Welcome to the newest chapter of The Chronicles of Camelot.
Sorry for the delay, but my exams are in full swing and I'm writing this when by all decency, I should be busy studying.
By the way, the last chapter has been updated from what I first posted. People who don't check it out are liable to miss the meaning of a lot of things in this chapter.
For those who have read it just now, or even in the current year, are welcome to continue.
Expect an update for Overlord sometime before 10th Jan.
Now, on with the story
The next day, Harry spent several hours making several arrangements in the ministry under his various personae. Under his own face, he visited Bagman, invoking the vast debt the man owed him to make sure that he would have his support in the coming days. At the same time, Damien Peverell was in the minister's office, making a courtesy call and dropping a very explosive bombshell.
Similar tidings were visited upon Amelia Bones, the Director for Magical law enforcement, Jeremiah Witherly, the Chief Warden of Azkaban, not to mention several key members of the Wizengamot.
Lucius Malfoy was deep in thought. He had received a letter yesterday, carrying a very strange proposal from Harry Potter, of all people. It had been a rather well written formal apology about his conduct with that whole Dobby unpleasantness, and an offer for alliance.
An offer of alliance in the name of the house of Slytherin, to be exact.
Naturally, there was no possible way that Lucius was going to lose such a golden opportunity, but it was something that would have to be approached cautiously.
Because something had changed in the green eyed half-blood, Lucius was certain of it.
He had seen Harry Potter a couple of times before. Once in Diagon Alley, and then later in Dumbledore's office, during the very unpleasantness that the letter apologized for. Both times Lucius had been completely disappointed with the pathetic little urchin that it had been his misfortune to see.
On the other hand, Potter's behaviour in the world cup told a different tale.
The way he'd talked, his mannerisms, his gait, all of it positively screamed of high born purity. The contrast couldn't have been greater, and Lucius was at a complete loss as to probable reasons.
It was rather worrying, but he would have to see to it later. Right now he was in a waiting room off the office of the Minister of Magic, waiting for the time of his appointment. As he paced, coming near the door of the office, he heard Fudge's voice, practically screaming "What, but that changes the constitution. I can't do that!"
He was surprised. Normally there was a bevy of secrecy spells on the door to the office. They must have weakened somehow.
Anyway, more interesting were the words coming out.
"Actually, Minister, if you check the constitution you will find that this is how things were meant to be all along. The current status quo was never to be more than temporary. And it's not as if it matters all that much anyway. After all, you will be able to continue everything just as you have been all along. All I require is official acknowledgement, and the position that is mine by right." A voice Lucius had never heard before said. It paused for a few seconds, before continuing "And I'm not leaving you high and dry. Trust me; there'll be quite a bit of benefit for you in the bargain."
"I suppose you're right. You are willing to swear an oath that we will be allowed to use it as we've been doing?" Fudge's voice came, now noticeably calmer.
"But of course, Minister. After all, I have nothing to hide." The voice said again.
There was silence for a few minutes.
"So, what do you need me to do?" Fudge asked eventually.
"Nothing much, really. I took the liberty of drawing up a few executive orders to the effect that we've discussed, addressed to the proper department heads, along with a press statement. All you need to do is to sign them.
"Oh, and I'm afraid I'm going to need a vow of non disclosure. See that parchment there, just sign it and we're good."
There was silence for a few seconds, before Fudge's voice continued. "There, all done. Now I can just toss them in my outbox." "Actually, I'd prefer to file them myself, if you don't mind." The mysterious voice continued. "Meanwhile, here's a little something for you"
"Um...what is it? It seems like some sort of form"
"It's an application form for a one percent share of Althric Artificers. I own ten percent of Althric Inc., which owns eighty-five percent of this, and I can tell you that one percent is more than enough to set you up for life. I've got my company stamp right here, and I can just approve your request here and now."
"Oh thank you really, Damien! This is a really generous gift." Fudge said. "Tell me, is there anything I can do for you in return?"
"Actually, there is one small matter. You see, the records of Althric, they're in the public domain, where anyone and everyone can see them. Now, I'm not saying that the Ministry isn't totally trustworthy, because it is. It's just that Erebus won't believe it." The voice, now identified as Damien, said.
"Who?" the minister asked.
"You know, Erebus Sharr, The Duke of Shacklegrave? He's a shareholder too."
"It's just, we; that is Harry and I, we know that you've placed only the best people in charge. Even Aries agrees. Says that you're the best thing to happen to this country. But the problem is that there are too many other people too, y'know? Dumbledore's agents, those Death Eaters that slipped in with the genuine Imperius victims, all those people are there, hidden in the ministry, aren't they?
"Now when Harry and I told them that all we needed to do was to ask you to sign some sort of executive order, Erebus told me that no way that could be so easy, that you didn't have the power to do that. He said that the morons at the Wizengamot were too short sighted to give such power to a person they're so jealous of for sorting out the problems that they struggled with for so long.
"But I know better. I mean, sure they must've tried, but they couldn't outwit you, could they?"
That set Fudge's mind racing, even as he suppressed the shudder that rose with the mention of the Sharr name. Harry having three lordships was surprising enough, but the support of the Peverells, the Sharrs and the Blacks? He'd be invincible!
"And you're quite right, Damien. I do have the power to declare whatever records I choose as classified information. I can create a list of people who'd be the only ones able to access the info." He bragged.
"Uh, so you wouldn't mind doing it, then? Just make it Above Top Secret, accessible only to Me, Harry, Aries, Erebus, you of course, and a couple other people maybe?"
There was no answer: At least, not immediately. In a few minutes, Fudge said "There you go, Damien, just file that in the Archives, and no one can see those records without the express permission of us shareholders."
"Very nice, Cornelius. Thank you. We won't forget this." Damien said, before Lucius heard the sound of steps.
Having heard enough, Lucius swiftly made his exit, telling the secretary to make another appointment for tomorrow. He was soon at the apparition point and left, making a mental note to start buying Althric shares as soon as possible.
After all, times were changing. He had felt the dark mark on his arm grow stronger in this summer. And there was also the mark fired into the sky at the night of the match.
The implications were disturbing, and Lucius was currently in urgent need of insurance if his master was to return. Because if he did, then his wrath wouldn't be something anyone could forget.
Lucius's days of peace could be soon over, and the time would come to choose a side again.
The mark on his arm meant that there was only one side he could go to, really. So if he had the alliance of great houses like Sharr and Peverell, well, the possibilities were endless.
The fact that Althric had, in the short time since its beginning, collected a profit of roughly two million galleons was only a plus point.
Soon enough, it was time for Harry's lunch with the Malfoys as Aries Black. Apparating to Grimmauld Place, he saw that Kreacher really had turned the whole place upside down. The house looked extraordinary, to put it lightly. Every surface gleamed with fresh wax or polish – the floors so dark they could have been polished ebony. Gleaming silver sconces supporting elaborate lights were in every room. The door handles were silver, often with fine crystals embedded in them. Truly, it was a masterpiece of opulence; Voldemort knew that not even Malfoy Manor had such decorations.
Speaking of the Malfoys, the wards notified Harry, requesting permission to allow a floo connection to Malfoy Manor. Harry gave it, and felt the link form, even as the fire turned green. Soon, he saw in his mind's eye three figures come in one by one, stepping out of the fire into his living room, to be welcomed by Kreacher, as was tradition.
Immediately, he could feel them, the numerous enchantments carried by all three Malfoys against nearly all forms of tampering, mental and physical. He could guess that there were counters to just about every mind control trick a family like Malfoy may be aware of, along with others, wit enhancers and veritaserum antidotes.
This sort of thing was more or less standard when attending a meeting like this, after all.
He was currently sitting at one of the couches in the main formal sitting room, waiting for Kreacher to escort them in, taking the maximum amount of time possible to both show off as much as possible of the only parts of the house they would be seeing, while Harry himself directed the diagnostic spells embedded in the wards to identify, and possibly nullify, the protections they were all carrying.
Far too soon for his tastes, the elf took its place just inside the door before announcing, "Presenting The Most Honourable Lucius Malfoy V, the Marquis of Wiltshire and his wife, The Marchioness of Wiltshire and their son, the honourable Lord Draco Malfoy."
Harry executed a polite tilting of the head. As they came close, he rose from his seat, shaking hands with Lucius, and Draco, and bending to brush his lips across the back of Narcissa's hand.
"It's been far too long cousin." Harry said in his disguise's slow drawl. "Come, sit. I'm sure you have a great many questions about me." He spoke smoothly, making a point of drawing their attention to the ring on his finger via few seemingly casual gestures.
"Indeed it has been a long time since I visited this house, Lord Black." She spoke, ever the consummate aristocrat.
"And you Lucius, I'm sure we will have a good time in our talks." Harry continued, turning to the Marques.
"Of course, Aries, it goes without saying." Ah, there was the Lucius Harry knew and loathed from Voldemort's memories. The man who never said anything with his words, but everything with his airs.
Finally looking at Draco, he said "And Draco will tell me all about Hogwarts, won't he?"
"Of course, Lord Black" the boy somehow managed without hesitation. It would seem he'd been getting a bit more training this summer than usual.
Harry resisted the urge to speak. He knew that with a few well placed words, he could destroy all hopes Draco had of becoming Lord Malfoy here and now. But this was not the time.
In the grand scheme of things Draco was just a little gnat, an annoyance. He might have been some kind of archrival to Harry once, but Harry wasn't that wet behind the ears soul anymore.
He would use the Malfoys, the father, the son and the mother, till they couldn't be used anymore. He would take everything; their money, their power and their magic, till they were bloody and beaten, hardly comparable to what they were now.
Once that happened, well... accidents tended to happen quite a bit when one was dealing with magic.
Playing the gracious host, Harry had them sitting in a few moments.
With a snap of Harry's fingers, Kreacher popped in silently with a tray of beverages. The elf poured two fingers of firewhisky for the men in crystal tumblers, served a glass of white wine to Narcissa and a glass of chilled butter beer to Draco. Leaving the carafe of whisky on the table and the wine bottle in an ice bucket, the elf disappeared with another muted sound.
Narcissa swirled the wine in her glass and took a small sip. She nodded to herself at the hint of citrus she could detect in the wine while being pleasantly surprised by the mineral finish.
Resting her gaze on her supposed cousin, the formidable woman was the first to break the silence.
"I must say, cousin, it is good to finally meet you. After the various tragedies that had befallen my family, I was afraid that I was the last of the Blacks." Smiling charmingly, she continued. "It gladdens me to know that the house of Black is not going to die out. You must tell me all about yourself."
"Certainly, Narcissa," .Harry said, taking a sip from his glass, the drink turning into water as soon as it passed his lips. "What happened was that…" the story went on for nearly an hour, detailing how he'd been born an extremely feeble baby, and how Orion and Walburga had been forced to leave him at a Chinese monastery to ensure the proper care that only they could provide reliably. Of how it was with Sirius's death that he became the last male Black, necessitating his return.
He'd spent considerable time working out the details with Black family members, and knew that there wasn't a way on the Earth that Lucius could confirm or deny its veracity.
Not that it would matter in the slightest if Lucius managed to prove it a lie. The Black signet on his finger meant that he was Lord Black, regardless of circumstance or consequence.
As he reached the end, Kreacher informed them that lunch was served. Adjourning to the dining room, they continued with the conversation, talking of trivial matters throughout the meal, before Harry brought on the more serious matters.
Turning to Narcissa, he said "Now, there is one thing I need to tell you before you find out from the papers. I have reviewed all the members of our illustrious family, and your sister is proving to be a problem."
"I know, Andromeda's continued infatuation with the mudblood remains a problem. I tried to get Lord Arcturus to command her to return, but I was always refused." She tried to explain.
"Yes, that's true, but she isn't the sister I was talking about. Bellatrix is an embarrassment to the house of Black. After much contemplation, I have decided to permanently cast her out of the family." Harry 'voice cold enough to freeze ice.
That, it appeared, was all it took to destroy the woman's composure.
"My lord, think of what you're saying! You can't do that! She is a credit to the family. Casting her out would be utter foolishness!" she screamed. If Harry hadn't known the true depths of training that she'd been put through, he might even have believed it.
But as things were, he recognized it for what it was. The meeting had gone surprisingly smooth this far. The verbal traps and attempts at undermining him that Harry had been waiting for had been surprisingly absent till now.
'Till now,' being the key words. This was the test to see how relaxed his rule would be.
Pity. They would come to find out that the answer was absolutely none.
With a raised eyebrow, he said. "You know, I could try to explain how she had single-handedly destroyed any possibilities of an alliance with the houses of Bones and Longbottom for us. I could go into close detail why continued acknowledgement of her was costing us precious goodwill." Harry took a moment to pin Narcissa with an icy glare.
"But I won't, as you forget your place, Narcissa." He thundered. "You forget that I am the judge and jury in this family. Bellatrix Lestrange is a disgusting example of how Cygnus's spawn has fallen." He sneered, "Kissing the hem of a half-blood's robe, indeed!"
He took a deep breath, as if to compose himself. "I have decided," the finality in his voice was plain to all those seated. "Bellatrix Lestrange is a blood traitor to the Most Ancient and Noble house of Black. For this, she shall be stripped of her rights and privileges as a daughter of the Blacks.
"Apart from that," Harry's tone was still monotonous. "The house of Lestrange shall be stripped of all lands, monies and titles that were granted upon them. They shall never set foot in the Wizengamot or any of the Black estates again. I shall choose another family from among the vassals, and raise them to the rights and styles of being the Lords of Watersbridge."
He kept his face as neutral as ever, but inside his mind, he said 'Your move, Lucius.'
"Very well, Lord Black," Lucius said in an urbane voice. That is a decision strictly for you to make. But may I ask if there is any specific reason for your displeasure? I mean, the loss of those alliances is damaging, but are you aware of anything about her that we don't know?"
Translation: are you going to turn against me too, for the same reason?
"Actually, the answer is no, Lucius. All I know is known by you too. I just find the things she has done to be extremely damaging to the reputation of our family. Just look at her, screaming about her loyalty to that pathetic son of a squib calling himself Voldemort. I mean, even you yourself were temporarily in that …thing's thrall, but you are a Malfoy, and you renounced him at the proper time, as you should have done. She, on the other hand, continued to act as a disgusting little bitch, pining for him.
"No, the decision is made. It will be carried out when I deem appropriate."
That was the end of the meeting, although small talk continued for a few more minutes.
Soon after, they were gone, having taken most of Harry's day and good mood with them.
As he retired to his study, Harry contemplated the current state of his affairs. This was the last social thing he'd planned, before he did the ritual to open the ley line connection.
He would need to ensure that everything continued as he needed it to, even with the week long absence that would be ensuing.
The reason he needed to do that was that once he truly opened himself to the power of the ley lines, his spells would become almost ridiculously overpowered. He would be unable to control how much magic he expended till his core settled. Till that happened, he would have to completely isolate himself, and simply train till no one would be able to identify just what it was that he'd done.
It was somewhat a good thing, as it would also give him a chance to properly train himself to the level of those various martial artists and commandoes whose memories he'd taken.
Thinking back to his activities that summer, Harry sequenced them in his mind, obtaining a clear chain of everything he'd done and everything he'd arranged for to happen in the near future.
The first thing he'd done was to take his lordships. Then, it had been a four year long training holiday inside the chamber. There, he'd absorbed the combined memories of nearly twenty people, to get skills ranging from intensive combat, mind manipulation to magical politics and finance. The rest of the time had been spent in a haze of training and planning, to utilize those skills to formulate plans and strategies.
Once he was out of there, he'd taken his exams and secured his freedom, founded Althric, and began work on revitalizing his assets. He had visited his mines, his farms, orchards and greenhouses, just about everything he owned, restructuring all of them into one single company, recasting spells, renewing fading enchantments, restarting production, so on.
The main branches of Althric that were functional already were the Althric Chroniclers, the Althric Artificers, and the Peverell Broadcasting Service.
The PBS would take care of itself, especially as the fantasy serials he'd started were already broadcasting.
The Artificers were a bit more complicated. He had currently held off from starting retail on the paper, clothes and other Muggle items, sticking to the tried and tested things like the Lozenges and enchanted everyday articles. The reason for that was simple, he was building reserves.
For the paper, he'd not even bothered to cut down any trees at all, as all it had taken him was to purchase nearly the entire stock of waste paper currently available anywhere in Britain. Purchased with conjured cash, he'd gotten tens of tonnes for absolutely nothing.
Those he'd fed into the mills for being recycled into high quality, enchant-able paper. Retailing would begin when at least half the stock was converted, something that should be done by the time he came out of the time chamber. The same went for the clothes, the cell phones, the computers, and everything else.
It was for the Chroniclers that the real efforts had been taken. Currently the only things that it had going were the numerous Boy-Who-Lived books that were now his complete monopoly.
To change that, Harry had made visits to St. Mungo's, intent on taking advantage of another of Dumbledore's mistakes. Harry had discovered with a little probing that the man had never really bothered to publicize the truth about Lockhart, allowing his hero image to not just survive, but flourish.
It had taken the opening of a brand new 'Lily Potter' ward in the hospital, along with a few much more discreet 'donations' to both the Director of the hospital and the head of the permanent spell damage ward, but Gilderoy Lockhart had suddenly gone into coma, his last act being to transfer all rights of his books and image to Althric Chroniclers.
It had cost Harry rather considerably to ensure that the news never reached any ears, but it was worth it, seeing as with that he ensured that the Chroniclers would be secure for the foreseeable future.
Once the things in the magical world had been sorted out (at least in part), it had been time to begin on the Muggle world. He'd created numerous identities, given himself skills and abilities to deal with the intricacies of the Muggle world, by acquiring memories of nearly another two dozen Muggles.
Next had been Phoenix. He'd created the company, basing it off massive capital purloined from the stashes of dictators, weapon merchants, drug cartels, and gangs all over the world. It had gone into purchasing and resurrecting a truly huge number of companies.
Once again, the most important branch currently was Phoenix Infrastructure, which was secure in its position, carrying out a huge contract in Yugoslavia. Similarly, the Phoenix Auctioneers were busy slowly selling off the huge hoard of art he'd recovered from the Nazi caches, so they would be alright too. Phoenix Cybernetics (formerly the Cray computer Corporation), which he'd based permanently in England, was currently working on a series of supercomputers which would be enough to ensure that their superiority went unchallenged throughout the world. It wasn't that simple, of course, as Harry alone knew just how many times he'd moved backwards and forwards through time in order to get it all done without raising too many eyebrows.
Currently there was an array of obscurity spells making it so that no one could really focus on the details of Phoenix. The anomalies that were present there (there were quite a few of them, unfortunately), were simply going unnoticed as the staff and, much more importantly the press, found themselves quite unable to recall the specifics of the company, its workings, the dates, and most importantly its CEO, the ultra reclusive Samuel Phoenix.
That was mostly all it took for the businesses, and they were the most delicate of his interests in the Muggle world. The dictators all over the world had been programmed to slowly repair the damage they'd done to their to their countries' infrastructure (while at the same time reinforcing the damage they'd done to the morale of their populace).
The way he'd set them up, they all would look after themselves, particularly with Salazar holding the reigns of the Serpent Sworn.
The same went for his political interests in the magical world. He'd sent out orders to both his vassal nobles and the men he controlled via the debts, ensuring that they would be among the only ones prepared for the shitstorm that was going to be released tomorrow.
The last concern was the vassals, and they were taken care of as well. One month ago, the vast majority of them had been completely untrained and uneducated, worthless for all but the simplest of tasks. He had given them the inception candies, spent hours upon hours working on familiarising them with the knowledge contained within, and even then it had taken him nearly two full weeks to get any tangible results.
It had been after that that he'd built gyms and training rooms for them, giving them memories of martial artists and trained commandos, along with numerous magical supplements.
All these efforts had finally allowed some sort of soldiers to emerge from the peasants he'd inherited.
It was far from done, though.
Harry had timed his arrangements so that there would be a consignment of nearly thirty-five thousand wands arriving at his estates just as he came out of his training, along with another batch of Lozenges, these ones containing memories of capable Aurors, Professional soldiers that'd fought in numerous wars, along with a multitude of others.
Once they were distributed and absorbed by them, Harry could really go to work. He anticipated that after that it would take a few months in time acceleration, getting them familiarised with the memories as they cast the spells, brewed the potions, did the rituals, etc., to whip them into the fighting force he wanted.
He'd taken care of everything. It was time to go.
In his office at the heart of one of the oldest of the world's currently functioning educational institutions, one of the oldest and most powerful men in magical Britain was also thinking over the events of the past summer.
Albus Dumbledore was finding himself unable to understand just what it was that had gone wrong. It was an unusual state of affairs for him, and he didn't like it one bit.
First of all, there had been that incident with Harry at the end of last year. A full dozen dementors, destroyed without a trace! He had been in a full mood to check just what it was that had caused it, but had thought better of it.
That wasn't too much. It was something easily corrected, except that on the first day of his holidays, the blasted boy had disappeared! He got off the train, and that was all Albus had known of him, till one after the other, disturbing news started pouring by the bucket-load.
At least he'd found out where he'd gone.
Albus had heard that the boy had somehow taken his lordship, but before he'd been able to act on the information, the boy vanished again!
Albus had spent the next month trying desperately to track down the boy. He'd tried the tracking spells, before remembering that they'd been broken in the dementor incident. He'd asked every connection he knew, stretching his influence as thin as he dared.
Still nothing.
Albus had been going nearly insane with worry. It was not just for the boy and where he might be, but also for what the public, not to mention the Wizengamot, would do to Albus if something happened to the heir of one of the fifteen that happened to be in his care.
Because few knew it, but Albus's power was fading. It was fading fast, both in terms of his magic and his political capital. The generation that currently sat on the highest seats of power in their world was one that had come after his glory days had passed. They hadn't seen him achieve anything with their eyes that was worth remembering, and the tales told by parents could only go so far.
The remaining old guard at the Wizengamot and the ministry, the warlocks like Marchbanks, Ogden, the Lords and Ladies like Augusta, the Aurors like Moody, they were the ones that really knew his power, and even they agreed that they were relics of a past age.
It didn't mean that he was powerless. Far from it, really. Even today, the 'quiet word' that he whispered in the ears of people like Cornelius and Amelia counted, but its ability to compare with the raw cunning and extreme wealth of people like Julius Morrigan and Lucius Malfoy was lesser and lesser with every passing day.
Albus Dumbledore was one hundred and thirty two years old. His body was frail, weak and twisted, his magic even more so as it was sapped to keep it functioning properly.
His core had once been huge; a honed weapon capable of felling entire nations if applied correctly, and his mind had been a reservoir of information and sheer brilliance that left so called geniuses scratching their heads.
Now? He was withered. His core was the only thing that kept moving a body that was ready to crumble any day.
He had seen much that he hated, and done much that he regretted. He remembered his days with Gellert, when he made wild plans of power with the boy three years his senior. He remembered the death of his mother, the admonishments of his brother as he tried again and again to break off the shackles on his potential, the shackles that were called 'family'.
He remembered the night he'd crept into Gellert's bed and the resolutely suppressed hatred in the other boy's eyes as he told him that he didn't think of Albus that way. That he didn't think of any boy that way. It'd hurt then, and it hurt now.
He remembered more, so much more, and he hated himself for it all.
With a tremendous effort of willpower, Albus brought his thoughts back to the present. Harry had reappeared after a month of absence straight at the ministry, the last place anyone expected, and by the time Albus could react, was gone again.
After that it had been an endless stream of bad news, as Albus heard reports of newly opened companies, of Diagon Alley broadcasts, and of Harry's repeated visits to the ministry.
The worst news, by far, had been hearing that Harry had also risen to the lordships of the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin. Not only did it make the boy untouchable to any political manoeuvres, it also stripped Dumbledore of half his seats in the Wizengamot.
Thinking of that, Albus sent a small prayer to the founders of Hogwarts, thanking them for their foresight. When Hogwarts had been founded, the founders had predicted, correctly, that the ministry and other bodies would try to interfere sooner or later in its workings.
To prevent that, they had decided to take some measures to give Hogwarts some teeth in the political arena. What they had done was to decree to their families that were any of the houses of the founders to fall dormant, then while the assets and monies would be frozen according to normal procedure, the votes in the Wizengamot and the Council of fifteen would be for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to control.
He couldn't make any permanent decisions like signing over the seats, but he would vote on them as if they were his own.
The Thirty-six votes counted for more than ten percent of the whole Wizengamot, and had been a crucial part of the powerbase that kept Albus on the Chief Warlock's chair. With half of them gone, his very political existence was in serious danger, and that was without taking into account the fact that with the houses of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw still dormant, it meant that the two houses that were awake could, if they chose, take full control of Hogwarts on a whim.
Once again, had they been in separate hands, there could have been hope of driving a wedge between the two Lords, keeping Albus secure as the compromise candidate.
As things were, Harry could destroy Albus on a whim, and Albus was very worried about it.
Another piece of news that had made a particularly deep impact on him was the identities of the partners of the new company. Names like Peverell and Black were not to take lightly, while even he wasn't immune to the stark terror that the Sharrs commanded simply by their reputation.
Albus suppressed a tremor as he thought back to what he knew about the eldritch houses of the world. There were thirteen, as he remembered.
Out of them, Britain had six, which was a major reason that Pax Britannica had continued uninterrupted in the magical world for the last millennium since Arthur and his legions had humbled Europe from end to end.
France had the house of Flamel; India had two; the Suryavansh and the Chandravansh. Persia was ruled by the Khans. Russia had had the house of Romanov, which had gone dormant in the early days of the current century, resulting in a civil war that still raged uninterrupted. And then there were the clans of Xiong and Uzumaki dominating the Far East.
And none of them liked Albus even slightly. He might've been able to keep his deterioration hidden from the magical people of Britain, but the world at large had no illusions of his ability.
Yes, Albus was a very worried man, and a large part of it was thanks to the fact that four eldritch houses were now closely allied on his very doorstep.
That had been one of the main reasons why he'd restrained from acting, along with the fact that he'd been mind-numbingly busy with the ICW, the triwizard tournament, and the numerous other issues that came up as a result of holding the positions that he did.
At the current point of time, even discounting the boy's allies, going against Harry Potter meant going against the Lord of an Ancient and Noble house and two Eldritch houses. There were very few people in the world that could survive doing that. Albus's one hope, that Harry was a naive and inexperienced child and could thus be controlled, had been quickly dashed as he observed the decisions that the boy made.
Harry's actions were not as they'd always been, of an immature brat floundering out of his depths, but those of a seasoned politician and businessman. Albus had a few theories as to how the change had been made, and all of them smacked of evil magic like time or mind manipulation.
This time Albus did shudder as he thought of the terrible evil that magic was capable of. The things that he'd learned in his younger days, being fully intended to use them, actually.
The things like necromancy, Parseltongue, Blood magic, Elemental arts, war magics, all of them were abominations that had been allowed to survive too long. They were nasty acts, and Albus had, when he came back to the light after his days in the thrall of Gellert, sworn an oath to eradicate all traces of them and their worshippers from the Earth. That was also the reason why he'd continued the previous headmasters' work to throw out those subjects from the Hogwarts curriculum, why he'd played such a crucial role in prohibiting extended contact between wizards and other magical beings like Veela and Lamia.
He had also ignored it when Binns died, allowing his ghost to teach.
After all, a more competent and knowledgeable History of Magic teacher would give even more credibility to the purebloods' cause. The magical world was over two hundred million years old. And allowing them to learn of the civilizations like Algaesia, Middle-Earth and Westeros that had been the everyday examples of magical power, openly using all sorts evil arts, before Muggles had even finished coming down from their trees could be quite unnecessarily overwhelming to the poor Muggleborns.
Once again, Albus forced his mind to come to the present. He'd heard some disturbing rumours about the ministry today, about Damien Peverell popping all over the ministry securing support for something. Albus's spies had been able to find out much more, as everyone involved had been bound in secrecy oaths. But the people contacted gave rise to a possibility, and it was rather worrying. After all, Albus did remember the traditional place-name held by the Peverells. That, in addition to the fact that the Chief Warden had been visited along with Fudge, well, Albus could only hope he was wrong.
He may be Chief Warlock, but he had no power to interfere in matters concerning the ministry and one of the most important members of the House of Lords.
Unfortunately for Albus, the news next day would prove him accurate in what he feared.
AZKABAN TO RETURN TO PRIVATE CONTROL!
Ran the headline of the Daily Prophet the next day
In a surprising turn of events, it was announced yesterday by the ministry that Cair Azkaban, which houses the Castle Azkaban, the main prison of wizarding Britain was to return to private hands. Highly placed sources in the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot confirmed that the island fortress would soon be operating independent of ministry control. According to an official who wished to remain unnamed, the man soon to be responsible for watching over the worst of our society is the hereditary duke of Azkaban.
It was announced by the ministry spokes-wizard that the formal transfer of power would take place on the night of Samhain. It was confirmed that His Grace has agreed to work closely with the ministry, and he will be appointed the new Chief Warden of Azkaban as part of the handover ceremony.
As readers may or may not be aware, the island fortress is in fact the ancient Ancestral seat of the much celebrated Peverell family, also known as the creators of the guards of Azkaban, the terrible dementors, along with some of our most famous and commonly used pieces of magic.
Also, The Duke is a heavy investor in Althric Inc., the recent enterprise launched by our very own beloved saviour, the boy who lived.
Further investigations reveal that The Duke has very recently taken control of his inheritance, having been previously travelling abroad, studying the intricacies of old magic.
For more details on the Peverell family, page 3
For more details on the dementors, page 5
For more details on the current prisoners, page 9
Aaand, that's a wrap.
Once again, sorry for the delay, but real life conquers all, I'm afraid. I'm putting this up when I should be busy with Physics, and the gods of Michelson, Morley and Maxwell are not going to be kind to me at all.
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