A/N: I am sorry for the delay; long notes at the end explain. I am sending pure love and gratitude to all of you, with huge extra helpings to marksmom, slayer of destiny, The Dark Lady Voldemort 666, hprareslashfan, Pikachumomma, Rowan Valadosa, Hortensia, Aelirinn, and the slightly insane but funny and fascinating mabidiso.
Marksmom is presently working on a side story for "Schooled". Feel free to annoy and cheer her! I have issued invites for side stories in this AU to just a few authors, but if anyone feels their writing is up to it and want to work with me (I will add my "mojo" as Pikachumomma calls it after you do your stuff but definitely working with, not over, each other), feel free to pitch an idea my way. There are so many awesome writers, but I don't want to bother each of you; I just hope you'll come to me if you're interested. It can include an offshoot of the present plot (for example, I have asked Rokkis – although I don't know if she read it yet - if she might be interested in writing the story of Erasmus Sanguini and Lord LeStrange with possibly something about Rabastan's 'education'), a slightly-attached to the present plot (for example, someone needs to write how Dame Grenadine and Sherlock Holmes conduct the comparative analysis of whip vs riding crop), or completely from left-field (I dunno – what the squid thought about it all?). I will be writing the stories of Sherlock & Mycroft, Sherlock's trip through the portraits back to Hogwarts, and the love story of Salazar & Henry.
Warnings: none. Not even a kiss. Only warning is that this is the second time I've written this chapter, and if you're mean to me I will probably cry (OOC of me, I know). I have the next started (again). I am exhausted (see end notes), but I am by-the-goddess trying. Be warned; this chapter is entirely in Dumbledore's office. The next chapter will take it all further.
Happy Reading!
WyrdSmith
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END OF CH 9: SCHOOLED – INTERLEWD-I-TWO'D
Her look of adoration made him very uncomfortable, and he could not help but be relieved when she popped out of the room. Marvolo's understanding chuckle made him feel a bit better, but the warm, strong arm that wrapped around his shoulders and urged him toward the door sealed the deal. At the last minute, Hadrian snatched up the Cloak, folding it and tucking it into his robe next to his wand. He simply shrugged at Marvolo's quizzically raised eyebrow, not sure himself why he did half of the things he had done over the past two days. All he could offer in his own defense was, "I blame you."
He accepted the amused smile and the kiss pressed into his temple as reasonable compensation for his confusion.
Not that he would have turned them away, regardless of imagined obligation. He was confused, not stupid.
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CH 10: SCHOOLED –SLAMMED
Lady Evelyn Potter was disgusted. She was sitting with pureblood grace in one of the awful, purple velvet, upholstered chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. Next to her, Charlus was glaring at the Headmaster, who was sitting behind his cluttered desk, clad in robes of aqua and fuchsia that would have looked much better at the slumber party of a group of muggle, teenage girls. All he needed was large, pink curlers in his hair and someone painting his toenails and the image would be complete. Evelyn sneered at the thought, and focused her formidable stare on the Leader of the Phoenix Party.
Dumbledore sat comfortably in his familiar chair, forearms resting on the chair supports with his long, wrinkled fingers interlaced. He ramped up his twinkle-factor a bit in response to the Lady Potter's unimpressed stare, and sucked worriedly on what was probably his fiftieth lemon drop of the morning. He had laced them with small portions of calming draughts, originally because he hoped to use them in his interactions with guests. That was largely a failed effort, as no one ever accepted his endless offers of the tart sweets that he loved so much. He was now doing his best to get a full dose or two without being forced to visit Cherish Pomfrey or her demonic apprentice. It had taken weeks to get his hair and beard back where they belonged, although in truth he hadn't bothered to replace the rest of his body hair. Oddly, he found that he liked the smooth glide of his legs against the sheets and his robes as he walked – it felt oddly sensual - and he greatly appreciated the reduced itching in his groin due to the baby-smooth skin. No wonder women in the tropics preferred such cosmetic charms! Really, it was remarkable that women all over did not partake of the measure; after all, they performed it on their legs, underarms and faces, so why would they not simply carry it through the entire body, barring eyebrows and scalp? Looking speculatively at the Lady Potter, he wondered idly if perhaps women did behave in such a way, and he just did not know about it.
"Headmaster."
The cool, unemotional voice of Lady Potter jarred Dumbledore out of his mental wanderings. Looking into her condemning stare and the slight sneer she allowed on her lips, the venerable Headmaster wondered uncomfortably if somehow the Lady had sensed the somewhat inappropriate meandering of his thoughts. Does the renowned "woman's intuition" work when a gentleman is wondering about the state of a woman's pubic hair? Goodness, that was a discomfiting thought! Well, no matter! He was an aged wizard; he was certainly allowed his eccentricities, was he not?
"Headmaster!" This time, Lady Potter's voice left no room for faux-befuddlement. To business, then.
Dumbledore smiled gently at the three people seated in front of him. He was not surprised at all to see the Potters this morning, given what he had learned of recent events surrounding James and the very-problematic Hadrian Morgan. The presence of the Potter's attorney, Solicitor Geoffrey Harpsichordian Bates, III, was an unpleasant addition, however. "Lord and Lady Potter, as you have no wish to share tea with this old man, what may I do for you today?" He allowed his twinkle to fade a little and sneaked a touch of lonely sadness into his eyes and aura.
If anything, Lord Potter's glare intensified, and the cool Lady Potter was now just a few degrees shy of icy. "Dumbledore, you may refrain from your theatrical machinations. We know you far too well to be taken in by such blatant manipulation. You know perfectly well why we are here, and our attorney's presence cannot be a surprise. If it is, you will have dropped even further in my estimation, Lord Phoenix." The disdain in the Lady's use of his political title was withering.
Dumbledore was surprised to find himself actually flinching a bit from Evelyn Potter, a fact which immediately made him scowl in irritation. Just last evening, he had been mistreated and disrespected by the irreverent Auror Moody and his associates – not to mention, disobeyed by his own house elf, for Merlin's sake! – and now this morning he was again in a position of defense. The night's sleep in between these events might just as well not have happened! Apart from the direction of the sunlight and the actual people in the office with him, nothing else had changed. Well, discounting his robes, of course. He had chosen his navy blue and crimson robes today, choosing to appear somber and impressive. At least that much was going well today; everyone who had seen him in his beautiful robes had stopped and stared in appreciation.
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Resting on his extremely-magical perch on the bureau in the corner of the Headmaster's office, Fawkes listened carefully to the thoughts of the reprehensible wizard currently bearing the title of Headmaster and smirked. Dumbledore had worked very hard to convince the wizarding world that the beautiful phoenix was his familiar, and it was only true in the vaguest sense. Fawkes was, of course, bound to Hogwarts herself, and shared a bond with every Headmaster or Headmistress in order to connect that person to the castle. It was through Fawkes that Dumbledore was able to control the wards and various other aspects of the magic of the castle. Unfortunately, he did not have any ability to effect the old wizard's other responsibilities, such as funding and regulations. If Fawkes controlled any of that, Dumbledore would never have been able to steal from young Tom Riddle or Hadrian Morgan, nor would he have gotten away with the blatant favoritism of the Marauders. For that matter, Dumbledore would have been expelled and had his magic bound the instant he raped the little Grindelwald boy. It was regrettable in the extreme that Albus Dumbledore was so skilled at manipulative magics; he had Headmaster Armando Dippett completely swayed before Gellert had even worked up the courage to report the rape. Fawkes had watched helplessly as Dumbledore used and abused his abilities, gained the Headmastership of Hogwarts, and used that position to increase his own wealth, power and prestige at the expense of numerous children and innocents. Fawkes' bond to the Founders remained true, but his ability to communicate with them was lost when they went beyond the Veil. Although their portraits remained to guard their school, the mind-to-mind bond between them and their phoenix was lost. He was completely unable to convey to anyone the truth of all the abuses that Dumbledore perpetrated every day. The Founders portraits watched, of course, and young Lord Slytherin was shrewd and canny and slowly rooting out all of the rot, but it was not fast enough.
The beautiful phoenix considered it a personal insult that Dumbledore had named his political party after the wizard's supposed familiar. He did not object to the purpose of the party, per se – after all, those with Light Magic required political representation as much as those with Dark and Neutral Magic- but for Dumbledore to call himself 'Lord Phoenix' implied that he was Fawkes' master. Again, that was true only in the loosest sense – the best kind, by Dumbledore's standards. Regrettably, because Dumbledore was Headmaster of Hogwarts and Fawkes served Hogwarts, ergo, Fawkes served Dumbledore. The man had the barest right to call himself 'Lord Phoenix', but it was enough to satisfy the unscrupulous wizard. Furthermore, every member of the Phoenix Party had sworn to serve Dumbledore as 'Lord Phoenix', in much the same way that the House of Black was now sworn to Lord Slytherin. It was appalling for the proud, beautiful phoenix to be used in such a blatant, disrespectful manner.
Fawkes had launched into a Flight of Ecstasy last night when young Hadrian Morgan and Marvolo Slytherin bonded. He was joyous to see three of the Founders' Lines united. Now, if only young Neville could find the truth, too. On the happy day when all four Founders' Lines were reawakened and united in purpose, Fawkes would have a glorious burning and would incinerate all of the dirty magic that polluted his beautiful castle. In the meantime, all he could do as he endured proximity to Dumbledore was to visit the portraits and the Heirs as he nudged and hinted and hoped. Lately, he had visited one particular portrait very frequently. Somehow, he felt that Master Holmes would be able to help him.
Still, Fawkes was not entirely helpless. He took his vengeance in doses both greater and lesser. One of his retaliations against Dumbledore was particularly amusing, as was evidenced today by Dumbledore's assumption that his supposedly 'navy blue and crimson' robes were somber and impressive. The day Dumbledore raped young Master Grindelwald and got away with it, Fawkes had cursed the wizard with a form of magical color-blindness. Being a creature of Light Magic, he had no access to darker curses, but this one was an excellent start. He had used his extraordinary healing abilities and 'tweaked' the bastard's perceptions, rather than the physical properties of his eyes, to always interpret only those items related to fashion to be stupendously gawdy and awful. To Dumbledore, everyone else dressed terribly and only he had any true dress-sense. Fawkes snickered, which emerged as a delightful trill of song, as he considered what the old man's reaction would be if he realized that he was actually wearing a particularly-revolting set of brightest aqua and blazing fuchsia robes that offended everyone who saw them. It would be such an enjoyable moment of revenge for Fawkes, but no. Fawkes was saving that moment of revelation for the perfect opportunity, sometime very public.
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"Enough of this, Dumbledore! Explain how you could have let this happen? SEVENTEEN Gryffindors wrote pornography that is being widely published and broadcast throughout Wizarding Great Britain, through a writing contest that was your pathetic solution to further controlling and shaming the Morgan boy. Instead, he has managed to humiliate us, not to mention many other families of the Phoenix Party, and has caused irreparable damage to our reputations. FURTHERMORE, we will doubtless find ourselves in legal difficulties with Lord Slytherin for the disgusting allegations and slurs made by our own son. And it all happened under your very nose! Explain yourself!" Lady Evelyn Potter did not even raise her voice as she verbally eviscerated the second-most powerful wizard of their time. Her cold stare never wavered, and her composure was perfect.
Frankly, she was possibly the most frightening woman any of the three men in the office with her had ever seen. Considering that Dumbledore had met Walburga Black on numerous occasions and had faced an irate Molly Weasley, that was really saying something.
Charlus swallowed nervously. He was furious at the old wizard, as well, but for Evelyn to be this controlled suggested she was in a deadly rage. He was now very, very glad that she had not allowed him entrance to her rooms or her bed last night. She would have eaten him alive, and not in the fun way. At the moment, his best defense against his Lady-wife was to support her unquestionably in the manner she would most approve. Charlus allowed his glare to gain weight and heat as he focused on Albus. He was rewarded by the old man's nearly-imperceptible shifting, although the movement of the blinding robes was enough to make Charlus nauseous.
Dumbledore spread his hands disarmingly and began his verbal tap dance. "Evelyn, Charlus, you know how very busy I am. Not only are my days as Headmaster quite full, particularly in light of our mutual concerns about young Hadrian, but I do have other responsibilities to fulfill, as well, my friends," he said gently, with a meaningful look weighted with the burden of his great duties. Typically, they were unimpressed. That seemed to be the way things were going this past day or two. He sighed with practiced weariness and explained, "I did as I thought best in assigning the writing contest to Mr. Morgan. It was a wonderful opportunity to force him back into the presence and under the control of the Marauders, and you must admit, your son and his friends' actions were brilliant. Even if I had known about their plans, I would not have stopped them; nothing any of us know about Mr. Morgan would indicate that the young man would have retaliated in such a fashion. His shyness and reticence are quite genuine, you know; even Healer Pomfrey and the other teachers have confirmed that. Someone must have assisted Mr. Morgan, given him the idea of how to fight back. Possibly even given him some form of courage potion, because I highly doubt that the reported manner in which he discussed the stories in class would have been possible for him otherwise. I would dearly love to know who that person is."
Charlus Potter continued to glare as he ground his teeth and growled menacingly, "And so, because your methods of control over the little bastard failed, we are now forced to deal with making a public apology to a Slytherin! And not just any snake, but Lord Marvolo Slytherin himself, who could crush us financially, socially and politically, if he chose, without the additional help of a lawsuit for slander and libel. You promised us, Dumbledore, you swore that you would have Hadrian Morgan running from the wizarding world with his tail between his legs by Samhain. That day has come and gone, and you have failed spectacularly! And according to the Daily Prophet, every single seventh year Gryffindor submitted a similarly-themed story, pornographic and tasteless, for which they and their families are now suffering the ramifications of their actions. You do realize that most of those families are members of the Phoenix Party, don't you, old man? I heard Weasley didn't even go to work today, and that the Patil betrothal to Sheik Tariq Marani is severed. Without Marani, we lose the entire faction of the Traditional Families – all their influence and all their money. Gone, because you can't figure out how to control one little bastard who should have been drowned at birth!"
Dumbledore frowned in annoyance, his careful mask slipping at the injustice of the Lord's words. "Now, that is not entirely correct, Charlus, and you know it. Apart from the fact that I was simply attempting to help contain a Potter family problem as a personal favor to you," he ignored Charlus's snort of denial and doggedly continued, "but not every Gryffindor's family are supporters of the Phoenix. Some of them come from families that are primarily from other houses, even Slytherin, and have managed to find their way into the most honorable house in Hogwarts."
Here, Lady Potter spoke up, her cool voice lending a greater chill to the truth of her words, "If you think that is now a plus for the Phoenix Party, you are mistaken. Parvati Patil's family is primarily Ravenclaw. They are all respected, Traditional people with significant personal success, known for their honor, integrity and decorum. The one time a Parvati becomes a Gryffindor, she becomes better known for her fellatio techniques with numerous boys and earns herself and her family tremendous shame and a broken betrothal from the leader of the Traditional Families. Cormac McLaggen is from a family that is traditionally Slytherin. Again, the one time a McLaggen becomes a Gryffindor, he becomes known for his unhealthy interest in much-younger boys and is arrested by his own father for unknown reasons. All that is known about it is that Head Auror McLaggen arrested his own son for something the idiot wrote in his story. Apart from the fact that these children are proving to be wonderful advertisements for the other side, what the hell is the McLaggen situation about? How much more damage must we try to contain?" She fixed the Headmaster in her frigid glare and demanded a truthful reply from the fidgeting old wizard.
Dumbledore was still feeling the sting of the situation that happened here in his office last night. With an indignant huff, he launched into an animated description of the ridiculous event. "Head Auror McLaggen, Head of DMLE Marcellus Flint, and two aurors came here last night. I didn't even get to attend dinner because of this idiocy!" He looked for sympathy toward the three seated before him, and was deeply disappointed in the lack of love he seemed to be getting. He huffed again. "Well, one of those aurors was the rudest, most aggressive young man I can recall seeing in such a position. He even put me in cuffs! Twice! They forced me to summon Cormac, and confiscated my first note as evidence that I was apparently attempting to cause a felon to flee or some such rot. I was merely attempting to give the young man a word of caution; that's all. After all, he was simply the victim of his own primal urges; we all know how they can roar through us during our younger years, do we not?" he said imploringly. Surely, he was not alone in his pity for young Cormac?
Lord Potter's expression had not changed; it seemed set in stone. The attorney was growing pale, as he began to get an inkling of 'the situation' as the Headmaster whimsically called it. Lady Potter looked like a thunderstorm had moved into her magic, and she seemed to be doing her best to send lightning at the Headmaster through her eyes, which narrowed as she curled her lip and questioned, "Are you going to give us all the details, Headmaster, or are you going to try to win our commiseration for what I fear is something akin to sexual assault? It seems obvious, after all, given the nature of those thrice-damned stories and the fact that such personages would not appear to arrest the son of the Head Auror unless he had committed a criminal act. Damn it, Dumbledore, you will give us details now or I will leave and hold a press conference on the steps of Hogwarts by noon today!" That was a frightening threat, indeed, considering the fact that the Lady Potter never said anything she was unprepared to back up with action.
Dumbledore hurriedly continued, "Very well, my dear, very well. Err…. do you recall that little incident last year, when the second –year Hufflepuff tried to claim some sort of sexual assault?" He dropped his watery gaze from the sharpening stares of the three facing him. Clearing his throat nervously, he continued, "Well, it would seem that I was perhaps mistaken in … containing… that situation as I did. Cormac was not, as he claimed, assisting young Moody; he had apparently gotten a bit too amorous with the boy and … well, boys will be boys, of course, but young Moody apparently claims it was assault. I had successfully controlled everything at the time, you may remember. I refused the Aurors the right to interview McLaggen due to that young man's right to privacy and my duty with regard to protection of a minor. I did the same for little Moody, purely to allow the boy to recover in peace, of course. Besides, Moody could not accurately identify his attacker by sight, although he did insist at the time that it was Cormac's voice and hands and … well." Dumbledore cleared his throat uncomfortably, continuing to avoid the condemning stares. "I did try to have young Cormac apologize to the Moody boy for anything that child may have misunderstood, but the boy kept becoming hysterical, so we simply let it be. However, it seems that young Moody has an uncle, who is also his godfather, who was one of the two Aurors who came here yesterday. He was the intimidating … I mean, the aggressive… young man, in fact. It appears that Cormac used the incident to fuel his own story submission to Morgan's writing contest, and essentially … confessed." Dumbledore's voice trailed off weakly. Said out loud, it really did sound fairly damning, did it not? Oh, dear.
Surprisingly, it was the previously-silent attorney Bates who summarized, "So, a sexual assault of a minor occurred on your watch, on school property, by a Gryffindor who you protected and shielded by covering up and denying the severity of the crime. Once again, you chose to punish the victim by denying him justice and attempting to force him to accept a half-assed apology from his attacker. You clearly empathize with and pity the older boy who committed the crime, rather than the victim. And when the idiot boy confessed by writing a pornographic, fantasy story about the crime, practically bragging about what he got away with under your so-called supervision, you attempted to help him escape arrest from the Head Auror – who is also his father, the Head of the DMLE, and two aurors, one of whom is the victim's uncle and godfather. Your actions were such that evidence was taken against you and you were placed in magical restraints twice. Is there anything else we should know? Did the McLaggen boy obey the summons?" Bates' matter-of-fact summation was stark and disturbing.
At the question, however, Dumbledore's slightly-worried expression disappeared as he glared angrily. "NO! He could have gotten away, but Flint had me summon my house elf and the damn little wretch obeyed Flint instead of me! He brought the note to McLaggen – and let me just say, it was insulting to me personally to be dictated the wording of the note by Flint, as if I were his assistant or a child doing lines! – and my elf then bound him when the poor boy tried to flee. He brought the boy screaming and weeping into my office, just there!" He pointed dramatically at the spot where Cormac had laid sobbing with snot running down his face. "Let me tell you, once they took Cormac and left, I summoned Zeppo to my inner room and showed him exactly why he should never even think about disobeying me again! The insolence!" He was puffed up like a bullfrog, wrinkled skin stretching and retracting with his indignant panting. The three facing him were staring in disbelief, and only looked away when a dark voice was heard from the wall above the long bureau.
"I trust you people are beginning to get a very clear picture of the illustrious Leader of your vaunted Phoenix Party?" Phineas Nigellus Black drawled mockingly. "Allow me to fill in the blanks for you. Before they departed with the sniveling, sobbing little rapist, Dumbledore gave the boy warm encouragement and added the comforting words 'oh, my dear boy, remember, the course of true love never runs smooth', thus making it clear to the officials that the Headmaster's sympathy lay not with the victim, but his attacker. Furthermore, his behavior during the entire visit was documented by Adam McLaggen, who was not there as Head Auror nor as Cormac's father but as a Master of the Mind Arts to observe and record the entire arrest for pensieve evidence. They now have ample proof of the Headmaster's questionable behavior, including his insults to Auror Moody, his chiding attempts to create guilt in McLaggen for arresting his poor, misunderstood son on such an overblown charge, his attempt to slip a compulsion spell onto the note he wrote to summon Cormac, his written attempt to get Cormac to flee (which was secured as evidence by Auror Moody), and numerous other facial expressions, attempted sleights-of-hand and other examples of body language that all but screamed 'I am unstable, immoral and not to be trusted with children!' to the very experienced professionals in the room." The former Headmaster and Lord Black surveyed the stunned Potters and their attorney, and smirked. It was well past time for Dumbledore to get his comeuppance.
Clearly, Phineas was not alone in his opinion, as the next person in the room to speak was none other than the Sorting Hat, who was furious for still another reason. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! How DARE you abuse an elf in your service? Let me tell you, I may be bound to maintain your confidentiality in most matters, but I serve Hogwarts first and foremost, and that includes those bound to her service! Just the fact that you mock the elf assigned to you by calling him 'Zeppo' – yes, I am familiar with the muggle meaning, you insufferable git! – is enough to earn you a sanction according to the Charter. To abuse and punish a servant, regardless of its species, for obeying its superiors is unconscionable! I will be notifying Lord Slytherin of this outrage, Dumbledore. Don't you dare touch that elf again! I will be having the portraits keep an eye on him and all of the elves until I have met with Slytherin. Reprehensible!" The tattered old hat's 'face' was scowling mightily, and Fawkes, perched nearby, was sparking and glowing in his shared anger. These two were bonded to Hogwarts in her entirety, and it was their sacred duty to protect the castle and all of her possessions. That included every, single house elf, whether bonded to the castle or simply living on-site as the servant of one of the people of Hogwarts. Such was the magic of house elves, that they drew from the seniormost power source associated with their master, and thus were bound to – and protected by - that source. Tansy, although bound to Hadrian, was also bound to Marvolo, and ultimately to Hogwarts.
Dumbledore stared, dumbfounded. What in Merlin was going on now? Every time he turned around, he seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into a quagmire that all seemed to begin with Hadrian Morgan! Eventually, the words of the Sorting Hat began to sink in, and Dumbledore felt a burst of panic. "No! You are not allowed to speak of my conversations; you know this!" he shouted frantically. "You will keep your silence, Hat!"
The Hat simply sneered, which was a remarkable expression on a piece of headgear, and then the aged face faded back into simple fabric. Dumbledore knew what that meant: the 'spirit' of the Hat had retreated and was now coursing through the stone walls of the castle, searching for Slytherin. Wait! Which Slytherin? Salazar or Marvolo? He turned panicked eyes to the Potters, who stared back impassively. "Charlus! Evelyn! Did he say whether he was going to the portrait of Salazar or to Professor Slytherin? I must get there first! What did he say?"
Evelyn's slight smile was decidedly malicious as she replied, "He did not specify, Headmaster. It would seem you have a choice to make, not that I believe for a single second that either Slytherin will find any reason you may offer to be acceptable grounds for punishing an elf that was only obeying orders." She sneered as Dumbledore drew a breath to speak and cut him off. "Don't bother, Albus. You know as well as we that the elf had no choice, and that your punishment of it was pure petulance. Even if it had wanted to obey you, which I frankly doubt, given the circumstances, it could not have. The elves answer to the same laws you do. Or do I need to remind you of who, precisely, had the authority when the Head Auror, Head of the DMLE and two associate aurors were present in the same room as the civilian Headmaster of a private school?"
Dumbledore cringed, remembering Auror Alastor Moody's scathing explanation of the hierarchy of authority. "No, Evelyn, that will not be necessary." He ruminated for a moment, tugging on his beard and ignoring the increasingly irritated postures and expressions of his three guests. After a moment, he said musingly, "Well, once this meeting is concluded, I will simply speak with Thomas and explain the situation. Given his vicious and dark disposition, I am certain he will be sympathetic to me for giving in to my justifiable anger and indulging in a little bit of therapeutic torture. He is a Slytherin, after all; such activities are in his very blood." He met the incredulous stares of the Potters and sneered delicately, "Oh, come now, children! We are none of us naïve. Let us not forget how well we know each other. I am fully aware of the fact that neither of you are especially free of such stains, either, or have you forgotten precisely why and how Lord Caleb Potter died? Hmmm?"
The threat of blackmail hung in the air, only to be dissipated with Evelyn's dry, "Let us also remember, then, the person from whom we attained the means for dear Caleb's death, and the fact that said person also destroyed the legal will of a Lord of a Noble House and has engaged in numerous, traceable acts of theft against the true Lord of the House of Potter." Her piercing stare was fixed like a javelin on the Headmaster, who was matching her stare with his own in a battle of wills. Both ignored the offended sputtering of Charlus Potter, who preferred to forget that he was not, in fact, the true Lord Potter. All three seemed to disregard Solicitor Bates completely, who was sitting still and pale in the vivid, velvet chair.
The heavy silence was broken by a faint chime and a startled look on the face of the sweating solicitor. With a muttered apology, he opened his documents satchel to find that his secretary had forwarded, through the Gringotts-crafted mail pouch that they used for the transmittal of confidential paperwork, three, sealed files bearing the House of Potter coding. Glancing up uncertainly, he heard Charlus Potter snap impatiently, "Well, open them, damn it!" Murmuring in agreement, Bates looked to the true master of the House of Potter, and began to open the first sealed document at Evelyn's discreet nod.
The first seal he broke was the distinctive G of Gringott's Bank. Enclosed within was a simple Transfer of Ownership for one female house elf Tansy of the Helenic seedlines from James Charlus Potter to Hadrian Beltran Morgan. Her sire and dam were listed on the ownership papers, along with a general description of the elf and her capabilities. Absently studying the latter, Bates explained the gist of the document and was met with the heavy silence that comes between a flash of lightning and burst of thunder.
Startled, he looked up and saw the furious expressions of the Potters, and had just enough time to brace himself before Charlus rose to his feet in rage and boomed, "Why would we consent to this? Why would James agree to it? Explain this, Bates!"
Stuttering slightly, the solicitor hastily reviewed the attached papers. Quickly reading the letter of explanation from Gringott's, he began to pale as he braced himself further and assumed his most professional demeanor as protection against the inevitable explosion. "According to Gringott's, the elf is just one of many possessions that James lost to Hadrian as the result of a duel with Hadrian Morgan. Despite repeated reminders and offers by Hadrian for him to take time and refresh his understanding of the rules and repercussions for dueling with a blood relative, James insisted on following through on the duel. He lost, and Hadrian claimed all of James' possessions within one mile from their location. Furthermore, as James initiated the duel, which was established through an immediate investigation by the Goblins, Hadrian's award was expanded to the requisite 100 mile radius, thereby expanding Hadrian's possessions to include what was formerly James' ownership shares in several stores, businesses and rental homes in Hogsmeade. And…," he winced, wishing he were anywhere but in the vicinity of the fuming Lord and Lady Potter, "because James then accused Hadrian of cheating and demanded his belongings back, further complicating matters by calling Hadrian a thief and attempting to bodily retrieve the Potter Family Invisibility Cloak, the Goblins have enacted the fullest measure of the rules for this situation and expanded the radius to 500 miles."
Charlus was red-faced and speechless. Dumbledore was gaping, completely blindsided by the fact that he had not even known a duel had taken place, much less the ramifications. Evelyn Potter was tight-lipped and tightly-controlled. It was she who frigidly prompted, "All of it, Bates."
Drawing a deep breath for courage, the Potter Family Solicitor met the eyes of the formidable Lady Potter and said quietly, "Diagon Alley is 437 miles from Hogwarts. Hadrian Morgan now owns and has sole possession of all of the Gringott's vaults formerly owned by James, as well as all of the investor shares and full ownership of all properties formerly assigned to be inherited by James in Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, Prospect Alley, and all of London. As far as I can tell, James only retains ownership of the farms in Germany and some of the minor properties throughout Europe."
He hesitated again, terrified at what had just occurred to him. Evelyn Potter's seering stare saw right through his façade. She didn't have to say a word. Discreetly drawing his wand in readiness for a defensive shield, Solicitor Bates cleared his throat and said with admirable firmness, "Because Hadrian now owns outright almost one-quarter of the Potter Family fortune from James's foolish actions (leaving James with two percent of the fortune), and is entitled to his own one-quarter of the Potter Family fortune as son of Caleb, all restrictions and restraints on Hadrian's access to his own vaults and properties will now be automatically lifted. As of midnight last night, Hadrian Morgan owns half of the Potter wealth and votes."
Silence, heavy and horrified, settled over the three other people in the cluttered, gaudy office. On his perch, Fawkes could not resist uttering a delighted trill of triumph, earning a look of disappointment from Dumbledore that prompted a second trill. In his portrait, Phineas Nigellus Black was laughing silently, completely delighted with this turn of events. Far in the corner, watching in shrouded silence from a darkly-shadowed portrait of the Machiavellian era, Dame Grenadine smiled in triumph, memorizing every word and gesture to relate to her beloved Sherlock. They would then go together to speak with Salazar, Henry and Marvolo. It was best to discuss how to broach all of this with Hadrian first. It looked like her treasured protégé was going to have a place in the House of Potter after all.
As they tried to absorb the blow, neither of the two Potters nor Dumbledore noticed Solicitor Bates studying the remaining two, sealed files in his hands. Certain that he was, for the moment, unobserved by the shocked Evelyn Potter, Geoffrey allowed his lips to quirk into a small, satisfied smile.
It seemed that, despite the Potters' efforts to ensure his silence, he would finally be able to talk freely with Hadrian Morgan. After all, he was bound to the House of Potter, was he not?
And Hadrian Morgan now owned exactly half of that good House.
ooooooooooooooooooo
A/N2: To explain my delay, let me hit the highlights for you. Eight days of rolling power blackouts. Computer virus trashed several completed chapters – two for "Schooled", one for "Food for Thought", half for "Bright New Day", a full outline for "Did You Know" and a newly-edited, 78,000 word story for DLV666. Strike vote is Sunday; strike inevitable barring miracle. Numerous migraines. Problems with very blurry vision and migraine auras keep me from reading and editing, so I'm often touch-typing and hoping. Pre-menopausal (is it even legal to make one woman have four periods in 8 weeks?). Hot flashes suck, by the way. Ever-building tension with financially-dependent, determinedly-unemployed sibling leading to final estrangement. My emotional meltdown. Brother-in-law diagnosed with prostate cancer. His wife, my sister-in-law, laid-off. Elderly father-in-law started fainting while alone in his home. Husband diagnosed with pronounced anemia and a heart murmur, not to mention several days without his C-Pap due to power outages. Mocking comments by the neighbors whose dog killed our beloved cat. House central air conditioning died, two days before our income disappears and just before the Texas summer heat wave…. And those, my friends, are just the highlights. There's so much more, you just wouldn't believe it.
Plus side (and yes, there is always a very bright side to every darkness): We are safe. We are mostly healthy and the kids are recovered from pneumonia. We are somewhat prepared for the strike. We have two window unit a/c's that are going to work like hell for us over the summer (we pray). My husband's family (mine, now, thank the goddess) are wonderful people. We have a safe, decent home in a good neighborhood (barring the vicious neighbors). We have an income. We have each other. We have very good friends (and I am counting many I have met right here on FFN). We have faith, though mine is less conventional than my husband's. We live in a remarkable era, in a country that – as messed up as it may be – celebrates freedom and provides opportunity to be an individual. And I am a writer, so I can take all the good and all the bad and all the stuff in between, and convert it to plots and characters that, if I'm lucky, please you all and keep you reading.
I am just beginning to post on Archive of Our Own, too. Anyone needing a status update in between my postings can check my bio; I am keeping an ongoing note there to tell of any delays so y'all don't fret. I promise, even with delays, I will never abandon my stories. It's just not in me to do that.
Thank you. Blessed Be.
WyrdSmith