I'm not much of a holiday person, but here I come with a present! If you celebrate any holidays, I hope you have a nice time of them.

Early Happy New Year :)

Chapter 46: Relative Morality

The people who had been brought to Hogwarts for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament were allowed to stay at the castle for the remainder of the day. Harry was ecstatic when Marco told him, realizing this was the first time he would be able to be with Marco out in the open at Hogwarts without fear of people seeing them.

Thus, Harry proceeded to drag Marco, along with Ron and Hermione, all over the school. Showing him the sights was secondary, given that Marco had known them far longer than Harry himself had, but the point was that they could be together for everyone to see, and Harry intended to take full advantage of that fact. They garnered a lot of attention. People were clearly curious about the unknown man that was apparently Harry Potter's most important person.

They were out in one of the courtyards, warmed by some of Hermione's handy blue fire spells, when Marco suddenly reached out to her and closed his fist inches to the left of her head, effectively cutting off their conversation.

Marco hummed thoughtfully, bringing his closed fist up to his face as if inspecting it.

"What's up?" Harry asked, frowning at him.

Marco didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked around at the sparsely populated courtyard. At least no students were pretending to not watch them anymore. They had calmed down considerably after Marco ate lunch with the rest of them at the Gryffindor table and answered quite a few questions from the other students.

"We should go to an empty classroom," Marco said instead of explaining himself, which did nothing to assuage Harry's curiosity.

What the hell had just happened?

Marco stood up, and the others followed suit. Marco gestured for one of them to lead the way, and Hermione took charge. They walked mostly in silence up to the third floor corridor that had housed Fluffy three years ago, where no classrooms were currently in use, and entered one of the farthest rooms.

"Could you ward the door and windows?" Marco asked Hermione once they were inside.

Hermione, with a very puzzled look on her face, did as requested.

"Okay. What the hell is going on?" Harry demanded as soon as the room was secure.

Marco opened his fist, and a bug of all things zoomed out of his grasp.

"You should go back to your normal form, Miss Skeeter. Before I make you," Marco said calmly.

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, echoed by Ron and Hermione.

His eyes zeroed in on the bug.

That was Rita Skeeter? She was an animagus? Well, fuck. No wonder she'd managed to learn of Hagrid's ancestry if she could turn into an insect.

The bug did nothing, staying suspiciously quiet and high in the air, as though she could keep herself out of Marco's reach that way.

"I could always crush you, if you prefer," Marco offered conversationally, the sort of voice he reserved to banter with annoying enemies that hadn't yet pissed him off. He even smiled up at her.

The bug moved then. She tried to rush for the wall, perhaps hoping to hide in one of the many cracks that littered the castle's stone.

Unfortunately for Skeeter, no bug was faster than Marco.

A moment later she was back in his fist, and Marco brought her up to eye level.

"I am going to release you now, and you will transform. If you don't, the next time I catch you, I will crush you."

That said, Marco opened his hand again.

The bug flew up and away from Marco, and a moment later a very disgruntled Rita Skeeter was standing on one end of the classroom. Her eyes, wide and shocked, were fixed on Marco.

"H-How—?" she stammered.

"I won't answer that question," Marco cut her off. "So don't bother."

That pause was enough to allow Skeeter to compose herself somewhat. She straightened her back, pushed her glasses up her nose, and narrowed her eyes at Marco.

"What do you want?"

"Well, you see," Marco started, wandering off to lean against one of the desks, "at first, when I realized you were an animagus, I thought I'd simply hand you over to the Ministry. A decade in Azkaban would rid us of your awful articles, and it would undoubtedly destroy any chances of you resuming your career afterwards."

"And now?" Skeeter asked, her suspicious gaze fixed on Marco. She had started to fidget as Marco spoke, no doubt aware of what Azkaban would do to her even without keeping her career in mind. Twelve years there had wrecked Sirius despite the protection that his animagus form had afforded him, and it was unlikely Skeeter knew she would have even that flimsy defence against the dementors.

Ron pulled on Harry's sleeve. Harry looked at him and shook his head. He had no idea where Marco was going, other than the blackmail route. Hermione glared at them before either Ron or Harry could speak.

"You're an awful person, Rita," Marco said, blunt as could be, "but you're not stupid. I believe we could benefit from working together."

"Oh?" Skeeter managed to sound both curious and sceptical with that simple sound. She didn't manage to sound particularly calm, though.

"As you may have guessed," Marco continued, his tone lecturing, "things are moving. The Chamber of Secrets opening two years ago, Sirius Black's escape last year, Death Eaters causing havoc at the World Cup, Harry Potter mysteriously entered into the Triwizard Tournament… Many things have happened lately, and many more will happen soon. Given our illustrious government and their track record, we would benefit greatly from having a reporter as influential as yourself on our side."

During Marco's speech, Harry had kept his attention on Skeeter's face. She looked interested, ravenous even, by all the tidbits Marco was dangling before her. The unease had lessened somewhat from her stance, no doubt replaced with the realization that she might benefit from whatever Marco had in mind.

"That sounds interesting," Skeeter said, business-like, "but what would be in there for me?"

"Aside from not being obliviated and handed over to the aurors?" Marco asked with a smile. His 'First Division Commander handing out unpleasant tasks' smile.

Skeeter paled.

Marco reached into one of his robes' many pockets and brought out his Gringotts-issued purse, a fancy gold one that Harry had learned was only given to customers who possessed vast vaults in the bank. He opened and upended it, making its contents topple on the desk behind him. If there weren't at least three hundred galleons in there, Harry would eat his wand.

"You would be compensated for your work, of course."

Skeeter's eyes had gone wide, and the greed was plain on her face as she stared at the massive amount of money on the desk behind Marco. But soon she blinked and narrowed her eyes at Marco once more.

"You make a very tempting offer, but I can't help but wonder what the catch is."

The smirk Marco gave her wouldn't have been out of place in a battlefield.

"The catch, Rita, is that I don't trust you. You will have to take an Unbreakable Vow to ensure you adhere to the terms of our agreement."

Rita barely registered the shock on the faces of Potter's friends, or the lack of it on Potter's own face. She was too busy being shocked herself. She had expected for this man, Marco, to require some form of oath or bond on her part, certainly, but an Unbreakable Vow? That would mean Rita's death if she stepped out of whatever terms Marco wanted to impose on her.

Because she had no doubt he would be the one imposing the terms here. He had somehow figured out she was an animagus mere moments after she had approached their group, caught her twice despite her expecting it the second time, and hadn't even bothered to disarm her before starting this conversation. That last fact was the most terrifying one. Having her wand with her should have been a comfort, but her instincts told Rita that attacking, or attempting any magic to escape, would be a terrible idea on her part. Rita's honed instincts had helped her on a number of occasions, and she disliked the thought of ignoring them. Doing so rarely led to anything good.

Right now, that meant she was in a terrible predicament. Obliviation, Azkaban, and an end to her life as she knew it, or binding herself to the man who clearly held Harry Potter's strings and hope it didn't cost her a price too high to pay. Rita was under no delusions here: she was good at reading people, and she knew the earlier threats to her life had been genuine. She had no doubt Marco would have followed through, which was the main reason she had acquiesced and returned to her human form.

Who was she trying to fool? Rita had no choice here.

"Tell me, Mr. Marco," (Rita needed to learn his surname; she would have to investigate him as soon as she could), "what would be the terms of this agreement?"

Marco gave her another one of those creepy smiles. Under any other circumstances, Rita had no doubt his smiles could be very nice. She had seen him smile at Potter. Right now, this smile made her skin crawl.

"To begin with, you will destroy whatever article you have started on us and this task. We both know there is no truth and nothing flattering in it."

She had expected that one. Rita sighed and nodded, making it clear how much of a hassle that would be.

"As for other things..."

And thus, negotiations began.

Hermione watched avidly as Marco forced Rita Skeeter into the position he wanted her, somehow managing to keep her interested enough in the benefits this whole deal would have for her that she didn't attempt anything too underhanded. What little she did try, Marco caught and stopped quickly. Next to Hermione, Ron was paying more attention than he ever did in class, and she would bet that for once in his life he would have liked to be able to take notes. The only one who appeared bored was Harry, who had picked up some galleons and was throwing them into the air in increasingly complex juggling sequences.

Hermione's watch showed they were approaching dinner time, and thus the time for the last meal Marco would take at the school as a human before he officially left, when the negotiations were finally over.

Marco, Hermione realized when he asked Harry to act as their witness, was capable of taking part in an Unbreakable Vow. Hermione theorized it must be similar to how the anti-muggle magic didn't affect him: something, either through his haki or his devil fruit power, was similar enough to magic that he could participate in passive forms of it. In the Unbreakable Vow, Marco's role was to simply ask questions of Skeeter, who was the one swearing to him, while it was Harry's wand that performed the magic.

Once they were done, Skeeter moved over to the desk where her purse had been abandoned and brought out her notebook and quicknotes quill.

"Now, I believe you promised me an interview."

Harry grimaced, but he had agreed to that part of the deal. Both he and Marco moved to sit on tables near Skeeter's. She didn't seem very impressed by how they ignored the chairs, but sat down on one herself and went straight to business.

"I must say, Harry, that many of our readers are curious to know how you managed to enter your name into the Tournament. Could you tell me about it?"

"I didn't," Harry said, which resulted in Skeeter frowning in annoyance at her. "Don't get me wrong. I wanted in, but I couldn't figure out how to get past the age line. I was very shocked when my name came out of the Goblet."

"Really?" Skeeter asked, leaning forward. "You didn't ask an older student to help you?"

"Nah. No one over seventeen was willing to enter anyone else's name. I wasn't the only one too young who wanted to participate."

"I see. And do you know how your name was entered into the Goblet?"

Harry shrugged.

"No idea. I've been thinking about it, but I don't know who did it," Harry replied rather truthfully. They knew who had ordered Harry's name entered into the Tournament —and that knowledge gave Hermione occasional nightmares— but they had no idea who had followed the order.

"Oh, dear. I hope they were just trying to help you," Skeeter said, a statement that would come across as both sympathetic and alarming to the readers, especially those who understood the implications of the other possibilities. Marco had expressly forbidden any lies or alterations to any interviews, but he had given Skeeter some free reign on how to express herself.

"Moving on to something else, though, this latest task has been most surprising for everyone. I'm sure, once we learned what the task consisted on, we all expected your hostage to be one of your best friends. Or, like in Miss Delacour's case, a family member." Harry snorted. Skeeter raised her eyebrows, but continued with her line of inquiry. "Instead, we were all quite surprised when Mr. Marco— apologies, what is your surname?"

"Newgate," Marco said. Hermione restrained herself from a physical reaction. Wasn't Newgate Whitebeard's first name? Why had Marco gone with that instead of Whitebeard's surname? Though, admittedly, Edward was a common first name nowadays...

Skeeter nodded.

"Mr. Marco Newgate turned out to be your hostage instead. I mean no disrespect," Skeeter continued, a clear sign that she was going to make a potentially harmful or insulting comment —Hermione was almost surprised she dared do it so soon after being threatened by Marco, "but I don't believe I have heard that name before. Muggleborn?"

Marco shook his head. Technically true, as he wasn't a wizard at all.

"I'm not surprised you haven't heard of me. My family used to move all over the world. But that was long ago. I'm the only one left now," Marco said. He made no effort to conceal the grief Hermione knew he still felt over the loss of his family even so long afterwards. For a moment, she wondered why he had brought it up at all, until she realized: it was meant for Voldemort and his ilk, not Skeeter. So they would know there was no one (other than Harry, as far as they knew) they could use as a means to hurt or manipulate him.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Skeeter said, rather rote. Hermione was sure that would be properly embellished in the article to make her seem like a better person. "How did you meet young Harry, Mr. Newgate?"

Marco tilted his head sideways, and then proceeded to lie his ass off without uttering a single actual falsehood.

"He was in some trouble when we met. Had bitten off more than he could chew, as the muggles say. I happen to have an apartment close to where he lives, and now he spends quite some time there over the holidays."

"Really?" Skeeter asked, her eyes moving rapidly between the two before settling on Harry. "Why is that?"

Harry shrugged.

"Marco's way better than my relatives. They don't like magic all that much." Hermione was sure Harry had said that to distract Skeeter more than anything else —he certainly wasn't tailoring his responses the way Marco was— but she wasn't sure that had been the best move.

"Oh? Is that because they are muggles?" Skeeter asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"Nah. There are lots of great muggles out there. They're just shitty people."

Skeeter's eyes went round upon hearing Harry's casual curse. Ron snorted. Marco had that serious expression Hermione knew meant he was hiding a smirk. Hermione just sighed at Harry's crass manners.

Albus Dumbledore was worried.

Gabrielle Delacour had just departed Hogwarts via his office's floo, and both Fleur Delacour and Madame Maxime had shortly afterwards left his office. Now he was waiting for Marco and Harry Potter, ostensibly to allow Marco to leave Hogwarts the same way.

In truth, one of the most nerve-wracking conversations of his life was about to take place, and recent information he had received from the school portraits hadn't helped at all in settling his mind. Not long before dinner, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Marco, and Rita Skeeter had been seen leaving a disused classroom in the third floor together. The implications of such a meeting without his prior approval worried Albus.

Albus reminded himself that he didn't actually have the authority to approve or prohibit such a meeting. He would have, under different circumstances. But as things were? Albus was almost certain he wouldn't be in undisputed charge of the upcoming war by the end of this meeting. Marco hadn't struck him as the sort of person who followed orders easily, and Harry... well, Harry's conduct over the past years made much more sense with the knowledge that he was a reincarnated pirate with memories of said past life.

Pirates.

Albus feared the implications of such a term.

Pirates hadn't been an issue in magical Britain, but the stories he knew of them from the muggle world, centuries ago when they had roamed the seas... they weren't encouraging.

The spell indicating the gargoyle at the bottom of the stairs had moved activated, and Albus took a deep breath.

Not even a minute later, the door to his office was opened and Harry Potter strode in confidently, followed closely by Marco the Phoenix.

How had Albus missed how little Harry behaved like his peers?

"Evening, Headmaster," Harry greeted him with a grin Albus had never seen on him before. Confident. Self-assured. Cocky. Was this the pirate? Portgas D. Ace?

"Albus," Marco greeted him much more reservedly. He wasn't smiling, nor was he looking at Albus. Instead, he kept his eyes on the office door until it closed again.

"Good evening, Marco, Harry— or would you prefer to be called Ace?" Albus asked, remembering that was the name Marco had used to speak about him after the initial explanation.

Harry snorted.

"Harry is fine. It'd be weird if Marco called me that, but everyone else? That's my name now," he said. He walked over to one of the armchairs and settled down on it without waiting for an invitation. Marco moved to lean against one of Albus' many trinket-covered tables across the desk instead of sitting on the other armchair.

There was a short silence. It was odd for Albus to not know how to handle a conversation, yet it was the third time it had happened this week.

"So," Harry started, "you know about us now."

"I do," Albus confirmed with a nod. An innocuous question came to mind, something that would help him open the grounds for conversation. "I'm curious, was it haki what you used down in the lake?"

Harry grimaced apologetically.

"Yeah. About that... hope no one got hurt."

Albus found himself pleasantly surprised and relieved. Over the past few days, he had wondered how much of Harry's noble nature had been wistful thinking on his part, but this concern for complete strangers brought him hope that he hadn't been deluding himself quite so much about Harry's nature.

"Don't worry, there were no injured. The merpeople were rather impressed by what you did, in fact."

Instead of looking pleased, as Albus would have expected, Harry sighed and threw an annoyed look over his shoulder at Marco.

Marco snorted.

"You were going to train anyway," he told Harry, amusement in his voice for the first time since Albus had first heard him speak.

"I take it training is something you do often?" Albus asked, looking between the two of them. He had wondered about Harry's magical prowess at times, especially after his performance during the first task.

"Marco's a slave-driver," Harry answered.

Albus raised an eyebrow and looked at Marco, who shrugged off the accusation.

"I never ask more of him than what he can handle."

After those words, they trailed into silence. Albus could command the attention of entire rooms, students and seasoned wizards alike —he did so, in fact, on a regular basis— yet now he kept finding himself at a loss for words.

"Skeeter?" surprisingly, it was Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait who spoke. The sneer was clear in his voice.

Harry pointed to Marco over his shoulder, as though to say it was Marco's fault.

Marco rolled his eyes.

"She's an animagus. We... convinced her to cooperate with us."

"Oh?" Rita Skeeter being an unregistered animagus would explain many things, yet Albus found himself both curious and afraid to ask how they had gained her cooperation.

Marco met his eyes for the first time over Harry's shoulder.

"I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done. I simply forwent the niceties."

Not for the first time, Albus was reminded that Marco knew him. Knew him on a level that no one, not even Gellert back in the day, ever had. It should be terrifying —and, in a way, it was, for Albus had confided in Fawkes without restraint for decades— yet part of him found it heartening. This man, who knew Albus' deepest failings and weaknesses, who knew of the circumstances of Ariana's death, of Albus' avoidance to face Gellert for years despite all the atrocities Gellert kept committing, of Albus' inaction during Tom's rise to power, this man was willing to give him a chance.

Albus was under no delusions here. As a phoenix, Fawkes may have appeared deficient. As a man... there was something about Marco, when he left the affable act behind, that set every one of Albus' instincts on edge.

If Marco wasn't willing to trust him, if he decided Albus was a threat, a risk, or even a liability... Albus knew how a confrontation would end. Yet what he didn't know was if there would be a confrontation. Because, when it came down to it, Marco may know Albus better than anyone else, but Albus only knew about Marco the small glimpses Marco had decided to show him over their past two meetings, and even of those Albus couldn't be certain.

"Skeeter works for Marco now," Harry said. "We even gave her an interview," he added with a grimace that made Albus smile. It seemed Harry's distaste for his fame wasn't a front.

"I'm surprised. I doubt Miss Skeeter is easy to buy," Albus said. Threaten, certainly, but Harry's words implied they had reached a deal that would ensure Skeeter wouldn't be excessively unhappy.

"You'd be surprised by the amount of riches one can accumulate over a few millennia," Marco said, as though it was the most logical explanation.

Phineas scoffed.

"Doubt you're that rich," he muttered. Phineas's opinion of Marco had been going back and forth all week. On one hand, Marco was technically a muggle. On the other, he was clearly not. His claim of having met the first wizard in person had both interested and thrown off every former headmaster and headmistress present. Marco had essentially confirmed that every magical person was descended from muggleborns, and that... well, it hadn't sat well with some blood supremacists.

Albus himself had found it fascinating. He would have given the statement a lot of thought under different circumstances.

"Lucius Malfoy would go green with envy if he saw Marco's vault," Harry said gleefully.

"We're not here to talk about my vault," Marco interrupted before Phineas could speak again. "Although... Albus, I have quite the collection of books in there. I haven't had time to go through all of them, and I admit some of the magic in them goes over my head. Perhaps you'll be able to find something useful for our predicament in them."

Our predicament.

Yes, of course. Here they went. One of the parts of this conversation Albus had really not been looking forward to.

Albus turned to look at Harry.

"I'm not pissed at you," Harry said before Albus could open his mouth. "Yeah, I'm pissed you didn't tell me I had a piece of Voldemort's soul in me, but I get it. You thought I was just a kid, would get scared, blah, blah, blah. I'm not, and now you know. So what do we do about it?"

Albus rested his elbows on his desk and crossed his hands on top of its surface. If he sagged a little... well, Harry's temper was somewhat of a legend here in Hogwarts. He had been fully prepared for an outraged —and fully deserved— tirade. This level of acceptance was surprisingly mature.

Then again, Harry had been an adult before, hadn't he? Marco hadn't given Albus too many details on that past life, just enough for Albus to understand how very important Harry Potter —Portgas D. Ace— was to Marco.

"What to do. That is the matter at hand, isn't it? I have been looking into ways of removing a horcrux without destroying the vessel. I take it you are doing the same?" Marco nodded. "Then perhaps we should put together what we have, and move from there."

Focus on the problem at hand, and leave the personal issues aside to attend later. That was one of Albus' specialties. Even if he had finally learnt better than to simply hide from his problems.

To be continued

While Marco's choice of surname was in part because of what Hermione thought, he had two other reasons. One being the Weevil situation, and the other the fact that, due to the immense spread of the name Whitebeard, many people in the world forgot Pops' real name was Newgate long before he died.