The Price of Peace

Chapter I

Saturday, December 21, 1996

The six friends were sitting together on the holiday train to London, taking a break from patrolling. Relations were still a bit strained over the peace proposed by The Movement for Pure-Bloods.

Draco Malfoy opened the door from the corridor, and stood there, smirking.

Harry sighed. "Something to say, Malfoy?"

"No, no; just enjoying the sight of one of the last Mud-bloods to attend Hogwarts."

"Unlikely," Hermione said in a bored voice.

"Improbable," agreed Ginny, in the same tone.

"Any other clever observations?" Neville added.

Malfoy scowled.

"Krum did that much better," commented Ron, keeping up the tone.

"No, Krum could do it without getting so red," Harry pointed out.

"But is that a failure on Draco's part, or an added attraction?" Luna asked.

"You'll all be the ones . . . the ones . . . ."

"Mocked?" Ginny asked.

"Ridiculed?" Hermione asked.

"Scorned?" Ron asked.

"Jeered?" Neville asked.

"Derided?" Harry asked.

"He doesn't seem to have much of a vocabulary today, does he?" Luna asked the group.

Malfoy tried to slam the door as he left, but it merely slid shut a little on the hard side.

"It was nice for Malfoy to try to keep up the tradition," Harry commented. "I almost missed it last September."

"To bad he didn't reach for his wand," Ron said. "I really like the new tradition of hexing the little ferret."

There was a lull in the conversation. "Life will be different when we get back," Hermione finally said.

The rest of the group looked at her, puzzled.

"January Sixth is the first day of classes. Either life is going to get harder because of this peace, whatever it is, or the wizarding world will be split and in a civil war."

"Merry Christmas," Neville said, bitterly.

"Joy to the world," added Ginny.

"Peace on Earth, good will to man," Harry said with a sigh.

"And yet it does look so peaceful," Ron said, looking out at the fields they were passing. "There should be hope."

"God, bless us, every one," Hermione quoted.

"She will," Luna said, serenely. The group each smiled slightly, and again lapsed into silence.

Harry stared out the window, worried about the night.

The week before, Harry had been called into a meeting with Dumbledore, Snape, and his cousin Edward Potter, the new Runes professor at Hogwarts.

"Harry," Dumbledore started, "would you consider not going back to Potter Place for the start of the holidays?"

"You mean you want me to stay here?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"No," Snape stated, as if Harry should know better than to ask such a question, "anywhere but here or Potter Place. How about your other relatives?"

"No!" Harry stated quickly and firmly. Then he asked, puzzled, "Why?"

Snape rolled his eyes, but Edward broke in, "Come on, Severus, it's not THAT obvious!" He turned to Harry. "To be blunt, between your own growing abilities in Occlumency and the protections that are in place here and at Potter Place, there's no chance that you and Voldemort will make a mental connection."

"And that's bad?" Harry asked.

"Normally, no," Snape admitted. "At the moment, if you are willing, it could be very helpful."

"Why?"

"Because we are getting some very odd information," Dumbledore told Harry.

"As you should know," Snape took up the tale, "many of the Death Eaters were appalled to learn that Tom Riddle was the worst sort of half-blood. Reports have reached us that, in fact, rather than helping him heal, they are torturing Riddle. They would like to kill him, but are afraid that if anyone other than you kills him, he will merely be disembodied again."

"And therefore able to come back?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," Snape agreed. "The same applies if the peace is made, and Riddle is given up. You're unlikely to execute him, and wherever he is imprisoned, he will then recover and at some point, probably after you're long gone, he will be back. And next time, he will be after everyone."

"He has made several major miscalculations since his come-back," Dumbledore stated. "His young, hungry Death Eaters had found places in society and were less than enthusiastic; his Associate was a better schemer; you were more powerful. He wasted his time over the Prophecy instead of firming up his positions."

Dumbledore halted a moment, as if to ask for questions, then continued. "We do not know for certain if all this is a plot against Voldemort, or a plot by Voldemort. We could only know if you make contact with him. We do not ask this lightly, but will understand if you prefer not to."

"I'd prefer not to, but I . . . might," Harry decided. "Not at the Dursleys!"

"You would not be alone," Dumbledore told Harry. "One of us would be with you, and if there is someone you truly trust, they could travel with your mind as well. It would not be easy to arrange, but not terribly difficult, either."

"Who would you feel most comfortable with?" Edward asked. "I can be with you, but I think you would need someone else as well, one of your friends, whom you can both trust and, most importantly, whom you are willing to let see you at your vulnerable."

Harry thought a moment. "Luna, or Hermione," Harry said after a few moments more.

"Could those two work together?" Snape asked. "The more support you have, the better, Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe."

Dumbledore and Edward exchanged a look. "I shall consider it," Dumbledore finally said. "Professor Snape shall prepare a set of potions which will help you and your friends easily attain the necessary mental states, and maintain your basic control."

"Thank you." Harry paused. "Does this mean the pro-peace negotiations are still going on?"

All three adults sighed. "It looks like they might actually sign something," Edward said.

"And if they do, the enemy goes underground for a while, and when they come out again, they will be more powerful and dangerous," Dumbledore said, "and our culture may be even more divided than it has been this past year."

Harry's attention came back to the present. The train was pulling into the station. Harry had never seen Platform 9 3/4 this time of year. It looked hectic in the autumn and spring, but now it looked cold and deserted. While nearly all the students were leaving for the holidays, not all the students leaving had to take the train.

The sextet walked off onto the half-deserted Platform. All six greeted Molly Weasley and Carole Potter, and then they waited for Edward, who was again one of the teachers on the train.

The crowd quickly thinned out. It was therefore easy to see Mrs. Longbottom (or at least her infamous vulture hat) coming towards the group.

"Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Potter," Mrs. Longbottom said formally, and as always starting with those she deemed most important. "Doctor Potter, children."

Neville blushed, while the three adults greeted the matriarch. Luna clasped Harry's hand, and he could tell from her shaking that she was having a difficult time not giggling. Ron and Ginny, used to their many relatives, bore the treatment well. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes.

"Well," Mrs. Longbottom said briskly a moment later, "no time to lose. Miss Weasley, I hope you are ready?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Ginny said eagerly. She would stay with the Longbottoms until the morning of Christmas Eve.

"Neville, you haven't forgotten anything?"

"No, Grandmother!"

The old lady eyed Neville. "Where's that toad?"

Ginny reached down and pulled Trevor, in a travel-terrarium she and Hermione had procured, out from behind her backpack. "You've raised a fine, intelligent girl there, Mrs. Weasley," Mrs. Longbottom stated. "Come, children!" The pair hurried to catch up.

Edward pulled out a long rope. "You like making portkeys out of ropes, don't you, dear?" Carole teased.

"I hadn't realized until this year how difficult they are to make," Hermione said. "I can't wait to learn!"

"Once you learn to Apparate by coordinates, it will probably come easily to you," Edward told her, making Hermione beam with pride. "Most people can't do them, but you probably can."

Carole, Edward, Hermione, Luna, and Harry took a hold of one piece of rope, and they and their possessions took off. That left Ron with Mrs. Weasley.

"I wish I knew what they were up to," Ron complained.

"They'll tell us all about it Christmas Eve, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "They're going to visit those Dursleys, then they have a little project to do tonight and tomorrow. And no, I do NOT know what it is. Harry will be going to Luna's Monday, and Hermione will be going home. We'll all be with them Christmas Eve and morning." Everyone was to be gathered at Potter Place.

Ron was still sulking a bit. "Cheer up, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "After all, you get to go to Hermione's Christmas night. You won't have to share her then." Ron's ears blazed red, and they exited the Platform together. They were to meet Arthur Weasley for dinner near the Ministry and then take an 8:00 portkey home.

The group portkeyed to a hotel not far from Little Whinging. Hermione went to spend the late afternoon and evening with her parents, whom Edward had convinced, with some trouble, to go along with the plan for the weekend.

Edward drove Carole, Harry, and Luna to Privet Drive (in a new American SUV, not the sports car). Harry dropped off a package at Mrs. Figg's (catnip toys for her many cats), and then they went on to Privet Drive.

Harry had forgotten how sterile Christmas was at the Dursleys. There was a small 'tasteful' wreath on the door, and no other decoration. As it was after dark, the curtains, of whatever Petunia had determined were the current 'correct' shade and style according to the women's magazines, were already closed over the sheer drapes that shielded the interior from prying eyes during the daylight. Near the electrified fireplace would be the small artificial tree, carefully reassembled from the previous years. A 'special angel' lit the top, and one new long strand of tiny unblinking blue lights and one of gold would have been wound around the tree (new each year, so that there would not be any dead lights, or, equally bad to Petunia, slightly mis-matched ones). The 48 ornaments would have been placed exactly where they had been every year, unless Dudley had again broken one last year. Then, a new 'heirloom' would have been purchased.

Harry wondered, resentfully, how Petunia dealt with breakage of any sort, now that he wasn't there to blame. "Probably blames me anyway," Harry muttered.

Luna silently took off her gloves and held Harry's cold hand. His Muggle relatives were the one subject Harry never wanted to talk about in all the times they talked together. When alone in the collapsed tunnel Harry had converted into their den, Harry would talk about anything else Luna was interested in: his fears; his fights with Voldemort; his feelings about his friends and teachers. He had cried in her arms over the death of Sirius more than once. She had cuddled him when the responsibilities he potentially had concerning the ridding of the world of Tom Riddle threatened to over-power him.

But not one word on the Dursleys, other than a few asides when dealing with other matters (summers with the Weasleys and Edward, primarily). Luna had resolutely gotten some of the story from Ginny and Carole. Ginny had then gotten more of the story from Ron and Hagrid to pass on to Luna. Finally, Hermione interceded before any of the males could get suspicious, and told Luna and Ginny everything she knew and surmised as well.

Hermione did not feel she could ever feel totally comfortable with someone like Luna, but she was good for Harry. That was enough for her.

Luna therefore had some idea what the Dursleys were like, although she still had a difficult time believing it. Like many people who had been raised by loving parents, Luna had problems understanding how parents (biological or surrogate) could be out-right abusive. She could understand distant parents, ineffectual parents, overly-indulgent parents (like her own father, after the death of her mother), smotheringly affectionate/concerned parents (the Weasleys' mother sometimes sounded like that, from Ginny's descriptions), even childish parents (like Harry's late godfather). Luna knew parents could just plain bring up children badly (Draco Malfoy seemed to be an example of that, to her mind). She could even understand parents who hurt their child by not understanding what the child needed, or who hurt their child by not loving it enough.

But the emotional abuse she'd been told about was far beyond Luna's comprehension.

The Dursley's hatred of magic made sense only because that possible attitude had been drilled into her as a typical Muggle reaction. She still could not reconcile that with their out-right abuse.

In any event, Luna understood and shared Harry's apprehension. She was half-tempted to shock the Muggles -- to wear her charmed owl earrings, which would blink and hoot, or her mother's old snake bracelet, which would writhe around her wrist. These Muggles knew about magic, after all, and so she could show off, if she had wanted to.

Luna had refrained, however. She was dressed in a plain black and gray outfit, with her mother's heavy winter dark green cloak. Harry took a deep breath, managed to hold himself back from knocking, and opened the door.

"Aunt Petunia," he called in warning, "I'm home!" He took everyone to the sitting room, where the Dursleys were waiting. "Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley, this is my girlfriend Luna Lovegood, and Edward's wife Carole Potter."

"Well," Carole said just after they left nearly two hours later, "that was . . . interesting."

"They were almost pleasant," Harry said. "Aunt Petunia actually made a good effort, for her."

Carole shuddered delicately. "Your uncle wasn't very pleased to see me, was he?" she asked.

"I'm sure he'd like to see the entire wizarding world on birth control," Edward said.

"Hate, as opposed to dislike, is so difficult to related to, unless you share the particular bias," Luna said. "Mrs. Dursley dislikes us because she could not share in our world. She was jealous, and then picked up her husband's biases." Luna knew that the Evans' had been descended from squibs.

"Dudley is also understandable. He grew up in that household, and he's not very bright." She shook her head. "I don't understand Mister Dursley, though; why he has such hatred of our world. Is he from a squib family, too?"

"No," Edward said, "his family has been amazingly well-researched. The Dursleys are a totally-Muggle family as far as we can tell. They became an upper-middle class family, from obscure origins, in the late Eighteenth-century. Over the last three generations, they've dropped into the true middle of the middle class, even though the family has died out and that should have helped concentrate the wealth, even with the Muggle taxation policies." He shrugged. "I doubt if it will survive beyond Dudley."

"But nothing to suggest why he hates me so much?" Harry asked.

"No, not a thing."

Harry, Edward, Carole, Luna, and Hermione gathered in Harry's hotel room around 10:10. "How does this work?" Luna asked, nervously. Harry had retreated into the bathroom.

"The potions open your minds to a degree," Edward explained, "and, with Harry as your focus, you will see what he sees but will not be able to come directly into the vision unless both he and I will it. We cannot invade your minds, nor can you invade mine. Harry will sense your upper-most thoughts -- you will have to really 'speak' with your mind for him to hear you. If you concentrate, however, he will feel your emotions. Remember, you are not here to judge; you have agreed to be here to support Harry."

Both teens nodded.

"It's possible that you will feel the backwash of Harry's emotions," Edward went on. "Well, you should be able to imagine what Harry might feel confronting Voldemort: anger; angst; terror; helplessness; any number of things. That's why Harry picked you two, and not Ron."

Luna and Hermione looked at each other, understanding. "We're ready," Luna said. Hermione nodded her agreement.

"Then take the potions; they take at least fifteen minutes to work, and will last about five to six hours. If we can't make contact tonight, we can't repeat the experiment for at least two weeks."

All three nodded, and the girls drank the first of three potions. Harry finally came out of the bathroom, looking very pale.

"I'll be watching all four of you for signs of stress," Carole told them. She turned to the girls. "I can pull either of you out if I have to without breaking the over-all charm. So, if that happens, try not to struggle."

Harry followed the trail of magic connecting him to Voldemort. It was hard to find at first, but once found, the path was clear. It led him to a dingy room, from which he retreated quickly. Harry retreated until he felt the others: Edward's power; Hermione's intelligence; Luna's peacefulness.

"What's happened?" Edward asked.

"Bellatrix Lestrange was . . . hitting Voldemort with the Cruciatus," Harry explained. "It was hard to tell, but it looked like she'd been at it for quite a while."

"Then we'll wait a bit; whenever she's done, he'll need to rest," Edward said simply. "Unless you want to stop? We have the basic information."

Harry hesitated. There was a lot he could try to do. "No; I'll try for more."

Harry retraced his path just over an hour later.

"I was wondering if you would try and make contact," the familiar hissing voice stated into Harry's mind.

"What?" the voice went on a moment later, "nothing to say to me, Potter?"

"No, no not really. I have most of the information I came for. Is there anything you want to say to us?"

"Us?" There was a pause. Harry really couldn't totally focus in on images yet, but he felt in control of himself. "Ah, I sense your cousin behind you. He is indeed powerful, and you have been well-trained. I wondered why I could not penetrate your defenses."

"You're being tortured, and all you can think of is attacking me?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes!" Voldemort hissed. "I will find a way to survive my betrayal!"

"How?" Harry demanded. "You tried to lead a group who only believe in blood, when you don't really have what they care about."

"I have made errors," Voldemort conceded. "Those people weakened while I was gone. I should have killed them all and started over! And I should have killed that little bastard for real!"

"What do you mean, for real . . . you mean your Associate!"

"That was another mistake," Voldemort acknowledged. "I pretended to kill him, and sent him to America to set up an organization for me. After I . . . encountered you a few months later, he started thinking himself independent. I should have secured Britain first, then moved across the Atlantic."

"Who . . . who is he?"

"You know who the bastard is, Potter! That driven little twerp! Always in the shadows, brilliant but always looking up to the stronger! He was almost as bad as Wormtail."

"Who!" Harry commanded.

"Regulus Black."