Proselytizer's Square in Diagon Alley was so named because it was where the crackpots, loonies and amateur demagogues went to "preach their gospel" – a polite term for rant and rave at passers-by – to the Wizarding World. Some of the less charitable called it Heretic's Square, because only very rarely did you find someone there whose message didn't clash with Wizarding orthodoxy.
Proselytizer's Square was the current location of Harry James Potter, Grey Force, Scion of the House of Potter, Heir Apparent of the House of Black, Savior of the Wizarding World and all-around Good Guy. Dressed in casual-yet-elegant grey robes and holding his oak staff (with phoenix-feather core and mithril and emerald decoration), his presence alone was enough to guarantee a crowd. The presence behind him of Draco Malfoy dressed in black and Hermione Granger in white was an added curiosity.
"Friends, Britons, Countrymen-and-women, lend me your ears!" Harry shouted, quieting the murmurs that had been rushing through the crowd for the last fifteen minutes as it had grown in size, with people flocking to the Square from the shops once he and his bond-mates (though they weren't officially yet, he intended to rectify that later in the evening) had taken up their positions and stood silently, waiting.
"As many of you may know from the newspapers, my name is Harry Potter. I am about to enter my sixth year at Hogwarts, where I'm a member of Gryffindor House and play Seeker for their Quidditch team. I have a teensy bit of notoriety for my defeat of the Dark Lord whose name I shall not speak here, since I gather you all don't like it being said, fifteen years ago this October, and apparently I am also the reigning holder of both Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award and Teen Witch Weekly's Nicest Arse award, though I'm not sure which I value more," Harry said, flashing the aforementioned charming smile and craning his head as though to look at his arse.
"With me here today are my friends and colleagues Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Both are in my year at Hogwarts, Draco is a Slytherin Prefect and plays Seeker on their House team, and Hermione is a Gryffindor Prefect. We're here today, and color coordinated, to hopefully bring to your attention an important, verifiable fact: the Ministry has failed you all." This set the murmurs rushing through the crowd once again, and Harry noticed a pair of MLE bobbies exchange a nervous glance before one of them wandered off towards the Leaky Cauldron. Harry started wondering how long it would be before he was up before the Wizengamot on trial for sedition.
"For instance, did you know that, despite the fact that the Death Eaters and their Dark Lord's war against the Ministry twenty-odd years ago targeted Muggleborns, the Ministry has tightened laws aimed at re-enforcing Pureblood dominance in our world: precisely the aims of the Death Eaters they claim to have been fighting against?" Harry asked, his eyes hard as he stared out at the crowd, who looked mildly puzzled by his declaration.
"Or that, amongst the myriad of Ministry employees who I'm sure are perfectly competent at what they do, there is a core group who, in fact, bear on their arm the Dark Mark of He-Who-We-Won't-Name-Here? And that many of these group have the ear of Cornelius Fudge?"
Now a few of them were starting to get it.
"Yes, I'm sure a couple of you avid Daily Prophet-readers remember the group that was captured at the Ministry in June, which included such luminaries as Lucius Malfoy, Augustus Rookwood, and Walden MacNair. A 'special adviser' to the Minister, a former Ministry employee, and a current Ministry employee, all bearing the Mark of the Death Eaters, clothed in their garb, breaking into the Ministry.
"Malfoy, in particular, has been near the center of the Government for much of the last fifteen years. Fudge in particular relies on him as a crutch almost as much as he used to rely on Dumbledore, which gives him an extraordinary platform to achieve the Dark Lord's goals without so much as firing off one curse in anger. Why waste your own time using the Killing Curse on muggleborns when you can, if you fancy, get the Ministry to declare them dangerous creatures and have MacNair go lop their heads off with his ruddy great axe?"
A few of the Muggleborns in the crowd were identified here by the way their eyes bugged out at the possibility Harry's words painted.
"You can't count on the Ministry to defend you against the Death Eaters," Harry said, "because they don't want to. They're not all on his side, but enough of the right ones are to make sure the ones that do want to defend you – all of you – and actually do their ruddy jobs don't get the opportunity. The Government is made up of a group of insensate purebloods who see their offices not as positions of responsibility and trust, but as vehicles for profit and a gateway to additional power. There is not one single person in the upper echelons of the Ministry that would choose the well-being of another over that of themselves."
Mutterings broke out amongst the crowd.
"Now, maybe this is my Muggle upbringing shining through, but I happen to think that the Government is supposed to exist to serve the people, not the other way 'round," Harry said. "The Prophet calls me the Chosen One, the only person in Britain who can defeat the Dark Lord. The Ministry especially wants this to be true, so I can relieve them of their responsibility to you to defeat that madman and the idiots who've willingly enslaved themselves to him.
"I'm going to tell you a secret today," Harry continued. "I am the Chosen One."
The mutterings stopped.
"I, and Draco and Hermione here, come before you today just after we've come out of Rituals of Judgment. We have the power to defeat the Dark Lord, and the Death Eaters, and undo the years of damage done to the Balance. We can solve the Ministry's problems, but we don't want to."
Shouts of outrage filled the square.
"We want to fight for YOU," Harry said, shouting the last word with a magically amplified voice. "To do what your Government won't and put you and your well-being ahead of our own."
The crowd calmed down almost instantly, especially since the emeralds atop Harry's staff were now glowing.
"The normal people of Britain have been underrepresented in Government for too long," Harry continued. "The laws in this country are set by the Wizengamot at the direction of the Minister: in other words, by Purebloods, for everyone. The average age of a Wizengamot member is eighty-seven. I admit, Dumbledore and a few of his contemporaries are bringing that up a bit, but the youngest member of the body is Julius Garrovick, who is sixty-three. Anybody younger than that, which is a very healthy portion of the population, has absolutely no voice in the Government, and nobody of any blood status other than pure has any say in what happens in this country at all. That also needs to change."
A loud roar of agreement followed this pronouncement.
"As many of you may know, I am a half-blood. I am also the last surviving member of the House of Potter, one of those stuffy old Pureblood lines that has been making laws in this country since ... well, not before Ollivander, but not long after. I have a seat on the Wizengamot I intend to claim and use to fight for you not only on the battlefields of war, but on the battlefields of politics. Everyone deserves to have representation in their government, especially those taxed as heavily as the non-Purebloods are in this country."
The crowd seemed well and thoroughly supportive.
"I'm heading to the Ministry of Magic!" he announced. "To start working for you! Anyone who wishes to come with may do so, I welcome it."
"I do not," an old, calm voice said, shocking the crowd as they parted to reveal Albus Dumbledore near the back.
"Ah," Harry said, his eyes narrowing. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, former Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, former Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and the sole reason this country's gotten as fucked up as it has."
"It is as I feared then," Dumbledore said. "Malfoy has gotten his dark tentacles into you, and corrupted you."
"Draco hasn't gotten a damn thing into me, much to my chagrin," Harry retorted. "No, Dumbledore, I've spent the last week trying to understand all of what is wrong with this country, and it all comes back to you."
"I'm quite sure you don't know what you're talking about, dear boy," Dumbledore said, twinkling his eyes.
"Oh, I'm quite sure I do," Harry said. "After all, you're the one person who's been responsible for the education of Britain's wizarding population for the last fifty years, and had a hand in it for forty before that. A great deal of their failures can be laid at your feet for failing to give them proper guidance and instruction, the rest can be laid at your feet for hoarding as many positions of power as you could get your grubby mitts on. Under your "leadership", this country has stagnated and become a bigoted cesspool terrified of one man, because your pacifistic ethos and refusal to impart proper discipline on schoolchildren has neutered Britain."
"Everything I've done has been for the Greater Good of humanity, my boy," Dumbledore said.
"No, not of humanity," Harry said. "The Greater Good of Albus Dumbledore. Because I don't think the greater good of humanity is served by allowing something like the Dark Lord to exist, much less to do what he has done for as long as he has. You had that child under your tutelage for seven years, Dumbeldore, and when you were at the height of your power. You could have smacked him down far easier than you had done Grindelwald, far earlier, but you allowed him to delve deep into the Dark Arts and commit murder and atrocities unseen since the Dark Ages against both wizards and muggles. Meanwhile, you sit in your ivory tower like Caesar while we are killed by Dark Wizards for your amusement. Well, Albus Dumbledore, are you not entertained?"
The notion that Albus Dumbledore – ALBUS DUMBLEDORE – may have been complicit in the rise and terror of Voldemort was almost too much for some in the crowd to bear. But even as they shouted abuse at Harry for even contemplating the notion, others drowned them out with cries of support for Harry's take on things.
"Oh, Headmaster," Hermione's voice cut in, sickeningly coy. "How are you feeling?"
"Quite well, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, confused. His confusion doubled when she simply smiled.
"I'll give it a couple days to sink in, then," she said. "Come, Harry, we should go to the Ministry if you want to have a prayer of claiming your seat."
"Quite right, Hermione," Harry said. "My offer from before still stands. Who's with me?"
A great portion of the crowd roared in approval, and with a smile, Harry, Hermione and Draco Disapparated. Roughly three-quarters of the crowd followed. A stunned Dumbledore was left staring at a scattering of a couple dozen people before he himself Disapparated, heading directly for the Wizengamot offices. It was critical Harry be blocked from joining the Wizengamot.
THIS IS A LINEBREAK
To say the under-paid clerk who was on duty at the Wizengamot Administrative Services office at 4:45 P.M. on that particular Saturday in mid-August was unprepared to deal with the arrival of Harry of House Potter and some 300 retainers would be a near-criminal understatement of the case.
You see, this particular clerk had had his ear hastily bent by Albus Dumbledore not five minutes previously informing him that it was a matter of paramount importance that Harry Potter, when he arrived, was not given access to his Wizengamot offices or allowed to do anything that Wizengamot members generally were allowed to.
The clerk had, of course, asked the older man why, exactly, the Potter Heir was not allowed to claim the Potter seat. The headmaster had answered, but the clerk couldn't remember what the answer was, and it didn't really matter because it didn't look like Potter cared much for any reasons.
"So you're telling me," the teen repeated, his voice amplified by the Sonorous charm, "that I am not being allowed to claim my birthright amongst the noble and honorable Wizengamot because Dumbledore said so."
"He had a reason," the clerk said.
"Which you're not saying."
"I've quite forgotten it, being accosted by you and your rabble," the clerk said, sticking his nose up in the air in a priggish manner Harry had associated for years with Percy Weasley.
"Aha! This fine, upstanding member of the Ministry doesn't want me on the Wizengamot, fighting for you, because Dumbledore said so," Potter said, enraging the crowd. The clerk began to be pelted with (what he presumed were) conjured vegetables.
"Unfortunately for you, whoever you are, Dumbledore can't get his way in this. I meet the requirements of the Act of Accession 1486, am not subject to any of the disqualifiers under the Line Continuation Act 1886, and have brought proof of same. You will give me my Seal and access to my office," Potter continued, handing over several documents bearing the arms of the Potter family on the wax seal.
The clerk took his time poring over the documents, while Potter kept the vegetables at bay. Potter was correct, there was truly nothing that could be done to keep the boy off the Wizengamot. All that could be done was delay.
"Very well," he said, sighing in resignation. "I shall file your Declaration of Accession today, but it must be signed by the Chief Warlock and the Chair of the Credentials Committee before you can be given your Seal and access to your office."
"And who would those two people be at the moment?" Potter asked.
"The honorable Mister Graham Forrest is serving as Chief Warlock for this session, and the noble Dowager Lady Longbottom is the Chair of the Credentials Committee," the clerk said. Longbottom would probably sign off on the Declaration as soon as she got her hands on it, but Forrest was a flunky of the Minister, appointed Chief Warlock with the backing of the Dark families. He would do nothing consciously to aid Potter without waiting as long as possible.
"Fantastic. Draco, if you would visit Lady Longbottom, and Hermione, please track down the Honorable Mister Forrest and bring them here?" Potter asked. The two teens beside him nodded once and Apparated away without a sound.
The clerk's eyes bugged out. Only Dumbledore had ever been able to Apparate directly into or out of this office silently.
"Now, while we wait for them to return, how about you get that Declaration ready for us all to sign, eh?" Potter said. "Or else the vegetables come back."
The clerk gulped, reaching for his eagle-feather quill, inkpot, and a fresh scroll of parchment.
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In the legal notices section of Monday's Daily Prophet (the section usually not read by Albus Dumbledore until well after dinner), the following notice was printed.
ATTENTION, ALL NOBLE AND HONORABLE WITCHES AND WIZARDS OF THE BRITISH ISLES, SUBJECTS OF HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN.
IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE ACT OF ACCESSION 1486, THIS DOCUMENT HEREBY GIVES NOTICE THAT HARRY JAMES, BEING THE PROPER AND TRUE HEIR OF THE HOUSE OF POTTER, DECLARES HIMSELF HEAD OF THAT ANCIENT AND MOST NOBLE HOUSE.
IN WITNESS WHEREOF, WE THE UNDERSIGNED (MR. GRAHAM FORREST) AND (LADY AUGUSTA LONGBOTTOM) RECOGNIZE HARRY JAMES AS HEAD OF HIS HOUSE AND CONFER UNTO HIM MEMBERSHIP AMONGST THE NOBLE AND HONORABLE THE WIZENGAMOT OF THE UNITED KINGDOM, WITH ALL RIGHTS AND PRIVILEGES DUE TO HIM.
SIGNED THIS 17th DAY OF AUGUST 1996 AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC, IN THE PRESENCE OF (VIRGILIUS WRIGHT), DEPUTY UNDERCLERK OF THE WIZENGAMOT AND MEMBERS OF THE PUBLIC.
HARRY JAMES POTTER, HEAD OF THE ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF POTTER
MR. GRAHAM FORREST, CHIEF WARLOCK OF HER MAJESTY'S WIZENGAMOT
LADY AUGUSTA LONGBOTTOM, DOWAGER LADY OF THE ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF LONGBOTTOM, CHAIR, WIZENGAMOT COMMITTEE ON CREDENTIALS.
THIS IS A LINEBREAK
"Mister Wright, I believe I told you Mister Potter was not to be allowed to file a Declaration of Accession Saturday," a very disappointed Albus Dumbledore told the former Ravenclaw in the Wizengamot Administrative Services office Tuesday morning.
"I'm sorry, Professor, but there was nothing I could do to stop him. He had all his paperwork in order and even had the Chief Warlock and Lady Longbottom brought in personally to sign the document that day."
"Is there any hope of undoing the Declaration?"
"Not now that it's been published in the Prophet, I'm afraid," Wright said. "Unless you can prove that Potter is subject to any of the disqualifiers listed in Section Three, Schedule Six of the Line Continuation Act 1886, and convince 2/3rds of the Wizengamot to vote to expel him."
"I see. Thank you, Mister Wright."
"You're most welcome, Professor." Dumbledore rose and with a quiet word, any of Virgilius Wright's recollection of having advised Albus Dumbledore on how to attempt to keep Harry Potter off the Wizengamot vanished.
THIS IS A LINEBREAK
"Harry, love, there's an owl here for you."
"An owl?"
"From Gringotts, Harry."
"What's Gringotts want with me?" Harry wondered, absentmindedly grabbing the letter from Hermione as Draco handed him his glasses.
"Head Potter,
Your attendance is required at a meeting this afternoon (Wednesday, August 7, 1996) at 2 P.M., Gringotts London," Harry read. "That's all it says. Weird."
"What time is it?" Draco asked. Hermione looked at their alarm clock.
"Ten a.m."
"Plenty of time for another round and breakfast, I think," Draco said, grinning. The letter was soon forgotten, and the trio were very nearly late for Harry's appointment.
A/N: A relatively shorter chapter, but I'll make up for it in the next two. Apologies for the wait, I've been meaning to post this for a couple weeks now but just kept not getting around to it. I should get chapter 5 up before the end of the month, sooner if the reviews warrant :)
As always, feedback, comments and questions are appreciated, just click on the "submit review" button and type away.
Chapter 5 features a Draco/Hermione date, Harry being bamboozled by balances, and the Daily Prophet makes an appearance.
Until then,
Phoenix II