Lunch was excruciating.
"Under absolutely no circumstances whatsoever are you to leave me on my own," Harry told Narcissa as they entered a side hall that was lined with tables covered in tasty delights. There were no chairs and the Wizengamot members were milling about in twos and threes, filling their plates.
Narcissa smirked at him. "They do not bite, you know. At least, not literally," she amended.
"Are you joking? I'll be gobbled up like afternoon tea."
She snorted quietly into her goblet. "Surely not. You should not undervalue yourself so - you would make a dinner-sized meal at the least."
"Thanks so much."
"Do not concern yourself, Cousin. It is me they will be looking to pick at."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
She looked at him a little strangely at that but could make no response because at that moment they were approached by Linus Parkinson and two companions.
"Lord Baron Potter," he said loudly as he swaggered up and tried to look down his nose at them him, which would have been quite an accomplishment had he succeeded as he was considerably shorter than Harry was now. Harry felt particularly gratified about his recent growth spurt.
"Lord Baron Parkinson," Harry said evenly. "Perhaps you have not heard, but I have recently joined the Black family. I go by Potter-Black now."
"Ah. Well, yes." Parkinson appeared slightly flustered at Harry's correction. Harry hadn't meant to imply that he was an ignoramus. Really he hadn't.
Parkinson eyes lit on Narcissa and he seemed to rally himself. "Narcissa. What's this I hear about you and Lucius getting a divorce?" He sneered at her as though he meant it to be insulting. Perhaps he thought to lose the Malfoy connection was to fall far. Deluded prick.
Narcissa, however, was completely unruffled by the casual reference to her former husband. "Yes. Goodness Linus, where have you been? It is Narcissa Black now."
Parkinson's eyes narrowed as did those of his companions. One was rotund but seemed somehow resplendent despite this. The other was tiny and thin as a rail. This second one was eyeing Narcissa in a way that made Harry's magic twitch in irritation.
"Well, Miss Black, this is quite a surprise, I must say. I would never have guessed that you would be taken in as a charity case. But desperate times call for desperate measures, I believe the saying goes. And these have been most desperate times for the Malfoys indeed. But you seem to have jumped ship at the exact right moment. I hope your son knew it was coming."
Harry's magic had been building into a roiling, boiling, near-uncontrollable mass of anger at this hateful man's words. It was his parting comment, however, that did it. As he felt Narcissa's connection flash with anger, guilt, and shame, something in him snapped and he felt a feral need to unseat this man. I was only Narcissa's sharp pinch at the back of his elbow that reminded him of her words that morning warning him of this very thing and prevented him from clocking this guy a fat one in the kisser. It did nothing to appease his anger, however, and he planned on taking him down a peg or ten. Just not with his fist.
"Forgive me," said Harry into the silence in the most pleasant voice he could muster. "But I don't believe we've been introduced."
The tiny man gave him the vainest of glances. "Baron Charles Bartholomew."
"Really," said Harry in that same tone of forced politeness. He was certain everyone around could hear the rage behind it perfectly well. "Any relation to the Bartholomew of Bartholomew Apothecaries?"
The man turned to re-examine him with some surprise. "Yes, I am he, in fact."
"What a fascinating coincidence," Harry practically purred.
"What is," the man asked him irritably.
"It just so happens that I own a controlling interest in your business," Harry supplied sweetly.
The man stared at him in mortification.
"Perhaps I'll come by something, see how business is going." He felt Narcissa's fingers squeeze his arm again, but this time it was softer. "Or maybe Cousin Narcissa would consent to help me look into the business. She would know more about that sort of thing that I would, after all."
"I would be delighted to," Narcissa supplied with a dangerous glint in her eye. "Baron Bartholomew seems to know so much about my life already, I am just dying to return the favour and look into his. I do hope all your dealings are honest, Charles."
"Yes, quite," Bartholomew stuttered nervously. He appeared to be sweating. He muttered something unintelligible about meeting someone and scuttled off.
"Excuse me," Parkinson smiled oily, and he, too, departed accompanied by his silent, unnamed cohort.
Harry blew out a silent breath through his nose, forced his face back to neutrality, and turned to face the watching crowed with a relaxed expression. He felt Narcissa's hand squeeze once more before dropping back to her side as she, too, forced herself past the unpleasantness.
"So, how did I do?" he asked her with a little smile, bent on moving on, and yet still anxious about her answer.
"You might try speaking a little more quietly, but other than that, you did not do unadmirably."
"Stunning praise."
That earned him a small smile in return. "You will learn."
"Were you serious when you said you owned a controlling interest in Bartholomew Apothecaries?" came a deep voice from Harry's left.
He turned to see Tristan Vance approaching smoothly accompanied by a blonde-haired man of about thirty-five and a dark-skinned, blue-eyed woman of about the same.
"Make them laugh if you can, they appreciated the offer of camaraderie," Narcissa murmured, barely moving her lips. She really had that down to an art form.
Harry made sure his face was open, his tone light. "Depends who's asking."
Vance grinned. "Tristan Vance. This is Naomi Zabini and Benjamin Goldstein."
"Harry Potter-Black, and I believe you know my cousin, Narcissa Black."
"Yes," said Naomi Zabini in a surprisingly deep voice for her feminine face. "We have been watching Miss Black whispering continuously into your ear and we are all shuddering to know what she has said about us." She smiled a friendly white smile.
Narcissa smiled demurely back, neither acknowledging nor denying the point.
Harry answered Vance's question. "Yes, I do actually own a controlling interest. Why do you ask?"
"I have a personal interest in it you see. My sister Emmeline and I have been trying to break into Bartholomew's chain for years, but he's got a steely little grip. It would be good to see him unseated, finally."
Harry nodded in a friendly way, then made as though realizing something. "Emmeline Vance is your sister?"
"Yes, do you know her?"
"How could I not?" Harry asked, grinning at Vance's confusion. "She was the Head Girl in my first year at Hogwarts. I'm pretty sure every boy in the class had a crush on her."
Vance smiled widely at that and Benjamin Goldstein chuckled. "Yourself included?" Naomi Zabini asked cheekily.
"Oh no, there's only ever been one witch for me," Harry replied seriously. He was very much enjoying setting them up. He'd watched Sirius make this very joke a thousand times.
"And who might that be?"
Harry plastered a look of innocence on his face. "Why, Professor McGonagall, of course."
They all laughed, drawing the glances of near y diners as well. Narcissa's eyes were smiling; Harry was sure she recognized his punch line.
"Love at first sight was it," Goldstein teased.
"Yes it was, and I've been devoted ever since."
The three strangers continued to chuckle at the thought and Harry and Narcissa moved off to get more food. Harry was still a growing boy, after all.
As they were loading their plate and trying not to appear as though aware they were being observed, Harry spotted Augusta Longbottom speaking with Amos Diggory a few plates down. She caught his eye and held it as she quickly finished up her conversation and moved towards them. Narcissa had obviously noticed because she angled her head slightly as though inspecting the room while muttering furiously to him.
"This will be a key meeting for you. House Black owes House Longbottom an unpayable debt because of what happened to Frank and Alice, and Augusta is known for her frankness. Do not beat about the bush, do NOT try to play any games with her . She would unhesitatingly annihilate us both. And for Merlin's sake assume that she knows everything about everything."
Harry gulped, and then immediately hoped it had not been visible. Mrs. Longbottom stopped about two feet from him, close enough to keep their words private, but no quite close enough to suggest familiarity. Harry was positive that Mrs. Longbottom was aware down to the centimetre of how close she intended to be.
"Potter-Black," she said imperiously. In fact, everything about her was imperious, right down to the vulture on her hat.
Harry sank into a bow that he must have known on instinct or learned under pressure in the last second because he was certain he had never bowed so deeply (or gracefully) to anyone before. "Lady Baroness," he replied formally.
He rose out of the bow and looked into her intimidating gaze head on. "Lady Baroness, House Black owes House Longbottom a debt that is unpayable," he stated frankly.
She made no motion.
"However, as the Head of House Black, I would be gravely remiss if I id not officially offer you any service within my power to reconcile that wrong in any way I know how."
She stared for a moment before speaking. "You are mistaken," she said finally.
Harry's stomach dropped. Oh fuck.
"Your debt has already been repayed."
Harry looked up in confusion.
"Neville told me what you did in the Death Chamber," she said quietly.
"I would have done that anyway," Harry said earnestly, dropping the formal tone that he was no good at anyway. "Neville's my friend. And he was the one coming to my rescue in the first place."
She shook her head. "There is a confidence in Neville that was not there before, that was not my doing. You put that there."
Harry thought of Neville's incredible improvement in DA, but still shook his head. "That's what friends do for each other," he maintained.
"Then House Longbottom is proud to call itself friend of House Black," she insisted, and it had the tone of a command. Drop it.
Harry bowed again and then gestured to Narcissa who now dipped into a curtsey. "Then it is my honour to present to you my cousin, Narcissa Black."
Augusta Longbottom stared at her impassively. "I was sad to see what happened to the Black family," she stated factually.
"I can only endeavour to return honour to its name," Narcissa replied demurely.
nodded once and turned to make conversation with Elphias Doge, who looked not a little terrified at the prospect.
Harry and Narcissa let out twin sighs of relief. "Well, shit," said Harry eloquently.
"My thoughts exactly," Narcissa murmured faintly.
"Let's go sit back down," Harry suggested. "I can't take any more of this."
After the brief break, the nominations began to fly more freely. Three more candidates were added to the race: Uriel Hoker, who was from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures seemed very liberal in his speech, promoting the equality of all Magical Beings and the legalization of Doxy Dust as a relaxant; Meredith Kittling, who was adamant that better healing response teams were necessary given the violent climate in which they now found themselves; and Hadrian Calley, who looked to be a friend of Parkinson's and announced grandly that he would do his utmost to return Magical Britain to its 'former glory'.
Dumbledore and Madam Bones both received nominations as well, and both declined them citing their commitments elsewhere as reason.
It was during another flurry of unrestricted nominations that it happened.
"Patrick Taylor!"
"Arielle Grey!"
"Sasha Fair!"
"Harry Potter!"
The speaker was a youngish , sweat-glistening man who looked incredibly earnest and not a little feverish.
"Respond with humour, or they will consider an upstart," Narcissa muttered instantly behind her hand. If Harry didn't know better, he'd say that she was somewhat expecting such an eventuality. Actually, now that he thought on it, he didn't know better. Her words prompted Harry out of his immobility.
Relative silence had descended on the hall as many heads turned to see his reaction sporting a wide variety of expressions ranging from hopeful to scornful to amused..
Dumbledore smiled faintly at Harry's incredulous expression. "Lord Baron Potter-Black? Do you accept the nomination?" his voice rang out.
Harry stood shakily and faced his headmaster in bemusement. He shook his head a little and responded. "While I'm flattered at the thought, I have a question before I give my answer."
"Oh? And what is that?"
"Would Ministerial duties get me out of detention?"
The hall broke into a cacophony of laughter and the man who nominated hi looked rather sheepish.
"No, Lord Baron, it would not," Dumbledore replied with no little amusement.
"Then I'm afraid I mus decline," Harry said and sat back down.
It was a little while before the rhythm of nominations go back into full swing, but the day ended with one more candidate in the running, Audrey Macaulay, who Harry liked very much - she seemed level headed and appeared to be a friend of McGonagall's.
Dumbledore closed the session by reminding everyone of the open question period the following day, and congratulating the runners on their candidacy.
The following day Harry found extremely interesting and extremely tedious in turns. It became clear quite quickly that Uriel Hoker was unfit for leadership, that Meredith Kittling knew about little other than health care, and that Scot Scott, for all his long-windedness, had no plans for change at all. The answers of the other four were far more comprehensive and fairly differing.
Harry and Narcissa were still watched frequently, but less so than the previous day. It was only when Narcissa leant forwards to murmur an opinion or comment into his ear that eyes would turn to see where he was looking. Harry discovered that he could make people very nervous just by staring at them while Narcissa was speaking, a fact which he found endlessly amusing and put to good use. And while he still didn't know Narcissa well enough to tell for sure, he thought that she was quite pleased with herself for developing such a power.
It was during a question in which someone had asked the candidates what they thought the best way to prevent corruption was that Harry began pondering again the oddness of the way in which the Ministry was set up, the near all-ecompassing power awarded to the minster. It wasn't right, obviously, but nor did he think it reasonable to expect it to change over-night. No, what they needed for now was someone who wouldn't abuse it. Someone who would treat the power responsibly. But who were they responsible to, as minister? No one, technically. But who did they consider themselves to responsible to, that was what Harry wanted to know.
As the last candidate wrapped up their answer, Harry raised his hand, feeling like he was in class, and waited to be called upon as was the proper procedure. Narcissa looked at him sideways, but said nothing.
"Lord Baron Potter-Black, to whom would you pose your question?" asked Dumbledore, who was acting as mediator in the question period.
"To all of the candidates," Harry replied. They turned to face hi with expressions of curiosity. "I was wondering to whom you would consider yourselves responsible, as minister."
Scot Scott was looking fairly perplexed. Not the best of signs, really. "Could you elaborate please?"
Harry did his best to be clear. "I mean, when you a make a decision, who is acting as the silent jury in your head? You've all explained how you'd prevent corruption in the ministry - I'm interested in knowing what you'd do to prevent corruption in yourselves." Narcissa twitched. Edging towards too far, apparently. "What I mean is, who do you consider to the minster to be responsible to?"
The candidates were looking thoughtful.
"To the ministry," Scot Scott said eventually. How redundant.
"To the law," said Garrett Morgan promptly and decisively. "No on is above the law."
"To the citizens of Britain," Jericho Irons rumbled slowly.
"To all magical beings," Uriel said dreamily. Oh boy.
"To the people," Meredith Kittling agreed, with a nod.
"To the Wizengamot," Hadrian Calley said regally.
"To myself," said Audrey Macaulay, and she was eyeing Harry shrewdly. Harry noticed several frowns of confusion at her answer.
"Perhaps you might elaborate on your answer, Baroness Macaulay," Harry said, keeping his even, but aware that she knew she'd piqued his interest.
"Above all, I am responsible to myself first, to my own conscience," she explained. "I will have to live with the decisions made under my management, and I will not do anything as minister that I would not do otherwise. I will not sell my soul for a seat in office." Murmurs broke out across the hall at her answer, but she did not break eye contact with Harry.
"Thank you," he said finally and sat back down, thinking hard. It would be some time before he zoned back into the discussion.