Chapter One: Bonds of Magic and Love
by Janet
It was with a great deal of hesitation that the secretary of the Minister of Magic took a carefully preened eagle quill from his desk, dipped it in a fountain, and wrote in careful script an address upon a plain and ordinary looking piece of parchment. The words danced under the dull light of candles, drifting into odd symbols and pictures before finally settling down. Watching the green ink dry so as to avoid smearing, he took the paper, folded it once, then twice, then again, until it formed the unsealed foundation of an envelope.
A seal for a seal, he thought ironically, waving his wand and muttering a simple incantation to imbue the paper with magical properties. The parchment glowed in his hands, simmering along the edges like hot coals until he could tug at it with all his strength with no fear that the bond would give.
Then, from inside a drawer, he withdrew one last item and set it before him on the desk.
The secretary gazed at the second piece of parchment, and a great many questions ran through his mind. Oh, but how the Ministry had fought over something so simple, he wondered with a shake of his head. How the counsel had found itself divided, in an uproar even, over what appeared to be nothing more than an old and yellowed letter. How they had tried, each of them in turn, to claim it for their own purposes.
How Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic himself, had been forced to bow to the wishes of a man who, even in death, still caused Scrimgeour to grow red in the face with frustration and anger.
For, in the end, a law was a law, and a will was a will, and soon Scrimgeour himself had been forced to bow to the wishes of the dead, and had passed the letter on to his secretary for proper delivery to its proper recipient.
Worn hands and calluses now held it tightly, shaking ever so slightly, as the secretary slid the letter, red wax seal and all, into the envelope. For the briefest of moments, he could have sworn that from inside the folded parcel he saw a flicker of light, like a star in the night sky. Just as quickly there was nothing but darkness, and the letter was sealed with another quick swoop of a wand and put back into the drawer for safe-keeping. The wooden cabinet banged softly as it slid into place, causing the shadows in the room to dance as the candles swayed and flickered dangerously.
Realizing that he had been holding his breath, the secretary let it out slowly, gave a tiny laugh, and drew forth a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. He hadn’t noticed that, either; he had been more concerned with the letter, and what the magical properties it contained would have done to him had he disobeyed orders that may as well have been written with blood.
For, as he thought with a trace of apprehension, a vow was a vow, and magic was magic. Not Rufus Scrimgeour, the Ministry of Magic, nor the entire wizarding world, could stop it from happening - not now that the letter was sealed away safe, hidden and locked for a week until it was time for it to be mailed.
Magic itself, like the magic that had sealed the envelope and had bonded it to the young man whose name was written in ink, would set the letter on its due and proper course. Nothing in the world was stronger than a bond, especially one of magic and of love. The Unspeakables from the Department of Mystery often alluded to such things, though they spoke in general terms so as not to reveal their secrets. The secretary thought there was a bit of both hidden in his desk drawer; a bond born of a love of magic, for all those who used magic . . .
And even those who did not.
So it was by love that if, by Albus Dumbledore’s last wish, the recently passed wizard’s most valuable and prized possession was to be delivered to a Mr. Harry James Potter upon the midnight hours of the last day of July, then it would be done.