Chapter Text
Standing at the window T’Challa looked down at the village of Little Hangleton which stretched out before him. The quaint place reminded him of the outer farm lands which his people left undeveloped both for appearance sake and to give those in the city a place to retreat.
The village was one of Harriet Potter’s many pet projects. Since acquiring Riddle Manor Britain’s hero had been encouraging those who were magically aware to move into the village while gently manipulating the locals to leave for ‘greener pastures.’ The goal was simple. In a couple decades Miss Potter intended for the village to be a safe place for magicals to raise children while still being able to maintain a foot in the muggle world, something the exclusively magical villages her Ministry were creating did not allow for. Miss Potter was dedicated enough to this plan that she invested her own money to relocate those who were willing to move to the village but unable to afford it. A small but noticeable portion of those taking part in this venture were the non-magical families of muggleborns and half-bloods as they were aware of magic but not of the community and there for were deeply entrenched the muggle world with varied backgrounds as to not draw unwanted attention.
In Wakanda involving such people in magical affairs was unthinkable.
Back home magical and nonmagical were seen as equals though true squibs only made up a small portion of their population. Muggles were respected but unequivocally seen as other. There had not been a muggle in Wakanda for centuries. War dogs occasionally found love with those they came into contact with while on missions in the outside world. The children of these matches were seen as Wakandans and welcomed to return to their lands but the same invitation was not extended to their other parent and outside family. This was not because these relatives lacked magic. It would be the same should a war dog choose to join with a magical. An outsider was an outsider. For the sake of secrecy and maintaining their ways it could not be allowed. Such was the declaration of the rules of the past, their word upheld as law by the current King, T’Challa’s father, T’Chaka.
When the debriefing regarding Miss Potter’s efforts in Little Hangleton was presented to the council most were quick to admonish her and the British Ministry for the risk they put all magicals in by not only allowing outsiders to know of their people but involving them in magical affairs. T’Challa noticed that despite his usual views on these matter T’Chaka remained quiet, letting the others speak while keeping his opinions to himself.
When it came to his own views T’Challa found himself in conflict. He knew what tradition dictated and the law prohibited but Nakia’s arguments weighed on his mind. Since going out into the world on her missions as a War Dog Nakia’s views had fallen firmly out of alignment with tradition. She had become firmly opposed to the idea that they needed to remain isolated. It was her belief that they could provide a positive influence on the world while still protecting their people and the Wakandan way of life. Nakia believed supporting Miss Potter’s work to collaborate and learning from one another was a perfect opportunity to begin gently reintegrating. T’Challa’s father and the rest of the council unanimously disagreed. To them isolation was the only way that Wakanda could go on thriving.
Miss Potter and her efforts toward collaboration and innovating were seen as the greatest threat to Wakanda’s security since Ulysses Klaue. Through unknown means the man had been able to breech their boarders, killing several of theirs including W’Kabi’s parents, before making off with a quarter-ton of vibranium and since his escape had inexplicably managed to evade capture. The threat Miss Potter posed was without Klaue’s maliciousness, greed, or purposefulness, but was no less concerning.
The muggles were years behind Wakanda in development. The likes of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner caused some stir but their limits meant the threat muggles held as a whole was seen as negligible. Their magicals cousins were another story. If the magical world as they were at that moment were to turn against Wakanda there was no doubt that the war to follow would be devastating on both sides, an end to secrecy, and possibly an end to Wakanda. Because of this it was a comfort to their people that the rest of the magical world had long grown stagnate and lazy. Occasionally there would be a burst of development usually attributed to a single or handful of individuals but rarely was it sustained. The change Miss Potter orchestrated was not only sustaining itself but growing. No longer were their cousin stagnate and while not their intention their progress made them a greater threat to Wakanda. That alone had given them reason to sit up and take attention. That the research Miss Potter was sponsoring now led to an interest in vibranium caused notice to transform into alarm.
Wakanda’s isolation kept them from conflict. In keeping from conflict they were able to thrive. During their centuries of peace Wakanda’s investment in themselves rather than war provided each of their citizens the opportunity to reach their greatest potential through education, training, and care. Along with the advantages their monopoly on vibranium provided them both magically and technologically this allowed them to prosper beyond what was believed to be the limits of humankind. If the magical world learned the value of vibranium and came to covet it Wakanda would be entering a new and uncertain age of interest in their Kingdom which would threaten their secrecy. Worse if the rest of the world got their hands on vibranium they could quickly loose what advantage they had. King T’Chaka was determined this not happen.
Miss Potter did not want their vibranium to make weapons. She wanted the vibranium to make life saving potions and find other means of bettering life for all people without discrimination, but cauldrons could easily be melted down for repurpose and so the King would not be accepting her proposal.
They could have declined from home. They did not need to pay Miss Potter the courtesy of turning her down in person, they did not need to send royalty to do it, but the opportunity to meet her and get a measure of ‘Britain’s guiding light’ was an opportunity T’Chaka was disinclined to let pass. As for T’Challa, the purposes for his father bringing him on this visit were less than honorable.
The plan had been for the Black Panther to infiltrate one of Miss Potter’s facilities in the hopes of discovering just how much her people had uncovered regarding the true extent of vibranium’s uses and commit sabotage if necessary by stealing back her supply of the metal. However T’Challa had only gotten close enough to see the buildings of the campus in the distance before triggering a security measure which alerted the guards to his presence. Since stealth was the priority of his visit and he had no interest in engaging the guards he left then.
After his failed attempt T’Challa spent his night leaving a false trail leading back to Spain before returning to England to report to his father and stand by his side for their meeting that day in the former Manor house.
From the outside it appeared that having been abandoned the manor had fallen into disrepair. It was T’Challa’s understanding that the manor once belonged to a family known as the Riddles, the patriarchal ancestors of the late Tom Riddle, known formally to the world only as the self declared Lord Voldemort. After acquiring the manor Miss Potter arranged to ensure it would appear unchanged from the outside before remodeling the interior into a hotel where she could house guests who came from other lands to visit her ministry, herself, or to work at one of her campuses. Eventually when the village was secured the manor would be made into a hotel on the muggle side as well allowing magicals a secure place to stay while still remaining on the muggles’ radar.
For this visit their party had been given exclusive domain of the hotel with all other guests relocated making the staff the only ones present who were not of Wakanda. Despite the presentation of privacy and security all of their people remained cautious of what they showed here. That vigilance was taking its toll, exasperated by T’Challa’s failure and what was at stake. They were all eager to return home.
“My Prince. My King,” Okoye said calling T’Challa’s attention back to the dining room and a grand room it was with its tall enchanted ceiling, grand fixtures, and towering windows which made the space appear even larger for the perceived openness to the outside.
Normally the dinning room of the hotel was open to the public but for the remainder of their visit this had been changed. Until they left the dinning room was closed to outside service but this did not stop it operating as it normally would. In the day a buffet was put out and added to as the hours passed with the seating varied and arranged in a more casual fashion. Come night the buffet went away and the space was transformed into a fine dinning experience. Some of their people complained about the food on offer but T’Challa appreciated the new experiences and enjoyed it all the more for Shrui’s whining when he reported to her about their day and all she was missing out on. As much as he teased Challa had already arranged with the kitchen staff that a large create of their specialities be packaged and preserved to be brought home to his sister and mother. It would not completely stop Shuri from complaining about missing out but it would help.
“Harriet Potter and her party have arrived,” Okoye reported.
“And who is with her,” the King asked as he rose from his seat at the low square table they had claimed while T’Challa moved to stand at his father side. Around them a host of the Dora Milage and King’s Guard were dispersed about the room, positioned to try to appear at ease.
“She brought no guards,” Okoye declared with a slight frown. “Her cousin is absent from her side but two of his assistants come in his place, and one of hers is present as well. They are being screened by our guards now.”
“Which assistants,” the King asked.
“Harriet Potter’s Head Percy Weasley, John Potter’s Head Gabrielle Delacour, and one Blaise Zabini.”
According to their intelligence that meant Miss Potter was coming into these negotiations believing there would be no easy deal forthcoming.
T’Chaka made a considering noise. “Where is her cousin?”
“That is unknown my King.”
There had been no declarations that John Potter would attend this meeting but given his reputation for protectiveness of his cousin and how important this deal was to Miss Potter they had expected him to be there.
Through the large double doors at the entrance to the Dinning Room came Miss Potter and her party led by a pair of Dora Milage. Despite standing as tall as M’Baku Miss Potter’s presence lacked the intimidation the Leader of the Jaban Tribe impacted on those around him. As they expected from her due to reports and images Harriet Potter exuded calm with a welcoming smile that seemed not an act but genuine as she allowed her party to be led through the room before stopping a polite distance away to be introduced.
“My Prince. My King. I present Blaise Zabini, Gabrielle Delacour, Percy Weasley, and Harriet Potter,” the guard announced.
“Miss Potter,” T’Chaka greeted with a small smile and a nod of his head.
“Your Majesty,” Miss Potter returned. Her smile temporarily stretched farther as she returned with the bowing of her head and presented the same to T’Challa. “Prince T’Challa.”
Greetings out of the way her smile settled back into its easy up turn. Gesturing at the table by which they had been waiting she asked, “May we?”
“Of course,” the King allowed.
Rather than seating herself across from them as they had expected Miss Potter sat herself at the center seat of three on the side of the table to their right leaving one empty seat and T’Challa between herself and the King. Mister Weasley took the seat to her left while the other two took the seats across from T’Challa and his father.
Wanting to be close to act should things go wrong three of their King’s guard came forward to take the seats on the empty side of the table.
Not wasting time on small talk Miss Potter broached the reason for their meeting. “Dare I hope the purpose for you're personally coming all this way is that you are considering accepting our proposal?”
“Unfortunately not,” T’Chaka corrected, conveying only a hint of regret. “We came as we wished to show you the respect of explaining in person why we must reject your generous offer.”
Miss Potter’s expression dropped though she fought off showing her disappointment. “Oh.”
“Vibranium is more than a mere commodity to our people. It is the foundation of our history. To part with the sum you are requesting would be too much,” the King explained being careful with his words. All their people walked wrapped in protections against a Seer’s gift but with one of Miss Potter’s potency T’Chaka dared not speak a complete falsehood and risk triggering her keen perception.
“We can negotiate for a smaller amount,” Miss Potter supplied eagerly, a hint of desperation underling her words.
Not wanting to provide false hope T’Chaka raised his hand to stop her. “I am afraid that I and my people are decided on this matter. There will be no trade.”
Miss Potter closed her eyes, taking in the words as though they were a physical blow, but she was not done yet. Reopening her eyes she showed her famous fire. “King T’Chaka, I beg you to reconsider. It is no exaggeration to say this deal going through would save lives. Being allowed to mass produce this single potion will save hundreds if not thousands who otherwise will parish. But we cannot brew it without natural vibranium and none of our efforts to create it using magic or science have been able to properly replicate this extraordinary metal.
“You are the only source we have left before we’ll be forced to turn to the vastness of space, exploring the stars for what we need. I have hunted down all the vibranium available through both the muggle and magical markets. I’d steal the good Captain’s shield if not for fear of drawing undo attention, and if you turn us down I may just resort to it besides for the cauldron or two it could give us. Name your price and I will do everything in my power to meet it. Money, resources, manpower, whatever it is you need I will work to get it for you. In Merlin’s name, I’ll sell my hand in marriage or offer my body as a surrogate if needs must. Just please, please don’t turn us down outright. Give us a chance to sway you. There has to be something you want.”
T’Challa felt some guilt settle in his heart for driving such a noble woman renowned for her composure and reserved nature to such desperation but looking to his father he could see the King would not be swayed.
“I apologize,” T’Chaka said rising to his feet. The rest of the Wakandans present rose with him. “But there will be no business between us. There is no price you can offer. I came to see that you understand you must move on to seeking your answers through other avenues.”
Miss Potter rose as well but the others with her remained in their seats.
“Please your Majesty. At least let us show you the good this trade could do. We could allow you to tour our facilities and interview our head researchers as well as those who’ve already been cured thanks to our work with vibranium so that you might hear their stories.”
This possibly intrigued T’Challa. He looked to his father to see if he would accept but the King was frowning. T’Challa could see T’Chaka would not indulge the possibility of negotiations, not even for a chance at what T’Challa had failed to access.
“I am sorry,” T’Chaka imparted, “but it cannot be. We are anxious to return home and intend to leave in only a few hours.”
“So soon,” Miss Potter asked shocked.
“I am sorry this day did not bring what you were hoping for Miss Potter. I wish you the best of luck in finding a way to move forward without the vibranium,” T’Chaka imparted sincerely.
Miss Potter forced a smile for him. “Thank you King T’Chaka.”
With that the King left. The bulk of their protection detail followed after him.
T’Challa lingered behind taking in the group they were leaving. Miss Potter looked devastated, Miss Delacour disappointed, and the men angry. Both Mister Weasley and Mister Zabini glared with Mister Weasley only tempering himself slightly better than Mister Zabini who looked on the Prince with open contempt.
***
T’Challa was waiting with his father in their suite for the time when their Portkey would see them to France, the first in a long chain of stops before they reached home. It would have been preferable to take their own transport but on official excursions outside of Wakanda they traveled in the ways which limited the rest of the world. Portkeys at least were better than plane journeys.
There was still some time before they were expected to leave. T’Chaka filled it with a rare diversion into recreational reading while T’Challa thought over some improvements which might be implemented to his Black Panther Armor.
With the minutes ticking down until their departure one of the guards entered with news.
“My King, the wizard Zabini has returned. He is alone and requesting to speak with you.”
Though surprised Miss Potter would try again T’Chaka allowed for the meeting.
Entering the room Zabini showed none of the openness or trust Miss Potter had when dealing with them. His face was already set in a scowl. One that became a sneer as he spoke.
“King T’Chaka. Prince T’Challa,” he addressed with a sarcastic edge to the required address. He stood perfectly straight with no bowing of his head.
Reacting to his tone the King looked to his son signaling T’Challa to answer to show that Zabini was not worthy of T’Chaka’s personally responding.
“What is it that has brought you here…” T’Challa asked trailing off as though he did not know the man’s name. Despite the obvious invitation to introduce himself that should have had Zabini falling back on good British pureblood manners, he said nothing. When it became clear he would not indulge them no matter how long they waited T’Challa continued. “We thought it had been made clear that our business with Miss Potter was concluded.”
Zabini rolled his eyes. “Oh, you did at that, but I’m here not here on her behalf. I am here as an agent of the International Confederation of Wizards to represent our interests in this matter.”
Instantly the Wakandans in the room were on edge though they were too disciplined to show it.
“We were under the impression you worked for Mister Potter as an assistant,” T’Challa prompted while Zabini walked over to one of the chairs near the King.
Sitting himself down Zabini shrugged. “It gets me where the ICW wants me to be.”
Having his suspicions the King asked, “And where is that?”
Zabini turned his disproving gaze on T’Chaka. “Keeping an eye on the Potters while insuring their work develops in a way that benefits the magical world as a whole while protecting secrecy. At the moment that means stepping in to deal with the fact that you’ve denied the Potters the vibranium they need to move forward as intended.”
“And why would that be of concern to the ICW,” T’Challa asked playing ignorant on his father’s behalf.
With his sneer back in place, Zabini asked sardonically, “Do we need a reason beyond the fact it could not only save but extend lives?”
“But that’s not really the business of the ICW is it?”
Zabini dismissively looked away from T’Challa and addressed T’Chaka. “You should do a better job of educating your heir, King. Wakanda may choose to have a limited relationship with the ICW but still, he should know better.”
T’Challa flexed his jaw. In truth he knew all about the ICW and their relationship to his country and others. Due to their perception as a nation poor in affluence and magical ability Wakanda had to fight for centuries to be given any representation in the organization. When the fight was won they were afforded only one seat and that seat was held by T’Challa’s mother as Queen of Wakanda.
The ICW had been amassing power since the late Albus Dumbledore returned after temporarily losing his position as Supreme Mugwump. With every passing day they were using the fear of muggle discovery to take more while their recently appointed Head of Investigations, Madam Smith -a false name to protect her identity to protect her work- lead them in their efforts to protect magical kind, investigate threats, and enforce the laws and statutes agreed upon by the members of the ICW. Wakanda was one of the few countries declining of their ‘protection’ and with it their oversight. For the most part his people believed their reputation protected them from suspicion for doing so but it seemed the interest in vibranium had already proven the threat they expected it would as the eyes of the ICW had been turned on them.
“I’m here to present you with an alternate proposal to that of the Potters. Officially off the record but I can assure you that I’ll make no empty promises,” Zabini explained. There was some malicious satisfaction coming off him as he said it.
T’Challa found himself wishing he could challenge the man to a spare and put a few bruises on that smug face. With a hard expression he asked, “And what is it that the ICW would propose but are not comfortable conducting as official business.”
Pulling a locket off from around his neck Zabini opened it before tossing the locket out to T’Chaka. Intercepting the object and the threat it might pose Okoye caught the chain on the tip of her spear.
Zabini rolled his eyes. “It’s not a trap. Just a picture for proof of capture.”
Confused. The King leaned forward to inspect the locket which Okoye moved closer to him. T’Challa watched his father go stiff as he stared at the image. Moving forward the Prince went to look for himself.
In the locket was an image of Ulysses Klaue, a man wanted for his crimes against Wakanda for decades. It showed him standing, smiling besides Zabini. There was a copy of that mornings Daily Prophet held up beneath their faces with the date on clear display.
“Ulysses Klaue,” Zadini said garnering an instantaneous if silent reaction from the soldiers in the room who all knew of the man’s crimes. Their eyes were drawn to either the locket or the one who brought it. ‘Proof of capture,’ Zabini had said.
Continuing the agent explained, “Despite the magnitude of his crimes against Wakanda you never reported Klaue to us for help in finding him. In fact the only reason we know about what he did was the leak about his attack over on the muggle side.”
“And why would the ICW be interested in a muggle arms dealer,” T’Chaka asked.
“Given your reluctance to make trade with the Potters for the vibranium they needed after the invention of a successful cure for lycanthropy we went looking into alternative sources. Our first stop was to reach out to our muggle contacts. The only names they could give use were Wakanda and Klaue. From there we learned the story of how Klaue came into possession of your Vibranium.”
Zabini looked at his hand to inspect his nails.
“Now, the interesting thing is, had you gone to us for help the ICW would be bound to hand him and the vibranium over to you, but you didn’t, because you wanted to handle it yourself,” Zabini said smug and slightly mocking. Looking up he stared down T’Chaka. “Yet another thing you’re missing out on thanks to your need to go it alone.”
All in the room were glaring at him.
“What is it the ICW proposes,” T’Chaka asked.
“In exchange for our transferring one Ulysses Klaue to Wakanda to face justice by your laws you will accept the offer Miss Potter’s made this morning. You will tour. You will speak to those affected by the work they have done with vibranium. You will then let it appear as though you have been won over. Finally you will make a new deal in which you trade with Miss Potter giving her ten times the vibranium outline in her last proposal for the overly generous price she offered for that tenth as well as a share in the profits that will come from all potions brewed with your precious vibranium.”
Zabini stopped there.
Unhappy to speak but needing to know T’Chaka asked, “And what of the vibranium Ulysses Klaue stole.”
“That will remain in the ICW’s reserve in case another need should arise that you decline to fill.”
T’Challa watched his father’s jaw flex. “And if we refuse?”
“If the deal does not go through as specified then Ulysse Klaue will disappear. There will be no trail to follow. No one involved will retain their memories of where he is for you to extract the answers out of them. Even if you bring this conversation public, it won’t lead you to finding him. He will be hidden away to live out a long healthy life in happiness and opulent indulgence.”
“Just to spite us,” T’Challa said sneering at Zabini who sneered back.
“For centuries you’ve selfishly withheld, holding back advancements that could heal and save others while your own people benefited from long healthy peaceful lives. So yes, if you don’t accept this and change your ways we will gladly treat a killer like royalty.”
The pair glared at each other, nostrils flaring. Around the room others were glaring at Zabini as well. Those who were not watched their King to see what he would declare.
“You should know, that when I left she was crying.”
“What,” T’Challa asked confused.
“Harriet,” Zabini said radiating anger. “When I left her she was crying. She doesn’t do that, even around her most trusted. She feels she has to be strong so she won’t let herself break down, but after your refusal today she couldn’t help it.”
T’Challa fought not to lower his head as his quilt stirred with remembering the hurt that had still shown in Miss Potter’s eyes despite her best efforts to hide it.
“It’s the burden of being a Seer of her level,” Zabini continued. “She knows. All she has to do is think about this potion and she’s inundated with an instinctual grasp of just how many people suffer and die with every hour she doesn’t get things sorted to get this potion to them. Knowing it intellectually is one thing, but knowing it in your heart and being forced to dream of them as your guilt guides your Sight? Can you imagine it? Living with that burden?”
T’Challa was no longer able to stop himself from braking eye contact.
Zabini snorted. “People wonder where Harriet finds her resolve, her perseverance. That’s the answer. You and I are limited. We don’t See. Our understanding of our lives and the effects our actions have is limited. But her? She sees all the connections and impacts. It isn’t the big picture. It isn’t as impersonal as that. She knows how this effects on the grader scale as well as more intimately with individuals. She knows the happiness of a father living to hold his first grandchild. She knows of the difference one life having an extra 10, 50, 100 years to impact others and create and invent can have. When you know, absolutely, that something is for the best how do you turn your back on it?”
Shrugging Zabini stood.
“Maybe I don’t give her enough credit. Maybe if we had her understanding we would still be able to turn away. Maybe if she didn’t have her gift Harriet would still carry on. Who knows. What I do know is that she will not be giving up on vibranium. You tried to plant the idea in her head, to direct her towards looking in other directions, but she won’t. She knows this is the best path so she won’t give up on it. She can’t. Once she finds the best course of action she cannot be swayed. If the vibranium wouldn’t come from you. She’ll find another way.”
Walking over to Okoye Zabini held out his hand. She looked to her King who nodded. With his approval she swung her spear around to allow Zabini to take back locket. Unintimidated the agent rolled his eyes before removing the piece as he continued.
“Harriet’s found a way to bring about the impossible before. A means to make vibranium may not have been found yet but there has to be a way. That’s the wonder of magic; Nothing is impossible. In the meantime, that remark about going out amongst the stars to find some? That wasn’t hyperbole. If you stick to this that’s exactly what she’ll do. The muggles have already started things off. She will take their work and apply our best minds and magical might to it. Our people think she could manage space in less then a year. Deep space in two. And that isn’t an educated guess. Harriet might be the strongest Seer known but we have our own working to lead us right. Having you involved clouds the view but not so much that we don’t know what’s coming.”
“Why should that matter to Wakanda,” T’Challa challenged.
“For the same reasons it matters to us. Unlike the muggles we know there is life out there and we know just how dangerous many of those races are. If we draw their attention the odds are it won’t go well. It may have been forgotten by most but it is only due to the threat of Asgard that Earth has been left alone. Once we go exploring and making contract for ourselves that protection comes to an end.”
T’Challa asked disbelieving, “So that is why the ICW has gotten involved in this?”
“This was the easiest time to get involved. Sabotaging Harriet is an effort in futility. She’ll get what she wants eventually as the majority of the public and politicians would back her in this. In their ignorance they would find the idea of traversing the stars thrilling. Balancing the benefits of the potion against an abstract danger? They will vote with what they know can help them over a possible threat which they have no frame of reference for. With the majority on her side the ICW would be forced to follow.”
For Zabini that seemed to be the last of what he had to say. Not waiting for a response he headed for the door. Turning to his father for instruction as to what he should do T’Challa saw T’Chaka looking contemplative with no sign he wished for Zabini to be detained and so the Prince forced himself to stand down.
Zabini had almost made it to the door when he stopped. Taking a deep breath he rolled his shoulders back and in before he forced himself to relax, stand straight, and speak.
“Personally I don’t give a shit about you. If I had my way things would be going down differently, but I’m not the one in charge. Madam Smith understands where you’re coming from. She’s sympathetic,” Zabini said the word with disgust. T’Challa could not see his sneer but he could hear it. “So I’m going to give you some advice. Her reasoning paraphrased and delivered by me. Its better to make allies in a time of peace than to seek cooperation when aggression is in play. When the world finds out what you’ve been keeping to yourselves, all the lives you could have helped to save, they won’t cry like Harriet. Well, maybe some will but most? They’re going to be resentful and from that resentment will come aggression. Your time is running out. The rest of the world is catching up.
“If you help in leading the way to ‘a better future for all,’” Zabini said obviously borrowing the words and the sentiment attached, “they’ll see you as saviors. Some will still resent, some will be selfish and seek gain, but they’ll be in the few rather than another face in the mob. The ICW is willing to help you with that on both the muggle and magical side with however integrated you want to get or what help you are willing to give. You may have chosen isolation but as a magical nation of magical individuals it is the ICWs mission to protect you the same as we do anyone else. Giving you some of the profits, getting you involved with Harriet, Madam Smith arranged that in the hope of forcing you to take the first steps. From here its up to you but we don’t promise not to go on interfering. For your sake as much as everyone else’s.”
With that Zabini reached for the door but a gesture from the King had the guards blocking him from proceeding. He looked back at T’Chaka unimpressed.
“Sit,” the King told him gesturing to the seat he had abandoned.
Zabini appeared unfazed. “I have a day job to get back to. A cover to keep. I gave up my lunch break to get this done.”
“Then we will send for lunch from the dinning room,” T’Chaka said looking to one of the guards who was blocking Zabini’s way. He nodded in return before heading out the door.
Looking frustrated Zabini pulled out his watch to check the time. “You’re paying?”
T’Chaka was reluctantly amused. “Miss Potter has been covering our bills.”
Zabini shrugged. “As long as it’s not coming out of my pocket. With the bill being comped you may not have realized just how expensive this place is.”
Heading back to his chair Zabini plopped himself back down before sprawling out. “You have twenty minutes before I have to go so whatever you want to ask, watch your time.”
***
An hour and twenty-five minutes later Blaise used the hotel floo to leave. He’d given the King and Prince more time than promised. He might not have had they been asking the wrong sort of questions but lucky them the conversation seemed productive enough to be worth his time. With the kind of things they were asking it seemed they were heading down the right path and so Blaise lingered, eating and talking as the time for the Wakandan’s planned departure ticked by. He stayed until the questions got tedious. Sensing they were feeling too entitled to his time and information he left.
From the hotel he traveled to the twin’s joke shop before continuing on to his own home then John’s place. Formally Malfoy Manor the residence was hardly recognizable from the times Blaise visited it as a child.
After everything that happened there during the Dark Lord’s occupation Draco had little interest in remaining surrounded by memories of that trying time and what his family lost for their service. With all the Malfoy fortune drained by said Lord and then more in fines owed for Lucius’ wrong doings Draco could hardly afford to see to necessary repairs let alone remodel away all the reminders of unpleasant things. Instead he decided to sell. Talking to Harriet he sought her advice as a Seer as to how to go about getting the best price. She suggested her cousin.
John bought the manor and grounds for less than what they once were worth previously but given the damage, residual dark magic, and reputation from the knowledge that the Dark Lord had lived there it was a fortune better than anyone else would have given Draco. Where Malfoy couldn’t afford it John had more than enough gold to remodel the manor to his liking and had. The building and grounds were restored beyond their former glory putting the memory of its previous grander to shame.
While Harriet and John used 12 Grimmauld Place, Riddle Manor, and the campuses for the bulk of their public work, it was John’s Manor that was most often used for the things that needed to happen behind closed doors. Because of this the protections at the Manor were just as good as those in London. As such Blaise was left waiting on arrival in the floo room to be cleared to move into the main house.
When the door finally opened it was Gabrielle waiting on the other side. She looked at him with both her meticulously plucked and shaped eyebrows raised. Playfully she scolded him, “And what time do you call this?”
If she expected an answer she should have known better. Blaise wasn’t one to repeat himself. He’d save anything he had to say for the boss. Moving past her he asked, “Where’s John?”
Gabrielle gave a huff. “West sunroom.”
Zabini snorted. Sunroom? The name called to mind images of warmth but the place was a well lit icebox. In preparation for his visit Zabini cast a warming charm on his clothes before walking inside where John Potter lounged in his favored chair, feet bare, ankle on knee, and his shirt off to expose more of his skin to the sun coming through the glass and the cold which filled the room. Imagining prudish Percy’s reaction if he ever saw John in such a state put a smile on Blaise’s face.
“Boss,” he greeted John.
Looking up from his reading John studied Blaise before speaking. “Given the time and that you’re reporting to me rather than a medic, is it safe to assume they were willing to listen?”
Dropping into the chair across from John, Blaise nodded in conformation. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Gabrielle leaning against the doorframe so she might listen without having to endure the cold. Lucky. Blaise could already feel the ache of it on his exposed skin and in his nostrils and throat. Meanwhile the boss had nary a goose bump. Benefit of the Frost Giant blood. Honestly with ice like that running through his veins it was mind boggling how shocked people when they discovered just how cold and ruthless John Potter could be.
“I gave them the pitch then they had me stay for a Q and A about what exactly the ICW and ‘Madam Smith’ thought about Wakanda and their future. I’d guess it was a third genuine interest and the rest a mix of feeling me out while playing to learn what we knew about them. They went over their allotted time and I had to be the one to call it to an end but at least they had the decency to feed me.”
John’s eyes had gone distant as he considered this. “Better than we expected. You must have done well with your delivery.”
Blaise smiled with pride. John wasn’t one to give out praises unless he wholly admired their efforts.
“Where would you put the likelihood that they suspect Harriet or my involvement in this?”
“They seemed to take the situation as I presented it. I think they’ve locked on the idea that I’m a covert agent keeping a watch on you without your knowledge but I wouldn’t bet good money on it. After all, we aren’t the only one’s capable of duplicity, and they have experience with it. It could be their acting skills were up to the job of fooling even me.”
John nodded. “Always a chance but people tend to expect others to act like them. If they see the other as anything close to equal. Wakanda may look down on the rest of the world but they fear the ICW enough to see us in such a light. As they send out covert agents to watch and lie for their cause it should come naturally to them to assume the ICW would do the same. With all the public debate over whether Harriet, young as she is, should be given one of the British seats they shouldn’t expect her to have the connections to hold the ICW’s confidence.”
“That might be different if they know the ICW interviewed Harriet for a position right out of Hogwarts,” Blaise threw in.
John tilted his head from one side to the other. “It wasn’t well known at the time and those who were informed were made to be aware that the position was for that of an intern with the thought that she would be interested in politics which as she was not, she supposedly turned them down.”
Blaise accepted John’s reasoning so did not comment further on that matter. Instead he asked, “When will we tell Harriet about the deal?”
As John thought over his answer he appeared uncertain. It was a rare sight for him appear anything but confident. It wasn’t ego. He was competent in most affairs and therefor had no reason to doubt himself. It was for this reason along with many others that Blaise despite finding most people worthy of dismissal if not contempt, respected John. It was his hope that in working for John he might one day learn enough to stand as the man’s equal. He wasn’t sure it was possible, but this is what Blaise strived for.
Despite John’s general competence, lying and keeping secrets from Harriet in regard to either their personal or professional lives was not something he made a habit of. It was clear it didn’t sit well with him but John would always do what he thought was best for Harriet, even if it meant leaving himself on uncertain footing. The only reason they’d been able to keep this particular plot a secret from her this far was due to the protections the Wakandans had over themselves helping to interfere with Harriet being able to See what John and Blaise were up to.
John sighed. “We’ll see what the King decides. If they leave, nothings truly changed and we’ll update her on the situation. If they agree to meet with her again, we’ll keep her in the dark a little longer. If she doesn’t know the truth she can’t be caught out as a liar. She’ll be confused and suspicious as to why they’ve changed their minds but for a short time she can have that small joy she gets from hoping people have done good of their own volition. When she finds out the truth she will be unhappy but she’ll be more burdened by having yet another secret to keep than she will be from my having arranged to work this plot without her permission. We’ll keep her load this small bit lighter while we can.”
‘As though that isn’t what we’re always doing,’ Blaise thought.