CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: THE AUCTION
MONDAY, JULY 15th, 1996 – Potter House, Charenwell
Everyone was up far too early in Harry's opnion. Today, he showered alone as he and his three bed partners from the night before (Hermione, Luna and Daphne) all did not have time for a leisurely bath together, which had Harry slightly miffed. However, today would be busy. It was his own damn fault, Harry thought. He was the one with the bright idea to get everyone flying and they had to be at the field at nine. The Longbottoms and Weasleys, all of whom had at least some people going, would join Harry's family for breakfast. This would also give Mallory a chance to run pregnancy tests on all the witches with permission who were not having a monthly visitor (a term Harry liked. The other one's creeped him out a little) or were already pregnant. Mallory would announce whatever results she had at breakfast. Harry dressed in his flying suit and jacket and headed to the Family Dining Room. It was a little after seven.
Mallory, Dora and Minerva would not be coming to the air field, but all Harry's other girls would be, although some were a little reluctant. Minerva was headed to her new office at Government House to begin her job as head of National Educational Development determined to get a school up and running as soon as possible. Mallory had her job at her clinic. Dora was going on a mission to Britain. She would use her abilities to create a disguise and act has Harry's Purchasing Agent at the Concubine Auction set to begin at nine. Neville's parents were the only Longbottoms not going flying today. Bill and Fleur would not be going either, nor Fred and George or their young ladies as they would be starting to set up their business. But all the other young women were going and all were here for breakfast.
Mallory was the last to enter. Everyone else was eating when she cleared her throat. "Today's results are in," she announced.
"Well?" several voices asked.
"First of all, I am far enough along, it seems, for the magical test. I am definitely pregnant! It's a magical baby and the indications are well above average at that. Given the father, should that be a surprise?"
Several people chuckled. "What is it?" Luna called out. "I hate suspense!"
"Harry," Mallory said gently, "around the end of March next year, you're going to have a son!"
"Whoa!" Harry said. "That's brilliant!" After the congratulations died down, Mallory continued. "With you permission, Harry, I would like to name the boy in honor of the man who made a promise to me and the family who kept that promise."
"Oh?" Harry asked.
"I would like our son to be named Sirius James Black-Potter. Sirius promised me a child. James fathered the man who kept that problem and a serious Harry is just too depressing.."
"That's bad!" Hermione chuckled.
"Hope the kid has Padfoot's sense of Humor," Harry chuckled. "It's a wonderful name Mallory, but we're in for a whole new round of serious puns I think."
"That's why he's not Sirius Harry," Mallory chuckled. "I like the name and if this little one ever complains, we can always say…"
"Sirius made us do it!" Harry finished. "Okay, any other news?"
"There is," Mallory smiled. "We have five winners in this summer's baby boom lottery!"
"Who!" several voices pleaded. Mallory waited for it to die down.
"George Weasley!" Mallory said.
"That's right!" he added pumping a fist. "But me and who?"
Mallory paused. "Angelina!" Who then proceeded to all but fly out of her seat, into George's lap and perhaps she was a little over exuberant as she knock George and the chair over just as she landed on him and began kissing him senseless. The kiss broke and they were still on the floor.
"Erm, thanks Ange," George said. "But are you sure a woman in your condition should be tackling her Husband?"
"I'm not made of glass, George."
"While I'm sure nothing's happened," Mallory said, "a modicum of restraint would be advisable if only because it's rough on the furniture. Might as well have fun now. In a few weeks, it gets ugly. By this time next week I expect to become close friends with a toilet."
"What?" Harry asked.
"Morning sickness," Hermione said.
"Although," Mallory added, "for many women that's a bad term. How can it be 'Morning Sickness' when you throwing up three or four times a day? But we do have a potion for that which is harmless to the little one. Once any of you begin feeling off, we'll get you on it if you want. Okay then, our next winner is … Fred Weasley!"
"YES!" Fred said.
"Like that's a surprise?" George added. "Mum said we've done everything at the same time from the day we were born."
"Please don't say anymore," Harry said. "I fear we'll end up in 'Too Much Information Land' real quick."
"Says He-Who-Shall-Soon-Have-More-Wives-Than-Years," Fred said. "Okay then, who's my lucky girl. Although I think we can rule out Alicia."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Monthly Bill today," Alicia said.
"Argh! I knew we'd get that information overload thing!" Harry moaned.
"The winner is," Mallory said. "Verity!"
"Proof that we are not identical," George said as Verity hopped into Fred's lap for a congratulatory kiss, "I start with my youngest. Fred takes age before beauty."
"Hey!" Verity said throwing a napkin at George. "Good thing I'm Fred's girl and not yours. I might have been offended!"
"Our next winner is Bill Weasley!" Mallory said and was surprised that Fleur was immediately into her husband's arms. "How did you know, Fleur?"
"As Mary and Sam only completed their Bonds last night after the Ball, who else could it be?" Fleur replied.
"Last night?" a voice asked.
"Stacey told us she did on Thursday," Mary said, "Can't let her have all the fun."
"Next up, Neville and Susan Longbottom!" Neville was soon smothered by his read haired love. The older Longbottoms were the first to congratulate the couple.
"And Neville," Fred jokes, "formerly shy and unassuming, is first to sweep the field…"
"Getting all his lovelies preggers in a fortnight or less," George added.
"It's a rough job," Neville smiled, "but someone's got to do it."
"I think it's the trees," Amber added.
"Definitely the trees," Susan agreed.
"Trees?" Fred and George asked.
"Too much information," Harry said. "You don't want to go there."
"Kind of like libraries for Harry and his lot," Susan added.
"We are intrigued," Fred said.
"And we are not saying anymore," Harry said. "That's four Mal."
"And Harry makes five," Mallory said. "Well, Harry and Dora make five."
"What? Me?" Dora asked in shock.
"Playing with Harry is not without consequences," Luna said with a smile. "I'm still hoping for mine."
"I just didn't expect it so soon is all," Dora said. "Took my Mum a while she said."
"Congratulations," Harry said, "and where's my kiss?"
MONDAY, JULY 15th, 1996 – Pottersport, Charenwell.
Dudley walked past the kitchen in hopes of making it to the front door for his daily run without being stopped or asked any questions. For whatever reason, his parents had not waited up for him to come in the night before. By his previous standards, it was an early evening for him. After the ball, he took Clara out for a nice yet inexpensive dinner and then walked her back to her place where they talked for a while before he decided it would be a good time to leave her. It helped that she yawned. After a nice hug – which surprised Dudley both because she initiated it and that he had not tried for more – he walked home to find his parents had gone to bed much earlier than usual. That was not good. They probably knew.
"BOY!" Vernon yelled as Dudley walked past. Dudley ignored him. In this house the only person called "Boy" was named Harry. "Boy! I'm talking to you!" Dudley was now in the main living room and was nearing the door and his run with every step. He was not going to run, although it was tempting. He felt a hand grip him by the shoulder and try to spin him around. With a sigh, he reluctantly cooperated.
"Just where the hell do you think you were last night, Boy? Out to all hours?" The look on his father's face was one that at one time had been used for Harry. His mother was now in the room as well and Dudley was not sure what the look on her face meant.
"You talking to me?" he asked innocently.
"Who the bloody hell do you think I was talking to?!"
"The Freak," Dudley said. "'Though I never knew he could make himself invisible…"
"How dare you talk about that unnaturalness, Boy! You know the rules!"
"First of all, Wanker, my name is not Boy," Dudley said. "Second of all, this isn't Britain. So piss the fuck off!"
"They must have done something to him, Vernon," Petunia said. "That's not my Dudley."
"Well? You some freak then? Where's Dudley?"
"I am Dudley Dursley," Dudley replied. "But the useless git you called a son decided about a year ago he did not want to be your son…"
"WHAT?"
"I got a little tired of stealing money for drugs," Dudley said. "Decided I'd become a decent human being instead of a wanker like you. I do hope Mum made it with the dustman 'bout nine months before I was born. Hate to think I'm actually related to a narrow minded, bigoted wanker like you."
"What's gotten into you," Petunia shrieked.
"I saw the light," Dudley said. "Thanks to those damned dementors, I saw what I was becoming and I didn't like it one bit! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for my run…"
"You're going nowhere!" Vernon said. "We're packing our things and heading back to Britain!"
"And why would you want to do that?" Dudley asked. "You said yourself that you blow it here with your Company and you're on the dole."
The man winced.
"And to be honest, I have no desire to ever see that place again," Dudley added.
"WHAT?"
"You heard me! I happen to like it here! But if you don't like it, fine. Just don't expect me to come back with you."
"HOW CAN YOU? YOU DO KNOW THAT FREAK BOY RUNS THIS PLACE, DON'T YOU?"
"Actually, he's more like the Queen. Figurehead mostly."
"And how would you know that?"
"He told me."
"WHEN?"
"Yesterday when Clara and I met him at the Ball…"
"You know he's cavorting with whores?" Petunia asked.
"I've met his Ladies," Dudley growled, "call them that name again and I will defend their honor!"
Vernon seemed to have had enough and took a swing at Dudley. Dudley, however, was not a junior-heavyweight boxing champion for nothing. He easily dodged the blow and gut punched the man for the trouble, dropping Vernon to the floor. "Harry may not have been allowed to use magic to defend himself from you," Dudley said, "I don't need magic to take you down. And you!" he said pointing at his mother, "apologize for what you just said or else this waste of air is really going to get it!"
"Dudley how could you?" Petunia asked.
"What?" Dudley replied as if he had done nothing. "That's how this fat lump deals with kids he doesn't like. You mean we're supposed to take that?"
"Why are you defending him?"
"I don't know! Maybe it's because I should have been doing that since I could walk? You're both pathetic."
"HE'S A FREAK!" Petunia yelled.
"And you will apologize for that as well," Dudley said. "And you better get used to the idea of 'freaks' as you call them, because travel abroad is being restricted to government business only. That means you can't leave even if you want to. It'll be announced today – not that it matters all that much since the people here don't like to leave. As for 'freaks,' we're the 'freaks' in this country. Unlike most people here, we can't do magic."
"WHAT?" Petunia gasped. Vernon just groaned.
"Most people here are just like Harry," Dudley said. "Clara's a very nice girl and I like her a lot and I don't give a rat's ass that she happens to be a witch!" Dudley then kicked Vernon in the gut.
"What was that for?" Petunia asked.
"Apologize! I wasn't kidding!" Vernon got another kick to the gut when Petunia did nothing. "I'm going for my run now," Dudley said. "If you are still the same idiots when I get back, I would appreciate it if you leave my flat and find other accommodations."
"You're flat?"
"Look at the contract!" Dudley said remembering that Harry had said the flat was in his name, not his parents. He turned and left the flat before either of his "parents" could reply. The only part of him that wanted them to be around was the part that had not learned how to cook. But, he could always go over to Clara's for a meal…
MONDAY, JULY 15th, 1996 – Auction House, Diagon Alley, London, U.K.
Dennis Darby was a purchasing agent. Most of his year was spent purchasing items either here or abroad and well as acquiring hard to obtain potions ingredients for various clients, most of whom preferred to be kept out of any negotiations for any number of reasons. He personally did not care. He earned on commission, thus the more his client paid, the more he earned. Still, most clients did not give him an open purse to work with. This day was usually active for him. Today was the concubine auction and what had appeared to be a weak year only weeks before looked as if it was now a buyer's market. He looked through the final edition of the catalog, updated as of this morning just in case any of the lot numbers managed to get married or become Consorts since the last update.
He was pleased to see there had been no deletions. There were still fifty young, fresh lots that were favored as toys buy discerning buyers. The resale market held more than that, although to be honest only about twenty-two were really likely to attract a buyer of any sort. Any item over twenty-five years of age typically would not sell at auction, unless there was a customer in need of a nanny or some such. Even then, they still preferred the younger the better.
Most of his clients today were tight with their money. Aside from two, he was limited to bids under four hundred Galleons. One was willing to go as high as six hundred for a young, fresh witch. Another was willing to go as high as eight. He had a fourth who was unwilling to go over three hundred, unless the girl was under fourteen or she had a sister on the block. Then he could bid up to seven hundred. Given the history of pricing, he was certain most of his clients would be very satisfied.
He noted a new face in the audience. This was not exactly a well attended event. Over the years, he came to know the small community of purchasing agents who attended this auction. It was rare to see a new face. A well dressed man sat across the aisle from him with a copy of the catalog and a newspaper. He looked foreign. As this was one of the largest "slave" markets left in the wizarding world, it was not unusual to see a foreign buyer. But even then, most were known. Dennis wondered what this new face was doing here.
The new face was, in fact, Dora Tonks. She was in disguise as a purchaser from the Middle East, which was known for both brothels and harems, so a purchaser at a flesh market from there would not be a surprise. As some of the wizards there had made money from oil found on their lands, it was also not surprising if her client appeared to spend freely. Her orders were to out bid everyone: no exceptions, no limit. Bind bids had been placed on fifty-one lots, all at two thousand Galleons which was eight to ten times market value. She had no name here. To the Auction house, she was simply Buyer Thirty-Seven, the thirty-seventh and last agent registered to bid at today's auction.
A wizard walked up to the podium. "Good morning gentleman," he said as there were no ladies present apparently. "Welcome to the 1996 Auction. As you can see from your catalogs, we have quite a selection this year thanks to a large sell off by one of our largest sellers so we are confident that you needs will be met. As per custom, the suggested starting bid price for each lot is in your catalog. If we have a blind bid that is higher, the bids will open at twenty-five Galleons over that bid. Shall we begin?"
"Lot number one, Hannah Abbott, age sixteen. As with all the other lots, her vitals are in the catalog. Half Blood with her father being from an ancient line. Suggested opening bid is two hundred and fifty. We have a blind bid for her. Opening bids will begin at two thousand twenty-five."
Somebody must really want her for some perverse reason, Dennis thought. A huge bid on a specific lot was not unheard of. Lust made men do silly things. Dennis was not surprised there were no challengers.
"Sold for two thousand to Buyer Thirty-Seven. Lot Number Two, Patricia Abbott age fourteen, sister of Lot One. Suggested opening bind is two-fifty. We have a blind bid. Bids will begin at two thousand twenty-five."
Sisters, that's probably it, Dennis thought. He looked over at the foreigner who appeared to be focused on the cross-word. There were still more than enough items, so why get reckless.
"Sold to Buyer Thirty-Seven for two thousand. Lot Number Three is Cathy Abrams, a Half Blood and as pure as driven snow. She just completed her First Year and at age twelve is our youngest offering today. Suggested opening bid is three-fifty. We have a blind bid. Bidding will start at two thousand twenty-five."
This is interesting, Dennis thought.
"Sold to Buyer Thirty-Seven for two thousand. Lot Number four, A Pureblood pretty Natasha Adair, age thirteen. Suggested opening bid of three-fifty. We have a blind bid. Bidding will begin at two thousand twenty-five."
Dennis watched with some disinterest at first as young witch after young witch was sold without challenge to this Buyer Thirty-Seven all for two thousand Galleons. The bidder either had a fool for a client or did not realize the resale markets would never pay anywhere near that. But as the remaining inventory decreased, he could sense other buyers getting nervous. No one was willing to challenge that high a bid, not for real at least. But just what was this buyer doing? There did not seem to be a logic to the purchases. Unless the buyer was fixing to corner the market, which would leave his clients without new assets, but he had no authority to bid anywhere near the current opening price. He had to wait and see if this buyer was not interested in a girl. Even then, he knew there would be a bidding war and the girls this buyer would not buy were going to go for far more than the book price or than he had suggested to his clients. There would be a break after twenty sales. He would need to work fast to consult with his wealthier clients, lest there be nothing for them.
"Lot Number Twenty, Bonnie Conner age thirteen, Muggleborn. We have a blind bid. Bidding will start at two thousand twenty-five. Two twenty-five? Fair warning at two thousand and twenty-five? Sold to Bidder Thirty-Seven for Two Thousand Twenty-Five Galleons. We shall now take a twenty minute break."
Dennis and many others were jumping to their feet and heading to make their floo calls. Dennis noted that the foreign gentleman seemed as if he was not to be distracted from his crossword. He found an open floo and placed his first call.
"Professer Dumbledore?" he called out.
"Ah! Mr. Darby. So how goes the Auction?" the old professor asked.
"Quite well for the sellers, sir," Dennis replied. "A blind bidder has purchased the first twenty new girls at two thousand a head. There have been no challenges, Sir. But there is no pattern which suggests to me that the bidder is seeking to acquire most if not all of this year's fresh crop. Do you wish to challenge this bidder for your purchase for your associate?"
"No Dennis. A used article will suffice, thank you."
"Yes sir!" He immediately made another call. It was a new client, but a buyer for the son of one who made a purchase every year, so he wanted to maintain the relationship. Although the boy was only sixteen, the incarceration of his father and the end of the marriage between the boy's parents had allowed him to attain his majority under an obscure family tradition. Dennis did not really care about the legalities, so long as the boy could enter into a binding contract and pay the purchase price plus his commission. For whatever reason, however, the boy was buying through a third party. Dennis had no way of knowing that Draco Malfoy was still in the hospital and would be for at least two more weeks.
"Mr. Parkinson?"
"What is it?" a hostile voice replied. The call was apparently to a bedroom and the man was obviously enjoying a young woman's attentions. This man had to be the most arrogant person Dennis had ever associated with. "So what'd you get me? I do hope it's young Mudblood filth!"
"There have been developments. Mr. Parkinson. Unexpected developments."
"What's so unexpected? Slags are slags."
"The first twenty went for two thousand a head, Sir."
"TWO THOUSAND? I take it they were Purebloods."
"Only one. Most were Mudbloods."
"For two thousand? That's outrageous! Surely there will be more reasonable sales later."
"It's all to the same buyer, Sir. There is no logic to the purchases unless one accepts the possibility that this buyer intends to purchase every fresh witch up for sale."
"Indeed? Why would anyone want to do that?"
"I am at a loss to see reason, Sir. He cannot hope to resell any of them and make a profit."
"Interesting. Well, just wait and see if there's one bint he does not want and buy her."
"There's bound to be a bidding war, Sir. Like me, agents have their orders. Their customers want product. Like me, floo calls are going out to suggest challenging this bidder or a much higher bidding range should the bidder stand down on one."
"I've already authorized five hundred."
"I'm afraid that would only get your foot in the door, Sir. My guess is a thousand at least and probably more. If any challenge this buyer, the price for what is not wanted might change. But if the buyer stays in, that change will be an upward trend and might well affect the resale market as well."
"I see. Has anyone challenged?"
"No Sir."
"Who's next up"
"A Mudblood named Simone Fanning."
The man nodded. "Three thousand. Let's see if this buyer is serious. Three thousand for any sixteen year old, or any Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. But no more than two purchases."
"And if he is? If he out bids you?"
"Wait for the Patil twins and bid up to nine for the lot."
"In the unlikely event you are outbid?"
"If you can't get a fresh one, contact me about a used item. I will not leave this empty handed"
"Sir." The man's a bloody fool. He was acting as a strawman for the betrothed of his daughter. By all accounts, the boy was a real piece of work. His father's estate has been confiscated and surely he can't afford to play in this market with whatever he has in a trust fund. Perhaps this Parkinson person was paying. As long as the money was good, it really did not matter. Sixteen girls out of the next twenty fit his client's bill. So Dennis would be bidding on them. He was almost certain that he could bid more than three thousand and still lose. But one thing was certain, it would flush out the agent for this Buyer Thirty-Seven. As he resumed his seat, he saw the foreigner still focused on the crossword. If he was a betting man, his money would be on the foreigner as he knew the others here and there was an unwritten rule not to drive up prices like this. Leave it to a foreigner to enrich the sellers and leave the Purebloods of Britain who deserve such toys empty handed!
"Next up, Lot Number Twenty-One, Simone Fanning age sixteen and Mudblood. We have a blind bid. Bidding will start at two thousand twenty-five."
Dennis raised his hand.
"Now at two thousand fifty," the barker called. Dennis looked for a reaction. Sure enough, the foreigner moved. "Two thousand fifty. Now at two thousand one hundred. Two thousand one hundred," the barker called as Dennis bid. "Now at two thousand two hundred. I have a bid of two thousand FIVE hundred," he said as the foreign chap made a hand sign indicating the new bid. Dennis was not told to buy this girl, just to bid on her. "Now at two thousand six hundred. Two thousand six hundred? Fair warning! Sold to Bidder Thirty-Seven for two thousand five hundred."
Dennis decided not to push the bidding over twenty-five hundred for now. Thus it was that Jennifer Faulken, fourteen; Michelle Graham, thirteen; Tammy Grey, fifteen; Wendy Hendricks, fifteen; Anna Jenkins, seventeen; Megan Jones, sixteen; Agnes Lester, fifteen and Su Li, sixteen all went to Buyer Thirty-Seven for twenty-five hundred.
No one other than Dennis was in any of the bidding. It seemed they were all waiting for any witch this buyer was not interested in. As Lot Number Thirty-One was a thirteen year old Slytherin and the Parkinson chap had not told him to bid, Dennis let her go. She went without challenge for two thousand. Dennis decided to push harder on the next one, a girl named Elaine Manning, fourteen years old from Hufflepuff. He ultimately bid twenty-six hundred. But the foreigner immediately bid twenty-seven and Dennis stopped. Dennis bid twenty-seven on both Natalie McDonald and Morag McDougal, only to be out bid again. He bid twenty eight-hundred on thirteen year old Alice McGregor, only to lose again. A Slytherin girl, age fourteen was next and went unchallenged to the foreigner for two thousand. That left three girls in this bidding period until he was allowed to go higher for the last two in this round, the Patil twins. Denis went to his limit on all three. The foreigner bought them all for thirty-one hundred a piece.
"Lot Number Thirty-Nine, Padma Patil. She's a sixteen year old exotic of Indian ancestry and yes, Lot Number Forty is her twin sister. Any man's idea of fun. We Have a blind bid and will start the bidding at two thousand twenty-five."
Dennis met the bid and kept bidding, watching the price rise above three thousand. He was authorized to pay up to nine thousand for this pair and would not bid over forty-five hundred for this one. Even as it was, each bid was setting a new record for the highest price ever paid for a concubine at auction.
"Bidding is at four thousand," the barker said. "Four thousand one hundred," he added as Dennis raised. It seemed this foreigner never hesitated. "Forty-five hundred. Bid is forty-five hundred. Sir?" He looked at Dennis. He shook his head. "Fair warning at forty-five hundred. Sold to buyer Thirty-Seven. Now we have her sister Parvati. They are identical in all respects. I believe her sister set the opening bid. Do I have forty-five hundred?"
The foreigner raised his hand.
"At forty-five hundred." Denis raised his hand. "And forty-six hundred. Forty-seven hundred. Forty-eight hundred, Five thousand." Denis was authorized nine, he was going to break this foreigner, he thought. Several minutes later, he pushed the bid to eight-five hundred expecting the foreigner to blink or something. He saw the man make a hand sign. "The bid is now ten thousand. Ten thousand to you, Sir," he said looking at Dennis. The foreigner seem wholly unconcerned about price. "Fair warning. Sold to Buyer Thirty-Seven for ten thousand."
Another break was taken. There were only ten new girls left, but it was now obvious that unless one of them was not part of this foreigner's list, there was no point in even bidding. The man started far too high to begin with and had no limit. After the break, the last ten "virgins" were sold to Buyer Thirty-Seven at his opening bid of two thousand Galleons. After the Patil sale, Lots Forty-Seven and Forty-Eight, another set of twins by the name of Tennyson did not generate any interest. No one wanted to play in this box. Most of the other agents never even bothered to return to the room, waiting for the resale lots and hoping this foreign chap was not interested in used articles. For their clients, they now had to explain that the sky was the limit on fresh blood. Unless you had unlimited money to spend on a girl, it was pointless to try.
Dennis Floo called Parkinson who then made it abundantly clear he was not buying used. Apparently, the little snot he was buying for was not interested in broken witches or had changed his mind. Still, Dennis did have other clients and some of them remained interested if the price did not get out of hand. As Dennis predicted, once Lot Number Fifty-One went up, a twenty-two year old witch with seven years service, the price rapidly exceeded normal. She should have gone for no more than three hundred and went for seven fifty. Dennis managed to buy the next lot for Dumbledore, a twenty-five year old with ten years service and a proven breeder for six hundred. But this market, while not as insane, was already setting its own records. What was worse, Dennis knew, was that the sellers next year would expect similar prices.
To his surprise, Buyer Thirty-Seven had not left, but was back to his crossword. Eventually Lot Number Sixty came up, a twenty year old witch named Penelope Clearwater with five years on her back. Normally, as a Muggle Born, she might fetch three hundred, if her catalog description raved about her prowess in the sexual arts, and this one was silent. Maybe two hundred ordinarily, Dennis thought. "We have a Blind Bid. Bidding starts at two thousand twenty-five." There were groans from other agents. All else aside, this Clearwater whore was good looking. She sold for two thousand, setting another record price for her category of slag. Once she was sold, Buyer Thirty-Seven walked forward and collected fifty-one Titles. In addition, he apparently was refunded gold! The man had prepaid an account, spent over a hundred and twenty thousand and had not even reached his limit! As he left the room, the other agents applauded, then resumed overpaying on the remaining lots.
MONDAY, JULY 15th, 1996 – Riddle Manor, U.K.
Pius Thicknese stared at the parchment in front of him. He knew the numbers by heart, but still could not believe it. After all the careful planning, in less than a month the Death Eaters had suffered a series of catastrophic setbacks. The only silver lining was that the Dark Lord and been incapacitated for three weeks now, although no one knew why or for how long. The news he held would not bode well for the messenger, and if the Dark Lord awoke that messenger was him.
One month ago, the Death Eaters had sixty-seven people in Operations. This was the part of the organization that committed planned acts of murder or terror both within the Wizarding World and against Muggle targets. This did not include random acts by individuals. These sixty-seven were both among the most experienced and most vicious of all of those who bore the mark. The remaining Death Eaters focused on finance, propaganda, bribery, espionage, sabotage and other less overt or violent methods of undermining the current government and forces of light, or they were too new and untrained to stand up against the Ministry's Aurors.
The Dark Lord had spent the year since his return rebuilding his forces, stocking safe houses and supply depots and planning. In the last War, he acted too soon, he felt, which gave the other side time. Even then, but for the incident with Harry Potter, he was still on the verge of toppling the Ministry as his supporters and spies had prevented them from reacting until it was almost too late. This time, his subtle operations designed to paralyze the Ministry began at once and this time he planned to hit hard. His first operation was an attempt to lure Harry Potter into a trap. When that failed, he reacted swiftly with a plan to eliminate Potter's friends. By Death Eater standards, these were operations reminiscent of the later stages of the war, a large force deployed to overwhelm any opposition. Given that the covert operatives had the Minister for Magic, and by extension the Ministry and the Wizarding press denying the resurgence of their movement, the sudden blows should have been devastatingly effective, even if they failed to kill Potter.
In reality, the last month had been the worst defeat their cause had ever suffered. Although losing the Dark Lord back in 1981 had caused a cessation of that War, the organization remained dormant, not defeated. It still had money, supplies and fighters, just no leadership. Three weeks ago, about a week after his campaign began, the Dark Lord collapsed in pain and had remained unconscious ever since. But as he still lived, and as the Inner Circle believed the plans were still sound, they went forward. Eleven Death Eaters had been captured at the Department of Mysteries with only Bellatrix Lestrange avoiding capture. About two weeks later, thirty-six death eaters were set upon missions all over Britain. Only eight returned. Of the Operations section, only one Inner Circle member was left, and Augustus Rookwood had been seriously injured fighting that Lovegood fellow.
Just last week, that Potter kid became Lord Black and ordered the Goblins to confiscate properties for unpaid rents; properties that "belonged" to Death Eaters or their principal financiers. Seven Death Eaters foolishly resisted the Goblin Collections Teams. All were killed. Worse, all of their carefully laid supplies were gone. Of the twenty bases scattered around Britain, only Riddle Manor remained in Death Eater hands. Worse, the estimate was that they had lost at least eighty percent of their funds to debts owed to Lord Black.
Pius Thicknese was a former Auror who had moved to a desk job years ago. He was also a Death Eater covert operative within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Mostly, he was a spy. But every so often he could be expected to attempt to undermine the Department's ability to respond to Death Eater attacks. He had been marked since 1976, twenty years and avoided any suspicion during the last war. His ability to undermine Auror operations, however, was limited. The Inner Circle had hoped he could throw them into confusion during the July 1st attacks. But the Head of Law Enforcement and Head of the Auror's had consolidated certain activities, such as magical detection, under their auspices and he was effectively out of the loop that day. Had any of the Inner Circle who knew his role survived the attacks, he knew they would blame him for the failure. Fortunately, the only Inner Circle member who was not killed or captured did not know about his role and was blaming Bellatrix Lestrange for the failure who was conveniently dead.
It was Pius, however, who had confirmed to the Dark Lord's satisfaction that Draco Malfoy was next in line for the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. That fact was undeniable. But that damnable blood traitor had left that House to Harry Potter. Potter had moved decisively. Ignoring protests from the likes of Dumbledore himself, he had called House Black debts due and crippled the Death Eaters financially in one single stroke of a pen. That the Goblin nations seemed to have finally picked a side was almost as unexpected as the side they picked. The vile beasts had shunned the overtures of Dumbledore, the Ministry and the Dark Lord and were plainly in league with Potter. Potter had gone for their throats in a way no one had dared before, and there was nothing the Death Eaters could do to stop him. The only good news, if there was any at all, was that the boy had also gone after both Dumbledore and the Ministry. Severus had delivered a report that Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix was in more dire financial shape, relatively speaking, than the Death Eaters. There were also reports of defections and dissention within that organization. The Ministry was also in trouble and would be hard pressed to extricate itself unless they could negotiate a compromise. But it was Potter who had all the leverage right now.
"Report," a voice said.
Pius looked and saw that the Dark Lord had opened his eyes for the first time in three weeks.
"Milord!" he replied kneeling before his Master.
"You have a report Pius?" the Dark Lord asked in a hoarse voice. "And why you? Where is my Inner Circle?"
"Severus is at Hogwarts, Milord," Pius began.
"As he should be. And the others?"
"Dead, wounded or captured, Milord."
"What? How can that be? I sense truth in you, Pius, but we had no operations planned for today. Did the fools at the Ministry get lucky?"
"Er – in a manner of speaking, Milord," Pius said. "We suffered a major setback two weeks ago, with further blows falling since."
"Pius, our little misadventure at the Ministry was a little over a week ago," Voldemort began.
"Milord, you have been unconscious for three weeks. It is now July 15th."
""What? What happened?"
"We do not know. I was told you screamed in pain three weeks ago Sunday and passed out. This is the first time you spoke since, Milord."
"And the plans for the Ministry Six as the creative writers at the Prophet call those pathetic children? They went forward?"
"We sustained heavy losses for little gain, Milord."
"Explain!"
"The diversionary attack on the Head of the DMLE was our only arguable success. Madam Bones and four Aurors were killed."
"Excellent."
"Of our attacking force, only Pettigrew returned and he lost his wand arm."
"The others?"
"Six killed. Five wounded and captured."
"The Blood Traitor Weasleys?"
"Were not home when our force attacked. It was a trap, it appears. None of our Death Eaters returned."
"Longbottom?"
"The Dowager Longbottom was killed after killing two of our attackers. The Longbottom boy seems to have killed the other two, including Bellatrix Lestrange."
"Impossible!" Voldemort said in shock.
"Her body was on display in the Ministry." Pius said. "It is possible someone else killed her. But it was clearly a blasting hex. It took off her entire right side. The Ministry is reliably informed that the lad could do that."
"How could she …"
"She might have been surprised," Pius opined. "It is also possible she underestimated her opponent. We might never know."
Voldmort could only stare. One of his best was killed by a fifteen year old. "That Lovegood girl?"
"The publisher killed one of ours and severely wounded two others. Rookwood is crippled. The publisher is dead, but his daughter has escaped."
"And the Mudblood?"
"She and her family appear to have left the country altogether. We have a report of them in France the day after she returned from Hogwarts, but it is both dated and of questionable reliability. It is known their house is empty. They've moved somewhere. That was the only raid where we suffered no losses, but that may have been due to the fact there was no one there to inflict any.
"Between those raids, the Department of Mysteries and other actions in the last month, we've lost over two thirds of our Operations personnel. Out of sixty-seven fit for operations before, only eighteen are fit today. Forty-six are dead or in prison, Milord. Three are severely wounded and it might be months before they're of use, if ever. And almost of the ones who're fit are juniors with little or no experience in the last struggle."
"Meaning we cannot even hope to break our comrades out of that hole," Voldemort said.
"Not at this time; not even if we turn the dementors. No, Milord."
"And the rest of the organization?"
"From a manpower standpoint, our covert operatives were unscathed."
"Which would explain your being here?"
"It would. Our remaining operations personnel have been deployed in the hopes of making up for our other recent losses."
"Other losses?"
"It would seem the new Lord Black is no friend of ours, Milord."
"Then kill that Malfoy spawn!"
"It would do no good, Milord."
"WHY NOT?"
"Because the Malfoy brat is both useless to us and not the new Lord Black."
"I seem to recall, Pius, you verified that the young Malfoy was the next in line."
"Indeed he was, Milord. However, the previous Lord Black saw fit to disinherit him in favor of a Half-Blood relation."
"WHAT? WHY? WHO?"
"The previous Lord Black despised the Pureblood agenda," Pius replied. "He alienated himself from his own family not because some supported our cause, but because most support our ideas if not out methods. He turned his back on centuries of his family's beliefs, avoided following his ancestors into Slytherin House, and ridiculed and harassed our beliefs and supporters since he was a lad. As an adult, he was unabashedly opposed to Pureblood beliefs and traditions and killed our people on sight. The Malfoy's and others assumed his harsh treatment by the government might had led him to see the error of his ways. Obviously, he never did and passed his estate to a young man his ancestors would have deemed unworthy. I regret, Milord, the Will is ironclad and the estate has passed beyond any control or subversion by us or any others."
"And to whom did one of the wealthiest estates pass?" Voldemort asked. Despite the family Black's belief in Blood Purity, the main line family produced but one Death Eater and never could be coerced into donating a single knut or overt vote to the cause.
"Harry Potter, Milord."
"Then all is not lost," Voldemort said. "He is too stupid and weak to know what to do with his new found status and wealth."
"I fear, Milord, you underestimate him," Pius said.
"I HAVE FOUGHT HIM!"
"And as you have noted, he is but a boy and yet only he and Dumbledore have fought you and lived. He has not even reached his full magical potential, which seems to be such that it may well eclipse Dumbledore himself in time."
"It was luck!"
"Then he has far more of it than any mortal, Milord," Pius said. "But, whether it is his luck or skill that has allowed him to survive this long, survive he has even when we were at strength. And now, the cub has turned lion and struck back."
"Are you trying to tell me he killed or captured my Death Eaters?"
"There is no reason to believe that, Milord. Arguably, however, he has done far more damage to our cause in the last few days than the combined efforts of the Ministry and Dumbledore has managed to do in the last thirty years."
"In just what way?"
"First off, he annulled the marriages of two of the daughters of his House: Bellatrix to Rodolphus Lestrange and Narcissa to Lucius Malfoy."
"And what of it? They are merely women! And am I mistaken or did you not tell me Bellatrix is dead?"
"They are mere women and Bellatrix is dead, but the marriage contracts give the Head of House Black significant control over the assets of his House be they monetary or flesh. Rodolphus and Lucius were not paupers before their marriages, but the bulk of their wealth came from those marriages. The annulment returned all Black property to Lord Black with interest. Lucius and Rodolphus might have survived the new Lord Black's hammer fall, but not without their bride price intact."
"What do you mean, Pius?"
His Death Eater handed him a piece of parchment. Voldemort scanned it. There were thirty-four names on it including Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange. Twenty-two, including both Lestrange brothers and Malfoy had a line through their names. Every name Voldmort knew. They were all either Death Eaters or families that provided his cause with most of its financial support. "I see. So?"
"Each of those families lived in a Black property," Pius said. "All of them had failed to pay their rents for many years. It was overlooked before. As you recall, the Blood Traitor's predecessor ignored his contractual rights insofar as our people were concerned in exchange for us not seeking donations from him directly. The recently departed could not seek enforcement as he was a fugitive until he died. The Potter lad called the debts due, demanded payment of all backed rents immediately plus interest and penalties, and ordered them evicted, their accounts and other properties seized and sold in payment of the debts. All owed well over two million. The ones who are lined out could not pay off their debts. They are wiped out financially and left with just the clothes on their backs. Only their children might have any money, assuming there are trust accounts in the child's name."
"And their vaults? Their ancient family vaults?"
"Emptied," Pius said. "Everything of value was liquidated. This includes anything we stored in those properties as well as our operating funds which were divided among the vaults. We've lost all our safe houses save this one and all of our stores within those other houses. We have lost over ninety percent of our funds and over ninety percent of our annual revenue. While we are not broke, we are about where we were from a supply and fiscal standpoint back in the early 1960's."
"And our people did nothing to stop them?"
"The seven who did found out why it is unwise to resist the Goblins," Pius said. "They were killed."
Voldemort was feeling his temper begin to boil. Dead Death Eaters never bothered him. That Bones witch was dead, which almost made the losses acceptable. But he needed money to keep the Ministry from interfering with his plans. He had kept Fudge and the Ministry from interfering for a year now, but that was on the strength of his people's money. Without bribes to influence their behavior, there was the possibility they might actually do their jobs, which was not in the interest of his cause. More disturbing was the loss of the Lestrange Vault. There was but one thing in that Vault of any real interest to him. But he was not about to ask about the Hufflepuff Cup. His servants were not entitled to that information. He had made that mistake once with Malfoy. The Cup was gone and he could no longer consider that horcrux safe. Then again, if he couldn't find it, maybe no one else could either. Besides, there was a reason he had more than one. Something else was wrong.
"Where is Nagini?" he asked.
"Your familiar has not been seen in some weeks," Pius said. "It is believed your incapacity had an effect upon the animal. Mulciber has opined that the snake's size and age were related to its bond with you and that the recent illness killed it. But we cannot be sure of that because we have found no trace of it."
"I see. She must be found, Pius. She is important to me."
"I understand My Lord," Pius said.
Voldemort held his retort. Thicknese could not possible understand. "Is that all?"
"No Milord. It would seem we were not the only victim's of Potter's little temper tantrum."
"Oh?"
"Apparently, he learned that Dumbledore has been liberally using the Potter Vault for Order funding or other things unrelated to the maintenance of the Potter Estates or the Potter boy. Dumbledore has a month to come up with one point seven million or suffer the fate that our membership suffered, financially speaking."
"Does Dumbledore have the money?"
"According to Severus, not on hand," Pius replied. "He is liquidating assets to try and keep his real accounts solvent."
"Will he succeed?"
"Unknown, Milord. There is no evidence that success is certain, however. It may be that Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix will be as broken financially as we seem to be."
"Interesting. Why did Potter do that? Surely there's more going on than mere theft?"
"Possibly," Pius said. "But theft alone justifies his actions against both Dumbledore and our own people. Not paying rent is theft, after all."
"WE HAD AN AGREEMENT!"
"Never in writing and never by magical oath," Pius said. "It would seem you were ill advised by Abraxas Malfoy in that regard and the prior Lord Black used that oversight to his advantage. It is possible he would never have submit had he not known he could get his money back whenever he so desired."
Voldemort had to regain his control. He hated Purebloods almost as much as Muggles. That wasn't saying much, however. He hated them all. He hated their silly, mindless games and posturing. Had he not become as powerful as he was, had he not developed the ability and desire to kill and purged himself of all weakness and hesitation decades ago, these vile creatures would be lording over HIM! "Is there more?"
"Potter has seemed to have created some disaffection amongst Dumbledore's followers, Milord."
"Oh?"
"Several have effectively declared themselves for Potter, defecting Dumbledore and leaving the country within the past week or so. Dumbledore pet family is clearly split. Severus says that many who have remained are suspect in the Old Man's eyes and might be required to take a loyalty oath…"
"Rather dark for the so called Leader of the Light."
"Indeed Milord. I believe that it is possible the Order is not the threat to us it was even a week ago."
"A glimmer of good news?"
Pius nodded. "Potter also called the Ministry to task," he continued. "He claims to be a sovereign of some sort and has demanded reparations for the illegal sale of his subjects over the years. Apparently, he has demanded the concubines in questions be repatriated or the Ministry pay him a hundred thousand a head. That is over four million. The Ministry has been given thirty days to comply or risk embargo."
"Such foolishness would not be a part of your report if there was no merit to it," Voldemort said.
"I cannot speak to the boy's alleged political status abroad. Here, however, he controls more votes than anyone else; enough to deadlock the Wizengamot indefinitely. But I have sources who say the embargo is not the idle threat of a delusional teen. The lad apparently can cut off a significant amount of the British Magical world's trade, particularly in food stuffs. Our world would be forced to shop in the Muggle World or face starvation. The Ministry is taking that very seriously, although I doubt they can pay the demand."
"And this so called country? What do we know of it? How soon can we attack?"
"It's called Charenwell and was thought to be a myth, Milord," Pius said. "No one knows where it is. Even if we did, we can't attack with only eighteen Death Eaters for its said to be very magical. If the legend is true, there are few if any Muggles there at all. Then again, if the legends are true, we could not hope to attack even with a hundred thousand Death Eaters. Any magical threat to the country and its people would be destroyed by the wards, it is said."
"There are no such wards!"
"That we are aware of," Pius said. "It does not follow there never have been. Much of the old magic was lost or suppressed by our supposed leaders over the centuries as it limited their ability to control the rest of the population. But, if that is true, then Potter is beyond our reach for now."
"And Dumbeldore's as well?"
Pius nodded.
"He still has friends, perhaps we could lure him into a trap just as we did before."
"He has had a falling out with the youngest Weasley boy," Pius said. "The gossip is that if you executed the Blood Traitor Publically, Potter might show up to watch. His other friends have all disappeared. Their families are gone and their houses empty. It is doubtful he will return for anyone, or so some are believing."
"So much for the Savior of the unwashed masses," Voldemort nodded.
"It seems he has made it clear he has no interest in helping them at all."
"Why then would he attack everyone?" Voldemort asked rhetorically.
"I would say, Milord, that young Potter has finally chosen a side in this struggle."
"Oh? And what side would that be?"
"His own."
A/N: RELATIONSHIP SCORECARD:
If you didn't read the Intro, you missed that. This is so you can keep up with who's with who and how.
Key:
Names in Italics = OC
Gr – Gryffindor, Hu – Hufflepuff, Ra – Ravenclaw, Sl – Slytherin. SG – St. George's School, PE – Prince Edward School, SA – St. Andrew's, SP – St. Patrick's, SD – St. David's.(Number indicates last year completed. No number means they finished all seven years.)
P = pregnant.
Harry James Potter, age 15.
1. Hermione Jane (Granger) Potter, age 16 (Gr-5); CONSORT (POTTER).
2. Luna Celeste (Lovegood) Black, age 15 (Ra-4); CONSORT (BLACK).
3. Dora (Tonks) Black-Potter, age 22 (Hu); CONCUBINE (BLACK).P
4. Minerva Grace (McGonagall) Potter-Black, age 68 (Gr); CONCUBINE (POTTER).P
5. Mallory Michelle (Grant) Black Potter, age 39 (Hu); CONCUBINE (BLACK).P-boy
6. Daphne Renee (Greengrass) Black-Potter, age 16 (Sl-5); CONCUBINE (BLACK).
7. Astoria Lynn (Greengrass) Potter-Black, age 14 (Sl-3); CONCUBINE (POTTER).
8. Ginevra Molly (Weasley) Potter-Black, age 14 (Gr-4); CONCUBINE (POTTER).
9. Stacey Marie (Campbell) Potter-Black, age 17 (SA-5); CONCUBINE (POTTER).
Bill Weasley, age 25.
1. Fleur Patrice (Delacour) Weasley, age 19; CONSORT (BILL WEASLEY).P
2. Mary Ellen Howard Weasley, age 18 (Ra-5); CONCUBINE (BILL).
3. Samantha Christine (Johnson) Weasley, age 17 (SG-5); CONCUBINE (BILL).
Neville Algicyrus Longbottom, age 15.
1. Susan Marie (Bones) Longbottom, age 16 (Hu-5); CONSORT (NEVILLE).P
2. Amber Selma (Harker) Longbottom, age 33 (Sl-5); CONCUBINE (LONGBOTTOM).P
Fred Weasley, age 18.
1. Alicia May Spinet, age 18 (Gr). CONSORT (FRED).
2. Verity Nicole (Smith) Weasley, age 21 (SG-5). CONCUBINE (FRED).P
3. Danielle Louise (Carter) Weasley, age 20 (SG-5). CONCUBINE (FRED).
George Weasley, age 18.
1. Angelina Olivia (Johnson) Weasley, age 18 (Gr). CONSORT (GEORGE).P
2. Shelly Ann (Parker) Weasley, age 22 (SD). CONCUBINE (GEORGE).
3. Ellen Suzanne (North) Weasley, age 20 (PE). CONCUBINE (GEORGE).