Chapter Text
"That concludes my report on Wizarding Britain, the Duelling Championship and the Battle of Hogwarts." Mycroft finished. There was a glass of water on the table next to him and Mycroft's throat was parched from recounting the past events of the recent months to the Council of International Wizards but he refused to reach forward and grasp the cool glass to quench his thirst. He needed the council to understand how much you had endured.
Mycroft wasn’t alone in the council chambers. Sitting behind him were his younger brother and Doctor Watson. Mycroft could hear Sherlock muttering under his breath to John how Mycroft had always told him that caring wasn’t an advantage and how he should have taken his own advice. The eldest Holmes co*cked his head and squinted at his sibling; it didn’t take long for Sherlock to register his brother’s eyes on him and in a rare moment of sympathy for his older brother, Sherlock ducked his head apologetically and to avoid Mycroft’s penetrating gaze.
Behind the icy blue of his eyes and his forcibly neutral expression, Mycroft was fighting to control his turbulent emotions. You were gone and he didn’t get to say goodbye. He knew there was a strong possibility that you would flee Wizarding Britain when you had the sword of your ancestor in your possession but he didn’t anticipate that you would leave so soon after defeating Voldemort three days ago. Mycroft wanted Black and Lupin to face justice, in the Magical world or the Muggle world or both (he wasn't fussy), because they forced you to flee your home and the Council of International Wizards was one of the highest authorities in the world.
Speaking of the two men, they sat on the other side of the council chambers, closer to the councilwoman presiding over the briefing whose once blonde hair had dulled to a snow white yet she retained her sharp and cutting tongue. She was joined by a witch and a wizard, however protocol dictated that it was only the sharped tongued woman who could speak during the proceedings and the witch and wizard were to remain anonymous for the duration of the briefing. They sat concealed in the shadows and if Mycroft had to make an educated guess, they were under Polyjuice Potion as well.
Councilwoman S. Noble had decreed that Black and Lupin must be present while Mycroft was completing his report. Throughout Mycroft’s recount, they were openly angry and disagreeing with his account (Mycroft may have intentionally emphasised more sections and he wholeheartedly agreed with the part of his mind that informed him that he’d do the exact same thing for Sherlock). The two former Marauders' disagreement and anger only grew when the Investigative and Hit Wizards present and guarding the members of the council blinked; wordlessly and wandlessly rendering the werewolf and escaped and wrongfully convicted wizard temporarily mute.
Only a select number of witches and wizards knew about the council and fewer of them were aware of what happened during a proceeding. Luckily for the two former Gryffindors, Councilwoman Noble had refused Sherlock’s snide suggestion which would have involved both men being trapped in a rune-based time loop and forced to watch their memories of you on repeat.
“Heir of Holmes and Scion of Holmes, you have performed adequately to protect the citizens of Magical and Muggle Britain from the threat of Voldemort.” Mycroft didn’t even need to look in Sherlock’s direction to know that he was bristling at his efforts being described as ‘adequate.’
“Pass on our thanks to your team, Heir Holmes. Were it not for your resourcefulness, we never would have been able to uncover the secret of Voldemort’s immortality.” Mycroft blew out his breath slowly knowing that Sherlock would be insufferable for weeks despite his reaction to Councilwoman Noble's previous comment. He had been the one to discover Voldemort had fashioned Horcruxes although Mycroft’s younger brother hadn’t accounted for Harry being an accidental Horcrux. Fortunately, Voldemort had destroyed his own Horcrux in his attempt to kill Harry – Mycroft wondered absentmindedly whether the infamous wizard was even aware that he created a Horcrux that night at Godric’s Hollow.
Councilwoman S. Noble continued speaking and Mycroft switched his focus back to her, “With Voldemort’s death, the Trace that has persisted on his name since the First Wizarding World has been broken. We have received confirmation from many sources regarding this.”
“What will happen to them?” John spoke up coldly, jerking his chin to indicate that he was referring to the two men. Mycroft had suspected that John was given a detailed account of the past involving Black, Lupin, you, and Mycroft and knowing his little brother, he had probably sardonically explained his role in defeating Voldemort. Judging by John's behaviour and tone when it came to the other wizards, Mycroft's suspicion was correct. John’s actions also reinforced Mycroft's belief that the good doctor was a man who valued loyalty and expected it in return.
“They will return to their lives in Wizarding Britain. The knowledge that their actions caused the woman they love to leave them twice will follow them for the rest of their lives, regardless of where they go or how hard they try to forget.”
“What’s to stop them from chasing after her and stopping her from escaping them a third time?”
“Where she has gone Doctor Watson, they cannot follow.”
The simple sentence that Mycroft uttered provoked an instant reaction. Mycroft felt Black’s and Lupin’s rage burst up to the surface. The Silencing Spell prevented the irate men from making any recognisable sound but the two men’s magic spoke for them. At the same time, Lupin’s and Black’s magic exploded out of them and ferociously tore at every piece of furniture in the room.
The glass of water and the table it was resting on exploded and formed deadly glass and wooden shards that slashed at the opaque curtains, ripping them into scraps of fabric and the windows rattled under the force of the men’s magic. Deep marks were gouged into the walls near where the council members were seated. These marks were so deep that chunks of brick were ripped from the wall and swept into the two visibly swirling cones of the devastated men’s magic.
Mycroft cast a shield to protect himself, Councilwoman Noble and the other witch and wizard. In his peripheral vision, he spotted Sherlock imitating him and shielding John. Mycroft was close enough to his brother to hear when John called over the din to Sherlock, asking him whether he had heard the ornate magical clock outside the room chiming thirteen times as well.
