As Sirius Black, Headmaster Dumbledore, and the others made their way out of the chamber, Augusta Longbottom leaned over to Neville, who sat on her right in the heir's seat. "Quite a show, isn't it?"

Neville could only nod at the understatement. "It was bad enough now, think of how it would have gone with Harry making the announcement."

"True," she conceded. She glanced over at her grandson, thinking back to the stories he had told about the previous Thursday's events. She knew, and he knew that she knew, that what he didn't say was almost as important as what he did. Now, having heard the notice, another part of the story clicked into place.

"Whose floo did you use to file the notices last week?" she asked. Neville sighed, before looking back at his grandmother.

"We used Madam Umbridge's, Gran."

"I see," Augusta said. "You know, the Minister was quite put out when she resigned. He said it was unlike her."

"Was it, now?" replied Neville, his expression unreadable.

"So he said," she allowed. "The woman didn't even come back to clear out her office."

"Serves her right," came a voice on Augusta's left. Turning, she saw Lord Trevor Greengrass approaching. "Hello Augusta, Neville," he said in greeting.

"Trevor," answered Augusta, indicating the visitor's seat, which the elderly lord took gratefully. "What does House Greengrass think of all this?"

Greengrass gave her a grin. "House Greengrass thinks that it's about damn time someone stepped up and fought back." He pointed at Neville with his cane. "I hear it isn't just Potter who's decided to take a stand, is it lad?"

Neville straightened in his chair, ignoring the raised eyebrow from his gran. "No, sir, it's not."

A look of worry crossed Augusta's features. "Neville?"

"He's my brother, Gran, the closest thing I'll ever have to one," Neville replied, quietly. "He killed Bella for me, for us." He looked over at Lord Greengrass. "For Trevor." Greengrass closed his eyes at the mention of his namesake, the poor murdered twin of the Longbottom heir.

Neville kept his voice firm, lest his emotion creep in. "I would follow Harry Potter into hell, if he asked me. Because I know he'd do the same for me."

"No small thing, being involved in a blood feud." Greengrass remarked, quietly.

"No, sir, it's not." agreed Neville. "And if it's just me standing there next to Harry, then that's how it will be." He looked evenly at his grandmother, the Regent Longbottom, willing her to understand his unspoken request.

After a long moment, she nodded. "That will be unnecessary, Neville." She smiled at Neville's grin. "Far be it from me to say no to the future Lord Longbottom."

Both turned at the laugh from Lord Greengrass. "Daphne was right about you, young man." It was Neville's turn to raise his eyebrow, which amused the older wizard even more. "She told me years ago that the Longbottom Heir was a lion in sheep's clothing. I'm glad to see how right she was."

Neville nodded in response, acknowledging the compliment. He and Daphne had hardly interacted this past year, barely finding time to study together. She tutored him in charms, sometimes reinforcing the lessons with Harry, while he helped her in Herbology. I'll have to find time to write to her this summer, he mused.

Lord Greengrass seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for he chuckled at Neville's reaction. "Come visit me this summer, Neville," he said casually. "Before your birthday, if you can." The boy will be turning sixteen, after all, thought Lord Greengrass. As will Daphne. It's time.

Another nod from Neville. "Of course, sir." He did not see the knowing smile on the face of his grandmother.

oOoOoOoOo

The tension was thick in the air in the Potter offices, as father glared at son. Harry remained next to the Lord's desk, leaning casually against the wooden surface, his arms folded across his chest.

"Let's have a seat," Harry said quietly, indicating the couches in the center of the room. "We have a lot to discuss."

"I have NOTHING to say to you, boy!" snarled James. How dare this boy presume to take over the Lordship - he was the youngest son, he had no rights here but those that James granted him, how could this be?

"Yes, well, I have quite a lot to say to you, sir, so you will sit down and be silent." Harry did not raise his voice once, but James felt a chill go through him at his younger son's tone. Then his eyes grew wide, and he realized where he had felt that before - long ago, when his father had been Lord. It was not a compulsion, nor was it anything like the imperius - but when the Lord of your house gave you a command, in his official capacity as Lord, you felt it. The effect was unmistakable, and he had felt it in his core when his son - his youngest son - ordered him about.

James' hand came to rest on the leather of the couch, and he found that he had seated himself without noticing it. His eyes met Harry's, and if he could have killed with his glare alone his son would be a dead man. He ignored the others as they, too, took seats.

Harry had the gall to chuckle at his father's reaction. "You see that I'm not just pretending, don't you?" He held up his hand, displaying the Lord's ring. "The Lord of my house was legally dead, and magic confirmed it. The Lady of my house was legally dead, and magic confirmed that. The Heir to the House was dead, and in point of fact I never knew he existed, so magic was never asked to confirm that - but it did anyway. There are no others." He kept his eyes on his father. "I was the last son of the House of Potter."

"You're only fifteen," began Dumbledore. "This responsibility is beyond you, my boy."

"Ah, yes, signing paperwork to assign Sirius as my proxy was quite overwhelming, you're right about that." Harry said, pleasantly. "Almost as much as having to fight a dragon, for example."

"What are you talking about?" asked Lily.

"The Headmaster, on behalf of the Ministry and in his official capacity as Chief Warlock, declared me as one of the Champions of the Triwizard Tournament during my fourth year. The Headmaster, acting in place of my guardian, the Lord Black, accepted my entry into the tournament. Barty Crouch, on behalf of the Ministry, confirmed my selection. Thus, I was forced into a tournament for of-age wizards despite being fourteen years old at the time."

"I told you, my boy, that you had no choice in the matter," said Dumbledore. He was frantically trying to find a way out of this mess, but talking Harry into giving up the Lordship would be difficult - especially since it seemed he had been Lord for some time.

"That may be, but there were any number of ways I could have gotten out of it, had you truly been an advocate on my behalf. You could have held simple tasks to get the three required tasks out of the way, and then have a new tournament with the three actual champions." Harry shook his head. "You could have simply done your job and declared me ineligible, but you didn't. Instead, Cedric Diggory died and Voldemort came back."

"I don't understand," said Jamie, trying to calm things down. Harry looked at his brother and shrugged.

"Through indifference, intrigue, or sheer malice, or maybe all three, I was declared to be an of-age wizard. And, if you'll recall, all of the other members of my house were dead." Harry held up his hand, showing the ring. "So the family magic allowed me to take up the Lord's ring."

"You can't be Lord Potter," said James, menace in his tone.

Harry considered him for a moment. "Who else, if not me?"

James fought down his anger. "I am the Lord Potter, I am entitled to lead my house."

Harry again shook his head. "You abandoned me to a life of torture and deprivation, sir. You ensured that I would receive no instruction in the ways of our house, that I would not even know about magic itself until I was 'rescued' by the Headmaster - and then I was placed in even more danger than I had been in before!" Harry's anger was beginning to surface, now, and Lily realized just how badly they had underestimated the depth of their son's feelings about his fate so far.

"Think back to your oath, James Potter, and tell me why I shouldn't strip you of your magic right now, as an oathbreaker and a coward." James, stunned, looked at Dumbledore - which only enraged Harry further. "Don't look at the Headmaster, goddammit, look at me! NOW!" His angry shout seemed to shake the room, and Sirius' eyes grew wide at the feat.

A wandless, wordless sonorus? Merlin, he thought.

James felt the magic work on him, and he turned his gaze to his son - to the Lord of his House. Harry stood there, leaning against the Lord's desk, fury in his green eyes. James wanted badly to reach for his wand - not to hex Harry, but because it looked like Harry was about to hex him.

"I don't know what the hell you thought you were doing when you abandoned me, James Potter, and right now I don't particularly care. The fact of the matter is that you can't be trusted to guide the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. Simple as that." Harry heard a whimper, and turned to look at Lily, who seemed as if she wanted to cry. Jamie, for his part, simply watched his brother with his mouth open and shock in his eyes.

oOoOoOoOo

Sirius could see the Headmaster trying to work out how he might take control of the situation. Too late, Albus, he thought.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, but a raised hand cut him off.

"Headmaster, you've done quite enough, I think." Harry replied, coldly.

"May I attempt to explain?" He asked, not wanting to allow Harry to control the conversation.

"So sorry," said Harry, turning his gaze to the Headmaster. "But no, you may not." He looked at Sirius. "We're short on time, aren't we?"

Sirius nodded. "We should be heading back soon, yes."

"Alright," Harry replied, before looking back at his parents. "Here's what's going to happen. Madam Potter, I'm holding you to your oath, for the moment. For now, stay out of my way."

Gathering herself, she nodded to her son. Her response scared her, even as she spoke the words, for it meant that everything had changed. "Yes, My Lord."

"Lily," hissed James, when he heard her acknowledgement.

"James Charlus Potter, Junior," continued Harry, ignoring his father. "All of this was decided for you years ago, and you have done nothing of which I am aware that might be a betrayal of the House of Potter." Harry watched as the tension seemed to leave Jamie at that pronouncement - he had worried when he heard how angry Harry had been. "Enjoy your summer, Jamie. We'll talk before long, I suspect."

Jamie nodded, following his mother's lead. "Yes, My Lord."

James sputtered in rage, but said nothing. Harry turned his attention to his father.

"James Charlus Potter, Senior," he began. "As Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, you abandoned, or caused to be abandoned, the Heir Secondary of your house, leaving them to a life of abuse and neglect. I could, if I so wished it, declare you to be in violation of the Lord's Oath."

"Harry, you can't do this!" Dumbledore's shouted admonishment drew Harry's focus to him, which had been his intent. Harry cannot be allowed to destroy everything, Dumbledore thought. He cannot take James' magic!

"I am the Lord of my House, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "And all week I've tried to come to grips with the fact that I have a brother and parents, a true family. A family that was kept secret by you, sir." His voice dripped with disappointment as he spoke, so much so that Lily almost began crying again. "And then I thought to myself, going over all of the events of the past five years. The tests, the lies, the abandonment," Here, Harry raised his scarred hand, displaying the wounds left by Umbridge's blood quill. "The tortures."

He ignored the reactions of his 'family', and the renewed anger on Sirius' face, and kept his gaze on the Headmaster, who remained defiant. "You, however, have never taken an oath to defend the interests of House Potter, have you, Headmaster? So, it seems - for the moment, that I'm not in a position to take any action toward you."

"I have never sought to harm your family, Harry," Dumbledore replied.

"Yet he trusted you," Harry said angrily, indicating with a nod toward James. "He trusted you, and you somehow convinced him to break an oath on his life and magic. Do you even realize what you've done?" Harry pointed at his father, and his voice grew in volume and intensity. "That man trusted you, and at your direction he fucked up badly enough that I could demand his very life for the offense!"

"Harry," said James. Harry turned to him, his eyes full of the anger he felt. James saw it, but continued anyway. "I had no choice in the matter, son." He tried to sound regretful, with little success. "Everything we did was for the cause of the light."

Harry stared at him. If he had expected a justification, that wasn't what he got. "The Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble House can have but one priority - guaranteeing the safety and security of their family. Every decision, every word, every deed, must be focused on that singular purpose." He looked from his father to his mother, and then to his brother. Turning back to James, he saw that the man was looking down at the rug, his fists clenching and flexing as if he was fighting the urge to lash out.

Dumbledore said nothing. He simply stared at Harry, at the young Lord Potter. How Harry had learned so much in so short a time was beyond him, though he began to understand when Harry spoke about the priority of a Lord - for that was a quote from a speech on the floor of the Wizengamot by none other than Charlus Potter. Harry, it seemed, was at least taking his role as Lord Potter seriously.

After a moment, Harry spoke again. "Fortunately for you, sir, it would seem that we're now in an open conflict against the forces of Lord Voldemort. So, you get a break."

James looked up. "I beg your pardon?"

"You will work against the death eaters as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You will see to the safety of yourself, your wife, and your oldest son. You will take no action against myself or Sirius as a result of today's revelations." The air seemed to cool noticeably as Harry set his conditions. James listened intently, his expression unreadable. "You will consider yourself under probation for the duration of the war."

James Potter wanted to vomit, such was his disgust with the situation. Even if it was just temporary - and he was, in his heart, convinced that it was but a temporary setback - the idea of obeying his youngest son as if he were Lord was offensive. But the Lord's ring commanded respect, and he replied to his son in the only way he could.

Nodding, James said the words. "Yes, My Lord."

"What if he fails?" asked Lily, in a deceptively calm voice. "What if he does something not to your liking?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at the question. "If he wishes to keep his magic, he won't."

James rose, walking slowly toward Harry. All eyes in the room went to him, and Lily's breath caught in her throat. "I just agreed to everything you asked of me, Harry, despite the fact that you have no right to ask it." He took another step, continuing to speak quietly. "I allow your godfather to humiliate the Headmaster on the floor of the Wizengamot chamber, clearly at your behest, because we share the goal of fighting the death eaters." Another step. "We could have stayed hidden, you know. We could have kept Jamie in solitude, away from all of this, and just watched as you all burned. But no, we came back." Another step. "We came back for you, my son."

James stepped forward one last time, stopping only a meter away from Harry. For his part, Harry watched the man approach, seeing no tension in his movements, hearing no violence in his tone.

The sharp crack of James backhanding Harry across the face shocked them all, Harry more than anyone.

"We gave up EVERYTHING!" James shouted. "And you speak to me of BETRAYAL?"

Harry stared into the angry eyes of his father. His left hand went to his now bleeding left cheek, coating his fingertips with blood. Looking down, he saw his father's wedding ring, with its understated diamond stones now tinged red. He turned his eyes to his father's, and Lily gasped.

She had seen that look in his eyes, for just an instant - but it was the same look, the same glare. It was the same utter hatred in his features that he had shown moments before executing Bellatrix Lestrange with his bare hands. That was the look he gave his father, and that fact - more than anything else that had happened - chilled her to the core.

It seemed as if the others in the room held their breath. His hand still on his cheek, Harry Potter spoke.

"I never really believed it, you know. Not once. Not until today." He let out a sad little chuckle, rubbing his fingertips together, as if to wipe away the blood.

"Harry," began James, his expression softening, as if he had realized that he had gone too far.

"The Dursleys were right after all," Harry said, as if to himself, his eyes on his fingertips. "Who would have thought that?" Without looking at anyone else, Harry Potter turned and left the room.

James Potter remained where he stood, the magnitude of his error dawning on him. He looked to the one person present who might intercede with the Lord Potter on his behalf. "Padfoot?"

"No, James," Sirius replied. "Not this time." No one missed the fact that the marauder did not call James by his marauder name - a clear sign of the Lord Black's disapproval. The only comfort James took was the fact that Sirius remained in the room at all.

Dumbledore looked over at Lily, as her sobs broke the silence that followed Sirius' dismissal. Jamie was sitting next to her, an arm around her shoulders. He looked up at his father, worry etched into his features.

"What did he mean, Dad?" asked Jamie. "What did the Dursleys say?" James looked at his son, and said nothing.

It was Sirius who answered, as he leaned against the arm of the couch he had vacated. "When Harry was growing up, Jamie, he was told that his parents had been killed in a car accident." He looked at his friend's son, his godson's brother, and sighed. "He grew up thinking that his father was a shiftless layabout. Petunia told him that his father probably beat his mother, her sister, and that that was the only reason she would stay with such a worthless husband."

He looked over at his friend, who stood there aghast at what he had done. Sirius shook his head again, before continuing.

"And in one instant, one solitary moment, your father proved them right."