The Spoils of War

THE SPOILS OF WAR

BY AERIE22

CHAPTER THREE

GOING HOME

It was the last night of their Hogwarts career and the trio were sitting quietly together before the fire. Finally, Ron broke the silence. "So you aren't going to be an Auror?"

Harry sighed. "No. I've got a lot to sort out right now."

Hermione sighed. "It's true what the Daily Prophet says? That you now own the Malfoy and LeStrange estates as well as the Potter estate?"

Ron snorted in mirth. "I remember once I accused you of getting everything, back in fourth year?"

Harry grimaced.

Ron began to chuckled. "Well, now you don't need to get everything. You now have everything," he said with a guffaw.

Hermione gasped. "Ron!" she exclaimed, scandalized.

Harry chuckled. "Well, maybe not everything," he said with a smile. "Not Head Boy, or Captain of the Quidditch Cup Team for two years running. Some other prat got that," he said with a smile. "Of course, being awarded the Order of Merlin First Class doesn't hurt, either."

Harry smiled at the thought that Ron and Hermione had been two of eight combatants given this award, along with himself, Neville and the Headmaster and three others he didn't know. And he knew that the award carried a 50,000 Galleon honorarium and a 5,000 a year lifetime stipend. He knew that while this paled next to his own millions, 50,000 Galleons was more money than Ron had dreamed of having in his vault. So Ron was happy.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Ron smirked. "True class will show through at the end," he said, making a show of polishing his Head Boy badge, mimicking his brother Percy. "Right Hermione?"

Hermione simply blushed at Ron's reference to her being Head Girl.

Harry laughed, but the laughter didn't last. "Yeah, I got a lot," he said as he shook his head, sadly. "More than I can handle, it seems."

Ron glanced over at Harry. "Is it true what I heard Dad say? That you own Malfoy's mom?"

Hermione's head jerked up. "People don't own other people," she said in a scolding tone.

Harry turned his head to look at Hermione sadly. "Ron's right, Hermione. Narcissa is now my property," he said sadly. He could see Hermione begin to work up into an argument. "That's not all," he said, cutting her off. "I also own Bellatrix LeStrange."

Hermione's eyes widened past what Harry thought possible. "That evil woman! Why isn't she in Azkaban!"

Harry closed his eyes, leaning back so his head was flopping over the top of the couch. "It's that stupid Praedia Bellica spell I cast after I destroyed Voldemort. By casting it after killing Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus LeStrange, I inadvertently laid claim on all of the Malfoy and LeStrange possessions, including their wives."

Hermione gasped. "That's so sexist!" she exclaimed.

Harry sighed. "The spell only works on spouses who are co-conspirators with their husbands or wives on dark acts," he explained. "Once I uttered the victory spell, they ceased to be recognized as human beings and became property, no better than a robe or an inkpot," he said with resignation.

Hermione looked at Harry in shock. "But ... but ..." she sputtered. "I thought that was just ... a metaphor. Or a lot of stupid innuendo in the newspapers. That they were yours to do with what you liked. That you held their fates in your hands ..."

But Hermione's sputtering was cut off by Ron, who was now howling in laughter. "Malfoy's mum is now your property? Oh, I'd love to see his face when he hears that," he said, now rolling on the couch in laughter and drawing stares from the rest of the common room.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm. "But ... can't you just let them go? Hand them over to the Ministry for trial?"

Harry sighed. "It doesn't work that way. Once I claimed them as spoils of war, the Ministry's authority over them ended. I did have to pay fines for their crimes. The LeStrange Estate was assessed eighteen million galleons for her crimes. That was more than a third of their total estate, from what I've been told. Narcissa's crimes cost a million galleons, but that's just tip money to them."

"Can't you just free them?" Hermione pressed earnestly.

"I can't let them go as they have no status in the Wizarding World except as my property. They can't remarry, or sign contracts--even something as simple as a lease or a contract to buy a house. They can't even defend themselves except with their wands if someone harms them. I have to go to the Aurors or the Ministry or the Wizangamut to make the claims on their behalf--for damaging my property, so to speak. They would be defenseless on their own. They have no money and no way to make a living. They have no marketable skills and who would hire them, anyway? They are only safe because I own them," he said sourly.

Ron whistled at the sums Harry was tossing around, but Hermione crossed her arms and frowned. "It doesn't seem fair, somehow," she muttered.

Harry sighed again. "Bellatrix was thrilled. She was facing a Dementor's kiss. But Narcissa is furious. She figured she could buy her way out of this mess. She thought wrong," Harry said with a droll look.

"How do you know?" Ron asked.

"I talk to them. They're here in the castle."

Hermione gasped. "Is that where you disappear to every day?"

Harry gave a vague nod.

Ron stared at his friend. "That's why the Room of Requirement wouldn't open for me," he said absently.

Hermione gasped again, but Harry chuckled. "Lavender?"

Ron glanced at Hermione and blushed, then gave a quick nod.

Hermione looked up, startled. "Lavender? You're the secret boyfriend?" she exclaimed, the color draining from her face.

Ron shrugged.

Harry glanced over to Hermione. "Only for the past four months."

Hermione flushed and shook her head.

Ron laughed. "And what about you, Miss Time-to-Study-for-the-N.E.W.T.s? No secret boyfriends that we don't know about?"

Hermione gave Harry a sidelong glance. "No one at the moment."

Ron started laughing again, but Harry reached over to give Hermione's shoulder a squeeze.

When Ron finally recovered from his laughing bout, he gave Harry a knowing look. "No need to ask about you," he said with a smirk. "You've been too busy for anything lately." He then snorted in mirth. "Until now, of course. So, you've been taking care of your property?"

Harry shook his head. "You wouldn't believe it. They were stuck down in the dungeons for nearly three days still in the filthy, bloody clothes they had on during the battle. I made sure Dobby put them in the Room of Requirement and got them some decent clothing and toilet facilities."

Ron smirked again. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Hermione gasped, but Harry simply stared at his best friend.

"Harry, you wouldn't," Hermione squeaked in outrage.

Harry looked back and forth between his two friends, one leering, the other staring in shock. "I. Would. Never. Stoop. So. Low." He uttered in disgust.

Ron simply shook his head. "Never is a long time. Of course, they're very old ..."

Harry lowered his head. "Bellatrix is about to turn thirty-six. Narcissa is thirty-eight. They married directly out of Hogwarts."

He could feel Hermione's grasp on his arm tighten. "You wouldn't even think of ..."

Harry looped his arm around her shoulders. "Not when there are so many pretty women around closer to my own age," he said with a smile.

Hermione blushed. Suddenly all her arguments seemed to evaporate.

Harry chuckled. "So when are you two coming to visit me at Potter Manor? I get the feeling I'm going to need the company."

"Soon as possible," Ron said with a laugh. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

* * *

It was a bittersweet last ride on the Hogwarts Express.

The Headmaster arranged for Bellatrix and Narcissa to share a warded compartment in the last carriage of the train. After a couple more visits from Harry that were less confrontational that the last one, the sisters no longer had an immediate fear for their lives, but had seemed to settle into a quiet resignation.

Narcissa sighed as she watched the countryside fly by. After that night Harry threatened to kill them, she had been terrified that all her worst nightmares were coming true. Harry would abuse them or ignore them, humiliate them in the worst possible ways, and make their lives a living hell.

She had quietly cursed her sister for ever suggesting that foul Praedia Bellica spell, Narcissa knew that, but for that evil spell, she would be back in Malfoy Manor, doubtless nursing some of the wounds on her life and fortune that a vindictive Wizarding World would inflict upon her. But she would still be free, and no doubt, very wealthy. There is no greater solace from the ills of the world than a pile of gold and the knowledge of how to use it to extract a full measure of revenge.

She glanced again at her sister and shook her head sadly. Bellatrix had been eerily silent, staring off into space, that first night after Harry's tantrum. Narcissa grimaced at how easily Belle had accepted Harry's assumption of the role of master over them. But then, Belle had been suffering under cruel masters for all her adult life. Harry would be just one more.

Then, the nightmares started. Narcissa was grateful that this Room of Requirement had its own silencing charms. It was all she could do to comfort her younger sister. Bellatrix had screamed and pawed the air, fighting off Narcissa's desperate embrace for nearly a minute before calming. It had frightened Narcissa. These were not like the bad dreams of a Draco's childhood, but horrible visions that must haunt Bellatrix to her very core. Narcissa cried that night. For herself. And for her sister.

The following afternoon, Harry reappeared in the sisters' rooms. He was not warm and friendly, but this was not the fearful monster of the night before. He had asked about their comfort and their health. He produced a couple vials of potions to ease Bellatrix's painful shoulder and help it heal.

And he sat and talked for a few minutes. He told them how they would be staying at Potter Manor until they could figure out what was best. And he asked if she and Bellatrix needed anything.

Bellatrix had not taken her eyes off Potter for the entire time. And Narcissa noted how her sister's expression slowly softened throughout the brief conversation from one of stiff anxiety to a more relaxed, less frightened one.

Narcissa finally took a deep breath and asked if any dreamless sleep potion was available. She could see Harry almost flinched at her request and feared he would get angry again. "Problems sleeping?" he asked in a neutral tone.

Narcissa's eyes darted to Bellatrix, then back to Harry.

The young man frowned in thought. "It's a very dangerous potion that can't be used over a long period, you know," he said quietly, surprising Narcissa at this knowledge.

With that, he left.

Later that night, he appeared again with a single dose of the dreamless sleep potion, which he took to Bellatrix's room. On his return, he sat down across from her. "Only one dose," he said in a neutral tone. "It only addresses the symptoms, not the underlying problem. She shouldn't get used to it. It does no good in the long run."

Narcissa stared at the young man. She saw him frown and make to get up. "Please stay a moment," she asked. "It does get dreadfully dull here, with just the two of us and no contact with the outside."

Harry frowned, but settled back.

The conversation, and two subsequent ones, though consisting mainly of idle and inconsequential small talk, seemed to breathe new life into the sisters' souls. Harry was not the monster they feared.

Perhaps there was some small hope for the future.

With this in mind, Narcissa continued to watch the scenery as the Hogwarts Express approached its destination-and her fate.

* * *

Harry shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati. The group cried as they got off the train. He wondered when he would see them all again. He'd already arranged for Ron and Hermione to come over for occasional weekends during the summer.

Ron would be working for his brothers in a new Weasley Wizard Wheezes shop in a Wizarding community in Devon, near the Burrow. Harry knew that Ron took a particular pride in being able to help bankroll the new store. If everything worked to plan, Ron would end up a full partner and be running the shop by the end of the summer. Hermione was set to begin an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's in September.

As for Harry, he had to figure out how to run the largest set of estates in the Wizarding World. At seventeen years old, with no particular training outside of his defense against the dark arts lessons, this was a daunting task. He sighed as he passed through the barrier to the Muggle area of King's Cross Station to say his last good-byes to all his friends and classmates.

He saw Hermione run to embrace her parents. Suddenly, she was dragging them both to Harry.

"He did it! Mom! Dad! He destroyed Voldemort!" she exclaimed. "We're all safe now!"

Harry was shocked as Mrs. Granger, who he barely knew, walked up to him and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Harry, for taking care of our Hermione and keeping her safe for all these years," she exclaimed.

Mr. Granger walked up and gave Harry a brief, manly hug, then shook Harry's hand. "You don't know how much we worried about our precious one, here. But from everything she's told us, we should have known she was in good hands with you keeping an eye on her."

Harry didn't know what to say.

"So, when are you coming over for dinner, young man?" Mrs. Granger gushed. "We've heard so much about you that we practically consider you part of the family. We'd love to get to know you a lot better. And I'm sure Hermione is anxious to see more of you outside of school," she said with a knowing smile.

Harry was startled and glanced at Hermione, who was blushing at how her parents were fawning over her best friend. "Well, I have to get settled into my new home first," he said.

Mrs. Granger brightened. "Oh, Hermione wrote to us that you finally had a home of your own. Maybe we can come help. You know, dentists need to have a bit of the artist in them to be good at what they do," she said with a sly grin. "And I've always fancied myself as somewhat of decorator. I've helped some of my friends with decorating ideas. If you need us, just give us a ring."

Mr. Granger smiled and put his arm over Harry's shoulder. "What's the place like? We'd be more than happy to help. Hermione would drag us along even if we weren't," he said with a laugh.

Harry reached into his trunk. "Here's a couple pictures of the place," he said nervously as he pulled the photos out. "I was only there a couple of times last summer, when I turned seventeen and came into my inheritance. But I couldn't stay very long. Security and all that."

Mrs. Granger gasped and Mr. Granger staggered a moment as they looked at the photos. They showed a very large, elegant three-story Georgian Manor house. "My lord," Mrs. Granger managed to gasp out. "So big."

Harry frowned. "Remus told me it was 2,900 square meters. It is pretty big."

Mr. Granger slowly raised his eyes to meet Harry's. He blinked a couple times before he found his voice. "Uh, Harry. It's not merely 'pretty big.' It's nearly ten times the size of our house." Mrs. Granger gave Hermione a sidelong glance and raised her eyebrows.

Harry shrugged. "Well, if you ever want to come visit, there's lots of bedrooms, so there'll be plenty of room."

Mr. Granger was still trying to get his mind around the size and scale of Potter Manor when two women approached Harry and stood directly behind him. The dark-haired one possessed a haunting beauty that was almost painful to behold. But the other one was one of the most stunning, regal women Edward Granger had ever seen. "Uh, Harry? Friends of yours?" he managed to gasp out.

Harry turned briefly, then turned back and shrugged. "I guess. This is Narcissa Mal..."

"Black," Narcissa interrupted. "Narcissa Black," she said in a deep, throaty voice, holding out a limp hand to Mr. Granger.

"I'm Bellatrix Black," said the other sister in a slightly lighter tone, offering her hand somewhat more reluctantly.

Mrs. Granger saw Hermione's eyes narrow in disdain for the two women and reluctantly exchanged generalities to the two beautiful women. "You are friends of Harry's?"

Bellatrix was about to respond when she caught a warning look from Narcissa. "We are employees of Mr. Potter. We help him with his finances, his social calendar and the like," the elder Black sister said in an imperious tone.

After a few more moments, Hermione and her parents departed.

"Who are they?" Mrs. Granger asked Hermione urgently.

Hermione harrumphed. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you," she said in a sullen tone.

* * *

Harry was now glancing nervously around the station.

Narcissa watched the teen impatiently. "Is there a problem, Pot..." then she bit her tongue. It wouldn't do to keep calling him by his last name, judging by how violently he reacted last time she did so. "Maybe I can help," she said in a more solicitous voice.

Harry continued to look around the station. Finally he shrugged. "Uh, I've got a portkey, but I don't know where it's safe around here to use it. All these Muggles." He paused, blushing a little. "I've always been picked up by Muggle relatives. I've never used magic to leave the station."

Narcissa gave a frown of distaste. 'Muggles,' she thought. 'The very idea.'

"There are four apparation points in the station and four warded areas where you can use a portkey," she said as if to a schoolboy. "The ends of Platforms Nine and Ten extend six meters beyond what the Muggles can see. We usually use Platform Nine when dropping off ... for departures, as there are no Muggle trains scheduled for that Platform at the time. But, as you can see, Platform Nine has a train boarding. So for arrivals, we usually choose Platform Ten, which should be empty."

Harry gave a curt nod and began to manhandle his trunk while trying to balance Hedwig's cage.

Narcissa sighed in disgust. "Oh, here. Let me," she said in exasperation. Then she stopped cold.

"What?" Harry asked in an annoyed voice.

Narcissa lowered her head. "I have no wand," she said quietly.

Bellatrix walked over to her sister. "Neither do I."

Harry frowned. "Still? What happened to them?"

"It was destroyed by that last curse you used," Bellatrix said quietly with little emotion.

"Mine was unfortunately snapped in the process of returning it to me," Narcissa said in an annoyed tone. "It was 'accidentally stepped on' when they were going over the field where the battle took place. Ironic in that it was never on the field in the first place. I surrendered it directly to an Auror when they came to take me away."

Harry nodded. Then he looked at his trunk. He hated shrinking charms. He never seemed to get the size right. He looked around to make sure no Muggles were watching and uttered the charm quietly. The trunk shrunk down to the size of a lunch pail. He shook his head in annoyance. 'That won't fit in my pocket,' he thought sadly. He scooped up the now more manageable trunk, grabbed Hedwig's cage and stalked off to find the end of Platform Ten, followed meekly by Bellatrix and not so meekly by Narcissa.

As Narcissa followed Harry, she began to speculate. 'He was an attractive young man. And so powerful,' she thought idly. 'But so naïve. So unworldly. He has so much to learn.' She permitted herself the smallest of smiles

* * *

Narcissa blinked as she looked around. This was not like Malfoy Manor. Not at all.

She gazed to her left and saw what must be the ballroom, although it was full of chairs and couches and oriental rugs scattered randomly throughout the huge room. On the right, she could see a large drawing room, tastefully furnished. And directly ahead was the grand entrance, with a gently curving staircase leading to the floors above.

No, this was not Malfoy Manor. It was much smaller.

But what a difference. The walls were not stone, but plaster, decorated in brightly patterned wallpaper. And the light! The windows were not small slits but tall, wide and open, allowing a soft, fragrant late June breeze to waft in. There were no torches on the walls, but elaborate candelabra hanging from the ceilings or on specially made floating platforms. And the walls were not decorated with weapons and the heads of house elves, but with paintings-not just family portraits, but of landscapes and still lives.

It was not just a large building. It had all the makings of a home.

Then Narcissa gave an inward shudder. A home. But not her home. It was lovely. But it was still a prison for her and her sister, and would be, doubtless, for the rest of their lives. And no matter how lovely, a prison is still a prison.