not his scar. Harry found he liked the man for that, even if the scars on his face were obvious and stretched.
“Hagrid! What a surprise,” the man began, looking back at the larger Keeper of the Keys.
“Why, Remus Lupin, I do say yeh look good!” boomed Hagrid, reaching and engulfing Remus into a bone-crushing hug. When released, the man looked scruffier and his suit was wrinkled, but he made no move to smooth them.
“Thanks,” he answered wryly. “I have a good job.” He then looked down at Harry. “And this must be Harry. You look so much like James at eleven.”
“James?” asked Harry, perking up.
Remus nodded. “Your father. He and I were friends since our first year at Hogwarts. I can still remember the look on your fathers’ face when we were all at St. Mungo’s, when you finally decided to join us. He was so proud!”
Harry yearned to know more. This man knew his father, and his mother! He was telling him things no one had ever told him! He looked like his dad!
“Hagrid, are you escorting Harry around Diagon Alley to get his supplies, then?” asked Remus patiently.
Hagrid nodded, scratching at his chin under his beard. “Well,” he rumbled slowly, “I was doin’ it fer Dumbledore, yeh know…”
“You probably have a few other things to do for him, I’m sure,” said Remus, cheerfully. “I was at Hogwarts earlier this morning so I know everyone is busy getting ready for the start of the school year.”
“Yeh, I do have sumthin’ to do,” agreed Hagrid, looking down at Harry, who looked up at him earnestly.
“Can I go with Mr. Lupin, Hagrid?” asked Harry. “He knew my parents. It would be great to learn more about them!”
Hagrid seemed torn between his promise to Dumbledore, and his other duties; one that required a trip down to the vaults, and that always left him ill. He could use the time to nip into the Leaky…
Settled, he nodded and handed Remus Harry’s vault key-missing the hardening of Remus’s eyes as he did so.
“Yeh’ll tell him everythin’?” asked Hagrid quietly. Everything, he was assuming, were the things that he needed to know about Hogwarts.
Remus nodded. Hagrid grinned at Harry, said his goodbyes and that he would see him at Hogwarts, and left the young Boy-Who-Lived with Remus Lupin. It would be a mistake that Albus Dumbledore would rue to his very last.
“So Harry,” began Remus casually. “Anything you want to know about Gringott’s before we look into your trust vault and properties?”
“Trust vault?” repeated Harry, incredulous. “Properties?”
“Well, yes,” answered Remus, faking surprise. Inwardly, he was seething. How the older Harry managed to keep a reign on his temper after learning all the manipulations in his early life had Remus admiring him even more. How could Harry have gone through life never knowing he was the last scion to an old, noble family? That he was noble in the non-magical world? That he had numerous safe houses and properties that the House Elves would use to take care of him? Safer than Privet Drive, at least!
“Umm… I don’t understand, Mr. Lupin,” began Harry timidly, shrinking in on himself.
Remus pursed his lips and Harry found it strange that this well-dressed man would be willing to take care of him, a nobody, even if he was friends with his parents. Why hadn’t he been around earlier?
“I see,” replied Remus in such a tone that he would have been shocked to know he sounded exactly like Lucius Malfoy. In a much kinder tone, he squatted next to Harry and asked, “Harry? Would you like to go get a lunch while I tell you about your father and your family? I think there is much that we need to go over before you start Hogwarts.” His eyes flicked over Harry’s cousin’s hand-me-downs. “And we certainly need to not only get you your Hogwarts needs, but I think some non-magical items as well.”
“Aunt Petunia would not like that,” said Harry cautiously.
Remus grinned, stretching his scars on his face. “That’s alright Harry. You leave Petunia to me. She knows who I am. And it’s about time that we have a much overdue talk. Besides, you don’t need to return there. I can show you one of the Potter family estates where you’ll be taken care of before school begins. You’ll be safe and comfortable there.”
“Really?” asked Harry, his eyes huge. Could it really be? Could his dream be coming true?
Remus gently smiled. “Really.”
Harry thought today was the best. Day. EVER!
**
While most of the staff at Cloak & Dagger thought that Harry lived in the office and the building, the truth was that he had a rather nice house in Wales. And he did actually sleep there.
The original seven employees also knew where Harry lived, but that was for emergency purposes. Otherwise, only Remus visited him socially. (And Harry realised that he would soon have to bring his original seven into the fold about his true identity if he wanted their most important plans to succeed, but he was still leery of having Remus and O’Donnell knowing his truth)
Harry was in the process of making dinner when Remus popped in, grim but in rather good spirits. Remus wandered through the living space and into the kitchen, just as Harry asked, looking up from the pasta boiling, “How did it go with the mini-me?”
“Fine. Better, much better, after we had lunch and I told him about his heritage,” answered Remus, going towards the counter and beginning to cut up the vegetables for their salad. “I still can’t believe that you were never told any of it!”
Harry shrugged from the other end of the small kitchen. “It never came up and the Dursleys practically beat out the need to ask questions and my curiosity. It wasn’t important, even as I was older. When I did learn, after the war, it didn’t matter. The people who should have told me were already long dead.”
Remus scowled but said nothing. The two were silent as one chopped, sliced, and added veg to their lettuce and salad. The other continued to stir the pasta and check on the oven’s chicken.
“Where did you end up putting him?” asked Harry casually.
“The Potter estate in Brecon, which is about fifty miles north of us now. I told the house elves not to let anyone but myself in now, but I imagine that if you went there they’d recognise your magical signature. Be totally fucked in the head with two of you, but they’d do as you would say, being Master Harry anyway,” explained Remus.
Harry grinned as the over chime went off. “Good. Although I don’t plan on being anywhere near the little me. The universe would go boom.”
“Unlikely. You’re much older and you’ve changed too much. You’re not the same person,” argued Remus.
“Hermione Granger was the smartest person I ever knew and if she said the universe would go boom, I’d believe her,” Harry said, pointing at the cabinets and for Remus to set the table. “Hell, if she and Luna teamed up and said Crumple-Horn Snorkracks existed, I’d donate a million galleons to their cause and tell the Minister to claim a National Snorkrack day.”
Remus chuckled and finished setting the table. Harry served and they began to eat in a comfortable silence.
“Az tomorrow, right?” asked Harry suddenly.
Remus looked up from his pasta, and nodded. He began to push the penne around the plate. “Do you think it’s wise? I mean, I never went there before to see Sirius.”
“He’s likely to not notice the amount of time passing, Remus,” argued back Harry gently. The kitchen lights reflected off his glasses. “He spends the majority of his time as Padfoot, and it wouldn’t be until the summer before my third year that he’ll notice Scabbers in the Daily Prophet.”
“Can we assume that things are going to follow the same event timeline?”
Harry frowned. “Possibly.” He sighed, setting his cutlery down and running his hands through his hair. “The thing is Remus, I don’t even know what’s going on half the time. The spell that Ginny mentioned, the one Dumbledore and Snape used, and hell, Molly-I’ve got Justine and Johnny off researching it with their teams and they can’t find any mention of it in Charms, or Transfiguration or Potions texts. I’m worried that it was something Dumbledore created.”
“What does that have to do with the timeline?” asked Remus, patiently.
“Well, if the spell intended for me to go back in time and relive my life, relive the hell that the Second War was, then I wouldn’t be here like I am now. It would erase the future that I came from and transported me back into my younger body-at whatever age-with no memory of the future. Manipulated and used, yet again.
“But something went wrong. I used Runes to minimise the effect that Ginny’s work would have on me, but I can’t say that I did the right thing. All I can guess is that the two spells reacted wrongly and sent me, yes, into the past-but also caused me to create an alternate universe from my point of existence here.”
Remus nodded thoughtfully, tapping his mouth with the end of his fork. “That’s entirely possible, I suppose, but that still brings us back to you wanting to know the spell.”
“To destroy it. I don’t want anyone to go through that again. Which is why I have Justine and Johnny looking for it,” answered Harry. “But since they can’t find anything, I’ve been toying with the idea of bringing them in anyway.”
“Bringing them in, as telling them the truth?” here, Remus’s eyebrows went up. “O’Donnell knows, but since he never leaves his home, he was safe. Telling our ‘Seven Stars’, Harry-that’s a big risk.”
“I’ll need to take it,” replied Harry sourly. “They’ve been with us almost a decade, Moony, and Yui’s already near-completed her crossover firearm. Her talent in robotics combined with magic is beyond genius and she’s not left despite several higher-paying offers. Camilla’s been a huge help in finding our new contacts and building strong ties to those non-magical companies. I know she’s been offered several positions within our friends, like Microsoft particularly, but she’s never left. Jonathan… that kid’s brilliant at tying his charms together. If it weren’t for his work, we’d never have found the right combination for the Chatter system. And Sebastian and Edith think they’re only a year away from testing out their improved Wolfsbane potion. If they finish that, we’ve the werewolves in our pocket without them even questioning Voldemort. And Piers… he’s going to be my biggest help. That man’s a shrewd sonovabitch. The work that he did for the South African government…” Harry shuddered. “He’s in charge of our security, you know, Remus-and that man is nearly as paranoid as myself and Moody combined.”
“You’re fond of them,” noted Remus in realization, with a smile on her face.
Harry smiled. “Yes, I suppose I am. And none have left, despite the opportunity to do so. I want… I feel like it’s my turn to reward them. It still falls under the company secrecy oaths, but… I’d feel better if they knew why I’m doing everything and for the reason I am doing it.”
“It could backfire,” cautioned Remus, “if any of them decide you’re playing God.”
“And it may all work out for the best. We’ll know after next week.”
Remus’s look of surprise was almost comical. “You’re telling them that soon?”
Harry nodded. “I need them on for our pinhole cameras. If we can’t get that up and running by 1994, we’re fucked.”
Remus sighed. “Just be careful, okay?”
Harry grinned. “Aren’t I always?”
**
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