Chapter 18:Explanations

"How did it go?" Hermione half-babbled as Harry stepped into the Common Room. "What did the Wizengamot say? Are you going to lose your company like the radio said you might? Who's going to end up with it? Is Sirius going to…"

Smiling, Harry placed a finger on her lips, stopping the relentless flow of questions as a snickering Neville joined them. Looking round, Harry saw that the other inhabitants of the room (and there were far more than normal) were all carefully trying to listen in without being seen to be listening.

"Professor!" Harry called out. "May I borrow the stand for a moment?"

"Of course!" Flitwik answered from somewhere in the crowded room and Harry made his way up to the raised platform, climbing the steps as the students (and Professor Flitwick) abandoned whatever they had been pretending to do and gathered round.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, honored faculty…" Harry looked round as everyone gave him their full attention. "Did I miss anyone?"

A wave of chuckles and giggles swept the room at his question, then silence descended once more.

"Today, the Wizengamot has repealed a regulation which forced those not of pureblood heritage to place their hard work in the hands of those who had no reason not to misuse it or take it for their own." Harry stated. "Although the Wizengamot has declined to compensate those who have already lost out to that regulation, at least no-one else will find themselves unfairly beggared and thrown onto the street because of it."

Several of the older students looked grimly satisfied at the statement.

"If anyone knows of other unfair regulations, please contact me about it next Sunday." Harry added. "Lord Black will also listen to any problems. While Hagrid is also in the Wizengamot, he lacks the political strength that Sirius and I have, so if you choose to talk to him, he'll simply inform Sirius about whatever the issue is. You will probably want to simply go straight to Sirius to avoid any details being lost."

Most of the students nodded in understanding.

"No other real issues were raised, except for the problem of delayed notifications which someone tried to pull in order to illegally bankrupt me. By the end of term, that issue should be solved. That is all, thank you."

Harry stepped down, only to be ambushed by Hermione, who pulled him into a corner.

"Harry," She hissed, "Your company… while you were at that meeting, I called mum and dad. They told me that they're upgrading their Dental Practice… with an Evans Industry computer! One that links to the Datanet! What is a Datanet?"

Harry paused as Neville, who was standing just behind Hermione, gave him a confused look.

"Ummmm… think of it as a cross between a telephone system and a library… or… nope, that metaphor doesn't work… it's a way of sending messages and storing things in an electronic format so that you can locate it wherever you are, as long as you have access to a computer or similar. Jor-El's been working on upgrading Earth-tech to allow a Datanet to be created. To assist, he set up Evans Industries as a spin-off company purely in the Muggle world and teamed up with a group called Microsoft. Apparently their Windows system has potential, although Jor-El described it as an ever-growing masterpiece of frantic improvisation. By now, he's probably re-written it to be ten times faster with quarter of the computing power needed… assuming he hasn't simply used Kryptonian coding… I'll have to ask him."

"You lost me after the library." Neville admitted.

"It is a rather specialized field." Harry shrugged. "Let's just say that certain things I inherited are being used to try and make life better, including things like communications."

"Oh, right." Neville nodded, glancing at the doorway which led to the newly-installed Ravenclaw Telephone Room. "Yeah, Dad mentioned in his letter that they were going to get a phone and they knew the number for the phones here. You haven't advertised them much, though."

"That's because Jor-El's finished making the prototype for this." Harry said, pulling out what looked at first-glance to be a small, rectangular mirror, albeit one slightly thicker than his little finger. "This is a mobile phone with visual communication capability. It naturally recharges from ambient energy, including magic, and connects to the central server via a tiny switching spell. It uses a small disc of optical sapphire to carry the light."

"How does that work?" Hermione shook her head. "Light travels fast, even if the switch is instantaneous, you'd need to do the switch… about…"

"Over two hundered thousand times per second to ensure uninterrupted constant real-time data transfer." Harry agreed, earning shocked looks from both. "The amount of data it can carry is huge, while small photovoltaic cells set above and below the disc allow for extra power feeds via pulsed coherent light fired vertically through the disc, rather than from edge-to-edge like the data-sensors. It does require a lot of magic to sustain, even with Kryptonian technology, which is why Jor-El has constructed a second Mage-reactor to feed the Mage-server."

Neville simply looked confused while Hermione's eyes widened further in disbelieving shock.

"Harry… are you saying that this phone is… is capable of faster-than-light data transfer?"

"Ummm, pretty much, I think." Harry mused. "I hadn't really thought about it much…"

Hermione shook her head. "…uuuuuuuuuh…"

"Harry…" Neville half-whispered. "Whatever you just told her… I think it broke her."

"…oops?"

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"That was an… interesting exercise, mother." Draco noted as he looked up from the notes that he had written at his mother's behest. "I have to admit that before today, I hadn't been aware of that particular effect of the Order of Merlin."

"It isn't usually an issue, given that it's very rarely awarded to non-Purebloods." Narcissa replied as she placed her own quill down, then used her wand to transpose her notes and her son's. Draco took the implied permission to read her notes as she started to peruse his.

"Draco, why have you placed Hagrid into the adversary column? Shouldn't he be in the neutral?"

Draco paused for a moment and Narcissa frowned.

"What did you do?"

Draco sagged slightly. "I… attempted to set in motion events that would have Hagrid replaced by someone who would keep a closer eye on Potter. The attempt failed at the first stage, so I abandoned it."

Narcissa's frown deepened. "Draco, once we have finished reviewing the meeting we have just attended, you will tell me of this plan that failed. It sounds too much like some of the plans I had to prevent your father from pursuing as they were not thought-through and had no capacity for adjustment when things did not go as planned."

"…yes, mother."

Narcissa gave a firm nod, then frowned at another note. "Draco, Potter should not be in the enemy column. With our links to him via Lord Black, he should at worst be neutral."

"You've never tried to score against him in Quidditch." Draco grumbled.

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"That was a disaster!" Umbridge ranted as she paced her office like a caged tiger, Farmerson standing in the corner as inoffensively as he could, given that he towered over her. "How were they even there? And before they even got their damned owls!"

"Ma'am, I overheard that Mrs Malfoy may have accidentally alerted them when she went to collect her son." Farmerson offered meekly.

The noise that Umbridge made was one that Farmerson would have previously sworn on his magic could not be made by a human, sounding something akin to a cross between a roaring Griffin and a kettle boiling set against a backdrop of Fwooper song. After a long moment, she inhaled deeply, then growled.

"Mrs Malfoy, you say? Regent Malfoy?"

"Yes, Undersecretary."

"I'll make her pay." Umbridge muttered, then she sat down behind her desk.

"Potter's Order of Merlin. Any way of repealing it, like Pettigrew's?"

"Not without a supermajority of two-thirds of the full Wizengamot, ma'am."

Umbridge blinked. "Pettigrew only needed a simple majority."

"His was a Third Class Order, ma'am. A Second Class Order needs a two-thirds vote to overturn while a First Class Order needs five-sixths. Furthermore, I must point out that Pettigrew has only been the second person in history to have an Order of Merlin stripped from him."

Umbridge frowned, but nodded in unwilling acceptance.

"So… we can't get at him that way either. Any other ideas?"

"Not at this time, Madam Undersecretary." Farmerson replied nervously.

Umbridge motioned for him to leave and Farmerson bowed before departing, containing his sigh of relief until after he had heard the door closing behind him.

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"So, where are we going?" The newly-renamed Diana Prince asked, leaning forwards to look at Voldemort, who was examining a map while Barty concentrated on driving.

"I'm still working that out, young one." Voldemort said almost absently as he turned the map slightly, then glanced at the Obscurial Detector mounted on the center of the dashboard. "Due to my education, map-reading and dead-reckoning are not among my… hmmm, I think I have it. A place called Fripp Island… Barty, turn left onto the interstate. We need to head east."

"Yes, my Lord." Barty acknowledged the instruction.

"It has a beach?" Diana squeaked as she peered at the map. "I've never been to a beach before!"

"Then I shall do my best to make sure that you get a chance to play on it for a day." Voldemort said magnanimously, then he blinked as Diana gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.

"YaythanksIneedtocheckmyswimsuitfitsloveyoubye!"

Diana scurried into her tent and Barty glanced at his Master curiously.

"My Lord…"

Voldemort pulled out his wand and cast a quick mufflatio. "Speak."

"You treat these people… differently."

"I do." Voldemort admitted. "Part of it is their power. You saw what James did when we rescued Mark? That was against wizards trained to take down Obscurials and he went through them like they weren't there. Now, part of it is that he was acting rather than reacting, which caught them by surprise… that and they thought that they were only against a single Obscurial, but it can easily take thirty Auror-level witches and wizards to take down an Obscurial under normal circumstances. To take down multiple Obscurials who are acting intelligently in their ascended forms? Who have learned not to fight their other selves but to accept them and thus be healed by them instead of slowly killed? Once we have four or more and given them at least some training, the combined Aurors of Britain will not stand a chance."

"Yes, my Lord." Barty acknowledged. "But… my Lord, since you returned…"

"There have been some side-effects caused by the process I used." Voldemort agreed. "Slight changes I have found in my personality… if not for my mastery of Occlumency, I would not have noticed."

"…my Lord?"

"I am still myself, Barty." Voldemort reassured his loyal minion. "Just… more, in a way. After I took over Lockhart, I found that I had become more vain than I was before. Not greatly so and it proved useful for rallying my followers, but… I did find myself spending more time considering my wardrobe and the messages I wished to deliver with how I dressed."

"…and Bagnold,my Lord?"

"…yes. Bagnold. She was a true master in knowing how to manipulate people so that they didn't know that they were being manipulated. I have studied her memories and she was incredible. If not for her arrogance, even greater than mine on the day I went to strike down the one prophesied to end my life, she would have been beloved. As it was, she was almost universally respected, even by her enemies. I have learned her techniques, Barty, and they are a tool far too useful to be set aside when dealing with our new followers."

"Yes, my Lord." Barty agreed, then he glanced across. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Anything for my followers… Logan."

Barty groaned. "I can't believe that you let them call me that!"

"You should be proud of the name our allies have given you." Voldemort chuckled. "Why, they spent hours looking through comic books on your behalf. By the way, do you want me to look up ways of letting you create metal claws?"

Barty let out a noise half-way between a groan and a growl, causing Voldemort to chuckle again before cancelling the privacy spell.