The Winds of Change
A/N
As of the posting of this chapter, this story is now complete, and the epilogue posted on my other page. There is one other chapter and then the epilogue which will be uploaded here in due course.
Anyway, do enjoy this offering.
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This chapter is dedicated to EscapeinTV. Your support is truly appreciated x
He could feel every eye in the Great Hall on him but his own were fixed on the front page of the Daily Prophet. What he read didn't make sense nor could he accept it. It couldn't be true, how could it?
Malfoy Manor had stood for several hundred years and no such accident had ever happened. His father was not a negligent man, and this would not have happened under his watch.
He scanned the article once more, calming his breathing as he tried to absorb the words.
Disaster as Prominent Family Home is Razed Leaving No Survivors
By Rita Skeeter
Wizarding Britain will today mourn the loss of one of our most influential Lords. Lucius Malfoy (46) and his wife, Narcissa (45) are thought to have perished in what the auror office has deemed a 'freak accident' at their stately, Wiltshire home.
Having shared a close relationship with the man for the past decade and a half, Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, grew worried when his recent missives went unanswered for almost two weeks.
Concerned for his friend, he ordered a contingency of aurors to attend the address where they found the wards had collapsed due to what is believed to be a significant, magical backlash.
When asked for his thoughts on the matter, the Minister had this to say;
" It is sad news, very sad news indeed. Lucius was not only a personal friend, but a man of integrity that will be sorely missed. His loss will be felt by all for years to come. The auror investigation will continue until we can ascertain exactly what has happened. I would like to take this opportunity to assure the public that we will not rest until the full facts are known to us."
With the Minister's promise, I would like to remind the British public that they leave behind a fifteen-year-old son, Draco, who is currently at Hogwarts and was not in the home when the event occurred.
We at the Prophet offer him our deepest condolences.
Draco swallowed deeply as he read the last words, his body frozen from shock.
He was startled by a hand resting on his shoulder and he looked up into the face of his godfather and head of house.
"Come, Draco," he instructed quietly, helping him to his feet.
The boy could only follow, his gaze firmly on the stone floor, not wanting to see the looks of pity, sympathy and perhaps glee sent his way. He didn't want pity and would not be subjected to the smugness of those below him. He was still a Malfoy and they would see him no differently.
"Sit," Snape instructed.
Draco looked up and found that he had been led to the man's office. The professor took a seat behind his desk and waited patiently for him to follow suit. When he did, his first tears broke free.
He had managed to curb them in the hall but not here. Here, he allowed them to flow freely as he grieved for his parents.
His father had been his hero, the immaculately dressed man who had friends in the highest of places. He would often have them over for lunch or dinner and they would all regale him with tales of their own achievements. They were different men that had left different lives, but all had the same thing in common.
They looked upon his father with utmost respect.
Lucius Malfoy had become his idol and Draco wanted to be just like him. He wanted to be looked at the same way by his peers, wanted to emulate his father in every way. More than anything, he wanted to live up to his expectations, to make him proud of the man he would become.
With his mother, it was different.
Since he had been old enough to walk and feed himself, his father had been the one in charge of his upbringing. He'd had private tutors since he was five and even during the summer when he had started at Hogwarts. He'd had little to do with the woman since he had been a toddler.
Despite this, he remembered her still. He remembered when she would sit him on her knee and read him stories, would feed him from her own plate of food when he refused his own.
She was the one that would heal him if he injured himself.
A fresh wave of tears broke free as a memory came to the forefront of his mind.
He had been four years old. She had told him firmly not to go near the fireplace, but Draco was an adventurous boy and defiant. She had turned her back for only a second and he had seized his opportunity, had charged pell-mell towards it and tripped.
Instinctively, he had held his hands out to protect himself, only to scald them on the surrounding guard.
He had screamed as he watched his skin blister before his eyes, but she had been there immediately and had held him to her chest as she carried him to the kitchen.
He remembered the sting of the cold water as his hands were run under the tap, even his pathetic sobbing as she fetched a burn salve from her potions kit.
He could not remember the words she spoke as she soothed him, but he had fallen asleep on her, his hands bandaged in swathes of linen.
She had not been angry with him. She had been scared, the first and only time he had seen her in such a state.
From then on, he had kept a safe distance away from all fireplaces, not wanting to experience such pain again.
Slumped in the chair, he turned his hands over to look at them. His mother had done such a fine job that not even a blemish remained on his skin. In this moment, he wished there was. He would at the very least have something to remind him of her, a piece of the memory to carry with him, always.
"What happened?" he croaked, wiping at his eyes.
He did not believe for one moment there had been an accident. The Death Eaters had been there along with the Dark Lord. Something happened to his home and he wanted the truth of it.
"I was instructed not to tell you," Snape answered. "The Dark Lord informed me that you were carrying out a task for him and should not learn of it until it was complete."
Draco frowned as he shook his head.
"I have not been doing anything for him," he returned confusedly, meeting the gaze of the man.
Snape stared at him curiously for a moment, his eyes narrowing in thought as he shook his head.
"Come, Draco, I believe we need to speak to the headmaster about this."
"I'm not going to him!"
"Do not be a fool, boy. The Dark Lord believes that you are carrying out an important task for him. How do you think he will react when he learns that you have not done as he has commanded."
"He hasn't commanded me to do anything," the boy denied vehemently.
"I think you believe he has not, but I have my suspicions. I can assure you, I will not allow anything to happen to you nor will you be in any trouble. I am trying to save your life."
Draco suddenly felt nervous. He had never witnessed the potions master lose his composure as he seemingly had.
He nodded, his grief turning to worry. With no idea what was happening, he followed the man once more, hopefully towards answers to the many questions he had.
(Break)
For almost three weeks, he had been pushing them hard. Having fallen horribly behind during their time with Umbridge, it had been needed. They had complained often but fell silent when he reminded them what was at stake. It had been difficult, for him also, but he had persevered as had they and he was pleased with the progress they were making.
It had been odd at first, and he had spent much of his first few days answering the same questions regarding their former professor's status. They didn't care, not really, they were simply curious as to why they had been given the sudden reprieve.
He had told them all the same; that Dolores Umbridge was gone and that was all that mattered.
They would learn why for themselves soon enough. According to Sebastien, the ICW had finished with their investigation and would convene in the coming days to discuss the findings.
Too little to late for him to avoid the public spectacle that would be the Order of Merlin ceremony. However, so long as Fudge got his comeuppance, he would endure it.
"Quills down," he instructed his fifth-year class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. When they complied, he nodded gratefully.
None had seemingly taken exception to him teaching. They had worked under him during their transfiguration lessons, so it was not something unfamiliar.
"For the rest of this lesson, I want you to pair off and work on your shields," he instructed. "There is a very strong chance you will asked to perform one during the exam. Disarming and stunning spells only," he added.
With a wave of his wand, the chairs and desks were swept to the side of the room and the students set to work.
Harry wandered amongst them, offering tips on their casting and shielding where needed before taking his place at the front of the classroom where he rubbed his tingling arm.
Between the efforts of him and Fleur, they had managed to reattach it, though it had not been an easy process and it had not healed entirely just yet. It didn't cause him any pain, but it often felt as though the limb was no longer his, having spent almost a week absent from it. The scar, however, was a neater one as far as such things went and appeared as little more than a slightly purple line where it had been severed.
Still, it was not something he would rush to do again in a hurry, not with the amount of difficulty they'd had reuniting him with it.
Flashback
"It's doesn't look very 'ealthy," Fleur commented as she bent over to get a closer look at the submerged limb.
"No, it doesn't," Harry agreed with a sigh. "I must have made a mistake with how well I thought the fluid would preserve it, but the mark is dead."
The flesh of his arm had slightly discoloured where it had been cut. The tissue was dying and may already be beyond the point of saving.
Carefully, he removed it and placed it in the bucket of ice he had brought along for the occasion. When it was settled with the black skull facing upwards, he took a deep breath and placed the tip of his wand on it. Much to his relief, it vanished with a few mumbled parseltongue spells with no magic left within it for him to combat.
"I suppose we should try and put it back on," he suggested as he turned his wand towards the metal arm.
With a few waves, it fell to the floor before pooling into the viscous liquid it had been when conjured.
The part of his arm still attached to his body looked much healthier than its counterpart. The wound was clean, and the tissue had thrived, the prosthetic having served its purpose perfectly.
In comparison, the other part now on ice looked worse than ever, though that could be due to having no blood flowing through it. He would know soon enough if it was that simple.
Fleur nodded; her skin paler than usual as her eyes flittered between the two pieces of his arm. She looked rather unwell, though she had insisted on being here. In truth, Harry was grateful for her presence. If he could not get it back on, he would be relying on her to do so.
She had taken it upon herself to learn the required charms, unwilling to take any risks. Harry, however, could live with the metal one if necessary. To him, it would always be a worthwhile sacrifice to have been rid of the final Horcrux.
"I will do it," she declared, "you will need to 'old it in place."
Harry nodded as he took the cold limb from the ice and lined it up to where it had been cut. It didn't appear as though any decomposition had taken place and he took that as a positive sign.
With the arm where it needed to be, Fleur began casting the spells and in only a few moments, his arm was whole again, though he could not feel it.
The two of them watched for several moments hoping the blood would begin to flow, and after several tense moments, the colour began to return. Fleur released her held breath, but Harry shook his head.
"I can't feel a thing," he muttered.
Fleur was concerned and tentatively took hold of his wrist. Inspecting it, she frowned.
"I did everything right; it should be fine."
Harry offered her a comforting smile, not wanting her to blame herself. She had been meticulous in her work and had not made any errors, he was certain of it.
"It must be the nerves," he mused aloud, tapping the tips of his unresponsive fingers. "There's only one spell I know that may help."
Steadying himself, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his thoughts wandering to Voldemort and all the things the man had done over the years to him.
He allowed his anger to surface as he pondered the fate of his parents, the cowardly attack in the night that had taken them from him, and with a growl, he unleashed the magic.
" Crucio!"
The agony that washed over him lasted but a second, but it was enough to remind him of the sheer agony he had endured in the graveyard and to bring him to his knees.
It took a minute or two for the pain to recede, though his entire body tingled uncomfortably, his arm included and when he opened his eyes, Fleur was staring at him, her own full of unshed tears.
"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly.
He nodded as she helped him back to his feet.
"I forgot how much that hurts," he chuckled, wincing as another wave of tingling overcame him.
However, he took it as a positive sign that the tingling had spread throughout the entirety of his left arm, his now fingers twitching also uncomfortable under the effects of the curse. With considerable effort, he managed to move them slightly and Fleur took it in her own hand and brushed her lips against his knuckles.
"When will it end, 'Arry? When will it be you that 'as to stop giving just so you can live your life?"
"Soon," he promised. "It will all be over soon."
End Flashback
Although his arm had not quite fully recovered, it was improving with each passing day and he took comfort in that, even when the raw nerves still tingled. The pain was a good thing; so long as he felt something, he knew it was getting better.
"Okay, that's enough for today," he announced. "We will spend next lesson revising the work we did with Professor Lupin on creatures."
This would be one of the easier parts of the task to get them ready for their OWLs. Remus had been their only competent professor, so he was hopeful they would not need to spend as much time on this as they would the work they had covered in other years.
Fortunately, he only had one more lesson to teach today and that was not until later on in the afternoon, though any notion he had of taking a break or completing some of his own work was lost by the arrival of Fawkes who arrived, clutching a piece of parchment in his beak.
With a frown, he accepted the missive and shook his head as he read the contents.
Harry,
I would appreciate if you could join myself, Severus and Mr Malfoy at your earliest convenience. It appears the news of Lucius's demise has broken.
Albus.
He nodded, already knowing this was coming. He had, after all, planned it.
With the investigation into Fudge on its way to being concluded, he had instructed Rita to announce the death of his greatest ally. Not only would it let Fudge know that he was not untouchable as he foolishly believed, it also served those who were reluctant to go against Lucius on the Wizengamot. With him dead, they would not hesitate to stand against the Minister.
There was, however, the fall out of his plan to manage, and it seemed that moment had arrived.
Locking the classroom door as he exited, he took the short walk to the headmaster's office at the end of the corridor. At his approach, the gargoyle sprang aside to allow him entry.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore called before he could announce his presence.
Upon entering the office, he saw that Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, as he usually was, with Snape stood to one side and a distraught Draco Malfoy in a chair opposite the headmaster.
The boy looked at him fearfully, unsettled by his appearance and Harry held his gaze.
He felt no remorse for what he had done. Lucius had deserved what had befallen him and he would offer no apologies.
"I told you I would do it. Not believing me was stupid and believing your father was unreachable was even more so. I will not even pretend that I'm sorry or that I'm not glad that it was me that put the bastard in the ground."
Draco launched at him with a scream of fury but was halted by a freezing charm, courtesy of the headmaster.
"Harry, please, a little bit of sensitivity would not go amiss…"
"Sensitivity is something I lack when it comes to him and his followers," Harry spat, his eyes remaining firmly on the blonde. "Draco needs to hear the truth and to understand the world for what it is. What happens next depends on it."
Dumbledore did not seem pleased with his tact but said nothing else.
"Your father was one of the biggest pieces of shit that dared to breathe the same air as decent people. He murdered, tortured and carried out who knows what other disgusting acts under a veil of fighting for pureblood supremacy. The world is better off without him."
Draco growled, unable to do little else.
"You beg to differ?" Harry snorted. "Imagine what you're feeling, but consider that your father was a good person, was innocent but was still targeted in the night as he slept. That is what hundreds of others must live with because of him and any other that carry the mark. It's not a nice feeling is it, Draco? Knowing that he was killed in cold blood. The difference between you and those that live with what the Death Eaters have done is that their loved ones were innocent, and your father deserved every ounce of pain inflicted on him."
Malfoy tried in vain to fight against the magic holding him in place with tears streaming down his cheeks from the effort.
"You may think of me as a monster and you may be right," Harry conceded, "but I am what people like your father and his master made me. My parents were good people and were killed because they stood against a tyrant. Why should yours be allowed to live when they supported that same man that took them from me?"
"My mother was innocent!" Draco defended.
Harry nodded.
"She was and that is why she lives," he ground out. "I may be a monster, Draco but I am not him and I am not Lucius. I took your mother from the dungeon she was being kept in and she is safe."
"You're lying," Malfoy croaked.
"What do I have to gain from that?" Harry returned.
Draco shook his head, his eyes searching Snape's who shrugged unknowingly.
"She was in a poor state when I found her, likely left to die and your father too cowardly to even save his own wife. He chose his master over the woman he was supposed to love. It took someone who was an enemy to free her. She is now with your Aunt Bellatrix in a place where Voldemort cannot get to her."
Draco met his stare for the first time almost pleadingly.
"Now, what happens to you depends on what decision you make, and I suggest it is the right one, for your sake."
Draco scowled at him, but Harry had his full attention.
"Voldemort will want you dead. I altered your memory when I discovered what you were doing for him and it will stay that way. You knowing will only put you in further danger, but I can assure you, he will kill you the next time he sees you."
Malfoy swallowed deeply, the look of fear returning once more.
"I promised to put an end to the Malfoy line, and I intend on carrying that out. However," he continued, holding up a hand to still any protest, "I am willing to make a compromise and a one time offer to you. If you do not accept, then I will consider you an enemy and a threat to me. As you have learned, Draco, I do not take threats well."
Malfoy frowned but nodded for him to continue.
"When you come of age, every galleon in the Malfoy vault will be paid to the Potter one as compensation, you will not take up your seat on the Wizengamot and you will publicly denounce the name Malfoy. In return, I will allow you to live with your mother and aunt, I will provide you with enough gold to live a good life, and if you prove yourself worthy between now and your seventeenth birthday, I will give you the name Black. You will swear an oath of loyalty to me as your Lord and I will find a suitable bride. That is my offer."
Dumbledore's eyes had widened in surprise as he spoke, but Harry ignored him. This was family business and the old man would get no say here.
"All the gold?" Draco asked.
Harry nodded firmly.
"People with gold can be dangerous, no matter how stupid they are. Your father proved that. As I said, you will not be deprived of anything, but I will take no chances with you. You either accept my offer or make an enemy of me."
Draco frowned, seemingly pondering his predicament.
"It's not like I have a choice," he mumbled.
"There is always a choice, Draco, but they are often not ones we like."
The boy stared at him hatefully for a moment before nodding.
"Fine, but I want to see my mother."
"I will take you to her myself," Harry agreed, "but a final warning. If you try to go back on this agreement in any way, I will come for you and your mother. Do not make me regret this, Draco."
"I believe it would be prudent for you to remain away from the castle until such a time it is safe for you to return," Dumbledore suggested. "Would it be possible to forward work to where he is going?"
Harry nodded.
"It will and Draco will complete it to the best of his ability. If he wants to be a Black, he will earn it."
"I will make the arrangements," Dumbledore sighed, rather displeased with how Harry had handled the situation.
Harry, however, had compromised as much as he was willing to. He would not give Malfoy any opportunity to seek vengeance against him. It would be easier to merely kill the boy, but he was not Voldemort. He would not kill him when an alternative was available and could prove to help him assist him one day.
The Black's may not be his family, but their name was an old one and deserved to continue. Perhaps in a few generations, Draco's great-great-great grandchildren will prove to be worthy of continuing the line with the lordship. Not the blonde, however, he would always be the spawn of Lucius and could not be trusted.
(Break)
Life within the home with her sister was not something she had ever envisioned for herself. Here, she was responsible for everything she had once taken for granted. She had to prepare her own meals, wash her own clothes; all the menial tasks she had never had to do. Even as a child and a young woman when she had lived with her parents, these things had been taken care of by the house elves.
They had no such help here.
It did, however, serve to keep her mind occupied during her waking hours. When night fell, things were different. Her mind would be full of thoughts of what had happened, questions that had yet to be answered.
What had happened to her husband? Was her son well?
These plaguing questions were much harder to live with than the manual labour she'd had to adopt. She was bereft of a wand, something she hoped would be remedied when Potter visited next.
He had returned only once since he had dropped her off here and only to bring her some clothes he had salvaged from the ruins of her home.
"Cissy!" Bellatrix called.
Narcissa huffed irritably. She loved her sister, but she was more difficult as a woman than she had been as a child. She too was used to being catered to. Even her years in Azkaban had not rid her of that entitlement. As such, she often found herself cooking for them both, though they both had as much experience as the other with that.
"What?" she replied.
"You'll want to see this."
Narcissa shook her head as she dropped the clothes she had been sorting through in the washing basket.
She doubted there was anything that could lift her spirits right now.
"What is it?" she asked when she reached Bellatrix.
She was stood staring towards the beach the house overlooked, and her breath hitched in her chest at the sight of her son being led towards them by the Potter boy.
"Draco," she whispered disbelievingly.
Her mind was screaming for her to run to him, but her legs only allowed her to walk a sedate pace and when she opened the front door, she paused as he stood only a few feet away.
She wanted to wrap him in her arms, to never let him go, but Draco would not appreciate that. He had not allowed her to do such since he had been a small boy, and he was far from that now.
He was almost a man who stood taller than her, though his eyes were that of a lost, broken child.
"Mother," he choked, relieved as he pulled her to him and held her tightly.
She melted into him and allowed herself to shed her tears. For what she was crying, she knew not. It could have been the loss they had suffered or that he was here with her. Whatever the reason, she did not try to stem the flow as he too wept.
"I thought you were dead," he mumbled.
She shook her head as she tightened her hold on him.
She didn't know how long they remained there but when they broke apart, the Potter boy was gone, and she led the way into the house. She found him talking to Bella in the living room, the latter ranting and raving and the former looking unimpressed.
"Shut up and sit down," Harry bit back, reaching the end of his patience with whatever gripe she was voicing. "You too," he added to her and Draco.
Bella scowled but complied after a muttered rebuttal and both Narcissa and Draco did also.
"Now, all three of you are only alive because I did not want to begin my headship of the Black family having killed almost all that remained. Believe me, it would have been easier to kill you all than deal with this."
His stare shifted between the three of them and Narcissa felt distinctly unsettled by it.
"Bella, you will be spending your remaining years here. There will be no compromise on that. I do not care if you have to wash your own bloody clothes or cook your own food, you will not be getting an elf."
Bellatrix pouted but seemingly knew better than to argue with him.
Satisfied she had nothing to say, he turned his attention towards her and her son.
"Until Voldemort is dead, it is not safe for you to return. Even after he is gone, I cannot guarantee your safety. There will be those that will see you as traitors, but I will leave that up to you. When I do take up the headship, I will find you suitable homes, if you wish."
Narcissa nodded her understanding.
"Your husband is dead, and you saw what happened to your home. The Malfoy family is no more and will not continue."
Narcissa could only swallow the lump in her throat. She had suspected Lucius had been killed.
"Draco has agreed to my terms. The Malfoy fortune will be paid in full to the Potter account. He will take the name Black when he comes of age and I will find him a suitable bride or one he finds himself will be subject to my approval. Before I leave, he will swear an oath of loyalty to the Black family and to me as the future Lord."
Narcissa's eyes widened in shock. It was the type of move her grandfather would have made to bring one of his enemies to heel.
"And what about me?" she asked.
He shrugged uncaringly.
"You can do as you please. I rescued you as I promised I would, but I will do you no further favours. For as long as you are under my care, I will keep you safe, housed and with a reasonable monthly stipend. Your life is your own as far as I'm concerned. Live it or squander it, it's up to you."
"Am I allowed to get a wand?"
He nodded.
"You can, but I will give you this warning now; If you attempt to harm me in any way, I will kill you and I will kill your son. He will be first and you will watch."
She shook her head frantically.
"I would never…"
"No, you would not," he agreed. "Is there anything else I need to be aware of before I take my leave?"
"We need clothes," Bella piped up.
"And something to do, some books maybe?" Narcissa added.
"That's fair," he agreed as he passed the three of them a small sack of galleons each. "I will have some books delivered along with Draco's schoolwork. Now, if there is nothing else, I will have my vow and be on my way."
(Break)
"You cut quite the imposing figure, 'Arry," Sebastien chuckled as he entered the kitchen of the Delacour home.
"Bloody hell, you look just like your father," Sirius added with a warm smile.
He snorted slightly as he adjusted the charcoal robes he had chosen for the occasion. Both the Potter and the Black family crests had been stitched on the right side by Fleur who had insisted on helping.
He was grateful, even with magic he had never stitched a thing in his life.
On the left, the seven other medals he had been awarded for killing Greyback had been placed; garish in his opinion but both Sebastien and Sirius had not taken no for an answer. For events such as this, it was expected that he would wear them, to display what had been bestowed upon him for his feat.
"I look like a prized arse," he muttered.
"Language, 'Arry," Apolline chided lightly as she began fussing over him, removing errant lint that he could not see. "You look very 'andsome."
"They'd both be proud of you," Remus offered sincerely. "Lily would have tanned your hide, but she would have come around."
"Speaking of which," Sirius broke in nervously as he removed two small boxes from his pocket. "I took a trip to Gringotts yesterday. It was about time you had these."
Harry accepted the offered boxes with a questioning frown.
"I spoke to my grandfather, and he agreed, there is no reason you should not have them. You have his full blessing to be the next lord of the family and he has asked me to tell you that he is at your disposal if you need him."
He opened one of the boxes and found himself looking upon an ornate, platinum ring, the Black crest having been formed by a cluster of diamonds.
"You don't do things by half, do you?" he muttered as he took it and placed it on his finger.
He felt a sudden rush of magic wash over him, leaving him slightly breathless as it settled. When it had, opened the second one and swallowed deeply as he took in the crest of his own family, this one made of emerald and set in a silver ring.
The experience of the magic was one more familiar to him, though it settled the same as that of the Blacks.
It was over in a matter of moments and he met the stare of his godfather who was seemingly overcome with emotion.
"I remember James wearing it during our seventh year just after your grandfather died. He was so lost then but he vowed that the Potter luck would change. It will, with you in charge."
Harry could only nod in response. It was a humbling feeling wearing something that had belonged to generations of Potters and Blacks before him. He questioned if he was truly up to the task of bringing both back from the brink.
Only time would tell.
"We should be leaving soon," Sebastien pointed out, nodding towards the clock on the wall.
"We are still waiting for Fleur and Gabrielle," Apolline sighed.
"We are 'ere," Fleur announced as the two of them entered the kitchen.
Fleur was wearing a formfitting, red dress and Gabrielle had opted for blue.
"What do you think, 'Arry?" the younger veela asked, offering him a twirl.
"I think your father is going to be in trouble in a few years," he replied. "Don't worry, I will keep the horrible boys away from you."
"They'll be too scared to even approach 'er when they find out you're watching," Sebastien snorted.
Harry nodded thoughtfully as Gabrielle looked between them, unimpressed.
"And don't forget the former Azkaban inmate," Sirius added.
"Or the werewolf," Remus concluded with an innocent smile.
"We keep very strange company," Apolline muttered. "You will leave Gabrielle alone, all of you, or you will deal with me. 'Onestly, she will 'ave lots of boys interested in 'er. Are you going to frighten them all?"
"Yes," Harry answered, the three other men nodding their agreement.
Apolline huffed though a ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Then she will just 'ave to stay 'ome forever, or she can live with you, 'Arry. You 'ave plenty of space, non?"
Gabrielle smiled, not a warm one he usually got but one that promised trouble.
"I don't think 'e could cope with both of us," Fleur cooed, mocking him.
"Sorry, Sebastien, you're on your own," Harry mumbled, shaking his head.
"Brave 'ero, my French arse," Sebastien muttered, dodging the swipe aimed his way by his wife.
"Come along," Apolline urged. "We will be late if we do not leave now."
The group followed her from the home and across the grounds until they reached the wards where they took the portkey Sebastien had arranged. Appearing a short walk from the Ministry in London, Harry removed his cloak and placed it over him when he spotted a large gathering of journalists.
"You will 'ave to speak to them sooner or later, 'Arry," Sebastien whispered.
"Not if I can help it," Harry returned.
Without him seemingly amongst them, they passed through the crowd without being hindered. Here, having three Veela with him worked in his favour. Even if he was to be seen, it was likely he would be ignored.
Having made it through the group carrying wreaths of parchment and camera's, they entered a rather unhygienic entrance concealed as a public toilet.
After each of them had flushed themselves, they appeared in the atrium which had been decorated for the occasion. Each family crest of those on the Wizengamot had been hung throughout, those of Potter and Black having been enlarged.
"I bet Fudge didn't have anything to do with this," Harry commented as he removed his cloak.
"Not likely," Sirius agreed.
Having checked in with the guard at the desk, they were directed towards the Wizengamot chambers where Harry's arrival was being awaited by those within.
He had expected only those on the Wizengamot to be present and perhaps a photographer or two from the Daily Prophet. The room was full to capacity. Every Lord and Lady were in attendance as were several dozen members of the public filling the gallery.
When his entrance was noted, they stood and offered him a round of applause, many cheering and some calling out to him in words he could not here over the din.
"Bloody hell," he grumbled as he, along with those he had brought were led to a table that had been placed in the centre of the room by a small entourage of aurors.
He pulled Fleur's chair out for her before taking his own, doing his best to not be unsettled by the flash of the cameras and eyes on him.
Much to his relief, Dumbledore approached the podium with little delay and cleared his throat loudly to garner the attention of those within the room. When they fell silent, he spoke.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, today we are gathered to celebrate the achievement of an exceptional young man," he began. "Most of you will know Harry as the boy-who-lived, the vanquisher of the Dark Lord or any other variant of the monikers bestowed upon him. To me, he is none of those things."
A few whispers could be heard at the declaration, but they quietened as Dumbledore raised his hands to quell them.
"To me, Harry is a humble young man and a dedicated student of the likes I have seldom seen. He came to Hogwarts almost five years ago and engaged in his studies, pushed himself to be the best that he could and has exceeded expectations consistently throughout his years of schooling, and now, you all know of the brilliance myself and my colleagues has seen within him from his very first day."
A polite round of applause was given to the kind words of the highly respected man.
"Fenrir Greyback has affected many over the past decades as a fugitive. There are those that have been attacked by him personally, and those who have endured what has happened to their loved ones. Not only as a country, but as a continent, we were at a loss. He evaded capture by all those that pursued him, until he came across Harry Potter. Needless to say, we owe him a great debt for ridding us of him and it is only fitting that he receives the highest award that we offer. So, without further ado, I give you, Harry James Potter, Order of Merlin First Class."
The crowd followed the headmaster's lead and erupted into a cacophony of cheering and applause as Harry stood and approached the podium. Dumbledore offered him a warm smile as he hung the large, gold medal around his neck and shook his hand.
"A few words, if you will," the aged man requested.
Harry nodded and reluctantly took his place, revelling in the pained look of the Minister who was seated a short distance away. He waited for the sounds of the crowd to die down before addressing them.
"I stand before you all, humbled and honoured," he said diplomatically. "I could regale you with a tale as fantastical as the falsity you would find in the books written about me when I was a child, but it would not be real. We fought and he died, that's all there is to it," he added with a shrug. "I understand just as much as any of those that have suffered because of him. One of the men I trust most was attacked by him as a boy, and lives with the affliction every day. What I want to say is that, yes, Greyback was a monster, but he is not the example of the werewolf community we should look to."
He ignored the murmuring of some as he pressed on, undeterred by the dissent.
"Remus Lupin is a werewolf, that is no secret and I often eat at a table with him, share jokes, and have even relied on him in the past to teach me during my third year at school. He is the example I look to; a man who only wishes to live a normal life but cannot do so because the way he is looked upon. Greyback was the worst of his lot but Remus is one of the best men I have had the pleasure of meeting. I do not want people to believe that what I did reflect my belief on his kind. I killed Greyback because of what he was doing not what he was…"
He was cut off as the doors to the chamber were slammed open, the unexpected intrusion startling them all as a large group of purple-robed men entered.
Fearing the worst, Harry flicked his wand into his hand and rushed towards where Fleur and the others were sitting. Sebastien, however, had not reacted and remained poised in his seat.
"We are here to take Minister Fudge into custody," a large, bald man announced in a heavy, foreign accent.
"Is this the right moment for this, Cassius?" Dumbledore questioned irritably.
"Orders are orders, Albus," the man returned firmly.
Dumbledore sighed as he nodded, and all eyes turned to the pale Minister.
"Under what grounds and whose authority?" Fudge asked nervously.
"For misappropriation of funds, misleading the British public in which you are charged with protecting, corruption and negligence of duty," the man reeled off. "You are to come with us under the authority of the International Confederation of Warlocks to answer to these allegations."
The response to this was shock. Many whispered heatedly amongst themselves whilst some jeered.
Fudge swallowed deeply, his eyes searching for any who would defend him to step forward and do so. None did and he hung his head defeatedly, surrendering himself.
"I am innocent!" he declared loudly, for all to hear. "I only ever did what was best for all of you."
"Then you have nothing to fear," the bald man offered, gesturing for two of his companions to retrieve the Minister.
Fudge resisted, though his efforts were fruitless, and he found himself cuffed and frogmarched out of the chambers.
"NO! I WILL NOT BE MANHANDLED LIKE A COMMON CRIMINAL!" he protested as he was forcibly escorted away, the door slamming closed behind the last of the robed men to leave.
Most within the chambers were in a state of disbelief at what had transpired, though the sound of scratching quills soon became prevalent as the journalists began the craft of weaving what would undoubtedly appear on the front pages the very next morning.
Harry couldn't help but feel relieved by this knowing that his award would become secondary to the arrest of the Minister and even more so that Fudge was now gone. What needed to happen now was for him to be replaced by someone competent, a point that was raised by Dumbledore only a moment later.
"With the absence of Cornelius, we must appoint an interim Minister, pending the outcome of his current situation," he announced. "Wizarding Britain cannot be left without someone to take the reins. I would kindly ask that those that do not hold a seat on the Wizengamot to please take your leave whilst we address this problem."
"Not you, 'Arry," Sebastien muttered as he stood. "Your Order of Merlin grants you a seat despite your age. We will wait at 'ome for you, oui?"
Harry frowned but nodded. He didn't know what difference his presence would make, and he wanted little to do with the proceedings. He despised politicking and he would be subjected to the worst of it in the coming hours.
He shook his head as the room emptied and Dumbledore pointed to a seat a few rows behind and to the left of the podium he stood at. Here, he found himself sitting amongst people he did not recognise, though it was better than some of the alternatives. He was away from the Lords, many of whom he undoubtedly found himself at odds with due to their supporting of Voldemort.
It was going to be a very long day and he could only look on as people began making nominations based on nothing more than fabrications, delusional promises and some even frightening ideas of what they would do if they were granted the position, albeit temporarily.
(Break)
He eyed the potion he grasped disdainfully, the fresh batch of Dreamless Sleep just having been completed and delivered by Severus. He had managed to reduce his reliance on it considerably as the dreams of torture had finally begun to subside, the magic Potter had cursed him with finally having worked its way out of his system. Now, however, he was plagued by new ones.
The loss of his familiar had brought these on. When he did not take the potion, or was granted a reprieve from the others, he would dream of his Horcruxes, could only watch as it one was destroyed before him and being unable to do anything to prevent it.
He was certain they were all gone now. How? He knew not. They had been hidden and protected in ways that only he or a very skilled wizard could obtain them, the latter by his own design. If the worst were to happen and he was killed, one day, there was a chance someone would happen upon them and he would have made a triumphant return to a body of talent. It was not to be, and he had only one other avenue to assure himself of a victory over Potter.
He was pulled from his maudlin thoughts by a knock on the door.
"Come in," he grumbled.
"My Lord," Augustus greeted him, offering him a respectful bow. "I have found a way in."
The Dark Lord stared speculatively at the man for a moment and allowed himself to feel a wave of relief having seen no deception within him.
Ever since Bellatrix had seemingly betrayed him, he could no longer fully trust anyone, not even his most ardent and devout followers.
She had to have helped orchestrate his downfall, there was simply no other explanation as to how the horcrux she had been tasked to protect had been taken or even how the Malfoy property had been accessed. It could only have been her, as much as he wished it wasn't true.
"Very good, Rookwood," he praised, "but I sense you are not telling me all."
Augustus shook his head.
"You will have to retrieve it personally, my lord. Only those the prophecy pertains to can touch it."
Voldemort nodded thoughtfully.
"Then we must plan for every eventuality. You will tell no one of this, but I want the department watched. We must not go into this blindly," he added, more to himself than the Death Eater. "I would have you send for Severus for me once more. He should still be working on his potions in the basement."
Rookwood offered him a final bow before taking his leave and the Dark Lord took his seat, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the room he found himself in.
He despised his muggle heritage, but it was the only suitable option after Malfoy Manor had been destroyed. He had quickly moved his base of operations here, though not gladly.
It was a lavish property and served its purpose well enough, but it had once housed his muggle relatives, the very same ones he had murdered almost six decades ago.
Perhaps he was being paranoid, but he could not help but feel their eyes on him. He did not fear them, of course, but it unsettled him, nonetheless.
"You sent for me, my lord?" Severus questioned as he entered the room.
"I did," Voldemort confirmed. "The time to act will come soon. You must be prepared to carry out your part of the task. Do not fail me, Severus."
The potion master's face remained as impassive as ever as he offered a single nod before sweeping from the room and the Dark Lord breathed a sigh of relief, the first he had taken since he had emerged from the cauldron the night he had returned.
(Break)
For hours, the members of the Wizengamot had been arguing amongst themselves, and at times, the discussion had become heated and rather ugly. Harry had listened to a lot of drivel, veiled insults and foolish posturing. If these people were supposed to oversee the country, then there was no wonder to him why it was in such a shambles. He couldn't help but think much of the disagreement on show was due to nothing more than ego, stubbornness and unwillingness to concede.
He shook his head as he leaned back tiredly in his seat.
"And for the last time, we need someone in place that is beyond reproach," Lord Boot declared, his words receiving a resounding cheer of agreement from those around him.
"We need a strong leader, one that will not be compromised," Lord Nott returned, his own section voicing their approval.
Dumbledore crashed his gavel against the podium to silence them.
"I fear we have once again found ourselves moving in circles," he sighed. "I feel that it would be prudent for us to adjourn for today…"
"NO!" Lord Nott interjected. "You said yourself that Wizarding Britain cannot be without a leader. This should be settled immediately."
For once, the entirety of the body was in agreement, though Harry knew it wouldn't last. They would soon revert to their ridiculous huffing, puffing and posturing.
"Perhaps we should hear from someone else," Lord Ogden suggested. "Mr Potter has only joined us today, but he may have some useful insight."
Harry frowned at the man. He was hoping he would throw his support behind one of the three candidates he had nominated throughout the day.
"Ha!" Lord Selwyn broke in. "The boy will support your notion of having Dumbledore elected."
"Do not make assumptions about me, Selwyn," Harry returned as he stood. "Those who make assumptions inevitably make an ass of themselves."
The man was taken aback by the rebuttal and Harry continued before he could offer a response.
"Lord Ogden," he acknowledged the man. "You asked me for my opinion, and I will share it, but I doubt any of you will like what I have to say," he warned.
Dumbledore shot him a questioning look that he ignored as he met the stare of several of the lords and ladies.
"What I have seen today is childish bickering, juvenile insults being thrown around and downright pathetic behaviour from people who are supposed to be learned. Honestly, I've seen more maturity from first years," he scolded irritably. "And no, Lord Nott, I don't believe Dumbledore should be Minister. He already has enough responsibility to manage and it is not a position he wants. He has turned it down five times over the years. Why would he change his mind now?"
Unhappy murmurs could be heard throughout the room from the words he had given. He, however, proceeded with what little tact he had.
"Nor do I believe that you should be given the position because your great-great grandfather was once Minister," he said to a scowling Nott. "If your only contribution to the argument is that, you have no grounds to be elected. I don't care how great of a man he was; what have you done personally that qualifies you for the job?"
"I am a Lord of a very old house, boy."
"And I will soon be Lord of two houses older than your own. I also killed Greyback, killed Voldemort and am working towards two masteries. Does that mean I am more qualified than you? No, it does not and being a Lord of an old family should not be something even considered. You have achieved nothing, have sat on your arse for your whole life and lived in the shadow of better men than you. I do not doubt that Cantankerous Nott was an excellent Minister, I have seen his record, but you are not him."
Nott's eyes were all but bulging in fury, but he said nothing, and Harry turned away from him.
"If you want my honest opinion, there are so few of you here that deserve the position, it is almost laughable. Madame Bones would be a good option, but it is not something she should or would accept. She is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; a job she has done very well at despite the obstacles she has had to overcome."
Amelia Bones offered him a rare smile and bow of gratitude.
"Lord Boot would also be a good choice, but he is very business-minded and is in charge of no less than twelve companies that would not function as they do without him."
The man conceded the point with a nod.
"From what I have seen today and learned from reading voting records, there is only one person here that should be considered for the role. Time and time again he has proven his integrity, has voted for and against bills based on his own beliefs. His voting record is so remarkable that it was hard to miss and he himself has put forward bills that would have prevented what happened with Minister Fudge. The man I am referring to is Lord Greengrass."
"Me?" the man questioned disbelievingly as he stood.
Harry nodded.
"Over the years, you have remained neutral, your votes, correct me if I am wrong, uninfluenced by your peers, and based on what you believe would be best for wizarding Britain as a whole."
Lord Greengrass nodded emphatically.
"My father taught me that being true to yourself is more important than seeking influence. On his deathbed, he told me of his own regrets for being swayed with gold and the promise of status. It is something that stuck with me."
"I can see that," Harry replied as he turned to address the room once more, "and so would everyone else if they too were to peruse your record. You will never agree on someone from the opposite block to yourselves, so why not someone who comes from neither? You all claim to want someone strong, someone with integrity and someone that will be fair and impartial. Lord Greengrass is that man."
He retook is seat and listened to the mumbling as those who would try, attempted to find something to discredit the man with. It was Lord Ogden that stood first, his muttered conversation with his peers being concluded before the opposing block.
"Mr Potter has raised some excellent points, and I fear that we have been remiss in our duties for not recognising them before he so rightly brought them to our attention," he began. "We find ourselves in agreement with him. Lord Greengrass, though one that seldom makes his point known, has always proven himself as described. We would support his appointment."
His declaration was met with calls of agreement from his allies, Lord Boot and Amelia Bones included.
"We have our misgivings," Lord Selwyn responded, "but Lord Greengrass has not been outwardly averse to our beliefs. He has always listened to us and made up his own mind. We too will agree to an interim position. Subject to the outcome of Minister Fudge's current situation, we would call for a review at a later date to ascertain his suitability for the longer term."
"Then we shall vote on the motion," Dumbledore announced. "Those in favour of Lord Greengrass's appointment?"
All but a handful of wands were held aloft, some more reluctantly than others.
"And those against?"
Only a few could be seen, and Dumbledore's gavel was struck against the podium.
"Then, based on the vote of your peers, Lord Greengrass, you have been elected as our interim Minister, subject to the outcome of the investigation of Cornelius Fudge when a review will be held," he finished, his eyes on Lord Selwyn and his own allies who nodded their agreement.
Harry joined in with the round of applause that was given, the shocked Lord having been unexpectedly elevated to the highest office in the land unable to do much but nod and mumble his thanks to those offering him congratulations.
As soon as the meeting was finally brought to an end, Harry offered the man a nod of his own and left.
With Fudge finally out of office, he hoped that Greengrass would pay attention to what was going on around them and prove himself a better man than his predecessor.
It was all he could do as he would go about his own work as he had been.