Without naming names, Arcturus informed Narcissa that his acquaintance, a specialist in dark magical diseases and a former high-ranking Death Eater, would demand amnesty as a preliminary price. If the young man's confident tone led Narcissa to any suspicions, they were not ones she intended to voice. She simply agreed to pass the offer on to the minister, while Arcturus promised to warn his acquaintance to be prepared for negotiations. After returning from the Malfoys, he wrote to Rabastan Lestrange, saying that Shacklebolt was seeking any means to eradicate the epidemic and might reconsider his stance even towards a dark wizard if he could heal the afflicted.
Rabastan took a pause—for "discussion," he said. He returned fifteen minutes later, suggesting they discuss the important matter in person, after Narcissa spoke with the minister and shared their terms. He chose London's Russell Square, by the Duke of Bedford's statue, as the meeting spot and advised dressing in Muggle attire. Since Arcturus didn't know the place or how to get there, Rabastan detailed the route from the Leaky Cauldron via Muggle transport, advising him to bring a communication parchment in case he got lost.
Arcturus was quite surprised that Lestrange was familiar with the Muggle world. He had no issues dressing for the meeting, remembering how boys his age dressed in Little Whinging. He also recalled how wizards dressed at the Quidditch World Cup and waited anxiously to see if it would be something similar. Arcturus arrived early, half an hour before the scheduled time, which passed quickly as he eagerly explored the beautiful, historic park for the first time.
Rabastan was punctual, arriving exactly on the minute. He looked like a respectable English gentleman, wealthy and impeccably dressed, with a medium-length haircut and a neatly trimmed short beard. No one would have imagined in their worst nightmare that this paragon of respectability was a wanted criminal. After exchanging greetings, he looked Arcturus up and down.
"A bit cheap, but it'll do," he commented. "Come on, they're waiting for us."
"Are you here... with friends?" Arcturus asked cautiously.
"Yes, they want to meet you. We live nearby."
"But there are only Muggles here!"
"Exactly. Augustus is clever—he figured early on that no matter who's in power, we might need a hideout, and no one would think to look for us here. He secretly started preparing a refuge just a month after our last escape from Azkaban, as soon as Snape got us back on our feet." Rabastan shook his head at his own thoughts, as if marveling at the ways of the world. "Snape's potions are exceptional, traitor or not."
He had previously mentioned that the Death Eater elite—who, by the way, called themselves the Knights of Walpurgis—had planned to dispose of Riddle, so Arcturus merely nodded in confirmation.
"Were you not afraid that Snape would poison you?" he asked, voicing a long-standing concern.
"Oh, no..." Lestrange drawled with a faint smile. "A potion brewer's mistakes come at a high price for them. Every potions master is bound by countless oaths, starting with their guild. And Riddle made doubly sure to prevent any tampering with potions, so Snape would have been sent to his ancestors just for attempting to poison us. And that bastard knew it."
Rabastan led Arcturus through the square to a nearby street, where they soon arrived at a two-story café. The first floor, a diner, was bustling with patrons, but the second floor, where the group of fugitive Death Eaters had gathered for lunch, was quieter at that time of day. They sat at a distant corner table, appearing just as respectable, self-assured gentlemen as Rabastan.
Antonin Dolohov was a large man, bony and wiry. By Muggle standards, he looked to be about fifty. The other two appeared around forty, and while Joshua Travers was nearly as robust as Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood was noticeably thinner and lighter. They greeted Arcturus with polite but cautious interest, in a "trust but verify" manner. Thanks to Daphne's lessons, Arcturus noticed that Travers looked at him more warmly than the others, guessing that the man was glad his wife's child had been found. Nonetheless, the adoptive father did not greet him with open arms, studying him just as closely as his two friends.
Lunch had already been ordered and was served as soon as the five of them settled at the table. Arcturus couldn't help but notice the liveliness of these people. They ate leisurely, savoring their food, sat relaxed, and looked out at the world with vigor and confidence. They understood each other effortlessly, completing sentences as if on instinct. The obligatory pleasantries about the weather were kept brief with a casual "So, how's it outside?" They asked Arcturus if he liked the park and whether he had been there before. Initially, the conversation revolved around London's parks and other attractions until Antonin—"let's stick to first names to avoid attention to last names"—looked at Rabastan, then at Arcturus, and addressed both:
"So, your little venture is unfolding as planned?"
Rabastan turned to Arcturus, silently urging him to explain. Being at the center of everyone's attention didn't make Arcturus feel nervous—the informal atmosphere made him feel neither younger nor an outsider.
"Lady Malfoy met with Shacklebolt at St. Mungo's," he began. "She told him that a sorcerer from an ancient magical lineage who doesn't shy away from dark magic and has inherited ancestral knowledge might be able to cure such an illness. And that the only such wizards now are among former Death Eaters, because old families aligning with the current government long ago turned away from dark magic and rid themselves of dangerous sources of knowledge. She added that the most important works and treatises were destroyed at the Malfoys' during raids and at the Blacks' when the Order of the Phoenix stayed at Grimmauld Place, so she can't manage on her own."
"And what did Shacklebolt say?" Dolohov, who seemed to be the leader, asked.
"At first, he reminded her that there are neutral families who didn't support any side. Lady Malfoy responded that she has no contacts in such families and can only rely on old connections, but if the minister isn't satisfied with that, nothing stops him from contacting the neutrals himself. From what she said, Shacklebolt seemed to have already exhausted all available resources; he simply grimaced and asked about the terms."
"And how did he take them?"
"He approved the idea of a mutual oath of no harm. He only said it should be a very strict oath, leaving no loopholes for the Death Eaters, and that amnesty would only be granted after all the victims are healed. Then Lady Malfoy told Shacklebolt that our side would draft the oath, and the minister could review and amend it. He accepted this and said he would await the oath's text."
"Does he know who specifically needs amnesty?"
"No, that hasn't been discussed yet. Lady Malfoy and I feared that if Shacklebolt heard your names, he might refuse to talk to her at all."
"Smart," Antonin approved. "But let's not count on a favorable outcome until Shacklebolt hears who he's dealing with. Hostility toward our group may outweigh any desire to lift the curse, especially as it's not life-threatening. Right now, in the immediate aftermath, our chance for amnesty is slim, but if it doesn't work this time, we'll wait and make the offer again."
"Yes, the curse won't go anywhere," Rabastan confirmed confidently. "You're right, as always, Anthony—time is on our side. Over time, grudges will fade, and a grown man will eventually tire of immobility and… inconveniences."
Augustus and Joshua nodded in agreement. It was clear to them that, however dedicated the new minister might be to his people, self-interest in the matter was another level of motivation.
"Now, about the oaths," Dolohov looked directly at Arcturus. "We've discussed this among ourselves already, so this mainly concerns you, boy. Of course, a simple word of honor from the minister won't be enough for us. He's a commoner; what does he know of honor? In my country, until recently, 'commoner' and 'scoundrel' were the same word, at least until the scoundrels came to power. But even if Shacklebolt swore, that's just one man's personal oath. His guards, his subordinates wouldn't be bound by it."
Arcturus understood. His imagination flashed an image of Aurors dragging him and the people relying on him off to Azkaban, while Shacklebolt smugly claimed he hadn't personally arrested them, so he hadn't broken his oath. Could the Light side really do something like that, given how they'd already treated him? Yes, they could.
"And what are we supposed to do?" he asked helplessly. "We can't make everyone swear an oath, can we?"
"That's just it—we can. How do you think international relations are regulated in the magical world? They're upheld by group oaths, which the leader of a community takes on behalf of the whole group. The subjects of such oaths aren't just states; they can include communities of non-human races and political groups recognized by a country's authorities. And we, the Knights of Walpurgis, are recognized by the British government as a political group."
"But you've been declared illegal," Arcturus reminded him, having trained himself to read newspapers closely.
"Nevertheless, we're still a political group. At least because the current authorities prosecute solely for membership without regard to specific crimes. This acknowledges us as a separate community, meaning our group can be a subject of a group oath."
"I've never heard of anything like this…" Arcturus murmured.
"That's a serious gap in your education." Dolohov frowned, and the others exchanged glances. "Even at Hogwarts, the Headmaster invites a Ministry official to give graduates a lecture on the topic."
Arcturus recalled what he'd been up to while his classmates were finishing their education. As Harry Potter, he'd been wandering through British forests with Ron and Hermione, clueless about how to proceed with Dumbledore's task until gamekeepers captured them. The memories weren't pleasant, so he looked down and said nothing.
"Don't be discouraged," Dolohov said, drawing him out of his thoughts. "You'll catch up if you want to. In short, a pact for peaceful coexistence has two phases. Such a pact becomes necessary if the parties are hostile, so the first phase is a truce while conditions are met in preparation for the pact. This usually includes stopping hostilities, exchanging the wounded and prisoners, returning confiscated property, and so on—any conditions without which a peace treaty can't be made. Got it?"
"Yes," Arcturus nodded. "In our case, we'd need to heal those affected by the curse. On their side, probably nothing?"
"Correct. You catch on quickly. The peace pact is our price for the healing. We'll still have tensions with the current authorities, but at least we won't be arrested just for being seen. This pact will give us a chance to gather ourselves and withdraw with fewer losses—but only once it's in place. Our main issues will arise during the first phase, when it doesn't yet protect us. Can you guess what they might be?"
Arcturus thought for about a minute, during which Dolohov waited patiently.
"The moment they see you, they'll grab you. And force you to comply."
"Exactly." Antonin smiled dryly. "They'll try to force us, and the methods will likely be extremely unpleasant. I'd bet a Galleon to a Knut they'll be deadly unpleasant because they'll get nothing from us."
"But the negotiations will be conducted by Lady Malfoy!"
"That's the negotiation, but who will be doing the healing? You can't handle it, so Rabastan will have to go to St. Mungo's, and he's currently the most wanted criminal. Be proud, Basti—they didn't catch you, and now they hate you the most as the most elusive one."
"Hardly something to be proud of," Rabastan scoffed dismissively. "Though it's obvious they'd find the temptation too great."
"Do you see the situation, Arcturus?" Dolohov continued once he nodded. "It's common when neither side can fully trust the other, which is why there's an oath of truce that marks its beginning. This oath is taken on each side by a mediator, who belongs to neither and whom both sides accept. He's called the truce guarantor and is completely untouchable while it lasts. I'm explaining this in detail because we want to offer you the role of guarantor in our truce with the Ministry."
"Me?" Arcturus echoed in confusion. The look on his face was so clearly one of "Why me?" that Joshua Travers found it necessary to explain:
"We wouldn't involve you if we had any other choice. There are too few people left we trust this much, and all of them have tensions with the current authorities. We need our choice of guarantor to be accepted by the other side, and Shacklebolt won't want to deal with anyone else we could suggest."
Arcturus's thoughts raced, caught on the panicky refrain, "How, again a special role, again the only one who can solve it?" It lasted only a few moments before he sensed a tension around the table that hadn't been there before. All four fugitives were watching him, waiting for his answer, with barely contained breath.
Yes, he was their only hope. Not only for these four, but for the unique world of traditional magic he was only beginning to understand. A world threatened largely because of the Trained-Boy-of-the-Great-Light-Elder. Whether out of ignorance or not, it was because of him, and now he owed that world greatly.
Besides, he had already chosen. Chosen freely, without hints or guidance, without sweets in his mouth and honeyed words, when he offered shelter to Rabastan Lestrange.
"I…" Arcturus's voice faltered, "… I don't mind… I mean, I agree…" His companions breathed out and stirred. "Just… first I need to get a better understanding of this, so I don't make a mess of things. I have a house-elf, Kreacher; he's very knowledgeable and will explain everything to me. He'll find books and documents. I need this to avoid stumbling in front of the Minister… like I am now…"
The four former Death Eaters, seeing his hesitation, now smiled in understanding.
"Of course, we're in no rush," Dolohov replied on behalf of them all. "When you're prepared, we'll meet again and discuss everything. If you have questions or if anything remains unclear, be sure to ask; we'll explain everything. How much time do you need to prepare?"
"A day or two, no more." Arcturus had already resigned himself to the necessity and calmed down. "There's not much, right?"
"You'll understand the basics in an hour, but you'll need to get used to your role and plan the conversation depending on how Shacklebolt behaves. Also, read about similar cases in magical history—like the end of the Second Goblin War. Historians describe what was overlooked and why it led to the Third War. Your house-elf might know something too; he was already serving the Blacks then."
"I'll write to you the evening after tomorrow," Arcturus promised.