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Chapter Text

Harry Potter frowned as he followed Filius Flitwick to the Headmistress’s office. The corridors of Hogwarts were eerily quiet only broken by rare childish voices. It was the last Hogmeade’s weekend of the year, after all.

“Professor Flitwick.”

“Yes Mr Potter?”

“Do you know why the Headmistress has sent for me?”

The half-goblin looked nervous and shaken. “I think it is something best discussed with her alone.” And then he refused to say anything more, making Harry even more leery.

Luckily he didn’t have to wait too long as Minerva McGonagall was in her office and waiting for him.

“What is it Minerva?” he asked bluntly. They had formed a strong connection after the war. A small pang stabbed at Harry because Hermione was not here with him.

“I have some concerns,” she said delicately.

That set off warning bells. “Have you filed a report with the Aurors?”

“I can’t because there is no real proof that something is wrong. Nothing but my gut,” Minerva admitted.

“What is it?”

“We’ve been losing touch with our graduates,” Minerva explained. “Usually they send a note letting us know about their first position, or acceptance into a program or completing a Mastery. These past two years… many of the Muggleborns and Halfbloods have vanished.”

Harry sat up straight. “How can you say that is insufficient proof?”

Minerva gave him a long suffering look. “Harry, it is not illegal for witches and wizards to leave Britain. Many do for financial and personal reasons, but I’ve never seen it on this scale before,” she explained. “There are students who are not returning after passing their OWLs because they can’t afford the tuition.”

Harry stared at his old teacher shocked. The government always guaranteed basic schooling up to A-level for Muggle students, it was only college or university that was really expensive, though there were always loans, scholarships, and bursary programs.

“What about scholarships? Or financial aid?” he blurted out. “How could the Weasleys afford to send seven children to Hogwarts?”

“Tuition is on a sliding scale with families who register their children as babies paying the least.”

Harry froze. “That isn’t fair for the Muggleborns.”

Minerva’s lips thinned. “It has always been like that Mr. Potter,” she said repressively. “And I did not ask you to come to discuss tuition rates!”

Harry was cowed. “Yes Headmistress.”

Minerva relaxed and continued. “I have tried to contact some of the not-returning students, to discuss alternative arrangements for tuition or schooling, but none of the post owls sent can deliver the letters.” She frowned. “Many letters sent to old graduates, mostly witches, also have been returning as undeliverable.”

Harry nodded slowly. “So what do you want me to do?”

Minerva leaned forward. “I have a list of Fifth and Sixth Years who have confirmed they will not be returning due to personal reasons. Nine witches and three wizards, all orphans or with only one surviving parent/guardian. I want you to follow them. Watch what they do after they get off the Hogwarts Express.”

“Minerva, I’m only one wizard! I can’t follow twelve people!”

“You can use tracking spells. Follow the one who seems most promising.”

Harry scowled. “This is illegal. I could get in trouble for this.”

“How can you let that deter you? Don’t you have any concern for the safety of twelve teenagers Mr. Potter? They are alone and hurting and could have fallen into bad company.”

Harry struggled with his conscience and instincts before coming to a decision. “I will follow them. But if there is no sign of any illegal magic or coercion I will not interfere.”

“Of course.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

A few weeks later, Harry slipped onboard the Hogwarts Express using his Invisibility Cloak. He cringed listening to the backstabbing gossip and snide remarks between discussions of summer plans and family vacation trips. Eventually he managed to track the one Minerva identified as his most likely target. He was surprised to see her in a carriage room with several others on his list. There was no particular House affiliation, or background that he could identify, they were mostly poor and living with only one parent or a guardian.

It made Harry nervous to see majority of his targets gathered in one spot. It stank of a trap though Harry couldn’t see a reason. They could not know the Headmistress had asked him to look into this. Their quietness made him even more jittery. Most students would be laughing, or at least talking with their friends. This group was like stone, saying and revealing nothing.

It took some fancy footwork to get out of the carriage and off the train without drawing attention, but Harry managed. He just managed to manoeuvre through the crowd on the platform to see his target group was making its way to one of the secondary exits. He froze seeing who was there greeting them.

A very pregnant Hannah Abbott. She was passing around wooden discs urging the ex-students to hold the items very tightly.

“These portkeys are set to start activating in exactly five minutes. Three at a time every thirty seconds. When you arrive at the Florence Portkey office I want you shrink your luggage and wait for me. You aren’t restricted from using magic in Italy once you have your OWLs. But I expect you to be circumspect!”

The teenagers nodded and gripped their trunks and pet carriers tighter. Then as Hannah said they began vanishing in small groups. When the last group vanished so did Hannah.

Harry froze cursing his slow brain. He should have grabbed onto one of the teens! But he did know where they’d gone. Florence, Italy. Immediately he Apparated to the International Portkey office. They should have records about someone buying so many portkeys to Florence.

~ooOoo~

As it turned out the London International Portkey office was a dead-end. No one had made such a large Portkey purchase for private reasons. Irked, Harry bought a Portkey to Florence and made inquiries at the local Portkey office. There had been several purchases of large numbers of Portkeys to and from Britain in the past few years. Paid in galleons upfront. And yes there were several arrivals in the last hour. No, they did not use Portkeys to leave; they walked out.

Thank Merlin for the tracking charms. They were somewhere south. Harry did not like blindly Apparating but he could do it in a pinch. He found himself landing in a rather quaint town with old stone-facade buildings, terracotta roof tiles, and cobblestone streets; much cleaner than London or even Diagon Alley. The yellow-white limestone buildings and red-clay rooftops were rather attractive. Weather more pleasant than Scotland. But where was he?

Harry wandered until he found a newspaper stand that sold English papers. He smiled slightly at the old man running the stand.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?”

“Could you tell me about this town? Places to see? Things to do?”

The man gave him an odd look.

“Young man, this is Volterra. Tourists come during the Festival of Saint Marcus, or to visit the local churches. They are well known for the stained glass and artwork. There are several vineyards that offer tours as well.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks.” And then he backed away from the newsstand pulse racing. Volterra. Why did the name sound so familiar?

He didn’t know anyone in Italy so he did the next best thing and Apparated to the Italian Ministry of Magic in Pisa.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC...

Chapter Text

Harry stared at the over-weight middle-aged balding wizard trying to shuffle around the piles of parchment and scrolls before he finally gave up. Claudio Fortinio was a mid-level Italian Ministry of Magic employee in the Department of Foreign Affairs. Harry wasn’t certain why he had been directed here when he asked questions about Volterra. It was an Italian city and surely it was subject to the Italian Ministry of Magic.

“Mr Potter, the Italian Ministry of Magic strongly recommends that all magicals avoid entering Volterra or the surrounding countryside.”

Harry was confused. “I don’t understand.”

Claudio Fortinio gave him a look. “Volterra the centre of the Vampire Nation Mr Potter; it is home to the ruling coven, the Volturi.”

“So? I’ve seen vampires in Britain. How dangerous can these Volturi be?”

“Very. These are not the tame vampires you English see. Volturi are Ancients and Warriors. As per the LaFey Accords we have not strayed into their territory for centuries and they do not interfere in the magical enclaves. Of course all that has changed in the last year.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Italian Ministry has recently signed an addendum to the LaFey Accords. Romania, Turkey and Russia were the first to sign it around six months before us.”

An addendum? Why would a Ministry want to modify the terms with any other nation? Harry knew bureaucrats were resistant to any change in status-quo. “What’s so special about this addendum?”

“It allows vampires to legally trade with the enclaves and for magicals to live in Volterra if they agree to sign a magically enforced contract and be subjected to their laws.”

Harry shuddered at that thought. “How many have signed this residency contract?”

“Lots. I don’t have an exact number or know why, but they’ve signed. Most of them are British young expats.”

The ex-students!

“You said these Volturi vampires are trading with the enclaves. Trading what?”

“Brand new goods that are not available in any magical enclave. Potions, charms, runic enchantments that were definitely created in the last decade because they mimic certain Muggle goods, like the Wizarding Wireless.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell me Mr. Potter, do you know what a calculator is? A cell phone? A portable music player? A computer? A searchable library database?”

“Sure. But aren’t they Muggle technology?”

“CHM Incorporated is a company selling goods and services in both the Magical and Muggle worlds, mostly geared towards magicals. Their consumer division has created the magical equivalent of things like calculators, cell phones, PCs, mp3 players, e-readers. Their pharmaceutical division has created potions that cure and treat conditions our most respected Healers gave up on. The Head of St Bianca’s is the Minister’s brother-in-law and he insisted it would take years to even come close to duplicating what CHM has developed, years when hundreds of magicals will die.” The bureaucrat stared directly at Harry. “My daughter is one of those saved by CHM Potions. The Healers said she would never be fully healthy, that she would die in ten years. Now they say Olivia will easily live long enough to see her hundredth birthday.

“Everything about CHM is unorthodox and revolutionary but completely legal. I don’t know who is running their R&D division but the Volturi are not stingy given how much new products they are turning out. There have been several inquiries from locals seeking employment but so far they have been enforcing a ‘we’ll approach you first’ policy. And there have been many witches and wizards willing to agree to their terms.”

Harry frowned. “It’s illegal to trade with vampires,” he said slowly.

“In Britain yes, but not in Italy, not anymore.” Claudio Fortinio explained patiently. “You British might be stupid enough to stick your heads in the sand and ignore reality but we Italians are more pragmatic. Russia, Turkey and Romania have already amended their Accords. Rumour is Japan and Egypt are going to amend their Accords as well. Besides, if we do not trade with the Volturi we would have to import from the enclaves in other countries, at a much higher price.”

Harry nodded slowly. He could understand now. But there was one thing niggling at him. “Who are the Volturi working with? They have to have several magicals working with them, the ones who are actually developing the spells and potions.”

“You are correct Mr. Potter. They are many magicals who have moved to Volterra and are working for them. We mostly interact with a Tracey Davis; she is the primary magical negotiator for the Volturi.”

Harry’s expression soured. “Tracey Davis?”

“Yes. She is also their lead recruiter. If the CHM is interested in hiring a certain witch or wizard she is the first to make the offer.” Seeing Harry’s confused expression Claudio Fortinio explained. “As per the Accords, vampires cannot make the offer or it would be considered an assault, a treaty breach. Of course that doesn’t stop the less legal criminal elements from working with them.”

Harry inhaled sharply. “Okay. Play nice with vampires because they have nifty potions and stuff. I find it difficult to believe that no one has issues when Tracey Davis comes around with her offers of employment.”

Claudio Fortinio gave him a sympathetic look. “Because the first offers made were for something far more binding and permanent than a job.”

“What do you mean?”

The bureaucrat dug through one of his desk drawers and produced a thin pamphlet made of four sheets folded and glued together. The cover was red with the Volturi emblem embossed in gold. He tossed it towards Harry who caught it with Seeker-fast reflexes.

Without being prompted the Auror opened the pamphlet and began reading, his blood running cold with each sentence. It was an informational pamphlet specifying the traits and requirements the Volturi were looking for (single, fertile, female, magical) and what would be required (genuine willingness to consider taking a vampire consort, or bonding with a mated couple, to have children). The benefits were unlimited (living expenses, fully paid magical and non-magical education including Apprenticeships and university, options to travel or learn or have expensive hobbies, generous stipends… all for yourself and any family willing to move to Volterra and follow Volturi law). If the reader was uncomfortable he or she could work and study in the many magical businesses in Volterra provided they took an oath to follow Volturi law. They would, of course, have to give up citizenship in their country of birth, or become a dual citizen of Magical or Muggle Italy. The Volturi would help expedite the process.

The pit in Harry’s stomach fell like a stone.

“Surely this can’t be legal! Half-vampire children? It’s Dark and Evil!”

“Dark but Legal,” Fortinio corrected. “As per the LaFey Accords, a witch can choose to accept the protection of a vampire coven, to be courted and even take a vampire Consort of their own free wills. It has been forgotten because no witch has considered it in centuries, seeing vampires as Dark and tainted.”

“Until now.” Harry corrected.

“Yes, until now.”

Harry absorbed the information before one thing stuck out at him.

“Who is she? There had to be one witch who started all this. And I don’t believe it is Davis! She would have jumped on a band-wagon, not started one.”

“Her name is Hermia Cullen. She is considered a sister to the Three Kings and is a far greater influence than the Volturi.”

“Why?”

“Because she is genuine. She was the first to organize everything, to suggest approaching the female Muggleborns and Half-bloods of Britain, those who did not have many options after the War. Once they moved into Volterra she realised she had the beginnings of a workforce so she talked the Three Kings into financing magical businesses like CHM and hiring witches and wizards.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I assume this Hermia Cullen has a vampire mate.”

“She does have a Consort and they have several children.”

“Is he one of the Three Kings?”

“No, but he is a close friend and advisor to Aro. You may have read of him Mr. Potter… The vampire known as Stregoni Benefici.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t recognize the name.”

Fortinio huffed and glared at the younger wizard. “You British! Your education standards are sadly lacking! Your nation’s scores in Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic are terrible.”

Harry blushed but couldn’t refute it because he felt the same himself; so instead he tried to change the topic. “About this Hermia Cullen?”

Fortinio gave Harry a shrewd look. “I met her twice. I was part of the Ministry negotiations team sent to Volterra. She has matured but her looks are quite striking and very similar to photos from her younger days in the Daily Prophet.”

The stone in Harry’s belly suddenly tripled in weight.

“Her name then was Hermione Granger.”

Fortinio dug under a pile of magazines on a side table and produced an outdated, creased, Italian glossy magazine with a headline Harry could not read, and a couple below it. He recognized the woman, a radiant pregnant Hermione Granger standing close to a tall handsome blond.

He had distinctive gold eyes and blond hair several shades lighter styled in a professional look. His skin was very pale and he wore grey pressed pants, a light blue shirt and a white lab coat over it. She was wearing a sea blue dress that flowed over her curves. He was resting one arm across her shoulders, raising her hand to his lips, to brush a kiss against the back, his eyes never leaving hers in the moving picture.

“The cover story is about their family and activities. Doctor Carlisle Cullen is a vampire who respects all life so much he only drinks animal blood. His control allows him to work as a doctor and he is highly respected in the Muggle medical community. Vampires see him as an oddity but he is highly esteemed and listened to in vampire society. He has begun forming a reputation in the magical medical community because many creations from CHM pharmaceutical division are based on his experience, ideas and theories. He helps his wife and her team develop, refine and test the magical potions and spells before they are sold to the public.

“Hermia Cullen is the war-heroine Hermione Granger who was pushed aside and ignored when she tried to point out the flaws in an unchanging Ministry. She worked outside the system the best she could until she got fed up and decided to leave for greener pastures. They met in Seattle and found themselves drawn to each other. She decided to approach the Volturi, for protection and money to finance her experiments and research. The Kings were intrigued enough to agree. Then when she met Carlisle again, in Volterra, their bond was formalized.

“They have five children, two sets of twin girls and a boy. The Cullen Coven is based in the United States but some have moved to Volterra permanently to be with Carlisle Cullen, their Patriarch, their Alpha. The one called Jasper is very protective of the coven Matriarch, even though she is not a vampire.”

Harry latched onto the last fact. “She’s not a vampire?”

“No Mr. Potter. You should know all witches and wizards lose their magic when turned. I believe Mrs. Cullen will be changed in a few years, after she has a solid team to take over the R&D department for CHM.”

Harry nodded numbly and flipped through the pages of the magazine. There were several pictures of Hermione and this Carlisle fellow in what looked like a very expensive house and lush gardens. There were no pictures of the kids; just a few of couples he did not recognize and group shots.

“Can I keep this?”

“Of course.”

Harry left the Italian Ministry of Magic very shaken by what he had just learnt. Part of him wanted to disregard all what he had been told as lies. A smaller insistent part insisted he was acting like Fudge. He needed to know if it was the truth.

He needed to get back to Britain. He needed to talk to Kingsley.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC...

Chapter Text

“Did you know?”

The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, looked up into hard green eyes.

“Know what Harry?” he asked mildly.

“About Hermione.”

Kingsley went very still. “What about Hermione?”

“She’s in Italy.”

Kingsley nodded slowly. “Gringotts had informed us she had closed her London vault and given up her British citizenship.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!?!”

“Because it wouldn’t have made a difference. She left and the goblins refused to tell us where had she moved to.” Kingsley explained.

Harry nodded jerkily accepting the explanation. “I don’t know if Minerva mentioned the missing witches?”

“She did. But there was no evidence requiring an Auror investigation.”

“And they won’t be,” Harry said bluntly. “They’ve moved to Italy, to Volterra.”

Kingsley froze. “The Volturi?”

“Yeah.” Harry tossed the Italian magazine on Kingsley’s desk. “Hermione’s joined the Volturi coven and married a vampire called Carlisle Cullen. Everyone there calls her Hermia Cullen. I got Terry Boot to teach me a translation charm and read the cover story. The vampires and wizards in Italy call her Strega Materna, Witch Mother. I didn’t even know it was possible for vampires to have kids with witches!”

“They’re called dhamphirs,” Kingsley murmured mildly as he flipped the pages of the magazine. Harry didn’t know if the former Auror knew Italian or was using a wandless translation charm. Then he caught it.

“You knew!” he accused the older wizard.

“I did,” Kingsley agreed. “But I couldn’t say anything.”

“Why?!? You knew I was looking for her!”

“Joining a vampire coven is not easy or simple. It is only permitted under specific circumstances listed in the LaFey Accords,” Kingsley explained. “When Hermione joined the Volturi she was pregnant and invoked the Materna clause. After that everything concerning her was magically bound under privacy seals. No one can be informed unless they are required to know as part of their job. And even then they cannot share the information with anyone else. The only reason you and I are talking about it is because you discovered it on your own and informed me.”

Harry glared at the older wizard. “So you just sat on the info?”

Kingsley’s eyes flitted away “I did.”

“Why do I get the feeling that there were others who didn’t?”

Kingsley sighed. “The Wizengamot did not feel as I did, to not interfere because she was no longer a British citizen. I believe a few may have sent assassins.”

Harry snorted. “You would not be telling me this if you didn’t have strong evidence.”

“There were several hit wizards and aurors who resigned or took extended vacations. None of them returned. They were last traced to various Italian or Swiss magical enclaves.”

“They are dead now,” Harry surmised bluntly. “The vampires would not let such an insult pass.”

Kingsley looked pained. “I find it hard to believe someone who values life like Hermione would have allowed them to be killed.”

Harry glared at Kingsley. “You’re talking about Hermione the Activist. This is Hermione the Mother. Tell me, who killed Bellatrix Lestrange?”

Kingsley winced. “Molly Weasley.”

“Molly Weasley who is just a house-witch,” Harry added bluntly. “Hermione can be dangerous and devious in the best of circumstances. If those idiots tried to kill her or her children she would have no issues with killing them.”

Kingsley nodded. He could not argue with that logic and conclusion.

Harry exhaled heavily through his nose. “This LaFey Accords… is it legal?”

Kingsley nodded. “No one really knows of it, except a few historians, pureblood families, and Ministry employees, but yes, it still holds. A witch can take a vampire consort and bear his heirs in exchange for his coven’s protection.”

“Then I know what’s happening to all those missing witches. They’re taking vampire consorts. Or at least working for the Volturi.”

Kingsley stiffened. “Are you sure?”

“And don’t get too excited Kingsley. I spoke to someone at the Italian Ministry of Magic who said it is completely legal. They are Italian citizens and Italy has amended its treaty with the vampires.”

Kingsley was baffled. “What?!? Why?!?”

Harry’s expression turned sour. “You would know if you actually have someone competent to Head the Department of Foreign Affairs. Turkey, Romania, Russia and Italy have definitely amended their treaty to trade with the vampires. Japan and Egypt are almost certainly going to follow.”

Kingsley frowned. “Why?”

Harry smirked. “Why don’t you get the idiot heading Foreign Affairs up here and ask him yourself?”

And then Harry Potter stalked out of the Minister of Magic’s office ignoring the calls of his name. He needed to talk to Minerva and to research the LaFey Accords.

He barely returned the greetings called out to him. He was in too much of a rush to leave. The moment he reached the Ministry Apparation point he vanished and reappeared in the Highlands of Scotland just outside a huge set of wrought iron gates.

“Expecto Patronum!”

If Minerva was not in the castle he’d try Filius or Hagrid. Harry was not willing to wait another day.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC...

Chapter Text

Minerva turned out to be in the castle, a bit annoyed by Harry’s high-handed insistence on speaking with her immediately. However once he began talking about what he’d observed, discovered, and concluded she paled dramatically.

“I don’t see it stopping Minerva. As long as there is prejudice and bigotry at least one or two witches are going to see the Volturi’s offer as more palatable. And you can’t pretend they are lying because they aren’t. In fact they are being a damn sight more truthful than you are regarding career prospects,” he added giving Minerva a pointed look.

She shook her head. “No! I won’t allow it.”

“You can’t stop them from contacting the students once they turn seventeen, or even during the summer,” Harry pointed out.

“They’re vampires trying to tempt young innocent witches!”

“And I’m pretty certain Hermione made sure they were fully informed before they signed any contract,” Harry said calmly. “Besides once the contract is signed it can’t be broken. Not by us and not without a penalty.”

Minerva shook her head. “You must talk to them,” she insisted. “Change their mind.”

Harry stared at her annoyed and irked. “Must? I don’t have to do anything you say Minerva,” he said softly, dangerously. “You aren’t my teacher and you aren’t my keeper. And if you continue to talk like this you won’t be my friend either.”

The Headmistress recoiled before collecting herself. “You don’t understand Harry—” But he did not let her continue.

“Oh I understand a lot more than you. Vampires are giving these witches and wizards a way of escaping poverty and starvation, to get qualifications and good work that will help them build a future for themselves and their families. And we can’t do anything because they are Italian citizens, living in Italy and following Italian law. By treaty law we cannot set foot in Volterra without an invitation from the Volturi. If we trespass the vampires will have every legal right to kill us.”

Minerva looked around the room. “What about Hermione?” She was determined to get her way. “I’m sure she will help us.”

Harry gave her a disbelieving look. “Minerva, get your head on straight! Hermione is the one who’s organizing this!”

“It can’t be her!” Minerva insisted. “She wouldn’t do this to us.”

“She would,” Harry countered bluntly. “She doesn’t care about the rules anymore. And you know what she did to Edgecombe and Umbridge.” The first still had facial acne scars from the cursed contract and the second always had a nervous breakdown when she heard horse hooves or neighs. Harry softened at the dismayed expression on his old House Head. “Besides, I already tried sending several owls when I was in Italy and London. All of them were returned undelivered.”

Minerva nodded slowly. It looked like she was finally accepting reality. “And you told Kingsley about this?”

“Yes. He’s known of this for a while now. Well, not the emigrating witches but about Hermione taking a vampire consort from the Volturi.”

Minerva shook her head looking everyone of her years. “I never suspected this. She had spent many weeks researching vampires and covens in the Restricted Section but I never thought she’d go to them like this!”

Harry nodded slowly. “Do you have a list of references she used?”

“Irma might have a record.”

“I’ll stop by and ask her, to see the books Hermione used. It might give us a better idea of what Hermione had planned.”

“How could she do this?” Minerva moaned. “She’s betrayed the Light by taking up with vampires and tainting my poor innocent stu—”

“Minerva! Stop it!” She started at the sudden build-up of energy in the closed office. Pages and tapestries started fluttering, portraits murmuring in reaction. “I won’t tolerate any prejudiced talk from you or anyone!” She opened her mouth to protest then shut it at the sight of her old student. He was standing, almost looming, small sparks flying from his unruly hair, his eyes eerily similar to the Killing Curse green. “I kept quiet before to keep the peace, to support the majority, to not make waves, and Hermione left. She left me.” Minerva did not know what to say to make the hurt in his eyes go away.

“Miss Granger always supported you and Mr Weasley.”

Harry snorted. “Supported. Sup-por-ted. Past tense Minerva. I doubt she even thinks about me anymore. She got married, had kids, has a very large extended family, is part-owner of a very large profitable company, an advisor to the Vampire Kings; all without even sending me a letter or invite.” It hurt to even say it out loud because it cemented the damage in the once close relationship. When had it happened? Harry could not say.

Maybe it had been fractured from the start, their Hogwarts years, because Harry had always given preference to Ron over Hermione. Harry had always taken it for granted, that Hermione would always support him, that she would always be there, ready to back him up… and she had until the day she vanished.

He inhaled sharply and concentrated on controlling his magic.

“I’m going now. Don’t talk about this to anyone else, not yet. Kingsley will be calling the Order to meet and discuss this.”

Minerva nodded mutely and watched her old pupil leave her office without saying another word. She didn’t call after him because she did not know what to say, she did not know how to fix this, and she was too shaken to go to the Burrow. Harry was on bad terms with Molly and distant with Arthur. If she talked to them he would see it as a betrayal.

So Minerva held back and waited for Kingsley to summon the Order.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC...

Chapter Text

Four days later the Order of the Phoenix gathered in Twelve Grimmauld Place for an unexpected meeting. There were many familiar faces and a few new ones brought in to replace those lost in the War. Most were married now, settled with children, uneasy with the situation, concerned as to why Kingsley Shacklebolt had called for a general meeting and urged everyone to attend.

“What is it Kingsley?” Molly Weasley was the first to step up to the Minister of Magic and demand to know.

The dark skinned wizard looked tired and stressed. “First off a lot has happened and a lot is going to happen. I want a wand oath from everyone that they will sit, be silent, and listen until I am finished following formal Council Rules. Once I’m done I’ll open the floor to questions and discussion,” he added sternly.

That startled everyone. Council Rules were rarely adopted in Order meetings. They were debating etiquette enforced by magic and used only when there was a chance for participants to start duels with each other. In the end everyone grudgingly gave their wand oath (because now they wanted to know what had gotten Kingsley so worked up) and sat down in transfigured chairs and benches in the renovated dining room (because there weren’t enough chairs). The table itself had been transfigured to be smaller, only seating six: Kingsley, Harry, Minerva, Arthur, Molly, and Amos.

Then Kingsley began talking and everyone understood why he had insisted on wand oaths and Council Rules. A witch was consorting with vampires. A Muggleborn witch had allied with the Volturi. A Light witch had taken a vampire consort and birthed his offspring. One of their own had approached other witches who eventually accepted similar offers and were now settled in Volterra. Their male relatives were offered jobs working for companies owned by vampires.

“She’s not going to stop,” Kingsley said tiredly. “And to Muggleborns the offer is practical and very favourable. Since they can’t find a job with a good income in wizarding society the vampires offer is very generous; and it allows them to continue using magic.”

Molly huffed. “The Ministry should make it illegal.”

Kingsley stared at her. “You sound like Fudge and Umbridge.” Molly recoiled at the very cold observation. “Hearing you speak I understand perfectly why Hermione chose to leave and join the vampires. They are listening to her. She’s not being treated like a child who should let her elders handle it. They listened to her and are making a fortune!” he yelled.

“What do you mean Kingsley?” Bill Weasley asked in his usual calm voice.

“Have you heard of CHM Enterprises?”

Bill started. “Yesss,” he hissed. “The goblins complain bitterly every day when they review the business sections of Muggle and Magical International Newspapers. The company has a fifteen percent profit growth despite heavy investments in R&D. We’ve started using their pre-designed portable ward stones in the field. They are very durable and versatile. The goblin supervisors use CHM glamourie talismans to pass as humans because it fools even Muggle cameras and scanners.”

“They have a potions division that has succeeded in treating untreatable conditions,” Neville added quietly. “Healer Jarmison spoke to Gran about… you know. The potions are not approved for use in Britain so we’re moving to Florence for three months. The healers at St Bianca’s are confident they can reverse most of the damage to their minds. It’s the first hospital CHM uses for testing and refining their developments. Healer Guiseppe says CHM sells potions and charms that Healers in Britain cannot use as it is illegal to trade with vampires. They have treatments and some say even defences for Imperio and Crutiatus.” Everyone gasped. “Rumour is they are working on stopping the Killing Curse as well.” He glared around the room. “I don’t care if it’s illegal in Britain. If it can help my parents I will go out of Britain. Permanently if needs be.”

“They also sell consumer goods like the magical equivalent of Muggle portable music players, devices to record, track, and manipulate data.” George added coolly. Seeing their disbelieving looks he expanded. “I’m always looking for ideas. Unfortunately current Ministry rules will not let me sell them and the work that went into creating and enchanting them is not easily duplicated. The devices are designed to break down if analysed or copied.”

Kingsley sighed and nodded. “I expected something like that ever since I found out several other Ministries have been amending their LaFey Accords to allow trade with the vampires.” He waited until the reflexive outpour of protest peaked and died before speaking. “I checked all the information myself and sent Ministry employees who report directly to me to confirm the information; the Department of Foreign Affairs doesn’t seem to have a clue about what’s happening. I talked to the goblins and the Tax Department and everyone agrees we can’t afford not to amend our own treaty. If we don’t the more progressive and revenue generating families and businesses will move abroad for better opportunities. The Head of St Mungos has threatened to resign along with his senior staff if the laws aren’t amended so they can use CHM Potions.”

That caught everyone’s attention because the Head of St Mungos was a old Pureblood Traditionalist. If he wanted to use new potions created by a vampire company they had to be really good ones.

“So why are we here?” Harry asked bluntly. “You’re going to change the laws and explain it in very simple words to the Wizengamot. Why have you summoned the Order?”

Kingsley winced and looked very uncomfortable for the first time since the meeting had started. “I need to send a delegation to Volterra and I don’t trust the Department of Foreign Affairs not to muck it up. The first letter was borderline insulting and sent back directly to me. I penned the second myself and received a rejection. I sent a third letter directly to CHM asking for a meeting to discuss future contracts but I haven’t received anything yet.” He glared around at everyone. “Britain needs these contracts. A contact at the Italian DMLE confirmed CHM has been developing protection against the Killing Curse and so far it can stop two hits before breaking.” Eyes widened in shock. Everyone knew the AK was unstoppable. The only way to escape was to conjure or move solid material to intercept the curse or to move out of the way.

“How?” Arthur asked.

Kingsley shrugged. “I don’t know. My contact says they are using Muggle techniques and materials. I know the Muggle military has body armour that stops bullets but I’ve never heard of anything that could stop a spell, much less the Killing Curse.”

“Keep going Kingsley,” Harry said softly. “Tell them about the owners.”

From the long silence that followed it was very clear it was someone known to the Order.

“One of the owners is Hermione Granger.”

The out roar was tremendous. The only reason why there wasn’t the odd hex flying about was because of Kingsley’s insistence on Council Rules. When silence fell he continued.

“She’s one of the primary shareholders and on the Board. She also is the Head of their R&D division. Her husband, Carlisle Cullen, is a vampire and trusted Advisor to the Three Kings, just like Hermione herself. He is the Head of their Medical Division.”

“I thought she was just starting a new project, a vampire equal rights cause with all the research she was doing. I never imagined she would go and marry one of them!” Minerva whimpered.

“She had been asking a lot of questions in the Department of Foreign Affairs,” Amos Diggory added with a distasteful expression.

Fleur Weasley nee Delacour made a scornful huffing noise that drew everyone’s attention before speaking. And she glared at each and everyone as she spoke.

“Imbeciles! You think zhe cares about you? About your Ministry? Non! Zhe ’asn’t sent a letter or even a card to let uz know what iz happening in her life. Zhe ’as cut all ties with Magical Britain.”

Fleur produced several magazines from her Muggle-style tote and tossed it on the reduced dining table. They were non-English magazines from the continent featuring vampires and witches on the covers, including the witch in question. Everyone crowded to see the pictures as Minerva and Kingsley began flipping through the pages.

“That’s Hannah Abbott,” Ron Weasley said stupidly. “She’s knocked up.”

Harry glared at his once best friend. “I saw her on Platform nine-and-three-quarters. She picked up the witches leaving Hogwarts. She was a lot bigger when I saw her.”

“Is that Tracey Davis?” Neville asked cautiously. “That vampire she’s with, he looks familiar.”

“He should be. His name is Aro Volturi. He’s one of the Three Kings.” Harry made an irked sound. “We would know about all this if we had a consistent and decent DADA teacher.”

“This magazine has a family portrait,” Kingsley noted as he enlarged the picture in question.

Hermione was standing in the middle of the picture dressed in a coral tea dress embroidered with tiny white flowers. A handsome blond man with bright topaz eyes dressed in dark grey slacks and a navy blue pullover and blue shirt stood next to her carrying a two-year-old boy with his father’s hair dressed in a neat sailor pant suit. Standing on either side were two sets of twin girls. One set were twelve-thirteen with curly blonde dressed in black silk pants, black ballet flats and Chinese-style tunics printed with butterflies –black on red for one, cream on green for the other. The second set of twins were around seven-eight years with Hermione’s nut-brown hair though more wavy than bushy, wearing neat pinafore style dresses made from eyelet embroidered cotton and white lace -one sky blue, the other light purple- and black Mary Jane patent shoes with white ruffled socks.

They held the pose for a while before the children began waving wildly at someone off the picture. Then others stepped into the picture, a beautiful statuesque blonde in a scarlet red dress holding the hand of a ten year old girl. She had fair hair and was dressed in a very expensive looking pink ruffled dress. They were followed by a very tall and brawny looking man with short dark hair dressed in black dress pants and a pale grey shirt. The lady stood next to Hermione, her partner on her other side. The girl in pink began talking with the younger twin girls. They were followed by more. A slender petite lady with short spiky black hair dressed in a very expensive looking mint green dress and black bolero-style lace shrug and wearing matching green high heels. She was closely followed by a tall man with a mane of chin-length curly wheat blond hair dressed in faded denim jeans, a flannel blue-and cream shirt, and black cowboy boots. He was carrying a six-year-old boy who was almost a miniature version of him from his curly locks down to his matching outfit, only the boy’s features were softer and chubby, not chiselled and eye-catching like his father. The blond man’s free hand was at the back of another woman, a pregnant one with long blue-black hair dressed in a sapphire blue empire-style maternity dress and matching ballet flats.

Everyone arranged themselves around the first couple, Hermione and her spouse. It was very clear they were a family. They held the pose for a few seconds, long enough for the youngest boy to become impatient and pat his father’s face, saying something that made the man throw his head back and laugh and the other adults chuckle through Hermione was blushing. Her husband cupped her cheek with one hand and kissed her thoroughly. When the kiss ended she was no longer blushing from embarrassment but from desire. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and smiled brightly.

With the picture enlarged it was very easy to see certain traits in all of the adults, pale skin and topaz yellow eyes, all but Hermione and the pregnant woman.

“Zhey are vampires zhat drink animal blood so zheir eyes aren’t red. Carlisle Cullen is a skilled and ‘ighly praised doctor in zhe Muggle medical community and a very respected coven Alpha in zhe vampire community. The couple and triad are part of ‘is coven. There is another couple in zhe United States,” Fleur commented neutrally.

Minerva inhaled sharply. “The pregnant one; her name is Tess Williams. She was in Ravenclaw but she had to drop out after her Sixth Year due to her family’s financial situation. She never completed her NEWTs.”

Harry snorted harshly. “Because the fucking Ministry didn’t do a damn thing to help girls like her! Why else do you think she accepted an offer from the vampires?”

“And zhe is pleased with ‘er choice,” Fleur pointed out icily. “Very ‘appy.”

Tess Williams was standing on tiptoe and kissing the curly-haired blond male along his jaw before hugging the tiny female vampire and playfully ruffling her spiky hairdo. The male lowered the little boy to the ground and he immediately darted off to play with the other children. Then the man wrapped his arms around the shoulders of both females and hugged them close before burying his face in Tess’s shoulder and nuzzling her neck. She showed no fear or discomfort and in fact tilted her head back minutely to grant him greater access to her vulnerable throat. The older twin girls were giggling and pointing fingers before they grabbed the hands of the younger children and led them off.

Hermione took her son from his father and gently lowered him to the ground. Both parents watched with pride as the little boy toddled off in the direction of the other children. He occasionally wobbled and fell back on his bum, but eventually he would get back on his feet and keep walking forward, arms spread out for balance.

Molly huffed. “She’s a terrible mother, not stopping her child from falling!”

“Zhe iz teaching ‘im independence,” Fleur countered. “Leetle boyz cannot cling to mama’s skirts. ‘E must learn to walk and fight ‘iz battles. I do not know of dhamphirs but Veela children are zimilar.”

Hermione looked directly at the camera and smiled, a coolly provocative gesture as she leaned into her mate’s side, one hand sliding over his torso from breastbone to waist. Then the brawny dark haired man said something that made all the adults laugh and Hermione blush and scowl at him. The angelic looking blond man wrapped his arms around her torso and brushed a kiss against her temple, making her soften and lean back into him. Then the picture reset and began replaying.

The Order watched the picture play two more times before Kingsley restored it back to its original size and put it away.

“It is illegal to treat with vampires in Britain but Hermione is no longer a British citizen. She is an influential witch who we cannot afford to antagonize since we need the trade contract with CHM.”

Someone huffed. “And why wouldn’t she give us good terms? She was one of us, an Order member.”

George Weasley snorted. “You’re a fool if you’re counting on that. All of you treated her like shit, incompetent, unimportant. And the sad truth of the matter is she is the one who kept Ron and Harry alive when they were on the run, after the Ministry fell. And was that even acknowledged after the Battle? Yeah, for like five minutes and then everyone pushed it aside as unimportant, because she was a teenage Muggleborn witch. Now she is the one in control, she has the final say. And she is going to treat you exactly the same way.”

“George iz right,” Fleur added gravely. “If you wish ‘er zupport do not prezume anything! Do not demand and think you will get everything you ask for. Be ‘umble and ask.”

“But we’ll look weak!”

Fleur snorted. “You will look a great fool if you insult ‘er in ‘er own territory.”

There were plenty of grumbling but everyone could see the sense in Fleur’s suggestions. The discussion turned to the details of the actual trip and several approaches that could be used, in case Hermione was not one of the CHM negotiating team.

No one noticed the smug knowing look in George Weasley’s eyes. No one knew of the depth of his knowledge and true feelings and ties to CHM and the Volturi. George listened and watched and made mental notes, and eventually he declined to be part of the Order team going to Volterra.

“Most of you may have forgotten, but Hermione is a vengeful witch. She may forgive but she never forgets. All of you have sinned against her and never even apologized for that. I’m not going with you and risk getting caught in the cross fire when she loses her temper and starts hexing.”

There were many cries of protest. “She’s not like that.” “You’re just exaggerating.” “Of course she’ll be happy to see Harry.” “She was like a sister/daughter/niece to me.”

George noticed Harry was not among them. At least one of them would not be caught completely off guard when confronted by reality. Kingsley, Minerva, Percy, and his father were going to be very surprised when they finally saw Hermione in person. Hopefully Fleur would be able to get through to Bill so they could help Harry keep the others from insulting the vampires too badly.

Chapter Text

Aro Volturi sang softly in Italian a lullaby he had heard human mothers and nannies sing. It worked to soothe his six month old daughter who looked two years old. Stella was old enough to recognize that mama was not in the Fortress, that mama was away from her and papa and it made her fretful at bedtime. Stella was a dhamphir but she was young and needed her sleep. Finally the little girl dozed off and went slack in Aro’s arms. He waited several minutes to be certain she was really asleep before settling his daughter in her reinforced toddler bed.

Soundlessly he slipped out of the nursery and settled into his personal office and turned on the desktop computer. While he waited for it to load his mental focus shifted to his mate Tracey. Like his daughter he did not like being separated from her but both of them had agreed it was a temporary necessary evil. Tracey was doing night shift duties in Saint Bianca’s, her last rotation before she would be fully qualified as a Healer specializing in new mothers and young children. It had taken her longer than she had planned, because she became pregnant and had to take a six month leave but now she almost had the final certification that would close the gap in Carlisle’s medical team.

Aro opened the shared file with the multi project timelines and quickly reviewed the new notes. Everything seemed to be on track or ahead and Phase Two was almost at its end goal with ninety percent of European and Mediterranean nations having amended their Accords. Right now the Volturi were too centralized and limited. Phase Three would begin with opening satellite facilities in other continents, for businesses and witches willing to take vampire consorts.

Aro was very pleased by the results — all the efforts to generate change was finally producing measurable benefits. Hermione’s work were generating positive ripples despite her being almost always pregnant or raising a child — Carlisle had sheepishly confessed to Aro that birth control didn’t work, and that he preferred it that way. Carlisle had always strived to build a family around himself and now he finally had the chance to raise several children from infancy. Once upon a time Aro would have laughed at his old friend; now he completely agreed with the younger vampire. He was pleased that most of the Cullen clan had chosen to move permanently to Volterra, all except for Edward and Bella.

Once upon a time Aro would have sulked and plotted to manipulate the two vampires whose vampire gifts would have increased his influence and secured his power base; now he simply nodded and focused on other more interesting and challenging things, like building a nation and expanding his influence and wealth. Edward and Bella were not comfortable with all the changes Hermione had promoted, the new ideas and truths she had shared. They had said they were returning to Forks for their daughter; her mate was a La Push shifter and they did not want to separate them but Aro knew better — they felt out of place in Volterra and wished to return to familiar territory.

Once of the bigger shocks was when the younger of Carlisle’s second set of twins turned out to be Alistair’s mate. He showed up, stated his claim, and never left. At first Aro had been enraged by the former recluse following His goddaughter like a puppy. It had taken a conversation with Carlisle to understand that Carlisle had reacted the same way when he first met Hermione. When one of the mates was a child you were attracted platonically — to protect, cherish, and entertain — the sexual attraction kicked in only after the younger mate reached a mature state. Still Aro enjoyed warning Alistair off, to be a proper gentleman, that Jessamine was a little girl. Alistair had sputtered denials, saying he didn’t feel like That. Only now the shoe was on the other foot; she was four years, thirteen biologically and driving Alistair insane with her childish flirtations with other vampires. It made Aro happy to watch Alistair stew and metaphorically chew on his fingernails with self-doubt. Aro knew in the end Alistair was the One for Jessamine, she would choose him. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a quasi-normal teenage life.

It was odd, that her twin Lillian was unclaimed but neither Carlisle or Hermione were worried. Lillian was young and she had time. Unlike Jessamine she was not interested in the vampires seeking her favour. She was very much like her mother and father, very involved in her studies and personal research. Every time she broke an academic record Caius took it as an opportunity to gift her with more academic resources, books, tools as well as rare antiques and jewellery; the perfect excuse to spoil his goddaughter.

It was not so shocking when Rina finally made her public claim on Marcus when she was six, biologically sixteen. Everyone had known it was coming — her preference for Marcus was unmistakable since she was a baby — and she made him happy in a way Didyme never did, because she accepted the warlord as well as the artist.  Rina’s twin did not waste any time making her claim on Alec. Aro strongly suspected she timed it, waiting until everyone’s attention was on Rina and Marcus.

Aro was looking forward to the new mate-match betting pools being set up by the Guards and Emmett. He did enjoy all the gossip and speculations. He was particularly delighted when he lost and a match surfaced out of nowhere, a complete surprise to majority of the citizens of Volterra. Nowadays there were always things that could surprise him and he enjoyed it; being all-knowing was boring.

“Lord Aro. There is an unexpected party that wishes to meet with you.”

Aro blinked and picked up the phone to dial the receptionist who had just spoken. Natalie was a witch, teenage sister to one of the witches who accepted a Consort bond with a mated couple. She was sensible, level-headed and one of Hannah’s preferred choices for reception duties. By now, Aro knew that all the vampires in the Fortress would have heard her and would be moving into defensive positions. That was all well and good but Aro needed more information.

“Natalie, did you recognize any of them?”

“Yes. They are witches and wizards. From the British Ministry of Magic.”

“Do you have any names?”

“Harry Potter and a few who look like Weasleys. One is a Veela.”

“Show them into the public reception room in fifteen minutes.”

“Understood.”

It was a bit of a power play but Aro was irritated by the intruders and in the mood to punish them. The British Ministry of Magic was a nasty bit of work. Aro disliked them on principle; he hated them after Hermione shared all her experiences in dealing with them.

A childish cry broke the silence and grew louder and more demanding with every passing second. Aro debated for a less than a second before moving to the nursery to pick up Stella and rock her gently.

“Jane, please come and watch over Stella.  Rose, make sure all the children are safe and away from our… guests.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

The British Ministry of Magic’s delegation to Volterra got off to a rocky start before they even entered the borders of the Vampire-held city. First they bounced off anti-apparation wards that seemed to cover the whole city and the land outside it. Then they had to walk since none of them knew how to drive and they didn’t think to bring brooms with them. There was some discussion about making a side-trip to buy brooms but Harry pointed out there was no guarantee that the Ministry would reimburse them for the purchase and all of them had brooms of their own. Next they were greeted by a sixth-year Hufflepuff witch —one of the witches who Harry had used tracking charms on— and she looked like she wanted to turn them away though in the end she didn’t. Instead she eyed them with faint disdain before using several advanced revealing and security charms on Kingsley’s letter of introduction and authorization before speaking out loud.

“Lord Aro. There is an unexpected party that wishes to meet with you.”

Less than five seconds later the Muggle telephone on her desk rang. She picked it up and listened to the person on the other end, presumably Lord Aro. Harry had not expected vampire hearing to be so sharp and for them to be actively listening for their names to be spoken out loud.

“Yes. They are witches and wizards. From the British Ministry of Magic.”

…

“Harry Potter and a few who look like Weasleys. One is a Veela.”

…

“Understood.”

She hung up and turned to face them. “Please wait. The Volturi are assembling.”

And then she turned her attention to whatever was on her monitor.

Harry resisted the urge to fidget. Luckily Arthur Weasley began speaking softly, to Percy, Amos and Fleur, drawing Harry’s attention in until they were interrupted by a polite cough. The witch-receptionist was standing and moving around her curved desk and walking towards a set of wrought-iron doors.

“This way.”

They were led down a narrow stone-lined corridor and to a heavily carved door that swung inward at a touch. The room beyond was large, a reception room that could fit up to hundred guests. There were paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, clusters of seating designed to invite people to sit and talk. At the far end of the room was a platform with three throne-like chairs, one slightly to the front of the other two, each occupied by a pale red-eyed male vampire dressed in black suits. Behind the thrones were a row of regular-sized unoccupied gilt chairs. Below the platform on either side were three vampires — a very big Italian-looking one that was built like an American football player, a slender tall male with light brown hair, a shorter male with dark brown hair, three female vampires — a blonde and a red-head and a brunette.

Harry shifted minutely but remained silent. Arthur had coached all of them on Volturi etiquette: do not speak unless invited to by one of the Three Kings. The vampire in the front leaned slightly forward, his hands resting on the armrests as he examined them each in turn before leaning back. Then he spoke in very precise tones.

“We are waiting for a few others to join us. It was quite rude of you, to have not provided proper notice to prepare a welcoming reception.”

Arthur coughed. “Forgive us. We are only here to deliver the Ministry’s invitations. We do not wish to impose on your hospitality.”

“They are here because Aro has been pointedly ignoring their churlish demands,” a familiar throaty voice countered from off to the side.

All eyes turned to the side where a mature, very attractive Hermione Granger strode in from a side-entrance. She pointedly did not give the British magicals a second glance as she made her way to the dais and up the steps to take a seat in the row of empty chairs behind the three primary thrones. She removed a pad from a jacket inner-pocket and began tapping on it. Harry vaguely recognized it as some sort of Muggle device, but if so how was Hermione using it around so many magicals without it shorting out?

Aro grinned, almost sadistically, as he leaned back in his chair and made a ‘hurry-along’ gesture along with an expectant, waiting look.

Percy and Arthur fidgeted. They were the ‘leaders’ of this diplomatic mission and at a complete loss. An angry, raging Hermione could be calmed down, but one who refused to acknowledge any of them? One who was pointedly more interested in what she was reading than listening?

Harry winced and bit his tongue as Percy made vague comments alluding to the British enclaves wishes for a trade treaty with Volterra. Aro hmmed, and hummed, and mmmed, and made non-committal responses of his own. All in all it was a complete waste of time.

Then Hermione’s head turned off to the side, and her expression brightened. In a rush she stood up and walked quickly to the edge of the dais, stepping over the edge and landing lightly on both feet. Then she was walking fast, almost running, towards a new arrival, a blonde golden-eyed vampire dressed in stone-washed blue jeans and a casual long-sleeved maroon t-shirt.

She stepped into his waiting arms and threw her arms around his neck, leaving the side of her neck exposed and vulnerable. He chuckled and kissed the side of her neck, laying a string of kisses until he reached the back of her ear. She sighed and tilted her head back to meet his eyes before leaning forward on tip-toe and kissing him full on the mouth, cupping his cheeks to hold him close, to not break the kiss, not that he showed any interest in doing so given how his hands settled on her hips, drawing her forward against him.

The vampires and residents of Volterra watched with indulgent knowing expressions. The members of the British delegation looked on with horror and disgust. Some of their party had to be restrained from acting or speaking by the more level-headed minds.

Then Hermione stopped and turned around to face them, her expression knowing. “I can see almost all of you are disgusted and afraid. And the rest of you are wondering how I can love and give myself freely to a vampire, a dark creature.”

Fleur Weasley stepped up front with a challenging look of her own. “Why should I wonder when I do the same ‘Ermione?” Fleur then smiled, an inviting expression filled with feminine mischief. “Besides, your chosen one is most beautiful. Anyone who wonders is not a ‘eterosexual female or a ‘omosexual man.”

That set off a round of laughter and the tension broke. But only slightly.

“Well hem… Hermione, I understand you might be a tad angry but—.”

“Do not presume.”  Her voice was low but cold, cutting. There was no warmth in her eyes. In fact she looked upon them like she once looked upon Malfoy.

Harry could not bear it.  He took a step forward. “Hermione, I’m sorry.”

Hermione tilted her head, bird like and turned to look at the wizard she once called friend. “Sorry? For what? For never listening to my advice and warnings? For ignoring me when I spoke unpleasant truths? For never supporting me? For what are you sorry Mr Potter?”

Harry winced. “Hermione—.”

“Don’t!”  Her voice was sharp, jagged. “Do not presume to speak to me with any familiarity.  We are strangers. Whatever ties we once had have long been severed.”

Harry could not stop himself. “You can’t mean that!”

She eyed him with bemusement and Slytherin-like disdain. “Of course I do. We have not talked in years and I do not wish to reconnect. I do not want to ever go back to the past.  Why should I when I have so much, can do so much? In Volterra I have freedom and influence, things Your petty Ministry denied me. I see no reason why the fruits of my vision and magic should benefit your backward country.”

“It’s your country!” Percy burst out.

“No it’s not.  I consider myself Italian with British ancestry.”

Arthur inhaled deeply and stepped up, an uncharacteristic move from the usually easy-going wizard. “What do we have to do to gain a trade arrangement?”

Hermione smiled, a dangerous lionesses-like smile. “You do not have to persuade me. I have little influence in the business side of things.”

“Hannah, my dear, what are your thoughts on this … offer?”

Harry started.  He hadn’t even noticed the others who had entered.

Hannah Abbott stepped forward with a hard challenging look.  “I would recommend against it.  The British enclaves are full of bigots and ruled by self-entitled prats.  I would suggest waiting and allowing them to self-destruct before even stepping in.”

The vehement harsh words from a Hufflepuff rocked the British contingent back on their heels.

“That is rather harsh.”

Harry wasn’t sure why Arthur opened his mouth but he wanted to cringe.  He himself had felt the same at various points of his life.

Hannah arched one brow in challenging expression. “That is the only way to start change.  British wizards are stubborn prideful bigots who cling to past glories and make no effort to improve themselves.  You speak so pridefully about the Founders and Merlin – those who have been dead and gone for centuries – and you ignore the present!”  she snarled.  Harry was sure she would have marched right up to Arthur Weasley’s face and hexed him if it wasn’t for that bruiser of a vampire holding her shoulders.

Hannah closed her eyes and inhaled deeply several times.  Then she opened her eyes.  Her anger had not diminished one bit.

“We are the future and we aren’t going to let old relics drag us down.”

“I really would recommend putting this treaty proposal on hold until everyone is calmer.  Perhaps a few decades?”  It was the Vampire King Aro. 

“I would prefer we don’t part on uneasy terms,” Harry spoke when no one in the delegation seemed willing to respond.

Hannah snorted. “You speak as though you have a choice.”

Harry’s patience snapped. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to move on and stop clinging to the past. I want you to stop guilt-tripping Hermione.  The two of you haven’t been friends in a long time and she owes you nothing!”

Tracy Davis huffed, her eyes gleaming with malice as she stepped forward and looped her arm through Aro’s arm.  “You broke faith with her Potter.  She cut ties with you and everyone in Britain.”

“Then why are you here!?!”

“Because we were betrayed by the enclaves, just like she was,” Tess Williams murmured. “And like she, we have chosen to walk away.”

“Just leave,” Luna murmured, “Go back and tell the Wizengamot any deal will be business only with a private company, for profit, not the ministry.  There will be no treaty.”

“And if the ministry refuses to amend their laws we will simply trade with all other countries except Britain,” Tracey added.

Hermione’s face was kind but unyielding. “There is nothing in Britain that I care about.”

There were immediate cries of protest and outrage. “Hermione!” “You don’t mean that!” “You’re lying.”

Hermione did not falter, her attention completely focused on Harry.

“If you want to make it up to me then do what I tried to do, reform the Ministry and British Society.  Make it right so Dark Lords like Voldemort never happens again, so bigots and criminals like Umbridge and Malfoy don’t escape justice.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged at the enormity of the ask, no the demand… how was he supposed to change an entire society?

He didn’t realise he had spoken out loud until Hermione’s husband answered him.

“You start with the youngest generation and start changing their minds.  Eventually they will be the group in power.” Harry stared at Carlisle Cullen. “It’s not going to be easy or quick.  It’s going to be the work of a lifetime.” He reached out and gripped Hermione’s hand. “Are you going to take the easy road or the hard one?”

Harry inhaled deeply before speaking. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Tracey huffed. “At least you’re honest.”

Luna’s expression turned sympathetic. “Go home Harry and think about it. Don’t you think Sirius and Remus would want this as well? Equality and justice for all?  What about your mother and father? Your mum was a Muggleborn like Hermione. If she hadn’t married your dad she would have been treated just as badly as Hermione.”

Harry froze.

Hermione sighed.

“Go home Mr Potter. Go home and use your brain and think. Don’t let anyone else,” she huffed gesturing at the witches and wizards below her, “do the thinking for you.  Think and make a decision you can live with.”

Aro clapped his hands. “You heard Hermia.  Go home.”

There was nothing else to do but comply. Fighting vampires was not an option in a no-apparition zone.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

The End.

Chapter Text

Harry Potter was eighty-five years old, three time Minister of Magic and ready to retire and pick up an old role, Headmaster of Hogwarts.  He was one of the rare cases having two separate terms as Headmaster.  He had resigned the first time around to campaign and win his first term as Minister of Magic.  Now he was ready to retire to Hogwarts and live out the rest of his days in relative peace.  He had devoted more than half his life weeding out corruption and bigotry, bringing in legal, social and educational reform at all levels of government. 

It had been just as hard raising Hogwarts academic curriculum to meet international standards in his first go as Headmaster. Thank Merlin for Neville and Padma, his right and left hands in Hogwarts.  And for Daphne during his first term as Minister.  She had shown up in his office and hadn’t left his side since. They became so close they eventually married.  Their three children were now adults with Hogwarts-aged children of their own. They wouldn’t be too happy to have grandpa as the Headmaster but Harry was tired and ready to step back.  It had taken five decades but he had kept his vow to Hermione. And he was more than ready to hand over the Minister of Magic duties to Rowan Longbottom, Neville and Susan’s son. He just had to perform one last duty.

“It is with great pleasure I affix the Ministrial seal to the Creature Laws Amendment that has already been passed by the Wizengamot. It is a long and much anticipated change in British Magical Law that will impact our society for generations to come.”

And it would.  This set of laws would guarantee creatures with a significant population, like the goblins and werewolves, Wizengamot seats to represent their interests. Now familial seats could only be created if one made a huge contribution to society. All familial seats were granted for a one century term before they needed to be earned again by performing a significant deed or honorable honest civil service.

“It is my great pleasure and honour to welcome Doctor Carlisle Cullen and Magistra Hermione Cullen to accept their family seats for the significant improvements in health and well-being their work has created in magical society as well as the improvements in Runic magicks that has revolutionized information collection and analysis. Magistra Cullen and Vampire King Caius have created the magical equivalent of supercomputers and data analytics that will improve academic knowledge and boost economic benefits in all fields of magic.”

Few knew of the AIs Hermione and Caius had created, sentient beings that ran the vampire fortress strongholds, the core of their power and industries. Hermione had refused to share the theory or methods used to create them but Harry knew it wouldn’t stop others from trying to duplicate her feat of magic. No one had managed to duplicate the feats of the Founders, the Ancients who had created semi-sentient wardstones. But Hermione had done one better and improved on it. Harry only hoped they would not turn on humanity like Skynet. Then again, these were Hermione’s creations, she’d never do anything without thinking it through. They’d need to worry about Dark Lords and Pureblood bigots trying to duplicate Hermione’s legendary feat of magick.

“Thank you Minister Potter.”

Her voice was a shade throatier from what he remembered, but she looked so much younger than everyone who had gone to Hogwarts with her. She looked like she was in her thirties, a close seeming age-match to her husband and mate, but Harry knew better. Hermione Cullen was a vampire with pale skin, cool gold eyes, and stately inhuman grace.

There were several members of their coven in the audience, watching with proud intent eyes as their patriarch and matriarch went up the ancient stone steps to accept the Writ that created two seats for the Cullen Coven and the Volturi.

Harry allowed Rowan to do the needful while he watched and listened to the vampire couple accept the Writ. He watched as Carlisle Cullen bit his thumb to use venom to seal his writ. And he was shocked when Hermione Cullen sealed her writ using magic.

It was unmistakable.  And then she used the Gemino charm to duplicate the scrolls and handed a set to the waiting Undersecretary. The poor witch accepted the items and rushed through the phrases that would end the session.

There was stunned silence until someone from the general audience voiced the question on everyone’s mind.

“How can she use magic? I thought she was a vampire.”

Hermione laughed. “You are correct child. I am a vampire. I have been for forty years now.”

“But witches and wizards loose their magic when they are turned!”

Hermione blinked slowly. “Most do. I didn’t.”

A braver soul voiced the question on everyone’s mind. “Did you know? That you wouldn’t lose your magic when you were turned.”

Hermione shook her head. “At that time no. But I was willing to live without it if I could share eternity with my mate.” She smiled. “Current theory is if a vampire turns his or her mate, and the mate happens to be magical, they won’t lose their magic. Of course the chance of an enclave witch or wizard having a vampire mate and willing to risk it is miniscule. Which is why most of them lose their magic when they are Turned.”

“Marcus Volturi can see the bonds between mates,” Carlisle commented casually. “Every single one he confirmed as a mate Turned with their magic intact.”

The discussion turned to polite social chat while the magicals struggled to absorb the new information and its implications. The Volturi contingent remained graciously polite, socializing until the event was drawing to a close. They said their goodbyes and used their portkey. Upon landing Jane burst into laughter.

“How long do you think before the first pilgrim arrives begging Marcus for an audience?”

“No bets. I’ll bet on how long before magicals really understand and accept that Marcus can’t just see bonds leading into nowhere, he needs both halves of the couple in question to be present.”

“Months. Even if the first ones do and tell the others no one is going to believe unless they hear the same thing from Marcus. I strongly recommend limiting the audience time for foreign wizards.”

Alec snickered. “I can’t wait to see if Aro implements a meeting fee. I hope he charges an arm and a leg for it.”

Hermione sighed. “They are idiots. All beings can love without being fated mates.”

“We’re lucky we managed to sign an agreement with Nicholas Flamel, so witches like Tess can live extended lives without losing their magic.”

Hermione’s expression sobered. “Yes. We are very lucky the Flamels decided to take a chance on us and reach out. I honestly thought he had died.”

“Nicholas is a wily old codger,” George pointed out. “He didn’t survive centuries by not taking precautions and trusting blindly. He’s older and wilier than Dumbledore ever was.”

“He certainly fooled everyone with that Philosopher Stone in First Year. Everyone thought it was the only one in existence when in reality he had several back-up stones hidden all over the world.”

“Including the one he’s renting to the Volturi.”

George snorted. “It says something, that a wizard as old as Flamel would rather trust a vampire than a Ministry official.”

“Flamel can change and adapt but the idiots in power can’t.”