All of the Emperor's Children

Chapter Two:

Harry and Ron were not very happy as they impatiently waited for their coach to arrive. The Jade Emperor did not need to give explanations for his actions, but it seemed he had deemed his orders peculiar enough to warrant one. Both recalled the conversation distastefully, most likely because their brother Draco Malfoy had been smirking behind the Emperor the entire time. Harry closed his eyes briefly as he remembered the encounter.

*****Several Hours Earlier*****

Harry and Ron were prompt in answering their summons from the Emperor. They arrived meticulously clad in their black-and-gold robes, Harry's colored in red and gold, indicating his position as third-favored son of the Emperor. Both prostrated themselves before the Emperor, ignoring the widening smirk on Malfoy's face as they, in effect, prostrated themselves before him as well.

"Imperial Father," both greeted respectfully, foreheads touching the floor once before they knelt before him, waiting to be allowed to arise. "May you live for tens of thousands of years."*

The Jade Emperor** gestured for them to arise and seat themselves on the straight-backed chair dotting the spacious room. "Jade Harry Potter. Jade Ron Weasley."***

Harry began the traditional phrasing that opened a conversation with the Emperor. "You have summoned us before you, Illustrious Father."

"Yes, I have, my Proud Progeny," the Emperor returned in kind.

"And thus have we arrived promptly," Ron finished the ancient words of tradition, and waited for his father to continue.

The Emperor began. "I trust you have by now received news of your assignation to the Eliniac Villages in order to ease and help the peasants in their time of need. I have ordered that you Apparate to Galena. From there, you shall take a horseless carriage to the Eliniac Villages."

"But Gracious Father," Ron interrupted, unable to contain himself, not noticing Draco's growing smirk or Harry's horrified glance. "If we must go to the Eliniac Villages, why must we take such a route? Could we not summon a jiao, some fast horses, or even Apparate there? It would be much more convenient, would it not, Wise Father?"

"Fang ci!**** Gracious and Wise I am," the Jade Emperor said in a towering fury, "and it would do you well to remember that. I am Wise, and you have no reason to question my orders. Gracious I am, and you should be grateful, for were I not so Gracious, I would have you executed for such an offense."

Ron cowered back, realising his error, and sorely regretting his choice of words.

"You are fortunate," the Jade Emperor began in a calmer voice, "that your brother Draco informed me of your possible doubts. Had he not spoken with me beforehand, I might have executed you here and now. It was he who suggested that your time in the Eliniac Villages might be made more pleasant if you first traveled the countryside, and learned of the lower classes and their lifestyles. You are dismissed." The last was said curtly.

Harry and Ron bowed to the Emperor and backed out of the room.

*****Present*****

All in all, Ron was in a rather glum mood. He and Harry were both keeping their opinions to themselves, rather than revealing them, risking the chance of spies overhearing and reporting to Draco, who would undoubtedly report them right back to the Emperor. Finally, the long-awaited horseless coach arrived, a russet red emblazoned with cheap gold plaster. It obviously had a wealth of Rejuvenating Charms and Appealing Glamours on it, and was one of the older line: Ford Angola.

The Ford Angola line was one of the first of the horseless carriages, and one of the most antique. Their carriages were peeling, didn't have Cushioning Charms, and bounced and rattled constantly. The manager of the Ford Angola line doesn't bother to improve his line of carriages, opting to wait for the line to die out while he invests all of his time and energy into his new Express line.

Ron and Harry climbed onto the carriage self-consciously, aware that the room (which had been charmed to be bigger than it looked) was already occupied by two middle-aged women and one young man. All noticed the noble clothes immediately, and scrambled simultaneously to the opposite side rather than offend such important notaries.

Just as Harry and Ron sat down and the carriage began its rickety start, a slender, dark witch of obvious wealth if not rank opened the carriage door and slung herself on with ease. The two wizards noticed her immediately.

She had dark black hair that was braided back in a single plain pinned by a soft butterfly clip. Her skin was tea-colored, her eyes almond-shaped and brown. From her ears dangled intricately carved ivory earrings, and she wore a necklace of precious jade. She wore the traditional qi-pao, it's black silk material clinging to her form-fitting curves, its red hem and embroidered dragon standing out beautifully, forming a graceful picture. In her left hand, she carried a fan made of the finest wood ... balthasar, a wood unique in the fact that it could be used as a weapon, cutting through metal like butter when need be. A balthasar fan was, of course, uncommon among women, but some carried them as a sign of wealth, for balthasar wood was difficult to procure (although not that expensive when you came down to it).

"Hello," she said demurely, eyes cast upon the floor. "Would this carriage be taken?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Ron beat him to it. "Of course not," he said brightly. "Sit yourself down."

Her eyes looked up and caught Ron's, eliciting a shiver from him. "Thank you, honorable sirs," she said softly. "At the other carriages, I have not been as welcome."

"Why not?" Ron asked, suitably indignant.

Her countenance grew sad. "Unfortunately, many in the land of Gaea hold grudges against the dwellers of Avalon, especially of Isisa."

"You come from Isisa?" Ron controlled his flinch.

He was unaware that Parvati's trained eyes caught his imperceptible move away from her immediately, and that she despised him for it. Avalon was despised in Gaea for many reasons, but mainly because she prized equality. In Avalon, a Muggle was as equal as a Wizard or Witch. A woman had as much power as a man. Werewolves, vampires, and other afflicted humans had rights.

But Avalon took it to extremes. The feudal system with its aristocracy hadn't exactly been abolished, but it barely hung on by a thread, and no one regarded it. In Avalon, the Dark Arts were practiced freely, and although it was used to save lives, it was also often used to destroy lives. But the executive force of Avalon was poor, and could not control the amount of the Dark Magic being practiced. There were many deaths and the crime rate was high. The stereotypical Gaean was a stuffy bureaucrat who had too much time on his hands and was prejudiced against everyone except himself. The stereotypical Avalonian was a Muggle afflicted female who practiced the Dark Arts and was "diseased". It was a contradiction, of course, but only a stereotype.

Parvati smoothed out her qi-pao, and sat down in the seat across from Harry and Ron. She hid her scorn well, despite the fact that she was itching to show this chauvinistic pig that Avalonians were just as good as Gaeans.

"So, what brings you to Galena?" Harry asked absentmindedly, making conversation only because he was bored.

Parvati had prepared her story carefully beforehand. "I am visiting Serith," she said, naming a religiously cloistered village in northwestern Gaea. "Or rather, I was. My younger sister is a member of the Order of Mercy, and it was due time that I visited her." In other words, her younger sister was disowned for some reason or other, and she had been sent to visit her as reminder that the same fate could fall upon her. "However, Serith is having its sabbatical currently, so I am heading towards Arleth, where I shall take a ship home." Serith's sabbatical was a random event that took place once a century where the village was completely sealed off, and its members spent day and night fasting and praying to the stars for a month.

"Do you not have a Companion?" Harry asked out of passing curiousity. It was rare for a young lady to travel unchaperoned.

"I am meeting her at Elinieth," she said, naming the most prominent of the Eliniac villages. "My prior Companion fell ill and was thus discharged from my service. Unfortunately, I had to leave Mayet" a village south of Serith "because my family had summoned me to return immediately."

"Elinieth?" Ron inquired, curious as to why a Companion would be found in so remote a village.

"She had to take care of her ill mother," Parvati said by way of explanation. She sensed that if this conversation continued, more and more of her history would be revealed, more than she had been prepared for. She preferred not to lie, as it always confused her stories, and were often hard to keep straight. She pretended that she had not been staring at Harry and Ron out of the corner of her eye, assessing them even as she sat, and looked up. She purposefully let her gaze fall upon their black and gold robes, and let out a small gasp. "Do I have the honor of addressing Chosen Lords?"*****

Ron, noticing her glance, nodded for Harry to speak. Harry was technically in charge, was higher-ranking, and had the right to determine how much to tell the girl.

Harry, meanwhile, had decided that the girl's act wasn't entirely believable yet. "We're only Minor Lords," he said. "Our father wishes us to see the Chosen Lords in action, as we may well be Chosen ourselves someday."

Parvati nodded politely, but inwardly, she was controlling her scorn. Minor Lords indeed. When did Minor Lords have enough money to buy such expensive black-and-white pendants? When did Minor Lords begin wearing the colors of the Jade Emperor? "Do you share the same father, then?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips, which was hidden thanks to her expensive fan that she was using to fan herself with. She didn't need it, of course. She had just as much magic as the next witch. But the stupid nobles actually thought casting a Cooling Charm was "beneath them", and they preferred to sweat away while fanning themselves with expensive but ineffectual hunks of wood they called fans.

"And may I inquire as to the name of the lovely lady seated before me," Ron asked dashingly while still remaining within the rules of propriety.

Parvati pretended to blush, fanning herself quickly with her fan so that it seemed she was extremely flustered and embarrassed."My full name is Parvani Petals," she said, giving her fake name. "But I am more commonly know as Parva." Parva wasn't too much of a variant from Parv, and was acceptable as a nickname, where as Parv would not have been. That way, she wouldn't find herself forgetting to answer to her own name.

"Parvani Petals," Harry murmured. "It suits you. So what part of Avalon are you from?"

Parvati smiled secretively. "Isisa, of course. The budding bloom of civilization. Also the hometown of the Armani Sorcerers and Eleta Sorceresses." Armani and Eleta were well-known fashion designers whose clothes were in high demand by the ladies of court. They had co-founded the A&E S&S Robes, though more people referred to as Armani's for Sorcerers or Eleta for Sorceress's, depending on the branch. "And from what region of Gaea do you come? Where exactly do you plan to visit?"

Ron took up the conversation. "We're from just outside of Atlantis, and we're visiting Chosen Lord Zabini of the Eliniac Villages."

"Wasn't there recently a flood there?" Parvati asked, curious as to what Harry and Ron thought about their assignment besides indignation. Were they like some nobles who wouldn't care if the peasants up and died? she wondered. Or did they really care, and would try hard if not for the extenuating circumstances they were under?

Ron waved his hand. "There's a flood there every decade or so. All they need is food, money, and places to live."

"They'll probably need to put some sort of buttress to keep off the water," Harry mused.

"Perhaps a dike of sorts?" Ron suggested.

"An escarpment to keep out off the flood waters," Harry considered.

Parvati felt it was time to put her own two cents in. "My previous Companion said something about flood waters making soil fertile." She put on her blankest stare. "Whatever that means. Floods can't be good. They make people die and everything." She tittered brainlessly, almost wincing inside at how silly she sounded.

No matter how foolish she thought herself, Harry and Ron pounced upon what she said immediately. Soon, they were bouncing ideas off of each other, trying to decide what best to do. It didn't take long for Parvati to lose the train of conversation, though she smiled because she knew that hidden under her tight, slinky dress was a Recorder that was Transcribing the conversation. As soon as she had time, she would have it Translated into code, and send it off to Herm to puzzle out.

She sat back and sighed. This mission was a breeze so far.

*****Meanwhile*****

Draco Malfoy rarely smiled. He rarely had reason to smile. Smirk, maybe. Sneer, certainly. But smile? Only once in a blue moon. What reason did he have to smile? Brought up in the backstabbing, doubletiming world of politics, he had learned its rules as a baby and bided by those rules his entire life. Nobody did favors unless they expected something in return. Everybody had reasons for things they did. Spontaneity and impulsiveness were soon quashed if you stayed within the palace long enough.

But now, Draco Malfoy was smiling. He was smiling gleefully, as a matter of fact. He had just put his two archrivals out of commission (for the duration of the selection of the heir if not permanently). They had also taken it upon themselves to disgrace themselves in the eyes of the Emperor (however minimally) just before their departure, leaving the Emperor with a bad last impression of them. Their own ally ... was a girl, and a foreigner, to boot. They had no chance.

Brought up in a cold lifestyle by Narcissa Menille (called Han Fei****** behind her back) Draco had learned how to control his feelings. He learned not to whine, not to complain, not to tell anyone anything. He learned how to hide behind a mask, how to be cruel and vindictive, and how to make sure he always got his way.

Smiling, he had learned from his governess, who only smiled (rather maliciously) when she was about to teach him a lesson. He had picked up the habit of smiling when he was sure something was about to happen, and that something would benefit him. And now he smiled.

Unfortunately for Draco Malfoy, he did not know that the despised foreign woman had an ace up her sleeve. Several aces, as a matter of fact. And she hadn't even begun drawing them out yet ...

*****Meanwhile*****

Hermione Granger contemplated the letter thoughtfully. Although she certainly wasn't going to obey it much less hold it anything but contempt, it would be foolish to disregard it completely. It was always better to be cautious, and examine your options. The note read as follows:

To the Most Esteemed Miss Granger:

I'm afraid I must warn you that continued acquaintance with and advocacy of Messrs. Potter and Weasley could prove hazardous to your health. As I'm sure such a cautious mind as yourself as examined your options closely beforehand, I must point out that this is politics and there is no room for the political world for women. Especially foreign women. It would undoubtedly most benefit you if you remained where you belong.

If this letter does not convince you to butt out of the mens' world, I'm afraid that steps shall have to be taken, and you and I both know that those steps could be hazardous to you and those dear to you.

Consider yourself warned. I hope we shall not have to correspond thus again.

-b M

The letter/note would have been amusing had it not promised such danger. Hermione had known that Malfoy would know of her alliance almost immediately, but she was surprised he had responded so instantaneously. She had not yet received a letter confirming her alliance, and he was sending her threatening letters.

This worried her. Malfoy was overconfident. Too confident. He couldn't have underestimated her that much, which meant that he had a plan ... some plan she didn't know about. She opened her mouth to summon Parvati, but remembered that Parvati was not there. Abruptly, she felt a stab of irrational loneliness. Whereas before, of the twins one would scout for information, the other would always be at her side, accompanying her. She had grown close to Parvati and Padma this way, and they were some of her closest friends.

She breathed deep breaths. There was no use dwelling on the inevitable. Instead, her thoughts returned to the letter. Malfoy may have been arrogant, but he never underestimated his enemies. Never. Had he found out about Parvati and Padma somehow? She desperately hoped not. Her entire plan relied on them. She closed her eyes as her mind swarmed with possibilities. Almost immediately, her mind settled into the blankness of meditation, even as she began meticulously sorting through her thoughts. She was aware of all that was around her, of course, but meditation was an Avalonian trend ... Gaeans tended to be too impatient to try it, while Avalonians were brought up to weather the storm.

Her thoughts cleared, and she dwelled in the meditative trance until the familiar tapping rhythm on the window stirred her. She glanced up and saw the familiar face shared by Padma and Parvati, and pointed her wand at it. "Alohomora," she murmured complacently, and watched with half-lidded eyes as Padma walked in. Gathering up energy, she forced herself to shake off the lethargy that followed meditation and prepared herself for long hours of strategizing.

"Report," she said crisply, mind already whirling.

"Possible allies Finnigan, Thomas, Chang, and Wood confirmed. Possible ally Weasley uncontacted. Possible allies Bulstrode, Parkinson, Clearwater, and Jordan rejected. Possible allies Diggory, Spinnet, and Davies unconfirmed."

Hermione ran the information through her head.

Seamus Finnigan was one of the lesser sons of the Emperor who wasn't likely to inherit much or even hold a court position. His mother also being foreign, he was a target of Draco, too, and had much to gain from this alliance. Of course, if he ever found out that his alliance was with a princess rather than a masked man, he would probably break the alliance immediately. When it came to women in politics, even if persons involved are not aware of the fact that their ally is of the opposite gender, they are still prosecuted. He would make a good ally as long as he did not find out her secret.

Dean Thomas as the Leader of the Arts Movement. He was a liberalistic, freethinking man who led the movement for greater appreciation of the arts, be it painting, music, acting, or carving. Hermione had long considered him a talented man as well as a very useful ally, as many people looked up to him and would be willing to do anything for him. He was also a useful ally, and she was glad he had agreed to this alliance.

Oliver Wood was Captain of the Guard of the Imperial Palace. He was an incredibly useful ally, as he had much power and could be almost fanatic at times about fulfilling his promises. Since he had agreed to this alliance, he would honor it to his death, and Hermione was confident that he would not report her to the Emperor even if he found out her part in this. Not only would it go against his sense of honor, it would also be a blow to his ego.

Cho Chang. Now there was someone peculiar. She was the youngest daughter of the Lune Emperor of Apollis*******, and was visiting from the capital city of Dians. Apollis was a small country, smaller than Avalon, and was seeking to confirm an alliance with Gaea by marrying Moon Princess Cho off to one of the various Jade Princes. Apollis was a country less strict about suppressing womens' rights, and Cho no doubt recognized the oppression the royalty of Gaea practiced. Hopefully, she was appalled. She promised to be a powerful ally if she happened to be loyal. She was also somewhat of an unknown, as she never appeared in daylight except when summoned by the Jade Emperor and no one knew much of her. Hermione had contacted her on a hunch, and had kept much of the true nature of the contract hidden. And the Moon Princess had, apparently, agreed.

Now, as for Weasley ... Guinevere Weasley was the sister (not half-sister) of Ron, and had his red hair and blue eyes. She was a meek, elegant slip of a girl not yet old enough to be brought out in society ... but that was something of a faux pas her mother had unwittingly committed. Guinevere, called Ginny by her closest friends, was a socialite and there was no doubt about that. She was also the type with fading beauty that would only last for a limited number of years, and Guinevere knew that. Hermione did not know the true nature of Guinevere, but she did know that the particular alliance she offered Guinevere would seem enticing. Why she was uncontacted remained a mystery ...

"Padma, why was Weasley uncontacted?"

Padma looked up, and Hermione saw a tense look on her face. She mentally made a note to see what was stressing her so. "I was about to prepare the offer, but ..." There was a frown on her face. "I saw a carriage in front of her mothers' rooms, where she resides. I could have sworn the carriage was that of Malfoy's but Malfoy wasn't at the Weasleys'. In fact, I later heard him contacting Parkinson."

Parkinson. Polisha Parkinson. Polisha was, as a matter of fact, the shadowed sister of Pansy Parkinson, the betrothed of Draco Malfoy. Hermione would have thought that Parkinson, with her history of being vindictive and vengeance-seeking would have joined her alliance, if only because it would be a strike against Malfoy, which would result in a strike against her sister Pansy. Apparently, she had calculated wrong.

"How much does she know?" Hermione demanded, contemplating having Padma Obliviate Parkinson, who was most liable to betray them if she so chose.

"Nothing," Padma shrugged. "I heard her concluding an alliance with Malfoy that gave her a lot of benefits. I knew that there was nothing we could offer that could compete with Malfoy's power."

Hermione nodded. Padma had always been good at making spur-of-the-moment decisions which rarely resulted in disaster. She began to brood. Bulstrode, Clearwater and Jordan, huh.

Millicent Bulstrode was, as there was no nicer way of putting it, a troll. She possessed no looks whatsoever, and liked to perpetrate the theory that she had no brains. Hermione had penetrated this facade some number of years ago, and had remained as far away from the woman as possible, as if Millicent decided she knew too much, she was more than capable of hiring an assassin. Although Hermione was confident that Padma and Parvati could defeat any off-the-street assassin, she would rather not let Millicent know that she had assassins, much less used them as regular bodyguards.

"What did Bulstrode say?" Hermione asked.

Padma turned away, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "She swore a Blood Oath that she would never tell anybody else, probably so I wouldn't Obliviate her. She said that there was too much at risk for her to join the alliance. I think someone else knows of her facade, and she has to keep that someone else happy."

"Malfoy?" Hermione inquired.

Padma nodded curtly. "I checked the carriage-house records. Malfoy has visited Bulstrode's sectional a number of times this week."

Hermione nodded.

Clearwater. Penelope Clearwater was the perfect epitome of a young lady of Gaea. She was polite, prim, and proper. The three Ps. She was also a feminist at heart, an incredibly intelligent mind, and would have been a brilliant ally. Hermione did not worry about Penelope, who would never betray them, if only because she knew that when she did so, she too would be incriminated. She had hoped to gain Penelope's help in her venture, but perhaps she was better off without such a shaky ally whose ladylike instincts could overcome her intelligent intuition at any given moment.

"And Lee Jordan?"

That had certainly been a surprise. She knew for a fact that the Head of the Servants' Quarters was a genial, well-liked man who had no strikes on his records and should be interested in such an offer.

"He proved to be incredibly anti-feminist and threatened to take me, the messenger, to court. He thought you were a man, of course, or else he would have cried for justice******** immediately. I had to Obliviate him." Padma's tone was impassive, but her eyes were shaken.

Hermione, too, was surprised that the man who had willingly provided her with Winky could be so archconservative he was willing to take a messenger to court. Messengers were almost untouchable in Gaea, as one of Gaea's favorite saying went "Don't kill the messenger or you'll have to get a new one." There were rude variations of it, involving sending Howlers back to the person who had actually sent the messenger, of course.

And, of course, there were the uncontacted Diggory, Spinnet, and Davies.

Duke Cedric Diggory was a humane man whose peasants had been targeted (mainly) by Draco's mass murders and had come to court to complain about some serial murderer. Unfortunately, there had been no contact with him tonight. The longer she waited, the riskier her chances became.

Comtesse Alicia Spinnet was a well-known Compatriotess who supported radical ideas and beliefs. The only reason that she hadn't been persecuted yet was the fact that she was, at current, a lover of the Emperor. The moment their brief affair ended, of course, Alicia had no illusions that she would be executed. Rumor had it that she already had her bags packed, ready for the moment (that seemed to never come) in which the Emperor would end their relationship and she would be forced to run. She had always been a risky chance at best ...

"Don't contact Spinnet," Hermione decided. "It's too risky. She's too close to the Emperor."

Padma nodded.

And then there was Roger Davies, head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad of Gaea, commonly referred to as the MLES. Roger Davies also happened to be a secret leader of the Socialist Party which sought to overthrow monarchy and put up a socialistic democratic government in its place, much similar to the one in Avalon (although being on the government in Avalon also depended largely on one's magical talent).

Hermione leaned back. So far, nothing had happened. But she had no doubt that Draco Malfoy was planning something, and he would strike soon.

When he struck though, she would be waiting for him.