Harry Potter: Multiverse Maelstrom: Chapter 10: An Unexpected Ally

The Great Hall was a mausoleum of grief. The Weasley family was a huddled, broken unit, grappling with the phantom pain of a loss that was not theirs, but felt real all the same. The death of Ginny Weasley in another world had cast a long, dark shadow over them, a chilling reminder of the stakes they had all unknowingly faced. Dumbledore sat in a self-imposed isolation, the chasm between him and the Potters now a silent, gaping wound. The wizarding world, as portrayed on the screen, was a failing state, broken and leaderless.

"A heavy price," Jack said, his voice a somber note in the quiet hall. "That is the cost of prejudice. A dead child, a broken school, and a Dark Lord rising in the shadows, unopposed." He let the weight of that statement settle before his tone shifted, a spark of something new in his voice. "But the story is not just about those left behind in the dark. It is about the one who stepped into the light. The board has been stagnant for four years. Now, a new player is about to make a move."

The screen, which had been dark, flickered to life, showing not the familiar halls of Hogwarts, but the intimidating, heavily guarded interior of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries.

<Chapter 5 Start>

Voldemort tried getting to a prophecy that was kept in the Department of Mysteries, but he had to find out from a Death Eater that was freed from Azkaban prison that only those that a prophecy was about could take it from the shelf in the DoM. And to their disadvantage the other party to the prophecy, Harry Potter, had disappeared without a trace years ago.

The real Voldemort let out a hiss of pure frustration. His alternate self was being stymied by the same infuriating rules. "The boy," he snarled. "Everything always comes back to the boy. Even in his absence, he is a thorn in my side."

Dumbledore watched with a grim, detached interest. The prophecy, the catalyst for so much pain and suffering, was still a focal point. Even with Harry gone, it held a certain power over the Dark Lord.

Many attempts failed and when he went in person in December of 1996, he was spotted by some Ministry employees that spread the information about his return. Not that he cared, he had managed to assemble his army again while nobody had been sure if he was back or not. He could strike when he wanted to.

"He just walked into the Ministry?" an incredulous Arthur Weasley asked. "And was spotted by employees? The lack of security is appalling!"

"Of course I don't care," Voldemort sneered. "Let the sheep see the wolf. Their fear is a weapon in itself."

Cornelius Fudge, however, looked apoplectic. This public confirmation of Voldemort's return, happening right under his nose, was the exact scenario his canon self had spent a year denying. It was a political catastrophe.

The one thing that soured his mood was that a member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix had managed to destroy the prophecy orb before he could get it. So he still didn't know the wording of the whole prophecy.

A faint, grim smile touched Dumbledore's lips. "So, even in that world, the Order remains vigilant." He looked around at the members present—at Kingsley, at Moody, at the Weasleys. "Some things, it seems, do not change."

"Good," James Potter said with a fierce nod. "Let the monster wonder. Let him live in ignorance."

In February 1997 the Prime Minister was informed what was going on and to say he was displeased with the incompetency of the wizards was an understatement. Especially as the Ministry tried to push the blame onto a teenager of all things, one that had left the wizarding world four years previous and who, according to a school headmaster of all things, was the only one that could defeat this Voldemort character.

A man in a sharp, modern suit with a confident, energetic air about him blinked into existence near Cornelius Fudge. He looked around the fantastical hall, at the robed wizards and floating lanterns, with a brief flicker of shock that was quickly replaced by a shrewd, analytical calm. It was the Prime Minister, Tony Blair.

"Good heavens," he murmured, before his eyes fell upon the screen, which was now showing his own office at Number 10, Downing Street.

Fudge, meanwhile, was turning a shade of purple that clashed horribly with his pinstriped suit. "Incompetency?!" he sputtered. "Pushing the blame?! We were handling the situation! For the Prime Minister to interfere... it's a flagrant violation of the agreements set down by the Statute of Secrecy!"

The newly arrived Tony Blair looked at Fudge with a cool, appraising gaze. "From what I'm gathering, Minister," he said, his voice calm and measured, "your 'handling' of the situation resulted in the death of a schoolgirl, the rise of a domestic terrorist organization, and the complete disappearance of the one person you claim can solve the problem. 'Incompetency' seems a rather mild word for it."

Fudge gaped at him, utterly speechless.

Once the idiot Fudge and the new minister Scrimgeour had left his office, he went to work. He needed to find out more about this and the first person he needed to find out what happened with was this boy, Harry Potter, that seemed to be the solution the wizards were depending on.

The onscreen Prime Minister was now on the phone, the camera panning over a dossier with Harry's name on it.

"He's using MI6," Moody grunted, his magical eye spinning with a look of grudging respect. "The Muggles' own Unspeakables. They're good. Damned good. If anyone could find the boy, it'd be them." The implication that the Muggles' intelligence agency was more effective than the entire Order of the Phoenix was a bitter pill for the wizards to swallow.

Harry was surprised to get an invitation to Number 10, Downing Street delivered to him on 15th May 1997. ... But besides keeping up with the material that he should have learned at Hogwarts in home schooling sessions, thanks to being found by his godfather, who had broken out of prison because he had worried about him, Harry hadn't had any contact with the wizarding world.

The words "found by his godfather" were a lightning strike of pure, unadulterated joy in the grief-stricken hall.

Sirius Black let out a choked, ragged sound that was half laugh, half sob. He shot to his feet, his eyes locked on the screen, his entire being alight with a desperate, triumphant hope. "I found him," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Even after everything... I got out and I found him."

The real Harry was on his feet too, a brilliant, tearful smile breaking across his face. He ran to his godfather, throwing his arms around him in a fierce hug. After all the pain and loneliness of this alternate world, this one, beautiful truth shone through: Sirius had found him. He hadn't been alone.

Lily and James were crying freely, tears of overwhelming relief. Their son had not been alone for those four years. Their best friend, their Padfoot, had broken out of hell itself to keep his promise. Remus Lupin put a hand on Sirius's shoulder, his own face a picture of profound happiness for his friend.

Really, Sirius had overheard some aurors talking about Harry running away from Hogwarts and the school being attacked by the heir of Slytherin. It was enough to give him the incentive to break out and search for his missing godson. Even Sirius, who now had a new identity as Simon Potter and was registered as his paternal uncle and guardian with the authorities, was more than happy to leave anything about the wizarding world behind.

The reason for his breakout only solidified his heroic status. He hadn't broken out for revenge. He had broken out to save Harry.

"Simon Potter," Remus chuckled, wiping his eyes. "You, an office worker? Padfoot, I never thought I'd see the day."

"I'd shovel dragon dung for the rest of my life if it meant he was safe," Sirius said, his voice thick with emotion as he held Harry close. The casual mention that he was now Harry's registered guardian was the final, perfect vindication. He had finally taken his rightful place.

Dumbledore watched the emotional reunion with a deep, aching sense of loss. He had failed to be a guardian to Harry in every way that mattered. To see Sirius, even an alternate Sirius, succeed so completely where he had failed was a humbling and painful lesson.

They had got him a new wand in Switzerland during a vacation to let him help Harry with his studies, but otherwise he worked at an office part-time. ... He had helped Harry to move into a bigger flat in London... warded the formerly completely muggle-style flat to be secure for them, including another fidelius charm, keyed to only them.

"A new wand? Sensible," Moody grunted. "His old one would have been tracked by the Ministry."

The image on screen showed a larger, more comfortable flat. It was clearly a home, not just a hideout. There were photos on the mantlepiece—a grinning sixteen-year-old with dark blond hair standing next to a handsome man with a roguish smile. They looked happy. They looked like a family.

"More wards from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," Narcissa Malfoy noted with a hint of approval. "He has not forgotten his breeding."

The date for the invitation said that Harry and his guardian had to be there in two days at four in the afternoon. ... Well, you didn't refuse an invitation with the Prime Minister. So he looked through his wardrobe to find a suit that would be acceptable for the visit.

The screen showed the alternate Harry, now sixteen, looking at himself in a mirror. He was dressed in a sharp, well-tailored suit. He was taller, more confident. The frightened boy who had fled Hogwarts was gone, replaced by a poised and serious young man.

Lily's breath hitched. "He looks so much like you, James," she whispered. "So grown up."

James nodded, his heart swelling with a fierce pride that ached with the impossibility of it all. This was the son he had never had the chance to raise.

Sirius and Harry waited to be shown to the office of the Prime Minister. They were both on guard. None of them wanted to be forced to fight in the stupid war of the wizards. Finally they were asked to follow a secretary and walked towards the Prime Minister's office.

The scene shifted to the interior of 10 Downing Street. The alternate Harry and Sirius, looking wary but resolute, were led into the Prime Minister's office.

The real Tony Blair, in the viewing room, watched his alternate self with a look of intense focus. He was seeing a situation he had never had to deal with, a crisis that transcended the normal bounds of politics.

"Ah, Mr's Potter. Thank you for coming here today," the Prime Minister said smiling slightly and held out his hand. "Minister Blair, a pleasure to meet you," Harry replied and shook the offered hand, after him Sirius followed his example. "Please take a seat. I've arranged for some tea," Minister Blair said...

The polite, formal atmosphere of the meeting was a world away from the chaos of the Ministry of Magic.

"He's so composed," Molly Weasley marvelled, her grief momentarily forgotten in her pride for the boy she saw as a son. "So mature."

The scene played out with a calm, civilized tone—tea being poured, small talk about school and, surprisingly, karate tournaments.

"Karate?" a surprised Arthur asked. "A Muggle martial art?"

"Makes sense," Moody grunted. "Can't use magic in the Muggle world without the Ministry getting their knickers in a twist. A wizard who can fight with his hands is a wizard with options."

Then the face of the Minister turned serious. "Well, gentlemen, I guess you wonder why I asked you here today," Minister Blair said. "Yes, indeed," Harry confirmed. "It's not every day that a sixteen year old student is invited by the Prime Minister."

The confidence in the boy's voice was astounding. He was speaking to the leader of his country as an equal, without a hint of fear or deference. The years in the Muggle world, free from the shadow of his fame, had forged him into someone new.

"Well, Mr Potter, we have a bit of trouble with a group of people that insist that you're the only one that can solve a problem that according to the investigations of her Majesty's secret service is of their own making. It was quite a bit of work to find you since my predecessor decided to at least give you a warning about the situation and see if you could help us understand more why they think they had a right to force a teenager into their war," Blair informed them. "You can probably imagine my surprise when a few days ago I got a visitor that I didn't expect after my taking over the office."

The final lines of the chapter landed with devastating precision. The Muggle government had not only found Harry, but they had also correctly assessed the entire wizarding conflict. They saw it as a problem "of their own making" and were appalled that the wizards were trying to "force a teenager into their war."

Cornelius Fudge looked as if he was about to have a stroke. "This is an outrage! He's revealing state secrets to a child! And slandering the Ministry!"

The real Tony Blair turned to Fudge, his expression cold. "Minister, from my perspective, my alternate self is doing what you failed to do: treating Mr. Potter not as a symbol or a weapon, but as a British citizen whose rights have been egregiously violated. He is seeking to protect a minor from being conscripted into a war by a government that has proven itself utterly incapable of protecting him. I'd say he's doing his job."

Dumbledore watched the screen, a profound sense of failure washing over him. He had spent his life trying to keep the two worlds separate, to protect the wizarding world from Muggle interference. But in this reality, the wizarding world had become so corrupt, so incompetent, that the Muggles had been forced to step in to provide the one thing he could not: justice and protection for Harry Potter. The wizards had failed. Now, the Muggles were taking over.

The screen went dark, leaving the audience to grapple with the seismic shift in power they had just witnessed.

<Chapter 5 End> was displayed on the screen.