Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I'll deny anything you accuse me of.

Shards of the Old Blood

The Wizengamot was composed of two bodies, the Governing body and the full Council. The Governing body was compiled of select council members charged with overseeing judicial matters year-round. Officially they were meant to balance the power the Minister wielded. They were traditionally the closest advisors to the Minister and had the power to circumvent Ministry edicts.

Unofficially, members, no matter how honest and good-willed initially, eventually found their coffers lined with Ministry gold. These were the closest people to the Minister and Fudge, in all his tenure, had consistently proven what little love he held for people not his own.

The Wizengamot Council was the oldest governing institution, even older than the Ministry of Magic. Formed in the days when the wizards freely ruled over mortal men the Council was composed of the Great Families, the ruling class of the time.

When the wizarding kind retreated into secrecy, the Families lost their fiefdoms but they stubbornly clung to their title and power. Centuries later the modern Wizengamot Council oversaw legislature matters in yearly sessions that began each autumn. This was the body of power even Fudge feared for it wielded the power to suspend the Governing Council and the right to impeach the reigning Minister.

The Wizengamot ranks had long since been closed. The Great Families forever immortalized within the Council. Impermeable to outside change, the Great Families had always been careful to preserve the separation of power, always careful to prevent the accumulation of power on any one Heir.

Some Families eventually died off as the last of their blood left this plane while others fell dormant till an appropriate Heir would rise once more such as Morrigan had done.

Sirius Black as the last scion to the House of Black must have known he would not live long enough to sire an Heir. Perhaps he hoped his godson would live to redeem the cursed name seventeen years past when first he held his godson and named him Heir.

Years later they say Sirius Black must have surely felt the darkness that shrouded his future. They say Blacks once mingled their blood with a powerful Seer and it was her gift that forever flowed in the veins of her children. Whether or not that is true is not known but what is certain is an undeniable knowing that Black generations have proven to posses.

Sirius knew his family would kill him.

Perhaps that is why he spent his life fighting so fiercely against them and why it wasn't so much as a surprise as it was acceptance that he felt those final moments when he teetered at the edge of the Veil, eyes locked on his cousin Bellatrix Black Lestrange.

His blood had fulfilled their prophecy.

These are only some of the reasons named when people speculate on what drove Sirius Black to create a Double Heir; initiating a magical bond that would deny any children he might bear inheritance.

Why would a man barely out of school already know he would never father a child?

No one alive knows.

The facts are the only thing concrete from that time. Sirius Black made the Potter child Heir to the legacy of the Black Family. Since their legacy only recognized an Heir from a direct male line, with the death of the last Black, their name should have faded into obscurity. A blessing some people might have called the end of the cursed line.

Perhaps that is why few recognized the crest upon his breast for what it was. Malfoy, whose own mother was a Black, certainly never expected for the family shield to ever be worn again.

Besides, most everyone was too busy gawking at his scared forehead to think overmuch about his clothes. The one or two reporters stationed at the Ministry entrance (the Wizengamot as a rule wasn't front page material) never even blinked at his attire as they tried to get a shot from among the people Harry stubbornly ducked under.

The Council Chambers where located on the same floor as the courthouses, a trip that brought unpleasant memories to mind for the young Lord.

The entrance hall spilled into a gallery separated by glass from the Main Chamber. The Main Chamber was a large circular stadium that was centered around a podium where the Mugwump of the Council sat as did the Speaker of the Governing Council and the Minister in a rather odd triad.

The gallery was crowded. These men and occasional women were educators, politicians, healers, businessmen; all depending on how strongly the gold of their ancient lines held. But in these halls they were all Lords, remnants of the ruling class.

There were so many people entering the Chamber alongside the small Hogwarts group Harry easily slipped off on his own, one hand snaked around Neville's sweaty palm.

The boy's pallor had steadily increased with every step. Idly Harry wondered when he wasn't likewise paralyzed. Perhaps it was because he had already faced greater challenges.

"Harry? Shouldn't we find seats?"

Harry sighed slightly and dragged the other boy into a private alcove overlooking the Main Chamber.

"Nev, I need you to calm down or at the very least pretend that you are. You're so high-strung right now you're ready to jump at the slightest noise. Now, you and me are in the same boat, we're playing everything by ear—"

"What?"

"—Muggle expression. We're figuring out everything by ourselves. Now look out the window and tell me what you see."

"Everyone's finding a seat…people are talking?"

"Right. You have to see a bit beyond that. Look at who they are talking to. You see Fudge right there, his seat is at the podium but he looks awfully comfortable there surrounded by those people. You'll notice most there either hold some position in the Governing Council or work directly for the Ministry. You see that other group by Dumbledore? They all look at him like he's the second coming of Merlin. You might recognize a couple there from the Order of the Phoenix if your Gran's ever showed you pictures of the people your parents fought alongside."

"They are all sectioned off into factions…but who does everyone belong to?" Neville frowned thoughtfully, his mind beginning to grasp the politics that ruled the Wizengamot as the factions began to be more noticeable even as more people found their seats. Harry smiled sadly for a second. In another world James Potter and Frank Longbottom would be guiding their sons carefully through what Harry was giving Neville a crash course in.

Unfortunately one was dead and the other insane.

"That's the hard part. I'm not really sure about that but I can give you a guess. I know a couple stories behind some of these blokes and the Family Legacies of others. Look at our year mates if it will help. You see Malfoy sitting with that bloke that looks like Snape? Two rows down there's Zeus Lestrange, all notorious families that have dabbled in the Dark Arts. While not all Voldemort supporters you might find a larger number in that area."

"Is there a faction here for V-Voldemort?"

"No, the gits aren't as stupid as to congregate in such public displays of loyalty. They prefer to wear pretty white masks when they have parties." Harry added sarcastically.

"You see Hannah Abbott? Abbott's are famous for turning out reporters. I think they own The Warlock Times. She's sitting a row above Henry Stockhold, the Director of St. Mungo. Down the same row you see Zabini and that man that looks like his father? They are all strong neutral Families. Remember the shy Ravenclaw, Hermes Hornfield? That's his grandfather next to Constantine Mullikin; he writes a weakly rant about Dumbledore to the Daily Prophet. All those fellows have one thing in common, they all want Dumbledore's head on a pike. Over there, that old lady is Camille Cox, the last of the Cox Family. Her and her mates dream about crucifying Fudge. Those are the most obvious factions but no doubt countless other alliances are being formed and broken as we speak. Hey, Nev no need to look so pale. You ever notice how Malfoy still looks like a prat even from here? His mate Nott should be sitting next to him but I guess he found us vastly more interesting, isn't that true Theodore?" Harry calmly finished s he turned around to face his year mate.

Neville, startled, jumped to face the intruder as Harry rolled his eyes.

"Potter. I'm just curious on what conspiracies Gryffindors are capable of brewing." Nott said.

The quiet Slytherin was speaking more words to Harry today than he had all six years previously.

Rather than run off in a Gryffindor rage at the 'injustice', Harry smirked at the boy.

"Gryffindors have the best plots, no one ever sees them coming. But why should you think we would be involved in such business?"

The Slytherin gave an answering smirk.

"When is Harry Potter not involved? You're curiosity is almost Slytherin-worthy if only you weren't such a Gryffindor."

"Pity." Said Harry dryly.

"Slytherin's don't like surprises and you seem to spring them far too often for my comfort. Something is going on between you and the Headmaster among whatever hair-brained plots you're involved in. It normally wouldn't be a concern of mine but the Wizengamot is about to enter a period of instability as a new Lord rises and Potter, however much you've denied it, your name carries weight among our kind. Whoever you choose to support will benefit greatly."

Harry chucked lazily.

"So what is it that you're looking for? You come here and throw accusations in the air in a strangely Gryffindor manner and you expect me to act accordingly?"

Nott's eyes revealed respect where before contempt had shown, however carefully hidden.

"I'm just curious. You might not confirm any of my suspicious but the more you talk the more I am certain something is going on."

"This is the Wizengamot, Theodore Nott." Harry gestured behind him to the gathering. "Something is always going on."

Harry and Neville escaped the seventh year minutes before the Wizengamot was called in session. Pausing at the entrance, Harry pulled Neville to the side.

"Nev, Nott was right when he said something was going on. I'm involved with certain people you might not want to be associated with. I can't explain anymore than that; this is neither the time nor the place. I understand if you want to go find your own seat, no doubt Dumbledore kept an empty seat for me in his party if you want it. I'm going to go sit by Zabini and their lot. I can't make my allegiances public right now but know that I would never betray what my parents stood for."

Harry fell silent, studying the other boy as he gathered his thoughts.

"Harry, I admit I would have been hopelessly lost today without your help. I'm still scared stiff of everything going on but Harry, you've proven every year that I've known you that my faith in you has never been misplaced. You've helped me find confidence in myself back in fifth year and you've helped me find friends that I can trust with my life last year. You've given me so much, trust is the least I can give you. I don't mean to make a speech." Neville said blushing. " But what I want you to know is that I have an idea of who you will be facing against and I want you to know I'll support you."

Harry looked as his friend once more in appreciation. Shy, quiet Neville. It was easy to forget about him sometimes; then the boy goes out and proves exactly why he is a Gryffindor and why Huffelpuff should envy him.

"Thanks Neville. It's…nice knowing there's someone there that you can count on. I'll explain as much as I can later but it's not the right time for me to come clean. Do me a favor and pay attention to what everyone else talks about. You'll learn many things like that, especially when people don't pay mind to who overhears."

Clasping hands, both boys walked down the steps to the open stadium seats. They found two seats three rows above Zabini. Sliding in seconds before the Mugwump stood to call the session into order, they held their senses alert for what news they might overhear.

If Harry learned something at Hogwarts, it was that someone was always looking. Eyes saw everything he did. The only thing he was able to modify later was exactly what curious eyes saw.

His choice of seats had been studied the moment he sat down. The crest on his robes had been commented upon and referenced the moment he was identified as the Boy-Who-Lived. He wouldn't be surprised if the some of the gathered knew Sirius Black was his godfather by the end of the session.

The meeting was mostly a longwinded explanation on such odd subjects as standardized cauldron sizes. Even he knew the first session wouldn't be anything but something as remotely interesting as a dictionary.

Fudge was a dangerous man if only because he had been foolishly entrusted with so much power. Perhaps that proved how foolish wizarding society really was, Harry wasn't about to argue the point. However dangerous he was strangely predictable; Fudge liked working with a lot of spectators looking. Predictably, as soon as Fudge knew Harry was present, the Minister would seek him out. Fudge was addicted to the emotions that ran freely when a crowd of any size was behind him. In that manner he differed from Dumbledore who preferred to control the settings.

When Harry stopped to think about how abnormal his life was, he always seemed to site the fact that he understood how the mind of the three most dangerous if not powerful wizards operated.

He really should not have been as surprised as he was when Fudge and his cronies loitered in the entrance hall. Dumbledore was nowhere insight, a move most likely orchestrated by the Minister.

Harry breathed in deeply.

He had a part to play. More than just the Minister would be looking at this confrontation. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw the pale-eyes of Nott.

"Minister." Harry greeted politely, for all looking he never stopped or showed the slightest disrespect.

"Harry Potter! How nice to see you again, I had forgotten you would be joining our ranks. My, my, you have grown." Clucked Fudge like a proud parent.

Harry restrained himself from hexing the idiot.

"If you say so."

"Oh…and this must be the Longbottom boy, nasty business your parents fell into."

Neville flushed and Harry's wand arm twitched.

"So it seems."

"It's been many years since either of your Family crests were worn…but I must say Harry, I don't recall your father's crest looking like yours. How curious."

"I suppose. My godfather made me his Heir shortly after my birth. I became Lord twice over on my birthday, once in the name of Potter another under Black."

"Black? As in Sirius Black the mass murderer?" gasped Fudge like he hadn't already known.

"Sirius Black? Yes. Mass murderer? That depends on how mislead the person in question is. Most would name him thus, of course those that have faced Peter Pettigrew in the years since Sirius' unlawful incarceration can attest otherwise."

"Nothing but justice was served when that criminal was sent to Azkaban!"

"And in justice's name a trial was denied him. But of course confirmed Death Eaters such as Lucius Malfoy had the privilege to deny involvement. We all know how that turned out. Tell me, Minister, have the Aurors caught Malfoy Senior yet?"

Harry ignored the flush growing on Fudge's neck. The man in question glanced uneasily at the gathered crowd that didn't look at all properly horrified about the fact the Boy-Who-Lived was Heir to a murderer.

"Makes one wonder what sort of people have the Ministry's ear. It really isn't much of a surprise then that the Ministry spent a year denying the return of Voldemort.—"

Collective flinch. Harry rolled his eyes.

"—One can only wonder about what else is being sealed behind closed doors. I suppose it isn't much of a surprise that Lords keep rising during your tenure. First the Dark Lord Voldemort—"

Flinch.

"—and now the Lord Morrigan, both of who don't like you at all. Lord Morrigan in particular disagrees with your policies. I've heard he is mobilizing support to challenge your method of administration. About time I figure."

"Morrigan is nothing but a rumor derived from someone's fancy! The Family's been dead for as long as anyone can remember!"

"Then you've neglected what purebloods seemingly prize so dearly: their history. Morrigan historically goes dormant whenever there is no male Heir to carry on tradition. The last Morrigan was nearly a century ago, a man rumored to have only sired squib daughters. Really Minister Fudge, whoever advises you is proving to be less adequate than appropriate. How disheartening. It was wonderful to talk with you once more but no doubt the Headmaster is looking for us and I'm sure you have more important matters than following the Boy-Who-Lived around like a common fan. Good day Minister."

Harry spun away, walking quickly toward the last spot he had seen Dumbledore in. He needed to leave before Fudge collected his wits again.

"Harry? Was there anyone you didn't insult just then?"

They traded grins.

"I was just returning the favor."

Dumbledore and Madam Bones were still talking near the podium where Harry had spotted them earlier. Harry was aware Madam Bones wasn't part of Dumbledore's faction but that didn't stop the old coot from courting her favor. As a Department Head, Madam Bones was careful to keep a neutral face on but as Fudge had proven over the years anyone could be swayed; you just had to find the right price. Unfortunately for them all Madam Bones took her duties very seriously.

The two boys leaned against the wall placing a respectable distance between them and Dumbledore. Harry wasn't about to be seen hanging off the Headmasters' coattail.

Harry savored the first moment of peace he'd been able to snatch.

In his world there where three kind of people; those that were in too much awe of him to approach him, those that felt it their right to mob the Boy-Who-Lived, and those that simply didn't care. There weren't too many of the last, sometimes too many of the second, and always plenty of the first. These rules always came into effect whenever Harry Potter was spotted, something that he avoided at all costs. No one would name him thus if they saw him as he was in that moment. Instead of the attention seeking celebrity most would assume him to be they saw a young man, his face thrown into shadow as wild black hair hung every which way, strategically obscuring the damming scar.

"Harry? It's time to depart. I must say Hogwarts must be missing our small group by now." Called out the Headmaster's cheerful voice.

"Harry? As in Harry Potter!"

"—Harry Potter is here!"

"Where!"

"—always wanted to meet the boy—"

"—never believed a word the Prophet said. That boy has always been such a sweet child—"

"—you think he would sign something…for my…err...daughter—"

"—don't be daft. They'd never let him out—"

"—shouldn't keep him locked up. My son says he's always finding things people are so keen on keeping secret—"

"—did you see how he went after Fudge. That was truly beautiful!—"

"—knew Sirius Black was innocent. My cousin went to school with him. The man would prank you three different ways before you could blink—"

Harry grimaced. He frowned. He scowled. He pouted.

He finally sighed in resignation.

Carefully schooling his face till it was nothing more than a polite mask he walked up to Dumbledore.

"—figured he was taller."

"Of course Headmaster. Whenever you are ready."

"Excellent my dear boy. Is everyone else gathered?"

"I'm sure if they mean to return to Hogwarts they will be." Harry shrugged noncommittally. He also couldn't afford to be perceived as Dumbledore's secretary.

Sometimes even he gave himself a headache. He really was too young to be tangled so intricately in the minds of so many powerful people.

"School rules forbid unscheduled overnight trips." Dumbledore chided lightly.

"Then I guess they best hurry."

Now Dumbledore was openly frowning at Harry's 'insolence'.

Harry smiled lightly at the old man, his face always calmly polite. They might be Headmaster and student but here they where Lords. Well Harry was at least. Wizarding etiquette called for appointed Lords to show more respect to true born Lords. Those traditions were never really discussed openly but it was something most Lords kept in mind.

Dumbledore gave Harry one more searching look before turning back to exchange farewells.

Harry smile turned into a smirk. Emerald eyes flashed with dangerous fire as they met the pale eyes of Theodore Nott who had been among those watching the exchange avidly.

Nott for a moment met the eyes that he had always thought retained the last wisps of the long ago failed Killing Curse in their shadowy depths. Slowly he bowed his head toward the Boy-Who-Lived.

Avreda Kedavra eyes glowed more fiercely.

TBC….

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AN: 'ello! Miss me?…yeah I thought so…Well I updated! I get to live another day! Or so say those that want to make my head a flower pot…(See? I Updated!….nervous laugh…) I've gotten so many reviews it makes me all giddy thinking about it (or maybe that's the car fumes…)

Spring Break is going great. I haven't killed any rabid bunnies and no bunnies have tried to kill me!

Thanks for all the reviews. I love the support! I'm infatuated with the support!…now that everyone is uncomfortable I'll move on….Don't forget to review or I'll…cry?

By the way I'm already on chapter 13 and I love it! (now this is self-promotion)

S

TBC...