The October Revolts
Relegated to my Rambling and Dribbles for now...
Ok, this might be my darkest premise yet, but I think it has the potential to setup a truly great war of espionage, underground rebels and maybe an eventual over throw of the 'evil empire'.
Concept: (Story partially inspired by Patron, by Starfox5)
Voldemort won the Blood Purity War.
Grindelwald had made more inroads than thought during his reign of terror in the 1920 - 1945. Even though many fought against him, mostly because of his targeting of wizards in the later years of his 'Grand Vision', many supporters and believers of Wizarding superiority remained. This paved the way for Tom Riddle to slowly rise to power and lead the 'Grand Vision' in England.
Over the next forty-seven years, many of the Laws changed, subjugating those of 'Lesser Talent'. This mainly translated into 'those of low magical inheritance'. In Britain, some of the more severe laws have taken up. It has led to a caste-system, and simmering tension that is slowly slipping over into the muggle world as the latest generation in power seeks to fulfill the legacy that is the power of Magic over all.
While Minister Riddle and the Wizengamot plot for the eventual take over of the Muggle world, there is an underground resistance that wants to break the oligarchy now in power in Britain.
-oOo-
Some background:
In the caste-system, kept secret from all Muggleborn or Muggle raised until they attend Hogwarts, society is split into three main sections.
The ruling sect, or Princeps, are the Pureblood or Old Blood houses that have fifteen or more generations of magical blood in the male line and name or when both parents have five or more generations of magical parents. Many privilege's and laws benefit the Princeps.
The normal sect, or Civis, are those that have at least three generations of magical blood on the male line and name of a family. Most witches and wizards are of the civis. They live mostly normal lives, but have some restrictions and must be careful of Princeps and their power.
The working sect, or Mancipium, are the lowest of the low. They are the 'new' magicals. Those Houses that are bereft of any male heir with three or more generations of magicals, those born to Muggle parents, or those that do not know their heritage, fall into this class. Many are fill the ranks of the lowest workers, dead end jobs, or many times slaves.
Slaves: There are two types of slaves in magical Britain, and many other European countries. The first is an apprentice or indentured servant, the second is bonded slave.
Apprentices or indentured servants, sign a contract and work for a single person, family or company for the assigned number of years. There are laws that dictate how such slaves are to be treated, and on the whole it is not a bad life, except you give up your life for that time to the contracted party. In return, at the end of the contract, the person earns what was contracted for. This could be wealth, land, an adoption into a house to reach a higher status, a Mastery, etc...
Bonded slaves are not as lucky. In essence, bonded slaves are just that, they are bonded to their master and must do their masters will. Very few laws protect a bonded slave. They are often concubines, guards, laborers, soldiers or what ever is required.
For the Mancipium, the only way to be raised is to become an Apprentice or indentured servant for seven years. Many are tricked into be bonded slaves though.
-oOo-
Chapter 1
September 1, 1991
London, England
Harry felt apprehensive as he walked through the barrier between the normal world he knew, and the magical one he was entering. It had been a large shock just over three month ago when a middle-aged witch in green robes had appeared at the steps of the orphanage.
The tall woman had been austere, severe in her delivery of her letter to him and not at all pleasant. Professor Vector had not instilled a great confidence in him that he would like this change in his life. She had impressed a few things though. First, it was not a decision to go to a magical school or not. It was mandatory. His decision was what magical school. Yorkshire Academy in England, Scoil na Draíocht in Ireland, or Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in Scotland?
Professor Vector was from Hogwarts, and said he would get a discount if he went there, given his heritage. It was the first time he had ever heard that anyone knew his parents. She had only said their names were James and Lily Potter, but wouldn't give him any details. It was more than he had before that day.
The second thing she impressed on him was that he should get to Gringotts Bank in Diagon Alley, London. She seemed to think it very important for him to be there on his eleventh birthday. Harry didn't understand why, but he promised to be there.
Third, and probably the most important, don't let anyone know he was a 'Muggle raised' until he had been to see the goblins. There had been a very strict feel to this, like it was the most important thing she could tell him. He didn't understand, but he heeded her words. After that, she informed Harry he had to send an application to any school he was going to look at and he would get an acceptance letter by July thirty-first. A school representative would be by to bring him to Diagon Alley for his school supplies in mid-August. If he didn't comply, he would be visited again just after his birthday.
Thus, on his eleventh birthday, Harry had done a double take. He thought finding out he was a wizard was a shock. The fact there were such creatures as goblins was a larger shock. He had looked at the sharp axes of the guards rather apprehensively.
Since that was after his birthday, he had asked how to get to Diagon Alley. She seemed reluctant to tell him, but he finally got the directions.
That had been three months ago. Three months that had led to the scrunching of his eyes as he plowed into the brick wall between Platforms nine and ten. Mrs. Turgeon had dropped him off at the station and he had managed to convince her to just leave him.
When the expected crash didn't come, he slowed and opened his eyes. What he saw was just as astounding as that first trip to Diagon Alley was.
There must have close to a thousand people on the large platform. Maybe more. It ran for hundred of yards. Parents, children, people in burgundy or dark blue robes and what must have been professors were all over the platform. "Brilliant," he said with a small smirk.
And it was brilliant.
Many were obviously magical, with shimmering clothes, or robes and cloaks that were reminiscent of medieval costumes. The more modern costumes looked more like Victorian times. Owls, cats and a few other animals were adding to the din. His own owl hooted at the ruckus. He looked around.
The whole place looked like it was still the height of the Victorian era. There was fancy wrought iron every where. The walls were made of a really nice marble. Fancy fireplaces, a few stalls and benches had him feeling like he just went back a hundred years.
There was the sound of a whooshing fire. Harry turned, a little scared, to see vivid green flames and then a man walked out. He was of average height and build with dark blonde hair and deep blue eyes.
Harry's eyes were as wide as saucers as, a moment later, a girl, about Harry's age, came out of the fire. Her father used his wand to get some ash off her as another smaller girl and then a woman of great beauty stepped out. The whole family had blond hair, some shade of blue eyes and looked rather regal in the way they ported themselves.
When the girl caught site of him staring, she gave him a cool stare a look like he was below her. Harry watched them for a moment until the woman turned her nose up to him and he looked away towards the crowd and the train, feeling as though he had just something indecent.
His mind was trying to comprehend what he had just seen. The goblins and Professor MgGonagall and Vector had not told him about anything like that. He had been reading anything he could find since he had gone to Diagon Alley, but that had mostly been about what the goblins thought important. He had actually not found anything on wizarding culture or history in the Florish and Blotts. There had been two other books stores, but he had been told only Flourish and Blotts would have his book list. He had been ushered by the men in red robes and other people to the shops he needed to go to.
Trying to stand tall, he looked back to the family as they walked by, the man not looking pleased. Harry felt the man's eyes looking him up and down. When the man's eyes saw his hand, they widened just a bit, and his features stiffened.
Harry knew the man had just seen the three rings on his hands. Rings the goblins had given him.
The one on his left hand, ring finger, was the ring of his House. Apparently the Potters were a House with a long history. That history was long enough to make him what the goblins had called a princep. That was the golden ring on his right middle finger. The goblins had told him the princeps were at the highest rank of society. But even being in the highest rank, there were still other distinctions. That was the silver ring on his right ring finger.
That silver ring put in as a secondary princep. He wasn't totally sure what that fully meant yet, but he had a feeling it was something good. The goblins said there were four ranks of Princeps: Gold, silver, bronze or no ring. Most were no rings.
When the man met his eyes again, he gave a deferential nod. Harry nodded back, unsure of the protocol. He noticed a bronze ring on the man's left hand middle finger. Harry was of higher rank. The girl, who had looked at him rather icily just a moment ago, looked more curious now. She had the same rings as her father. He didn't miss her eyes drifting to his rings then his eyes a few times. Even the mother's demeanor changed, giving him a semi-smile as she saw him looking at her elder daughter.
When they passed, Harry watched them for a moment before they blended into the crowd.
"Well, nothing for it," he said to himself, knowing he had to get to the train. Just as he was getting moving, a girl 'eeked' behind him. He turned to see a bushy hair girl pushing a trolley running through.
"Hey! Lookout!" Harry yelled at her. He moved quickly and she tried to stop, her feet skidding on the paving stone floor. He grabbed her trolley to finally stop her and she looked at him rather sheepishly.
"I'm so sorry. Professor Vector said to do that at a run. So I did. I didn't know anyone was behind it. We should move, I thought I saw someone else behind me," the girl said in rapid succession.
They had just moved when a red-headed girls came through. The girl came to a halt next to them. "That was wicked. Oh, hello. I thought I saw someone else go through the wall before me."
"Yes. Hermione Granger," the frizzy hair girl said.
"Morag McDougal," the redhead said in an Irish lilt. They both shook hands.
"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you," he said, shaking both of theirs in turn. No parents had followed either girl, so Harry could only assume they were like him.
"You have any idea what we are doing?" Morag asked. Harry liked her Irish lilt.
"Not the foggist," Harry replied.
"We are supposed to be on the train by elven and that is only twenty minutes away," Hermione instructed them. Looking up at a clock over the entrance she 'eeked' again. "Eighteen minutes."
Morag laughed. "Plenty of time. Are you both first years?"
"Yeah. Didn't even know I was a wizard until three months back," Harry said as they made their way towards the train.
Being without parents or guardians, it was apparent to anyone that had grown up in the Wizarding world that they were Muggleborn. The three didn't notice the looks. A woman in burgundy robes came up to them. "First years? Muggle?" she asked in a way that Harry didn't like.
"Ah, yes," he replied.
"Last car of the train. Hurry up," she ordered.
They nodded and started towards the back of the train. When they out of earshot, they shared a look and then took up an easy conversation.
"She was friendly. I didn't know I was a witch either. It was quite a shock for ma and da," Morag replied.
"My parents were rather relieved. I had been having some rather, uhm, spectacular bouts of accidental magic the last few years," Hermione said, sounding a little embarrassed.
Harry chuckled. "Like turning the hair of all your classmates bubblegum pink?" Harry enquired.
"You didn't!" Morag said with a huge smile.
"No, but I did make my aunt head blow up like a balloon on my eighth birthday," said Hermione.
They made it to the train and to headed towards the back. A few others were heading there too.
Harry caught sight of what looked like compartments in most cars as they talked. "That is awful," Morag said. She looked like she couldn't decide if that was funny or really was awful.
"Not really. Aunt Sylvia is a rather rude person and she was insulting my cat," Hermione said, looking at the large orange tabby in a carry bag. It looked to be sleeping. "Crookshanks followed me home shortly before then and we hadn't been able to get all the matted fur and dirt off him yet."
"Ma and da couldn't afford a pet for me. Hopefully next year. I love your cat and your owl."
"Thanks," Harry said as they made it to the last car. There were no parents around, just three people in leather robes, all dyed burgundy. Harry helped them get their luggage into the pile next to the door. They took Hedwig and Crookshanks with them. The last car did not have compartments. Instead it was split in two. At the front, a dozen seats on each side faced towards the front of the train. Each seat could easily fit two grown people, or three students their size. There was a wooden partition with a white glass pane and the Hogwarts seal etched into it separating the two sides.
A few older years were in the front of the car. Harry notices two girls had bronze braided necklaces with small crests on them. When he looked at a boy who wouldn't meet his eyes, he had a silver necklace. Harry thought it was a neat fashion and kind of wanted one. They reminded him of images of old celtic warriors.
"First years in the back," a girl with a badge on her Hogwarts robes called to them from the rear of the car.
"Come on. We can get a seat together," Morag told them.
On the other side of the petition, the seats faced the back of the train. There were only ten per side here. They sat, still excited and talking about other accidental magic. Morag and Harry were clutching their sides when Hermione told them about erasing the words in an entire stack of books when she hadn't wanted someone knowing she was reading. Hermione looked really upset until Harry said. "Can you imagine! You go to read Chicken Little, and the sky really has fallen and everything is white."
"That is not funny," Hermione said, before cracking a small smile.
While they talked, thirty other first years had come into the compartment. Most looked a mixture of excited, scared and lost. A few were talking with each other, but were not laughing like them. Hedwig hooted indignantly at his feet when the whistle of the train blew. They were still laughing as they left the platform. They didn't notice three men in burgundy robes and two in the dark blue robes hop onto the back of the train.
A door slid closed between the front and back. Hermione smirked as Morag and Harry finally calmed down. "I wish I could have waved bye to da and ma," Morag said, watching the end of the platform and then the confusing track arrangement coming out of the busy station.
"That would have been nice," Hermione said a little sadly. "I've never been away from them for more than a long weekend."
"All attention up here," a woman in the dark-blue robes said.
They looked forward, many talking.
"Silence, please," she said. The woman was a little short with bright red hair, grey eyes and almond face. She had an air about her that she was used to command and having her her commands being followed. "Don't make me ask again," she said more severely. The car quieted and only the sound of the train on the tracks and the creek of the suspension of the wheels was heard for a moment.
"Thank you. I am Senior Inquisitioner Renee Umbridge. Welcome to the Wizarding world of Britain and the King's Islands. On our ride to Hogwarts the rules and regulations put on those of Muggle heritage shall be gone over and you will be registered," the woman said.
"What is going on?" a larger boy asked from the other side of the train. "My mum said..."
"Your mum is not here and won't worry about you anymore," Sr. Inquisitor Umbridge said in a harsh voice.
"What do you mean? I was told we can send them letters," Hermione said from next to him.
"It is illegal to contact anyone outside of the wizarding world unless you are a princep, which none of you are. Now, just settle down and we will go over the rules and regulations," the woman said.
Many worried faces looked towards the front. "But mum bought me an owl so that I could write them," the same larger boy said.
"All pets will be confiscated and given back to you in a month if you show good behaviour. If you use them to contact anyone outside the wizarding world, you will be punished. Now, Junior Inquisitor Doverclove is going to pass out your registration forms and your regulations book. You are to keep the books, the registration papers we will give you and your magical status papers on you. Once that is done, you will all be fitted with your torcs," the woman said in a cool tone.
Morag moved close to his back while Hermione slid next to him. "What do you mean our registration papers and torcs?" Harry asked.
The woman sighed. "I am getting impatient with so many interruptions. The next one of you mudbloods to talk out of turn shall learn not to. It is better you learn your place in our society now."
Harry had a chill pass through him. Hermione backed further into him as the woman pulled out a wand and walked up the aisle. "I will have this understood now. The thirty-three of you in this car have been given the honour of going to the most elite school under the British Empire. Most of you Muggle bloods go to Yorkshire, where the methods of education are not as kind. You have all shown to either have a high magical affinity or were divined to have a talent that should be nourished and passed onto future generations that will earn their place as normal citizens some day."
They were all quiet. A girl in the next seat over sounded like she was sniffling.
"Understand this. You are all Muggleborn. Your dirty blood needs to be cleansed and that can only be done by servitude to our Minister, the honorable Lord Tom Riddle. After three generations of servitude, your blood will have been cleaned enough for you be accepted as a civis. Do not speak while I speak! Crucio!" the woman snapped at two boys who were whispering.
One of them started to give a scream as though he was being ripped apart. It was high pitched, blood curdling and cut through them all. Hermione screamed and Morag grabbed his arm. Hermione jumped and he shot up, unsure what he was going to do, but he wasn't going to let his two friends be hurt. He took his wand to his hand, not sure what to do. The boy screamed for only a few seconds, but it left a car full of crying and terrified eleven year olds.
His hand shook as Senior Inquisitor Umbridge turned. Her eyes found him and when she saw his wand an evil smile came to her face. "Oh, I do so love breaking the brave ones," she said, casually raising her wand. "Do I make a real example of you or will you sit back down and only get a normal punishment?"
Harry took in a deep breath and raised his wand. "I won't let you hurt anyone else," he said.
She laughed until he noticed her eyes went to his hands. The laugh fell. "Where did you get those rings?"
"The goblins gave them too me," Harry told her.
Her eyes narrowed. "Do not lie to me boy. It is death to impersonate anyone above your station."
Harry gulped. "I went to Gringotts on my eleventh birthday. The goblins gave me my House ring, another saying I am a previs and the last that I am a second class," he told her, holding up his hands.
She took in a deep breath. Her jaw worked in her closed mouth for a second. "What House?"
"House Potter. I am Harry Potter," he told her.
She didn't seem to recognize it, but after looking at his rings for a moment, she lowered her wand and then nodded. "Excuse me, previs Potter. I would like to give you my appologies on behalf of the Inquisitors for having to have you see this. Rowle, show him to the front carriages," the woman said. He looked down at the terrified faces of Hermione and Morag.
"What of my friends?" He wanted to save the all but knew he wouldn't stand a chance.
Her mouth twerked. "Your friends?"
Harry knew he had just met them, but if he could save them, what other choice did he have? "My friends, Hermione Granger and Morag MacDougal," he said, indicating the girls on the bench.
"You are Muggle-raised?" she questioned him.
"Uhm, yeah," he replied.
Her nostrils flared. "These girls you indicated are mancipium. They are lower than low, princep. I will see you get the proper training once we get to Hogwarts, but you can only claim them. Princeps are not 'friends' of such mudbloods," she said as though teaching a rather petulant child.
"I claim them my friends," he said desperately, not understanding any of this.
She seemed to be holding her temper. "Coverclove, get the listing. If House Potter has any torcs, he may claim them, otherwise you will be escorted to the front of the train and properly educated later, Princep Potter."
Harry swallowed as the other dark-blue robes woman moved to an office behind the front seats. A moment later she came out with a large book. Doverclove was paging through it. After a moment she ran her hand down the page. "Senior Inquisitor Umbridge, House Potter has three inactive torcs right now."
"Do you have them on you?" Umbridge said towards him.
He didn't even know what they were talking about so he shook his head.
The woman let out an angry huff. "They will have to wear unbound torcs for now. Do you claim them as is your right as a previs?"
They both were still terrified. All of them around them were, he just didn't know how to help them. "Yes," Harry said a little uncertaintly.
The woman's mouth twitched. "Doverclove, take them into the office. Register them and then have Previs Potter fill out the paperwork and they can go join the other previses."
"Move," Doverfield snapped at them.
Harry helped a crying Hermione up and then a wide-eyed Morag. They walked up to the office. The door was slammed shut behind them. Doverclove sat behind the desk.
"What is going on?" Hermione asked.
"Be quiet. Until you are claimed by Previs Potter, it is not your place to speak," the woman snapped.
Hermione snapped her mouth shut and moved to take Morag's hand. "It will be alright," Harry told them.
Doverclove took out two of the bronze necklaces he had seen earlier. They were a braided wire design that was open in a wide U. She took down the number on the end cap and wrote them on a form. "Fill this out. You, come here," she said to the still crying Hermione.
Hermione edged forward. "Now, girl!"
Hermione jumped. "You're scaring her," Harry barked back.
The woman glared at him for a moment before lowering her head a little. "My apologize, previs. Over here," she commanded in a less harsh tone.
Hermione moved forward slowly. Harry didn't move. He was worried as well. "I need your left arm. Take off your shirt."
Hermione looked panics. "Why?"
The woman closed her eyes for a second. "Either take off your shirt or I will remove the sleeve. It is your choice."
Harry looked away when Hermione went to comply. There was a white light and he turned to see her in a what looked like a sports bra and frozen. The woman looked at the form and then she swiped the wand over Hermione's right arm. Just above her wrist a series of eight numbers bubbles up into her skin. They were silver. She then swiped her wand again and a silver and green celtic knot about two inches wide and almost the length of her forearm appeared.
Morag screamed and tried to get to Hermione, whose eyes looked absolutely terrified and pained. The witch shot another white jet of light at Morag, who fell to the floor. "I said don't hurt them," Harry screamed and dove for the girls. He saw the white light.
When he woke, Morag and Hermione were clutching thier lef tarms and had tears coming down her face. "My apologize for stunning you, princep Potter, but this is the law. If you would complete those forms then you can take your property."
He didn't think they could look any more scared. "My property?"
"You have claimed them. The Potter torcs are bonded torcs. If you don't wish to take them, I can change their registration and have one of the Aurors escort you to one of the front compartments," she said as though this was business transaction.
"What? No. But I can't own them," he told her.
"Either you fill out those forms and write to Gringotts to get two of your torcs delivered to Hogwarts, or they will have their registration changed back to bronze and join the others," Junior Inquisitor Doverclover told him. "Normally this is done in July after their second year, but being a second level previs, you have the right to claim them."
He felt so turned around at what was going on. By the looks on Hermione's and Morag's face, he knew he didn't have a choice. He filled out the papers and then was forced to put the bronze necklaces, that he now understood were called torcs, on their necks. They both were scared. Harry hated it, but what choice did he have? None of them understood what was going on.
"Now that previs Potter has put them on, you are allowed to adjust the torcs. You may take them off when you sleep, but they are to be worn at all other times. Previs Potter, here are their papers and regulation books. I would recommend you read them and establish any other rules you need. Your mancipiums will be required to attend etiquitte classes with the others. You will get a schedule tomorrow with your class schedules. Please ask one of the Aurors to take you to the front cars. I have more paperwork to make this official," she clearly dismissed them.
When they walked out of the office, Sr. Inquisitor Umbridge was doing the same to the other children in the car. Some were crying. One was asking for his dad. Another was rocking in the seat. The man's eyes looked kind. "Previs Potter, I am Auror Shacklebolt. Let me take you to the front cars," he offered in a deep voice. Morag moved in and took his hand while she clutched one of Hermione's.
"Uhm, sure," he said. The Auror made sure they collected Hedwig and Crookshanks before he led them up the train.
Passing into the front car, Harry noticed the thirty or so in the car were all a year or two older than them. They didn't meet their eyes. Tears were still coming out of Morag's and Hermione's eyes as they moved through the train. The next car up was filled with happier people. They saw kids from their age to later teens. Many were talking, or laughing or just oblivious to the the four of them. They passed through ten cars. There were hundreds of kids. The next car was similar to the one they had been in. Two dozen or so upper years were there, all with silver badges on their cloaks. The front of the car had six older students sitting at tables. They had gold badges.
In the next train car, it had a distinctly upper class feel. It was lavishly decorated in dark woods, silks and golden gas lamps. They passed three compartments until they found an empty one. "I would recommend you stay in here and read those books. Keep as low a profile you can for now," the Auror warned them.
Harry nodded.
He made sure the door was closed before the Auror walked away. "What just happened?" Morag said, tears still running down as she pushed her sleeve up. Her still looked a little red around the number and the part of the celtic knot she exposed.
"Oh, my god. It's like the holocaust victims I read about," Hermione said. She was sniffing as she looked at her arm. "Professer McGonagall didn't tell us of this. Harry, what did they do to us?"
He just looked at them. "I... I don't know."
Hermione started to cry again as she scratched at the numbers. "It won't come off."
He grabbed her wrist when she stated to look like she was going to draw blood. "Hermione stop. I don't know what is going on. Morag, are you alright?"
She was just looking at her arm. "0. 0. 7. 9. 6. 1. 4. 8. Why did they put that on me?"
"I don't know. Hermione, stop," he cried out, grabbing her other hand.
She looked at him like the worst thing ever just happened.
They were still all panicking when a knock came at the door. They all looked to see an older blonde girl outside. She stood there as though waiting to be let in. Harry was so over loaded he only managed to say, "Come in."
Not looking impressed, she opened the door. "Good morning. Junior Inquisitor Doverclover sent me a message that you might need some assistance?"
"I want my ma," Morag said, starting to cry as she clutched her left arm.
The girl pursed her lips. After a moment, she asked, "Are you a previs?"
"Previs Potter," Harry said, showing the hand with his House and previs ring.
She waited a moment as though expecting something else before saying, "I am Princep Cordelia Ross. Are you from the Colonies?"
"The what?" Hermione asked. "There aren't any colonies anymore."
"You know you are not to speak unless given permission," the girl said a little harshly to Hermione.
"They can talk," Harry said back a little angrily, getting annoyed at how they had all been treated so far.
The girl bobbed her head. "My apologies, previs Potter. It is not common for bonded mancipiums to get that type of priveledge when two princeps are talking."
He made an aggravated sound. "I don't care! My two friends were just assualted, branded with what ever this is and we just watched someone else cast a spell and the screams the boy made," Harry yelled at her.
She took a step back. Analyzing the situation again, she took a minute to respond. "You have no idea what a princep is and the duties and priveledges we have been given, do you?"
"Not a clue. Now, how do we remove this from Hermione and Morag?" he asked.
"I really want my ma," Morag whined.
The girl, Cordelia, pursed her lips. "May I come in and close the door?"
"Yes," Harry replied. Hermione was trying to scratch her arm again and he had to stop her.
She stepped fully in and shut the door. With a heavy sigh, Cordelia stepped over to the them. "Here. I have heard it burns and itches for a week or so after they register you," she said, sounding a little nicer now the door was closed. She took out a long, light coloured wand and swished it up Hermione's arm. Hermione let out a sigh of releif, and then put her head in her hands and started to sob.
Cordelia moved to Morag and did the same. "I am sorry you have to be marked this way. My auntie says its barbaric. I didn't believe her until I saw the registration last year."
"What happened. Why were they marked? What does it mean when I claimed them?" Harry asked desperately.
Cordelia sighed again. "You probably saved them a horrific life. You are Muggleraised that found out you have princep blood?"
"I don't know. Professor Vector told me to got to Gringotts and ask them about my parents. They gave me these rings and said I am secondary princep. I have no idea what is going on," he told her, feeling close to panic himself.
Cordelia looked at him then the door. Getting up, she closed the shade. "Princep Potter, please declare you need a private space."
He was so confused. "A what? Why?"
"Please just declare you need a private place."
"Uhm, I need a private place." Nothing happened.
Cordelia sighed. "Repeat after me. I, Princep Potter, secondary princep of the Empire, require privacy until I declare otherwise or an hour is up. Which ever is first."
Harry did and they all felt the magic and he thought he saw a bubble expand from his silver secondary ring. Cordelia took out her wand and twirled it then did some complicated pattern while muttering. "There, we can talk freely now. I am Cordelia Ross, an omega princep. My great aunt is Professor McGonagall. If you ever need help, go to her or Professor Vector. We can talk freely while your protection is up."
"I don't understand," Harry said.
She gave him a very severe look. "Princep Potter, you are very lucky to have had the chance to claim your rights. If you had been registered as a mancipium, you have lost your rights. I must impress though, you can never tell anyone else that Professor Vector gave you that advice. Never," Cordelia said.
"Why?" Hermione asked, starting to get her tears under control.
The girl looked to Hermione. "You and the girl are now slaves. Not all mancipium are that way, but most are forced to become so. I am truly sorry for your fate, but there is nothing to do for it now. As long as Princep Potter is alive, he is your princep. It would be best for you to learn your place and proper etiquette when not in private or among those that you really trust. Other princeps could demand punishment for you or a tribute from your prince if you offend them. That can not happen at Hogwarts, but can once we are off the train or not on Hogwarts grounds."
"I am not a slave," Hermione said a little fiercely. It had a rather fearsome effect with the her tear streaked cheeks and determined attitude. "And my name is Hermione Granger, not you."
Cordelia shook her head. "Ms. Potter, you have been claimed by princep Potter. You and your friend are not recognized as Potters."
"I am Morag McDougal," the red head said, looking up.
Cordelia looked at the girls with a sad expression. "You were Morag McDougal. You and Hermione are now Potters. Learn to deal with it. When you get older, that may change, but there is nothing that can be done right now." Harry felt like there was a different meaning to her words. "Princep Potter, I don't have alot of time, but there are some things you need to know."
"Like what?"
"That ring, the secondary you have gives you immense status and power in our world. When the empire was founded, fifty-six families were granted those rings. I knew eight of them were 'disbanded', but no one knows their names. It happened about thirty years back, then three 'disbanded' Princep Houses were part of the October rebellion in nineteen-eighty-one. I still don't know what houses, but I am sure House Potter was one of them now. I don't know if you will be in any danger or not. You won't be the first princep that was hidden until required to go to school. Some families do that to prevent their children being used, though Minister Riddle rarely punishes any Princep," Cordelia told them.
"Hogwarts: A history and The Principles of the Magical World didn't say any of this," Hermione said.
"You are a Muggleborn. It is illegal for anyone from the Magical world to tell any Muggleborn any of this before you come. From what my Aunt Minerva says, your parents are visited by Obliviators within a few days of you leaving. I'm sorry to tell you, but they will not know they have a daughter for much longer, if they haven't been visited already," Cordelia told them.
Hermione looked ready to break down again. Morag moved closer to Hermione. "My ma? My da? What about Regy and Shealynne?"
Cordelia gave her a sad look. "If none of them possess magic, you will never see them again. I'm sorry."
Morag lookd heartbroken. Harry moved onto the seat and Morag buried her head into his shoulder. Hermione just sat there, looking stunned.
"Back to where I was going. You are a secondary princep, just one tier down from the primaries. All the primaries make up the Wizengamot. There are twenty-eight houses. Right now, there are forty-eight secondary houses, forty-nine with you. There are thirty-seven tirtiary. They will have bronze rings. I am one of the sixty-three Houses that are an Omega Princep," she said.
"What do all the different levels mean," Hermione questioned.
"The Primaries are those that supported Minister Riddle in forming the British Empire. Aunt Minerva said it was a coop in nineteen-fifty-eight, but you will get into trouble for ever mentioning something like that. Minister Riddle and the Primaries look on themselves as liberators, and many see them that way. Some day they say we will rule over the Muggles again, but its been almost fourty years and nothing," Cordelia replied.
"The secondaries are those of old blood. I would guess your blood would be atleast a thousand years old. Old blood and pure blood is very important to Minister Riddle and many others. Those of the tiertiary houses are raised up from the Omegas. They have done services that have helped the Empire and have earned a higher priveledge. You must be careful though. As a secondary, you can do almost anything within the law you want, and with a small bride, just about anything else. The Primaries have almost the same power at Minister Riddle. They can do anything, except to those of Secondary houses. Minister Riddle does not like fights between any of the Princep houses. He comes down rather harshly when that happens. It is not that way for the civis. They are looked at like second class citizens compared to us."
"What are the omega princeps? Why are there omega princeps if you are not old or pure blood?" Hermione enquired.
"You are bright, aren't you. Learn to harvest that to help your princep. Mancipium that can learn to work in the backgrounds and support their princeps are highly valued, and can often earn a civis rank for their children. Many of those that go to Hogwarts see their children freed like that. Be thankful you are not at Yorkshire. Many of those will never earn a civis rank until four generations have served the Minister," Cordelia told them.
Harry felt a shiver run through Morag.
"I still don't understand about the omegas, civis and the mancipium. Why are we mancipium?"
Cordelia looked at her watch. We only about thrity minutes left. Listen and let me finish. The omega princeps are or were purebloods at the time of the revolution that saved us," she told him. "We were not houses with old lineages, most having five or six generations of magic. We didn't have Wizengamot seats or other power. But, like I said, Minister Riddle and his sacred-twenty eight value magical blood. The civis are those that had atleast two generations of magical blood when they saved us. There are thousands of civis Houses. They have been promised they can apply for princep status once they have six generations of magic. Aunt Minerva doesn't beleive that will happen, but for most that is still a few generations away."
"Last is the mancipium, those with less than two generations of magic. Most are Muggleborn, those born to two non-magical parents or squibs."
"What is a squib?" Hermione asked.
Cordelia looked at her annoyed. "Those that have magical parents but were born without it. They are raised in our world and if they sire magical children, then the children are regarded as mancipium. Magic rejected the squib and they have to pay their service to be considered a normal magical again."
"This is horrid," Hermione said, her hands covering her mouth.
Morag sniffed into Harry's shoulder. "So we are just slaves?"
"In a way. Your princep can order you to do just about anything, except kill another magical or force you to give yourselves to anyone one else except the princep. He can approve you marry someone else, but until then, you are his."
Hermione looked scared again. "I'm only eleven," she said.
Harry didn't even understand what they were talking about. Morag sniffed. "What do you mean?"
Cordelia sighed. "You are all still too young to worry about it yet. You will learn over the next few years."
Hermione had tears coming down her cheeks again.
"I'm sorry to be so harsh, but all three of you need to understand how to survive. Princep Potter, you are considered a very important person and a ruler of our world. You have to act that way. You are not to give anything to a lower House unless they earn it or you are seeking something from them. The civis are to be respected and treated well. They are the tradesmen and workers. Many serve as Aurors or Inquisitors. Without the civis, our world doesn't prosper. That being said, they are to be regarded as lower houses. Princeps do not make friendships with the civis. We are their employers or Lords and Ladies. That is all. Behind closed doors, you can do as you wish, but you will be admonished if you are seen being too friendly with them," she instructed.
Harry scrunched his brow. He didn't like that. Why should he be above anyone and and why did he know own these two girls? "I don't want to be a princep if that is the way it is."
"You have no choice and you do want to be a princep. If you were not, you would be in the same situation as Hermione and Morag. Most males are conscripted into the Aurors as shock troops when fights break out. It is not a life you want. Going to Hogwarts, you would have been groomed to be more useful. Maybe an apprentice to a tradesman, forever in servitude to your civis, or if you were very lucky, you would have been taken by a princep to be trained as a low level administrator. Hermione and Morag would have been trained to do a job, and then used to bear children. All the witches accepted to Hogwarts have some type of skill or power that Minister Riddle has deemed important. I am sure the intelligence of Hermione would have caught thier eye. She or her children would make great research assistants."
"I am not a slave and my children will not be one either," Hermione said.
Harry blinked. Children?! He was still a child.
"You have no choice. If you upset a princep enough, one of the sacred-twenty-eight can have you killed and just reimburse Princep Potter," Cordelia said a little harshly. Her face said she did not agree with what she said.
Hermione gave a small squeek. "Tomorrow, you should all seek out Professor McGonagall or Professor Vector to get started on your lessons immediately. We get our schedules and a tour tomorrow. They will not have the first classes until Tuesday."
She looked at her watch again. "I know it hasn't been an hour, but I should get back. I need to keep an eye on my sister and my other friends will be worried. One does not ignore a summons from a Senior Inquisitor."
"Cordelia?" Hermione asked.
"It is Princep Ross, Ms. Granger. You would do well to only ever call me by that name. Princep Potter can take that liberty as he is of higher rank. Understand?" Cordelia demanded.
Hermione didn't look pleased, but nodded. "Princep Ross?"
"Yes, Ms. Granger?"
"Will we really never see our parents again?"
Cordelia gave a sad smile. "You will not. From this time forward, you will live where ever Princep Potter lives, unless he gives you leave. And even then, you are to only stay in the Wizarding world until you can get a permit. Muggle world permits are not given out until you graduate, and they will only give them to Princep Potter, and you can use them. Now, I suggest you spend the next few hours reading your regulation books. If you do wander, I would only recommend you trying to talk to Princeps Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot or Micheal Corner. They are all first years of secondary Houses that my Aunt associates with outside of school."
Harry nodded. Hermione had one more question. "Princep Ross, why do you keep refering to your Aunt and not your parents?"
The girl had an icy look. "My parents were part of the October Rising. No one that participated in that revolt lived to tell what really happened in the Ministry that night."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hermione said.
Cordelia just nodded. "Please do not ask again or let anyone know."
When the door closed behind her, Morag asked, "Harry, did you mean to make us slaves?"
He shook his head vehemently. "Never. I still don't understand all this."
Hermione looked at the number on her wrist. "God. It's like the Nazis won."
Harry had a chill go through him. They had all learned some about World War II and what had happened to the Jews. Harry hadn't made that connection yet, only knowing it had happened and not really gone into much of the history yet. That was supposed to be a unit in primary this year. "I promise to protect you two and you never have to keep anything back when it is just us. You are not slaves or mancipium or what ever Cordelia was saying."
Hermione frowned, a few tears falling down her cheeks. "We should call her Princep Ross. I don't think she was joking when she said we could be punished. You saw whatever Senior Inquisitor Umbridge did to that boy."
A shutter ran through all three of them.
"I thought is was so cool when I got my wand," Morag said. "I wish I never found out I was a witch."
Harry had to agree. Hermione nodded, then took the book and opened it. She wiped the rears off her cheeks as she started to read. It was an action she had to repeat many times as she worked through the regulations book.
-oOo-
Scoil na Draíocht = School of Magic