The First Repeal of Many
July 3rd, 1995
Ministry of Magic, London
Harry and Daphne stood outside the black door leading to the Wizengamot chamber. Harry was reading over pieces of paper, studying them closely up until they were supposed to go inside.
"You've memorised it several times over, now," Daphne sighed and smiled a little. "It'll be fine, Harry."
Harry sighed as well, and closed his black leather folder.
"I know, I just… I need this to go through. Innocent people suffering from severe curses, and who didn't choose their parents are suffering from this. Remus is suffering. This has to work."
"If it doesn't, we can try again," she said reassuringly and took his unoccupied hand with her own. "We can always try again. And again, and again, until those old farts," Harry snorted at that, "realise that it's time for them to step down and let the next generation take their turn, just as we have to eventually give our next generation the chance to shape our society. If not today, then maybe in a month, or a year, or a decade, but these old people will eventually have to step down, and then you only have our own generation to contend with."
"I ever tell you how much I appreciate your advice?" he asked and glanced at her coyly.
"Not until now," she said and leant closer.
"Thanks," he muttered and closed the distance.
It was a short, sweet kiss, and they both smiled when they pulled away.
"I like this you much better," she said. "Whatever James did, tell him I'm pleased with the result."
"Ha, I will," Harry exclaimed with a chuckle.
The door next to them suddenly opened and an older man poked his head out.
"They are ready to see you, Lord Peverell–Potter and Heiress Greengrass."
"We're coming," Harry said and released her hand to offer her his arm.
Daphne gladly took it, and they confidently strode inside the circular room arm–in–arm.
"Lord Harry James Potter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell–Potter," the Warlock in Chief, a certain Griselda Marchbanks, called out as the two teenagers stopped in the centre of the courtroom. "You have requested a meeting for discussing the alterations to existing legislation under the issue of 'lycanthropes and half–human, half–creature individuals', is this correct?"
"It is, Chief Warlock," Harry nodded.
"And you have decided exactly what piece of legislation you propose to alter?"
"Pieces, Chief Warlock, as in plural," Harry said and opened his leather folder as Daphne released him. "First, I would like to address a quite particular piece of legislation that, if I am being quite honest, is horrendous and inhumane." A few whispers broke out in the ranks. "The anti–werewolf legislation titled 'Lycanthropic Bill of Rights' is, quite frankly, an utter sham."
"Hm, hmm," a voice annoying enough for Harry to seriously consider throwing the Killing Curse at random, cleared it's throat. "I'm not certain if you are aware of this, Mr Pot–"
"Lord Peverell–Potter, Madam Undersecretary," Harry interrupted the woman and looked up at her with barely–concealed disgust. "I'm well aware of the fact that it was you who wrote this bill, Madam Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge. You drafted, cleaned, and then proposed this bill in mid–1993, and for reasons that I simply cannot comprehend, it was passed. You titled it as a bill of rights, but there is nothing other than anti–werewolf hate–speech put to paper in this," he waved a stapled stack of papers around, indicating he was holding the very thing he was talking about. "In accordance with the 'rights'," he said with a mouthful of sarcasm, "outlined in this bill, 'an individual suffering from the unfortunate condition of lycanthropy may not be under employment in the week leading up to and following a full moon'. Please tell me you understand what this means?"
"It was a bill to ensure the security of innocent people the lycanthropic individual would have otherwise surrounded themselves with, Mr Potter," Umbridge said in her acidly sweet voice. "Besides, do you honestly believe that you, a child, have the experience that is necessitated by the ability to write legislation?"
"It means that werewolves cannot hold employment in the magical society, as Regulation Four of the 'Magical Code of Labourers' Rights' clearly states that 'a contract between employer and employee may cover a period of no shorter than one calendar month, so forth as the potential employee is physically, emotionally, and mentally capable of performing the required labour that the position would require'. Since Section Two, Paragraph Eight of Madam Umbridge's legislation states that someone suffering from lycanthropy cannot be allowed to legally hold employment for two weeks of the month, they cannot have jobs at all!"
"Mr Potter, did you hear what I said?" Umbridge asked louder, clearly not liking being ignored.
"Do you not see what she has done?" Harry turned around and looked over then entire crowd gathered. "She has made it so that dozens of people in the British Isles have to mingle with the Muggles to be able to afford to even live! And I have seen the Muggle Studies at Hogwarts; it's laughable! I grew up with Muggles, and I have no idea what the teacher is talking about!" he couldn't help the small smile at the end, and there were indeed a few hushed chuckles from the Wizengamot.
"Mr Potter, I will not be ignored!" Umbridge suddenly exclaimed, her face red and her head twitching slightly.
"Until you learn my name and title," Harry pointed up at her with a serious expression, "you will."
Harry noticed Madam Amelia Bones from the DMLE chuckle into her fist, her eyes flitting between Harry and Umbridge.
"Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Harry called out and looked at her. "Do you know how many werewolves there are in the British Isles?"
"We have a register, but it's been quite a few years since I've looked at it," she answered as soon as she collected herself from her quiet laughter.
"Make an educated guess."
"I would say… seventy. Maybe eighty."
"And yet, my source who is a werewolf himself, has claimed that there is well over two hundred people like him," Harry addressed the crowd once more, eliciting furious whispers and quiet conversations from them. "Two hundred werewolves not on the werewolf registry. Why do you think that is?"
"They are criminals, plain and simple!" Umbridge called out, seemingly growing desperate. "They refuse to abide the laws, and so they lead destructive lifestyles of crime!"
"They aren't criminals because they want to be," Harry said, calming down, and Daphne could clearly hear the sympathy that now laced his voice. "They're criminals because they can't live amongst their own otherwise; wizards and witches, humans one and all who suffer from a curse they had no choice in having. I assume you've all heard of the Holocaust."
There was silence in the courtroom.
"Not a single one of you?" Harry asked, becoming angry once more. "Nazi soldiers rounding up Jews by the millions and executing them simply for being Jews. What you're doing, right now and right there… this is how the Holocaust started. If you keep giving in to a power–hungry madwoman, you will have a rebellion on your hands! Hundreds of werewolves joining the cause of the infamous Fenrir Greyback because he promises them freedom from the likes of that!" he pointed at Umbridge once more. "On the night of the full moon, they will make sure that they're close to your families! They will infiltrate the ministry, and they will kill and turn all of you! Because when you push a person far enough, they will shed all semblance of humanity to earn back their freedom! It happened in Cuba and Haiti with the Slave Rebellions, the Mujahideen in Afghanistan fighting back against the Soviet Invasion by flaying the Soviet soldiers alive and leaving them alive for their friends to kill out of mercy! You are repeating history with a far deadlier foe than they! The Soviet Invasion was estimated to last for a few months, half a year at most, but it ended up lasting for years because the Mujahideen used guerrilla tactics to their advantage, and the werewolf population will do the same!"
"Shut your mouth, you insolent, filthy half–blood!" Umbridge suddenly screamed.
"See that?" Harry calmed down again. "That is what insanity looks like; it will doll itself up and seem perfectly normal… but when you push it too far, it reveals itself, because it has no other choice… and that's exactly what you're doing to werewolves, and centaurs, and merpeople and all other sentient, intelligent creatures. Do the right thing, before the entire government and society consists of wizards and witches who turn into homicidal creatures on the full moon, and the price for the Wolfsbane Potion skyrockets because everyone needs it. If anyone wants a detailed overview of my proposals, send me an owl, and we will meet… but that woman," he gestured at Umbridge, "will be the death of half of you if you support her and her work."
With that, Harry grabbed Daphne's hand and led her back outside, and Daphne couldn't suppress a proud smile and an excited shudder. When that boy was angry… whew.
"Emotions, emotions," Harry muttered darkly, and then suddenly pulled Daphne into a dark alcove. "I love how they can affect people sometimes."
He roughly pressed his lips onto Daphne's and she quickly draped her arms around his neck. She became acutely aware of how he felt when he unceremoniously dropped his beloved leather file on the ground and let his hands start roaming her body.
•••
"Do you think it worked?" Daphne asked lazily and drew small, invisible patterns on Harry's tattooed chest.
"For some of them," he shrugged lightly, so as to not push her head off his shoulder. "Bones is likely to listen, and Fudge is a bumbling fool who can be made to do anything with the right words or the right contribution to his Ministerial campaign fund."
He gently rubbed her bare shoulder and held her closer, the warmth her nude body giving him a comforting feeling as they lay beneath the duvet of his bed in Grimmauld Place.
"I always thought I wouldn't experience this until my wedding night," she whispered and leant closer to his neck, kissing it softly.
"Do you regret not waiting?"
"No," she muttered and smiled into his skin. "It was wonderful."
"Well, I'm glad you won't get bored of me immediately," he chuckled and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I was getting worried you might decide I wasn't any fun anymore."
"Things were… chaotic when you… you know. But… I'm sure that I will stand by you. Until you decide to take a mistress, though," she pocked him in the side with her sharp finger nail. "Then I'm allowed to hex you into next week."
"Next month, more like," he said and rolled over a little, enveloping her entirely in his embrace. He stared into her eyes, a joyous glint shining in them. "Thank you… for sticking by me, even when I was going through… all that. Not many would've."
"How am I supposed to marry you if I can't weather your bad times?" she asked with a sarcastic smirk. "We all have them. Yours were just…"
"Extreme?" he chuckled.
"Mildly exaggerated," she finished and kissed his lips.
"Understatement of the fucking century," he said and began roaming his left hand along her side, kissing her deeply.
"Mmmm," she tore away from his lips reluctantly, "but you still need to make up with Trace. That really wasn't nice of you."
"I know," Harry apologised. "I don't know what happened. It just… did."
"On the bright side, you have then entire summer to figure out a way to apologise."
"Right," he muttered, rolled over and sat up, pushing aside the duvet.
"What is it?" she asked, suddenly a little concerned.
"What? Oh, I just need something to drink," he said. "Do you want something?"
"Some water would be nice," she said and laid back against the pillows with a smile.
"Water it is, then."
•••
July 4th, 1995
Diagon Alley, London
Harry and Daphne strolled down the Alley, just looking around and spending some time together. They were approached by several people along the way who greeted them and congratulated Harry on his victory in the Triwizard Tournament. He smilingly thanked them for their gratulations, and he and Daphne were content to walk hand–in–hand and just be together.
"How about this one?" he asked and held out a book titled 'Medicine of the Mediterranean'.
They had come to Flourish and Blotts to peruse their books, and were in the 'Potions' section of the store.
"Mediterranean?" Daphne asked as she peered at the cover. "Hmm… yeah, I'd read that."
They walked throughout the shop, looking for books that might be interesting, and once they left, Harry was almost thirty books heavier and twenty–four galleons poorer… though that was hardly a concern for him. Then again, the mokeskin pouch made weight irrelevant, so he had even fewer concerns.
"I have some business at the bank," Harry said and smiled at her. "It might take an hour or so. Do you mind?"
"Not at all," she said and pecked him on the cheek.
"I'll see you later, then."
Harry headed down the road towards the massive wizarding bank, and bowed lightly at the goblin guards posted outside. They respectfully bowed in return, and he entered, with only half a thought as to where the two security wizards were. He strode confidently down the middle of the room, everyone falling quiet as he did. He walked right up to the Head Goblin.
"Lord Potter," the ancient goblin said with a vicious grin. "A pleasure to see you again."
"Likewise, Karsh. I would like to see Griphook."
"Of course," Karsh said. "Griphook!"
Not a minute later, Griphook walked around the teller's desk and bowed at Harry.
"Lord Potter."
"Griphook," Harry returned the bow.
"Follow me, please."
Harry did as bid and followed his family's bank manager into the familiar office, now labelled 'Griphook, Peverell–Potter manager'.
"Thank you for responding to my summons, Lord Potter," Griphook said.
"What's the issue?"
"There's no issue, per se, but I during my research into all assets held by your family, presently and in the past, I came across a small lead to something that I believe you would like to pursue. Mentions of a vault below the village of Godric's Hollow."
"A vault?" Harry asked. "What's it got to do with me?"
"I have spent the past many months studying your family, Lord Potter, and I have come across something I believe would unravel a great deal of mystery regarding your ancestry. It isn't uncommon for a family to only have records going back to the time that they achieved some sense of greatness, but the Potter lineage is… different. I must admit, I at first believed there was nothing to this, but the more I've thought about it, the more things have started to fall into place. I vividly remember reading of one of the precursors to Gringotts, a Roman banking network by the name of dēmosía trápeza. They held a vault for a family, a branch of one of the patrician families, that went by the name Poteria."
"Potter," Harry muttered breathlessly.
"Indeed," Griphook nodded. "The Poteria fled Rome and migrated to Britain sometime in the past two thousand years. According to the research notes lent to us for this very purpose by one of your ancestors, Kingston Potter, they settled in the area of what is today Godric's Hollow. According to Kingston Potter's research, he believed that a crypt to the family was built by one of them, as well as a secure vault only accessible to the 'Blood of Poteria', as he put it."
"I'll investigate this matter as soon as I can," Harry nodded. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
"Of course, Lord Potter…"
"… and you may take another piece from the Peverell–Potter Family Vault, the same constraints as before applying."
"Very well, Lord Potter," Griphook grinned.
Well, they're nothing if not consistent.
Harry stood from his seat in front of Griphook and left the office rather swiftly. He had things he needed to do… after finding Daphne, of course.
•••
July 5th, 1995
Godric's Hollow, England
Harry and James suddenly appeared in the centre of the small town Harry was born in. Harry looked around, expecting some kind of nostalgia, but it was just another village. Maybe he would change his mind when he found the mysterious crypt Griphook had told him about.
"Where'd you reckon we should begin?" James asked.
"The cemetery," Harry said and nodded up at the church a little off. "If there was a crypt, someone must've built a graveyard around it, no?"
"Makes sense," James nodded and turned around.
The two men made their way to the church, the hot summer–sun glaring down on them as they walked. When they arrived on the cemetery, however, there was no sight of anything that might indicate a crypt.
"You go that way, I'll go this way," Harry said and gestured around the church. "We'll meet on the other side."
James nodded, and they parted ways. Harry walked leisurely amongst the graves, looking around for something that might stand out to him. He had no idea what he was looking for in that regard, though, so his head kept swivelling around, trying to take in every detail. There were quite a few graves, he counted at least a hundred before he stopped bothering to count, but no mausoleum, no entrance to something other than the church, no kind of door going downwards, even though one of the graves had a large stone sla–
Harry backpedalled to the big stone slab that was beginning to crack after centuries of harsh weather. He looked on the headstone itself. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows, his new House crest, was engraved there from dozens of Norse runes forming the lines.
"Ignotus Peverell," Harry smiled just a little as he read the tattered, fading name on the headstone. "Hello… my ancestor."
Harry walked over towards the headstone, going to sit down and read everything on it in detail, only for his leg to disappear into the stone slab. He smirked, and took a few further steps, and soon found himself below ground in vast darkness.
"Lumos," he whispered as he flicked his wand, the tip of which lit up with a white, dull light so as to not hurt his eyes.
He saw that he was standing on a set of stone stairs, and made his way further downwards. When he stepped into a corridor, suddenly dozens of torches along the walls flared to life and spread a comfortable amount of light and a pleasant sense of warmth throughout the no–doubt cold crypt, likely an ancient enchantment placed on them to make it comfortable to be down there. The fact that such a piece of magic could survive centuries amazed Harry, and he ended the light–spell and stuffed his wand back into his holster as he made his way down the corridor.
The walls were lined with indentations where there were large stone sarcophagi with a relief of the inhabitants sculpted on the lid. Above each sarcophagus was a plaque of extended stone of the crypt itself, whereupon was listed the name, dates, details, and achievements of the various ancestors of Harry's. A wide, bright smile broke out on his face as he read some of them, and his respect for his lineage suddenly increased a thousand fold.
Potioneers, writers, heralds, poets, scribes, warriors, politicians, and artists alike were buried here, hundreds of people, as the crypt extended practically as far as Harry's eyes could see. Many of the alcoves for the sarcophagi had two plaques, one for the man and one for his wife, and Harry thought it likely that both of the couples' remains were locked in the same tomb. Some were alone, having either had no wife or not having had a very close relationship with them, Harry imagined.
"One day," he whispered to himself in awe and reverence of the significance of the place, his smile never faltering, "I will be interred here, with a plaque of achievements of my own."
Looking down on the ground, he noticed that some of the large amounts of dry dirt and dust sunk downwards. Harry knelt down and wiped some of it away, only to reveal a long line carved in the ground. He stood up and walked back to the entrance to the crypt, pulled out his wand, and flicked it. A strong gust of air sent the dirt and dust down along the corridor to reveal a line of midnight–black obsidian filling out the groove he had found, and lines branching off at each alcove. He walked over to the nearest on the right and looked down to see the obsidian forming three words:
"Primus Poterius Valerius," he read out and looked up at the plaque. "Primus Poterius Valerius… ease of navigation," he muttered with a smirk. "Nice."
Harry holstered his wand again and turned back to the stairs, a sudden chill running down his spine and raising goosebumps as the torches flickered out, and the warmth disappeared. He climbed up the stairs and out of the crypt, maybe even catacombs, that belonged to his family. As he stepped out, he saw James looking about, having returned to the spot where they parted.
"Over here," Harry called and held up his hand.
James looked over and saw him, and then approached. When he came close, he looked on the grave of Ignotus.
"Ignotus Peverell?" he asked.
"One of my ancestors," Harry said. "His granddaughter Iolanthe married Hardwin Potter, the son of Linfred of Stinchcombe."
"Hmm. And what of his grave?"
"Step on the slab," Harry smirked.
"That's a bit disrespectful, you know," James said.
"No, the crypt's below the slab," Harry said excitedly. "Go on! Look!".
James stepped on the slab, only to step up on it, the slab proving as solid as it looked.
"What?" Harry muttered and looked at the stone slab. "Hold on."
He then took James by the hand, and the man fell straight through the stone slab and out of sight, though Harry could hear his groans and yelps as he tumbled down the stairs below. Harry couldn't help himself and began laughing from his gut, before he too descended into the crypt once more.
"You could've warned me," James muttered and rubbed the side of his head gingerly.
"I didn't know that would happen," Harry shrugged, if only to hide the slight shaking of his shoulders that revealed his amusement. "Welcome to the Crypta Poteria."
James looked up at the sight that lay before him, and Harry had never imagined he would get to see James stunned before, but his face showed him to be amazed, just as much as Harry had been.
"It's beautiful," James muttered and smiled slightly.
"It is," Harry agreed. "Let's explore it."
•••
Author's Note:
Honestly, I have no idea where the scene with Harry and Daphne came from. I just wrote, and it just appeared. Although… I have just binged Game of Thrones in a week, sooo… shiiieeeet.